I hope everyone is happy and healthy. STOP: Don't read this story without washing your hands! :) This tale elaborates on chapter 26 of Call, where you first met Rick's mom. There is mention of the first time she and Michonne met. So here's the tea on that.

-comewithnattah

"Well, I'm going to meet her eventually." Michonne told Rick with a pouty tone. It was hard for her to keep a straight face because when he hesitated with his rebuttal, she knew she was about to win.

"I'm just not in any rush to take you to a negative space. Florence Grimes is not really the motherly type, Chonne. Let her be my problem," Rick said with a voice of reason.

Michonne sat on Sasha's floor, a curtain of hair covering her face as her sister rolled loc after loc between her palms. Sasha's hands were a blur of skillful speed. She was trying to do this favor for her adorable, spoiled rotten sister as quickly as possible. Her back was already starting to hurt from her hunched over position and the weight of her growing belly hanging between her legs.

Michonne's sister rolled her eyes listening to her persuade Rick against his better instincts. It was such an easy task, she wondered why Rick ever attempted to tell her no in the first place. She decided to try and help the love sick country boy.

"Mimi, if he's not ready for you to meet his mom, don't fucking rush the poor man."

Rick could hear Sasha's reprimand through the phone and he was quick to agree. "Yes. Thank you, Sasha," he said, even though she couldn't hear his gratitude. "I keep tellin' you, patience!"

"Sasha doesn't know anything… shut up, Sash!"

Michonne elbowed her sister in the shin and Sasha yanked her hair in retaliation. "I'll snatch you bald up in here," the soon to be mother of four said on reflex. And Michonne was reminded that you don't play fight with Sasha.

"Ouch!"

Never knowing her parents, women who were old enough to be her mother always intrigued Michonne. Even when she finally got settled into a permanent home, her foster father was a widower.

So she kind of collected mothers to fill that gaping hole. Even after a nasty break up, the women who had raised her exes always kept in touch.

Feeling so connected to her unbelievably amazing boyfriend made Michonne especially eager to connect with Mrs. Grimes and add her to her list of substitute mothers. But with Rick and Sasha ganging up on her, she decided to go with a different approach to get her way. She completely switched up her style.

"Okay. Okay. Maybe you guys are right. Maybe I shouldn't meet your mom until you decide if you're really serious about me."

Sasha applied a little more of her homemade hair gel to her fingers and rolled her eyes again. Her sister was shameless. But it was entertaining to watch her work Rick over.

"You're probably right, Rick. I should respect your instincts. Maybe you don't really see a forever with me." She sighed putting on a hammy performance. "It's only been a few months. I mean, yeah, we've both talked about wanting to get married one day... raise a family…"

"Chonne…" Rick tried to cut in and explain his stance, but Michonne rambled on.

"All that was just good late night conversation, I guess. I mean, I get it. You want to do those things. Just maybe not with me. But you're right. Why should you bring me fully into your life if this is just a temporary thing? A little summer fling."

"Chonne… it ain't that…"

"I know. I know." She cut him off and spoke to Sasha solely to get a reaction from him. "He says his mother is an old grouch. And of course, I'm not woman enough to hold my own. That makes sense. Right, Sash?"

"Michonne, you're a mess." Sasha shook her head through a chuckle.

"And he's right. I am just a sensitive female. Too fragile to deal with a little old grouchy woman."

"Chonne," Rick deflated, almost beat.

"If I had a mother," she played dirty, "I'd definitely want you to meet her. I mean, I don't have a mother… but I did introduce you to Roe…"

Given the newness of their relationship, it was really beginning to alarm him how easily she could bend him to her will. Still, he couldn't help himself. "Ok," Rick said with a defeated grin.

"Why should your girlfriend meet your mom? It's a really hairbrained idea." Michonne continued as if she didn't hear him. "I don't even know why I suggested it. Maybe I'm just delirious from the heat."

"I said okay, Chonne."

