The wait for her doctor's appointment is getting to Amanda. By the end of her shift on Saturday, she knows she's not fit company for going to Rick's. He doesn't seem to automatically equate her staying over with them having sex. Quite the opposite, as they'd not had sex at all until Monday night.
Sex would be easier, because it's active and distracting and makes her forget, just for a little while, of the immense change hanging over them both. It makes her forget that she hasn't told Rick that they might be parents… that they probably are going to be parents. It makes her forget that they are not a couple in any truly conventional sense of the word.
She claims too much housework to go over to Rick's tonight, which is half true. There's nothing that can't wait, but just to make it true, she showers before starting a load of laundry, glad her small apartment at least comes with a stackable washer and dryer tucked in a closet near the bathroom. Clad in a pair of running shorts and tank top with no bra, she can't seem to settle down, so she continues on the housework theme and starts cleaning the kitchen with a thoroughness that would make even finicky Lori happy.
Of course someone knocks at the door when she's elbow deep in cleaning the crisper drawers from the refrigerator, so she snags the dish towel and dries her hands as she goes to look out the peephole. The last person she expects to see standing there is Rick, since he's never visited the apartment. She's also never told him where she lives, but between her family and Beth knowing where she lives, he's got a lot of sources for the address.
Sighing, she opens the door.
Rick flashes her a boyish smile and presents a flashy box labeled with the name of one of the more expensive French restaurants in Atlanta. "I know you said you were busy, but I was going to drop these off, since I got them for you at lunch today."
He's trying to be good, but his gaze does ease down her skimpy attire before flicking back to her eyes with visible effort. That's when she realizes that her pale pink tank top is almost transparent from being splashed with dish water on the left side. There's not much left to imagination, not that Rick needs much to remember what's under her shirt.
Amanda takes the box and waves him inside, a little embarrassed. She shuts the door and waves him to the couch. "I'll be right back."
Leaving the box on the table, she snags a fresh shirt out of the dryer and changes, heading back into the living room. Although she honestly expected him to nose around a bit, at least look around the living room, Rick is sitting on the couch, looking as relaxed on her old, secondhand furniture as he does in his own home. He smiles at her, gaze openly admiring now, despite the fact that she's wearing a faded college t-shirt over equally old running shorts.
"You look like you've been having a lovely Saturday," she tells him.
"I am. Lunch was nice, and when I saw their macarons, I remembered you talking about your fairy cakes. They aren't the same, but I thought maybe you would enjoy them."
He's dressed nicely, in expensive slacks and a crisp gray dress shirt. Combined with carrying the box from the French restaurant, she's guessing lunch was an expensive one. There's a surge of conflicted want and jealousy and a smidge of anger, wondering who he spoiled today. Beth's in an all day lab, monitoring some experiment that's going to be most of her midterm grade for one class, so it's nothing to show off for Gorman.
"Thank you," she manages. "Do you want something to drink? I'm down mostly to half a bottle of white wine and bottled water, I'm afraid, but I can make coffee if you want." She's even out of beer, not that she drinks the same brand Rick does, and she doesn't feel like offering him the cheap herbal tea she keeps around for days she can't handle caffeine or alcohol.
"Water's fine." Rick leans forward, eyeing how she's staying on the other side of the coffee table from him. "I don't have to stay, Amanda, if you're busy or just need some down time." It's spoken so sweetly, with so much understanding, that Amanda hates that she's uncomfortable having him in her home when he's given her free fun of his.
"It's just…" she sighs and waves a hand around. The apartment suits her so well normally, but seeing Rick here? All the kindly meant suggestions from her family echo in her mind about how austere the place is, closer to hotel room than home. "It's fine, Rick. I'll be right back."
Amanda goes to fetch their drinks and the box of sweets to buy time to deal with the negative feelings stirring in her. It's been a long week, combined with Rick being distracted by something as much as she's been distracted by her upcoming gynecologist appointment. She wants to know what's bothering him, but pushing when she's hiding something herself is hypocritical.
