AN: The next chapter we'll be looking at some Caryl for those who worry about when it's coming up. There's a lot of people that play into this story, though, and a lot more to the premise than just the Caryl relationship. As for this chapter? The two parts are somewhat meant to run simultaneously. They're just different parts of the same evening.
I only know that a few of you are reading this, and most of you that I know are reading don't need the warning, but if anybody is reading that needs it, the first part is Michandrea. It's not terribly graphic, at least in my opinion.
I hope that you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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Andrea sat, naked as she'd been instructed by Michonne, on the bed and stared at the door until Michonne opened it. She was, in theory, supposed to be reclining there. She was supposed to be relaxing. In practice she was so tense that her muscles were starting to ache. When Michonne came in, she immediately closed the door behind her and crossed the room to put the large bowl she was carrying down on the table.
"Warm water will keep it warm," Michonne said. "Buys us a little time, but we're going to have to be pretty quick about it. It's all about you tonight, princess," she teased.
Andrea glanced at the bowl and swallowed down a little of her concern over the whole situation. It was the best plan that they could come up with that suited everyone involved, but the whole thing was still not the most comfortable situation that Andrea could ever recall being in.
"Shit, Mich," Andrea said. "You couldn't find something bigger in Milton's lab?"
Michonne frowned at Andrea.
"It was last minute," Michonne said. "Have you ever negotiated with Milton? He didn't exactly seem to have a ton of choices. And that's the smallest thing I could find that I was sure was going to work. So unless—you want it straight from the source? That's the best we can do."
Andrea sighed.
"Milton would probably fit better," Andrea said. "All of him. His whole body."
"Now you're being dramatic," Michonne said, crawling onto the bed and gathering up her so-called supplies. "And we don't have time for dramatics. These guys only live twenty minutes outside of the body and the clock is already ticking. It has been for a while. I had to get them in there and get across the house and that's only because T met me with the water. This has been an all hands on deck operation and it's time for you to do your part. Besides, I've got enough stuff here to ease things along that I'm pretty sure I could get a Buick in there without you noticing too much."
Andrea groaned and dropped back against the pillow she was supposed to have been reclining against for the past half hour or so that she'd been waiting on Michonne to return.
"This is the most romantic night of my life," she said, not trying to hold her sarcasm back.
Michonne snorted.
"And how hot do you think it was for me?" Michonne asked. "Waiting for the delivery? Standing outside a door and asking if I could offer a hand or some—reading material or something? And then? I was the one that found the syringe. Milton apparently just thought we could hang you from the ceiling and dump it in.'
Andrea gagged and Michonne quickly swiped her hand across her face to try to soothe over the fit. She apologized, but the humor on her face said she was only somewhat sorry.
"It's you next," Andrea said. "So enjoy this all you want."
"Another night," Michonne said. "You're ovulating. And I don't know why—but Milton says this is important enough that the whole thing could fall apart without it. So—let's get on this? Otherwise? We're doing it again next month."
Andrea shook her head.
"I love you too," Andrea said. "I'm so—excited about our future together."
Michonne covered her lips quickly with her own and took Andrea's breath away with a kiss. She had a way of doing that and, by now, Andrea knew it was also a way to get her to stop talking. And Michonne was right. They had a very limited amount of time to work with. Their quick research, done with information that had probably mortified Milton to do at the office to bring to them, told Andrea her best odds were tonight and they were best if she could, at the very least, be aroused. Climax, their home-made booklet informed them, could help to guarantee things even more—but beggars couldn't very well be choosers and Andrea knew that it was going to be difficult to get herself far enough over the hump of her own nerves enough for that.
"I love you," Michonne said, almost urgently when she broke the kiss. She reached and stroked Andrea, rubbing her with clear intention, to say that she wasn't playing anymore. Michonne did everything to win and this game was no different. "And—I love that this could be the night that we conceive a baby that we're going to raise together. Nothing else matters right now, right?" Andrea couldn't say anything before Michonne continued, and she really didn't want to say anything. She relaxed into the nest that Michonne had built her because Michonne—at the very least—knew the right things to do to get Andrea's attention. "Nobody is here to stop us, and they won't stop us. Ever. We are not in a broom closet. We are not—sneaking around somewhere. We're not in the dirt in the woods. We are on thousand thread count sheets and we're doing something wonderful and later? You get all the romance you want. So just—close your eyes—and relax." Andrea did close her eyes and she accepted Michonne's kisses. She heard her clanking around, felt the efforts of her trying to multitask and prepare things while she teased her, and Andrea focused on her breathing for a moment. She didn't open her eyes again until Michonne was done with her job and finally dropped down on the bed beside Andrea and kissed her face while she continued to tease her with her fingertips.
Andrea opened her eyes and looked at Michonne who was staring at her with the tell-tale line of concern between her brows.
"You OK?" MIchonne asked.
"I don't know," Andrea admitted.
"It wasn't that bad," Michonne said. "You hardly flinched."
Andrea shook her head.
"It's not that," Andrea said. "You can stop." Michonne stopped touching her and, instead, wrapped an arm around her and absentmindedly trailed her fingertips on Andrea's skin. "It's the whole thing, Mich. If I get pregnant? Who's going to stop them from taking it again? Because—we couldn't."
"Out there? They had an advantage," Michonne said. "They had surprise. They had guns where we only had blades. In here? The one thing I know is we outnumber them. Prisoners to guards—or whatever we're called now. Wilds to non-wilds. They're outnumbered. This time? They have to play fair. Besides—that's the one thing Milton promised me. And I don't think he's the kind of guy that can lie with his dick in his hand."