"Sasha, could you turn up the air conditioning before I say something else completely ridiculous? Like, I'd like to get to know your son…" Michonne laid the sarcasm even thicker. "Oh wait, I've already done that. But I guess meeting your mom is different. Not sure how, but..."

"Chonne…"

"Yes, Rick?" She answered him with innocence on her tongue. Her eyebrows raised with a hint of smugness.

"I said okay. I'll take you to meet my mother."

"You will?"

Sasha rolled her eyes and shook her head, amazed, but not really. "Of course, he will," she mumbled to herself.

"Can I go with you tomorrow when you drop Carl off," she asked in a sweet serenade.

He mocked her pretend 'suggestion' with a silly voice. "You could. But that's less than 24 hours away. That gives you no time to go shopping." Since she loved an excuse to buy clothes for any occasion, he wondered, "What on earth would you wear?"

She mocked him back without missing a beat. "The outfit I bought this morning."

Her quick response made him laugh. He didn't know if it was more at her cunning or his inability to fight it.

But she was deadly serious and didn't have a clue what he found so funny. Still, his sexy rasp of a laugh made her blush. "I can't wait for you to see me in it. You're gonna love it!"

Those words told Rick in no uncertain terms that whatever she was planning to wear, he would more than likely have to hide his hard-on from his mother. He rubbed a hand over his face, already getting excited imagining her curves. "I'm sure I will."

They flirted a while longer on the phone and when they hung up, Sasha couldn't keep quiet.

"You have that poor bastard eating out of your hand, Mimi. Take it easy on that man. I really like him."

"I really like him too, Sash."

"No. It's more than just "like" for you. I think you're in love," Sasha teased.

"Don't ruin this good mood I'm in talking about love, Little Big Sis. Just finish my hair so I can meet my future mother-in-law tomorrow."

"Your mother-in-law, huh? No, you don't sound like you're in love at all."

Suddenly, Sasha gasped with understanding. "Wait, is that why I'm doing your hair? Is Rick's mom the 'important meeting' you told me about?" Before Michonne could confirm, her pro bono hairdresser asked, "Now what if he had told your spoiled ass no? Then what?"

Michonne flipped her hair out of her face and turned around, lips pursed, to get a good look at her sister. Neither one could keep a straight face at such a foolish question. They both went weak as they shared a raspberried laugh.

...

Carl opened the Range Rover's door for Michonne before his father could even get around the hood. He ran up to the door of his grandma's townhouse condo, excited for her to meet his dad's beautiful girlfriend.

Florence opened the door, accepted a kiss from Carl with a flinch and quickly turned her attention back to the scene outside. Her grandson's chatter about the long ride with Michonne and all the funny things she'd said was muted. Carl hurried inside to take his bags to the guest room and find the school pictures of his dad he'd promised to show Michonne.

Florence watched her son take advantage of being out of Carl's view. Rick took this strange woman by the hand and planted a long kiss on her lips. Michonne swiped her thumb along Rick's lip to clean up the gloss she'd left there. As soon as she'd made him presentable, Rick attacked her lips again and she giggled uncontrollably.

Watching them interact, Florence was sure she had never, ever seen her son this way. Playful and attentive. The look in his eyes was almost narcotic.

His hand traveled down to the shelf of the sun-darkened beauty's wide behind. That was enough for public displays of affection, the gray-haired granny decided. She loudly cleared her throat to get their attention.

When Michonne glanced up and saw Mrs. Grimes' arms crossed and eyes on them, she tried to get her kiss-crazy man to straighten up. He did. But not before he stole another kiss.

Rick guided Michonne up the flower-flanked walkway. Holding his woman in front of him by the waist, he presented her like a priceless jewel.

"Mom," he paused with reverence, "this is Michonne."

She could see his hand squeeze the exposed flesh of Michonne's midriff as he positioned her curvaceous body in front of his. Florence knew exactly what he was hiding.

The overhead air vent wooshed a cool breeze into the space and Michonne's flowery scent filled and tickled Florence's nostrils. "Hello, Michonne. Nice to meet you," she said curtly with a bit of snobbery.