When he takes one of the bottles of water, she sits beside him on the couch, angling her body to face him after setting her own bottle down on a coaster. Settling the box across her knees, she opens it, taking in the assortment of multi-colored desserts.
Rick leans forward, smiling as he points. "Blueberry, salted caramel, and raspberry." The pale brown of the salted caramel pair is a contrast between the vivid blue and red of the other pairs.
Despite her unsettled feelings, she laughs. "One of these things is not like the other. Don't they usually package them on a theme? Like fruit or chocolate?"
He looks a little embarrassed for once as he nods. "They do. But if you order in house after a meal, apparently they'll combine them however you request. I know you like blueberries and raspberries, because you always add berries to your yogurt. And the salted caramel was hazarding a guess that you'd prefer it to a richer chocolate or hazelnut."
If she's entirely honest, he's accidentally found a favorite of hers. There's a pint of Ben & Jerry's Salted Caramel Core ice cream in her freezer right now. As tempting as it is to see what it would taste like as a macaron, she hesitates. Rick does tend to not pay much attention to the expense of things, but this restaurant also isn't his normal style.
"Did I guess wrong?" Rick asks, a furrow appearing between his eyes as he frowns just a little.
Amanda shakes her head and falls back on manners for an answer. "No, the flavors are perfect. Thank you." Staring at the treats, she asks, "who did you have lunch with?" She can't seem to lock away the part of her that yearns for leisurely Saturday lunches out in public with him, and whoever got to spend time with him makes her jealousy take hold a little more.
"No one you need to worry about, Amanda," he answers.
The non-answer makes her raise her head to look at him. "It's an easy answer."
"Perhaps. Do I ask you to tell me everyone you share a meal with? Or is it just because I wanted to bring you something nice that makes me suspect?" There's an edge in Rick's voice that makes her remember their first meeting, where he'd given her such a hurt look for her accusations. That same look is on his face right now.
Amanda can't decide whether or not to feel guilty or angry that he's still sidestepping an answer. He's technically right. She's never asked him about his whereabouts before, and he's certainly never questioned him on hers. But he's been distracted lately, worse than she has, and after last weekend, where they didn't have sex at all until she initiated it on Monday night? He's hiding something, and all of the clues point toward the obvious. If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck, it's probably a duck, right?
Rick doesn't need her to actually say that to surmise what she's feeling. "Oh." He scoffs, rising from the couch and pacing, running a hand through his hair. The carefully styled curls tumble into a mess framing his face. "I'm not a goddamn cheater, Amanda. I've done a lot of stupid shit in my life, but never that one."
"Would it actually be cheating?" she asks softly, her voice as mousy as she's ever heard it. "It's not like we've made any promises." She thinks of the pregnancy test and shivers, berating herself for getting herself into this situation with a man she isn't even officially dating. Apparently years of Mama McGinley's influence don't override genetics.
"Oh, Mandy, dammit." The anger and hurt on his face give way to unexpected compassion, and he comes back to the couch, plucking the macaron box off her lap and setting it on the table. Tugging her to her feet, he claims a kiss so intense it's like he's trying to leave a permanent impression of himself on her. Despite her anxiety and jealousy, she finds herself responding, body attuned to his like always as her fingers find his belt buckle.
He surprises her by ending the kiss and dropping his hands to capture hers. "I didn't do that to distract you into sex."
"Then why did you do it?" God, she is so confused.
"It was an apology, because I've been avoiding saying anything in case you changed your mind. If I had been out with another woman romantically today, that would have been cheating in my mind, even if I hadn't made you any promises otherwise." Rick looks so earnest, squeezing her hands lightly in his.
She tugs her hands away, and just as he's starting to look crestfallen, she grips the front of his shirt and this time, it's her that initiates a kiss as intense as their earlier one. His hands grip her hips, sliding up just high enough to encounter bare skin above her waistband. When the kiss ends, they're both breathless, and Rick's looking hopeful.
"I went on a date once, right after the first night I stayed at your place," she admits. "A friend's brother."
"Nothing wrong with that," Rick replies, swallowing hard. His fingers flex against her waist, a minute reaction that she thinks might be carefully controlled jealousy. "Do you want to go out with him again?"