"So you believe him?" Andrea asked.
Michonne sighed.
"If it were about the sex? I wouldn't be here right now. You know that. I—don't know everything, because he won't tell everything. But—I believe that Milton believes in what he's doing. So—I've just got to believe him," Michonne said. "Now—let me up a minute to get some pillows. You're staying like this for at least half an hour."
Andrea laughed to herself at the ridiculous situation that she was in. Still, Michonne's words brought an odd sort of peace to her. Michonne hardly ever trusted anyone. Andrea doubted that she had before the world had turned. So if she trusted Milton? Maybe things could somehow go their way.
"Can you stay the night, Mich?" Andrea asked. She watched as Michonne gathered up the pillows that she'd brought into the room earlier and put on one of the unnecessary chairs. "I just—I've been alone a lot lately. And I kind of don't want to be alone. Not right now."
Michonne turned back, starting toward the bed with her arms loaded down. She brought the pillows over and Andrea lifted her body up enough for Michonne to stack them under her hips.
"When I go back out there? I'll tell T he can go home if he wants to," Michonne said. "But—if Milton will let me? I'll stay the night. Stay here. I'll get you an extra blanket."
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"This is about the most uncomfortable I've ever felt in my life," T-Dog said. "And I've been in some pretty fucked up situations, if you catch my drift."
He'd talked Milton—his companion for the evening, apparently—into at least having a beer with him while they waited for Michonne and Andrea to do whatever they had to do surrounding what T-Dog could only think of as the great fertilization project.
Milton wasn't drinking his beer, though, so T-Dog had let him the have the one to hold and had already decided the other five were his reward for simply hanging in there through all of this. Milton, after all, wasn't the greatest company and he seemed very distracted over whether or not this was going to go the way that he wanted it to go. The man looked a little amused, though, at T-Dog's statement.
"I can assure you that this isn't the most comfortable experience that I can recall either," Milton said.
"So you're gay or what?" T-Dog asked. Milton looked at him and furrowed his brow. "Or was it Andrea that vetoed the uh—more traditional methods?"
Milton swallowed. He tasted the beer then, but he made the same face that he'd made the first time he'd tried it. Clearly he didn't care for the flavor at all.
"Mostly the or what that you mentioned," Milton said.
"So what's it all about?" T-Dog asked. "Why the big baby rush? Just—building numbers?" Milton didn't respond to him. He simply stared at him like he was trying to see through him—or like he could see through him. "It's gotta be more than just the numbers, right?"
Milton nodded his head gently.
"Numbers," Milton said. "Among other things."
"I get it," T-Dog said. "You're not going to tell me. Not yet, right? That's what you told Michonne. Not until—there's something there?" Milton nodded his head. "But whatever kids we have? They're ours to keep?" Another nod. "Because, you know, if you're lying about that? Andrea will probably cut your throat while you sleep," T-Dog said. "If you think she's wild at all? You haven't seen hormones. And—worse than that? You haven't seen mother hormones."
Milton stared at him a little wide eyed.
"I hardly think there's a need for that," Milton said. "But—there's a lock on my door. Just in case."
T-Dog laughed to himself. He almost felt bad for fucking with the man. He seemed sincere enough, even if he was determined to keep his secrets until Andrea at least promised him that she was in the family way. Still, T-Dog couldn't help himself.
"You think a lock will stop her? Man, you really don't know anything," T-Dog said.
Milton shifted around in his seat.
"I sincerely hope a lock would stop her," Milton said. "I hope that—she wouldn't dare to try something like that in the first place. Because if that's the case? Then the entire attempt to spread the belief that those considered wild are, in fact, not wild is ludicrous. It would make more sense to reserve resources and go ahead with the extermination. To begin again with a clean slate if there's no real hope of rehabilitation and those that are wild do, in fact, remain wild."
T-Dog's stomach clenched with Milton's words and his tone of voice. He realized that, maybe, jokes had a time and place. And, more than that, maybe they had a particular audience. Milton might not be that audience.
"Hey," T-Dog offered, "Man, I was just—making that up. Just giving you a hard time. Man to man. Andrea? I don't know that she's ever even killed anyone that she didn't have to kill. I don't know that much about her. Maybe she's never even killed anyone. Ever. But what I do know? She's not really the violent type. Less wild, I guess you could say, than a lot of people I've known."
"She's a Late Capture," Milton said. "That would indicate that she's actually wilder."
"More time out there," T-Dog said. "Sure. More equipped to survive, maybe. But—I think she's a pretty gentle person. Point is—I don't really think she'd cut your throat or break your lock." Milton visibly relaxed. It was working. "It was just a joke." T-Dog chuckled to himself. "I mean the hormones part wasn't. She might say she's going to do something like that. But I don't think you have anything to worry about." Milton relaxed a little more. Now he was actually reclining again in his spot. "Of course—if you try to take her kid...that really could be a whole different ballgame."
"It goes against the entire premise of the project," Milton said. "The only way that the child would be removed from Andrea's care would be if Andrea was a threat to the child."
T-Dog tasted the beer. It had a strong hint of something floral and the warmer it got the stronger that taste became.
"Andrea won't threaten her child," T-Dog said. "Michonne either. So—I guess we have nothing to worry about."
T-Dog knew, though, that none of them were much into the practice of giving up their worrying. At least, not entirely.