The retirement community was very upscale. Full of manicured landscapes and well maintained was the kind of place she wanted to put Morgan up in before he got sick, but he would never leave the house he shared with his late wife and so many children.

It was obvious Rick paid a pretty penny to keep his mother here and Michonne admired him so much for taking care of her despite his repeated complaints about her annoying habits.

Michonne looked around at the clean lines of the modern newbuild. The old-fashion floral furniture was elegant, but seemed completely out of place. Michonne's creative mind immediately began to redecorate the space.

"You have a beautiful home, Miss Florence."

"Well, it should be," Mrs. Grimes said with a bite of sarcasm. "I keep it that way."

Michonne chuckled lightly at the joke, but she was beginning to feel the cold shoulder Rick's mother was giving her.

Rick was about to chastise her, "Mom…"

"What, Richard? She's impressed by a clean house? Housekeepin' was taught in school back in my day. I guess these young women today live in pig sties."

Before Rick or Michonne could respond, Carl's voice interrupted the awkward exchange. "Not Michonne, Gram. She lives in a tall building downtown. You can see the whole city from her balcony! She's got this huge purple couch and all this art up on the walls that she painted herself! It's so cool. Can you believe dad has a girlfriend like her? I told you she was the most beautiful woman you've ever seen."

Michonne blushed and pointed playfully at Carl, a little embarrassed by his enthusiastic estimation.

"I can tell you boys certainly think so. She doesn't mind showin' it off either."

Florence eyed Michonne's dark curves in her white snug-fitting shorts. Her thick lotioned calves seemed flexed even though there was no heel on her hot pink slides. The embellishment of Medusa's golden head shined from the top of her footwear. Even her simple pedicure looked like fine art.

Her deep yellow tee was tied in a knot at her back, giving her bellybutton center stage. The goldenrod color popped against her skin. The words 'The Sweeter the Juice' in metallic pink calligraphy across her perky bosom brought to mind the double meaning of the well known phrase.

Layered skinny gold chains fell between the rounded tops of her breasts. Large hoops dangled and all her charmed gold bangles jangled.

It was all too much for Florence's smalltown, old fashioned sensibilities. One word came to her mind. Excessive. She had to admit that Michonne was gorgeous but she did not share her grandson's esteem.

Carl had no clue though and he went full steam ahead making introductions. "And she brought you something too, Gram. Give it to her, Michonne."

Michonne extended a flat square box to Rick's mom. "I hope you like it," she said as Florence took the top off and moved the tissue paper aside. "All the pictures I've seen of you, you're always wearing one."

A silk scarf came from the Bulgari box on the tips of Florence's fingers. Rich colors of gray, orange and cream swirled the lush fabric.

"Don't you like it, Gram? Michonne always picks the best stuff. She bought dad that shirt." Carl proudly pointed out the exaggerated checkered plaid print of Rick's polo. Michonne said the cutaway collar framed his adam's apple perfectly.

Carl didn't know about that, but he did know his father's fashion quotient had gone up exponentially from his default black work shirt and thoroughly worn Wranglers.

"I can't wait to see what she's gonna get me for my birthday."

Florence tossed the gift on a nearby table without a thank you. Michonne raised an indignant brow as she watched her offering fall to the glass table top. Rick let out a frustrated sigh.

That frustration was quickly turning into anger. Michonne could feel him fuming at the back of her neck. She gave his big hand at her waist a reassuring pat, signaling him that she could handle it.

Florence turned to Carl, "Speakin' of your birthday, your mom is plannin' a big party. Are you excited? She's puttin' a lot of work into it."

Carl's smile faded. He finally noticed the irritation on his father's face, Michonne's weirdly plastered smile and the ungrateful way Florence handled Michonne's gift. He ignored his grandmother's question.

"Aren't you gonna say thanks, Grandma?"

"Oh, didn't I?" Florence played the snub as accidental. "I'm just so excited about your birthday Carl." She turned to Michonne, refusing to acknowledge her by name, "Thank you very much, young lady."

...