Amanda shakes her head, stepping closer to press herself against him, feeling his body respond instantly. It's a heady thing, when she lets herself realize how easily she affects him, too. She can smell his expensive cologne and resist the urge to nuzzle at the spot she knows the scent will linger the strongest. "I graduated high school with his sister, and he just moved back to town. He's the senior director of sports at the YMCA."
"Okay." He sounds confused, even more so as she slowly unbuttons one of his shirt buttons. The ultra soft dress shirt is buttoned up almost enough for a tie, and she figures he only loosened it a little when he took off the accessory.
"Thing is, I used to have a thing for Tyreese, but first he was too much older, and then he didn't live in Atlanta. The timing was always off, you know?"
"I suppose." When she undoes another button, Rick's fingers finally creep higher under her shirt. He's less confused and more intrigued now.
"But you know what happened after that date? With us both single and finally living in the same city?" Rick shakes his head, but she thinks he already knows, because his hands come to a stop under her breasts, thumbs rubbing lightly against the underside of them. She undoes another button. "Not a damn thing. All I could think about was that he just wasn't you."
Amanda isn't one bit surprised that Rick lifts her, just like that night against his window. This time, the sex isn't against the wall of glass in a penthouse overlooking the city. But she can't argue with being pressed against the interior of her own front door. It's as good as that night, and this time when she realizes they forgot a condom, she doesn't care at all, and it's not just because the pregnancy test said it's not necessary.
It's because when they're sweaty and relaxed, needing each other to not just collapse onto her floor, Rick presses a kiss against her temple and tells her, "No one else, Mandy, I swear to you. You're the only one who touches me like this."
Amanda smiles as he slides her hand from his groin to his chest to punctuate his words. They still have the case, and he can't promise he won't have to keep up the front with Beth, but this? He's promising her this intimacy is all hers, and it's enough.
Showering together in Amanda's shower is a crowded affair, but Rick enjoys every minute of it. He'd gotten dressed temporarily to run down to his car and grab his go bag and the shopping bag of vegetables, and she was already in the shower when he returned. Pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder, he steals away her washcloth and takes it for a leisurely scrub across her skin.
"My turn to smell like you," he remarks, sniffing the bottle of body wash.
She laughs, taking the bottle and the washcloth to return the favor. "Aren't you glad it isn't something floral then?"
Enjoying her careful progress in getting him clean, he just grins. "I already knew it wouldn't be. You always smell like citrus when you showered somewhere else last."
His attention to detail seems to please her, enough so that she's relaxed when they venture out of the bathroom. She spots the shopping bag and arches a brow. "Grocery shopping on the way here?"
"Farmer's market. Want me to cook us some supper?"
Amanda peeks inside the bag and smiles. "Not sure this actually puts together a supper all by itself. I had some shopping brought by, but most of it is gone."
"That's fine. I'll run to that little market a couple of streets over and grab what else I need, if you want me to stay." She hasn't actually invited him to stay past the shower, so he's hesitant to just assume. Having her tell him that she's only interested in him is what he's been yearning for all along. Knowing she's not the casual sex type is one thing versus being told. It's why he reciprocated. He could no more sleep with another woman right now than he could jump off his balcony and fly.
Rick hasn't entirely figured out why Susan didn't invite them both to lunch, as she could have snagged him for a private conversation even if they'd gone together. He also knows he should have just admitted he went to lunch with her mother, but it already feels like he should have told her he was going beforehand. It's unsettling, and he isn't sure how to handle it yet.
"It sounds great, honestly."
Once she's agreed, Rick pauses long enough to slice an eggplant lengthwise, leaving it attached at the stem. Salting it, he leaves it in the sink in a colander before stealing a kiss on his way out the door. The market is a good one, and he finds what he needs easily.
"You know, for someone who swears they don't cook much," he tells her, "you have a pretty decent setup in your kitchen." Knives are professional level, pots and pans high quality, and she actually had a fairly robustly stocked spice rack.