Carl was showing Michonne a picture of his dad at six years old in the living room, while Rick changed a lightbulb for his mother in the kitchen.

"I'm gonna need you to take it easy on my girl out there," Rick said, knowing Michonne and his son couldn't hear him.

Florence scoffed. "'Girl' is right!" She cringed at the sound of MIchonne and Carl laughing loudly in the next room. "I'm surprised at you Richard. Need I remind you of the situation with your best friend and that pretty young blond? Men of your age and accomplishment do yourself a disservice gettin' involved with these young-minded college girls."

"College girls? She's a few years younger than me, but she's years out of college, Mom. She's actually an amazing woman who can do anything she sets her mind to." Rick looked at his lady adoringly as she smiled with his son. Realizing now that Michonne really could pass for a college student, Rick joked, "She can do anything, except age. I guess."

"Oh, for god's sake!" Florence threw up her hands.

Rick grinned at her dramatics. "I'm serious, Mom. She runs a successful business like I do. We actually have a lot in common. And we're both at the point in our lives where we want the same thangs."

Florence was far from convinced. "And that would be?"

"To…" Rick shrugged, trying to find the right words to make his mom understand why this relationship was so special. "To put the lessons we've learned from our mistakes into practice and build somethin' together."

"Build somethin'?" Florence was amused and she made a point to let Rick know how silly he sounded to her. "You mark my words, Richard. I may be a lonely old woman, but one thing I can do is read people. That girl out there," she pointed a stiff finger in Michonne's direction, "she's not done makin' mistakes. And apparently neither are you."

He had better things to do as far as his mother was concerned. "What you need to do is check in on Lori more."

It was Rick's turn to point out absurdity. He laughed from atop the step ladder. "Mom, that horse is dead and buried. You really should stop bettin' on it. And whether you agree with that or not, I'm gonna ask you not to mention my relationship with Michonne to Lori."

"You think I won't," Florence asked spitefully. "What I talk about with the mother of my grandson is my perogative."

"I know you won't," Rick answered back quickly. His passion sharpening his southern accent, he spoke confidently. "It's my job to know thangs and I know you can see I'm serious about this woman. And if Lori finds out, she'll throw a tantrum and make everybody, includin' your grandson, miserable. And despite everythang, you're a good grandma."

"Despite everythang? What's that supposed to mean? That I was an unhappy wife… an unlovin' mother?" Florence wished she could counter those claims, but she knew they were true.

She smiled at how much Rick looked like his dad as he spoke. And Florence knew there was no point arguing with a Grimes man when he was fully committed to something. No matter how nonsensical it seemed. "Hopeless romantic just like your daddy." She mumbled to herself, "You have no idea..."

Still, she agreed to keep this secret from Lori. "Okay, Mister Know-it-all. If Lori finds out, it won't be from me… Doesn't matter anyway. Soon as summer's over and the weather starts changin' your little girlfriend's gonna have to cover up all that X-rated material that's got you so head over heels. I reckon you'll lose interest real quick."

...

"Well, that went great," Michonne sank into the passenger seat of Rick's SUV. She had nothing left for a silver lining except a little sarcastic humor. "Me and Flo are gonna be besties in no time."

"Don't call her Flo. She hates that," Rick said. Exhausted from his mother's antics, he shook his head as he pulled away from the curb.

The radio came to life, streaming the same 90's RB hits they enjoyed on the car ride there. But Michonne quickly turned it down, not in any mood for music.

"Go ahead," Michonne encouraged him as she slumped against the car door. "Go ahead and say I told you so. You were right. Florence Grimes is about as motherly as a tetanus shot."

Rick sputtered out a laugh at her comparison. "Sorry things didn't go the way you wanted, baby. She'll either come around or she won't. I'm good either way. Long as I have you."

"How do you always know the perfect thing to say?"

"It's my job to know thangs."

Michonne had noticed that that phrase was one of Rick's favorites. She couldn't ignore the way her stomach fluttered whenever he said it. It felt amazing to be the object of his intense study and she made an effort to keep it interesting.