"Thank Carol. Every Christmas, it's always something for the kitchen, even though half the time, if I cook, it's at her place, helping prep my freezer meals."
Amanda sways against him, pressing her chest against his back and peering around his shoulder where he's pan searing their steaks. The eggplant fan is in the oven layered with tomato slices, mozzarella, garlic, and basil. Foil wrapped sweet potatoes are baking alongside it.
"Well, I hope it makes up for eating at home in our workout clothes," he says, leaving the steaks to turn in her arms and nuzzle her into a brief kiss. He's in track pants and an old King County t-shirt, and she's in another pair of running shorts and tank top. "But as soon as we finish this up with Gorman, there's no more pretending we're not together, okay?"
It's as much to reassure himself as her, this promise he's making. He doubts she would enjoy the restaurant he took her mother to today, but there are plenty of others that serve as a place to show your date you're proud to be with her in front of God and everybody.
When she smiles, he gets an even better idea. "Actually, how easy would it be for you to slot in some vacation time?" With her desk duty due to the injury, it's possible someone might balk no matter how much time she has saved.
"Shouldn't be a problem. Why?"
Rick just smiles. "When we put Gorman away, I'm taking you somewhere special to celebrate. We'll take a long weekend." He has to return to the steaks, and she doesn't press him for details, so he thinks maybe she likes the idea of a surprise.
They treat the meal at her raised two-seater table like it's their own private table at a restaurant, pausing to steal caresses and kisses, enjoying the wine he'd bought. He finally gets to see her enjoy two of the macarons, not surprised when she starts with the salted caramel and ends with the blueberry. She offers him one of the raspberry ones, but he reminds her to save them for her own enjoyment.
Amanda insists on loading the dishwasher, so Rick refills his glass and wanders back into the living room. Where he'd been polite before, arriving uninvited, he's a little nosier now. Compared to his place, even the less deluxe surroundings he'd had back in King County, her apartment is practically spartan. It's not boringly plain, like some apartments he's seen, but the decorations are understated. The only thing that seems expensively out of place is the massive glass enclosure that he thinks houses some sort of reptile. There's too much glass for birds, and no water to make it an aquarium.
Venturing close, he peers in, spotting tropical plants with small baskets hidden among the miniature jungle. It takes him a moment to finally spot the inhabitant, and he's a little startled. He expected a lizard of some sort, like geckos or chameleons, maybe even an iguana, but instead he finds the oddest looking snake he's ever seen. It's fairly plain looking, and certainly not a native species, but he knows from his own work that those are actually illegal to own in Georgia.
"Amanda?" he calls out, watching as the snake pokes its head out of the little hut in the bottom of the enclosure. It flickers its tongue at Rick, then moves toward a platform that holds a fake nest like he's seen people hang in finch cages. "What's your pet's name?"
There's the sound of the dishwasher starting, and Amanda giggling, before she appears around the corner. "Tanith. It means serpent lady. She's named after a Phoencian goddess. Isn't she gorgeous?" Amanda looks as relaxed as he's ever seen her, expression just showing simple joy as she looks at the unusual snake.
"Yeah, she is." The snake pokes her head in the nest before moving along a fake branch. "What's she looking for?"
"Food. She's due to be fed, actually. Do you want to feed her?"
That makes Rick pause. Every person he's ever known who has a pet snake feeds them some type of rodent, from tiny baby mice to full sized rats. But he's been in Amanda's freezer, so he knows she doesn't have anything like that stashed. "What does she eat?"
"Eggs, believe it or not." Amanda opens her hand, presenting him with a quail egg. "If you want to put it in the little nest she was just exploring, she'll find it."
Rick takes the egg, but hesitates once Amanda unlatches the enclosure. "It's kind of a dumb question, but does she bite?" Obviously Amanda has no problem reaching in, and he can't imagine her pranking him.
"She's an African egg eating snake. They don't have anything like real teeth, just scaly plates in their mouth that help in swallowing the egg."
"How does she break the egg then? Just squeeze until it breaks?" That's how he always understood rat snakes to eat chicken eggs they filched from coops.