Turning her body in her seat to face him, she folded one leg under the other and laid her head against the headrest. She was still a little upset, but complimenting his sweetness produced those tanned laugh lines behind his brown tinted shades and the slightest glimpse of a shallow dimple. The cut of his broad biceps under his shirt and the clearly defined borders of his fresh new haircut were really improving her mood.

How did she get so lucky?

"Know what I think will make you feel better? Hmm?" He switched driving hands and flirtatiously intertwined his large fingers with hers. He knew a few tunes and more sun would perk her right up. He pushed a button, retracting the SUV's top.

"Yes. I do," Michonne said with a sly smile. She moved into his space and kissed his neck. The salty, soapy taste made her moan with delight and wetness pooled at her lower lips. "But what about our bet with Andrea?"

The challenge for them to wait six months for sex was a hot button topic for Rick. He was constantly checking his desires and releasing his sexual energy at the gym. Her kisses were driving him mad. Even the sight of her fingers were redirecting his blood flow south.

Just the mention of that bet tensed him so, he squeezed Michonne's hand with angry determination. "We're gonna win that damn bet. We've made it this long…" He brought her hand to his lips for a kiss and blew out a cleansing breath.

After a seconds long silent prayer for strength, he refocused. "I was gonna say I think a little 'shotgun show' would put us back on track for a great weekend."

Rick brought the volume of the radio back up and spied a smile creeping on Michonne's lips. When she hesitated with a rebuttal he knew she would give in. She only shrugged nonchalantly and reached into his glove compartment and pulled out a bottle of sunblock.

"Here," she said, rubbing the lotion into her soft hands, "I don't want you to burn."

Michonne looked Rick right in the eye as she began to apply the product to his meaty forearms with both hands. Noticing how the canopy of vibrant leaves along the tree lined back road stretched on as far as he could see, he had no doubt that his lady did, indeed, desire to set him on fire with her touch.

TLC's classic hit, Waterfalls was dying out and a new song played in. Though it wasn't familiar to his ears, the slow bluesy melody relaxed Rick as Michonne's fingers glided up and down his now slippery skin. He made a point to check out his radio's digital display for the song's title.

En Vogue

Giving him Something He Can Feel

Perfect, he thought.

The female quartet shooped from the speakers and Michonne hummed along. She was no great singer, but Rick beamed as Michonne sang the lyrics to him, as requested.

"Many saaaay that I'm too young

to let you know just where I'm coming from.

But you will seeeeee,

it's just a matter of time.

My love will surely make you mine."

Her palms barely managed to curl around his hard biceps. She reached over him for his other arm and he let her pamper him just like a baby. All the while, she sang.

"Living in a world of ghetto life.

Everyone is so uptight.

But nothing's wrong. It's alright

With my man.

I like the way we carry on.

The love we're making we only know.

My maaaan."

Michonne massaged the sunscreen into his neck and Rick let his eyes fall closed for a brief moment on the straight, empty road. Her touch was magic. Her breathy voice was heaven.

"People out there can understand.

I'm giving him something he can fee-eel…"

She smoothed her hands down both sides of his face.

"To let him knooow this love is real."

His forehead. His nose.

"I'm giving him something he can fee-eel…"

His lips. His chin. The tips of his ears.

"To let him knooow this love is real."

Rick was completely under her spell as she reached under his shirt to rub in the leftover greasiness from her hands. When she moved her hand over his chest, he comically moved his pecks, one side then the other, to the bass of the beat.

She didn't know he could do that. Surprised, she jumped and her stomach did another flip. She paused her performance, falling over on his chest for a prolonged giggle.

When she met his bright eyes again, excitement danced in the hues of blue as her laughter disappeared into the country air. Her eyes went heavy with need. She gave her lips a slow lick as she raked one hand through his hair and moved the other down to the insistant length in his jeans.

"Perfect," he said. Out loud this time. And Rick couldn't give a fuck who was or wasn't a fan of his girl.

Michonne felt the same way.

Whoever didn't like it would have forever to get used to it.