"She has spines on her vertebrae in the esophagus that extend out of special folds. They pierce the eggshell, the contents drain down to her stomach, and then she regurgitates the pieces of eggshell. Unlike other snakes who are opportunistic feeders that eat eggs and other prey, eggs are the only thing she can eat."
Rick reaches inside, placing the egg where Amanda told him to leave it before allowing her to relatch the enclosure. Tanith makes her way back to that nest, finding the egg and swallowing it down in a display of flexibility in her jaw and skull that he can't even imagine being possible. "Holy shit," he breathes out, making Amanda laugh.
He turns to look at her. "You know, if you invite Andre over to see her eat, you'll have a new best friend for life. He's been begging his parents for a pet snake for ages, but Michonne didn't like the issue of feeding rodents to one."
"There are snakes who eat crickets and slugs and such, too," she tells him. "These can be tricky if you don't know where to find the right sized eggs. Merle's kids keep me supplied from their little flock of quails. I'm happy to show Tanith off to him, if he loves snakes that much."
"And here I thought they just had a tasty hobby," Rick remarks. He's actually gotten fresh quail to cook from Ruby and the twins before. "Although I guess Tanith agrees it's a tasty hobby."
"So you're not weirded out that I own a snake?" Amanda asks, once they leave Tanith to enjoy her peaceful evening with a full stomach.
"Well, it makes sense, really, as a cop that you'd have something that doesn't need a huge amount of care. I'm guessing she needs even less than fish do."
"Very true, and you can't pet a fish. Maybe she's not a traditional cuddly pet, but she doesn't mind being handled now and then. I got her after Luke left." It's the first time Amanda has mentioned her ex to him at all. His information about Luke has all come from casual knowledge before they met, and then the conversations with Daryl and Susan. "I wanted some company, something to look after. Something so that I wasn't talking to myself all the time."
Rick remembers the sense of emptiness and loss he dealt with after Lori moved out. It was offset by Carl being there every other week, but when he wasn't? The house echoed with just a sole occupant, and he had caught himself talking to himself as well. Even now, he's selfishly grateful for Beth needing to stay at his apartment, because it means he's not completely alone all that often. He's going to miss the girl when she returns to her dorm full time, and even if Carl stays in Atlanta for college, he knows his son wants the regular college experience of living in a dorm.
He remembers the animal shelter lady trying to convince him to adopt one of the dogfighting ring survivors and wishing he could. His building even has an onsite doggie daycare, and aside from the missing child case, he's never not been home at night since taking his job here. Maybe it's time to seriously consider adopting a dog.
Amanda distracts him from his musings with a slow kiss that leads to heated making out. That leads to her demonstrating that her ribs are healed enough to pin him beneath her for once, and it's a glorious sight he wants many more repeats of. It isn't until they're in bed, him curled naked against her because here they have no one else resident, that he considers the fact they didn't use any protection either time.
She's drowsy, mostly asleep, but he speaks anyway. "We messed up," he says softly. "Twice."
"What?" she mumbles. "How?"
"No condom." He's got his followup appointment on Monday to get his test results, but taking an undiscussed risk is stupid as hell. They've only sorted out they're exclusive today, after all. He didn't need her to tell him she is. It's in her very nature.
When she stiffens, he worries they're about to fight over him not remembering it when it counted, or she's going to panic somehow. Instead, she sighs. "You're clean, right?"
"Yeah. I've never forgotten with anyone else since my divorce."
Patting his arm, Amanda yawns against it, her breath rushing across his skin. "Then we're good."
Taking her at her word, Rick strokes a hand along her side and hip, soothing her as she falls asleep. The strangeness of a bedroom not his own keeps him awake a while longer, but he doesn't mind. She's sleeping next to him, body relaxed and curled into him like he's her own personal teddy bear. They've got further discussions to have, but for tonight, they've established the most important thing.
He's hers, and she's his. The rest will sort itself out.
A/N: Well, they didn't fight quite as much as I intended... but next chapter... oh, the poor dears are both in for big heartaches separately from each other.