Michonne's POV

The warm smile on Michonne's face faltered as chattering people swept past her booth. The winter craft fair at the local college arena bustled with shoppers who were ready to find that perfect something amongst the rows of tables and shelves of artisanal handiworks. She reeled in a few buyers that morning with her display of multi-colored pottery pieces lining the shelves like eager companions, glossy and ready for their new homes. The prices she set were reasonable but were no competition against the Pinterest-inspired Christmas trinkets in the neighboring booth. Skill rarely beat a good price, especially with said holiday just around the corner.

As Michael Bublé crooned Christmas songs from the muffled speakers, she half-heartedly accepted her pieces weren't doing any major moving that afternoon. Settling on her wooden stool with her luscious locks cascading down the shoulder of her lilac Henley, she pulled out her phone from the back pocket of her black jeans and caught up on her emails.

Mindlessly twiddling with one of her locks, she scrolled through a few messages, unaware of the masculine presence browsing through some of her more affordable pieces at the small front table. After a few moments, she sensed a stare. She glanced up and caught the most intense gaze she'd ever witnessed. Startled, the stranger quickly looked down, pretending to have been squinting at one of her favorites; the miniature multi-colored cat figurine. He gently fiddled with it before putting it down, peeking up before looking away once again, feigning not to have been openly staring at her like some sort of wonder.

Cautiously lowering her hands into her lap, she gave the stranger a subtle look over. In a crowd, he wouldn't have caught her attention. But standing there, shifting his weight on his long bowlegs and rolling his broad shoulders in his denim shirt with his sleeves rolled up, he gave off a sense of swagger that had her checking his ring finger for a claim. Her curiosity was satisfied by a nearly imperceptible pale band against his sun kissed skin where there might have been one recently but not too recent to have her suspect its presence in the pocket of his black jeans.

Taking him in a bit longer than necessary, she decided he was gorgeous. Not in the supermodel, washboard abs kind of a way but in a take me and fuck me six ways from Sunday kind of a way. Sexy. Hard. All man. The lean muscles in his arms naturally flexed as he picked up a few more of her pieces and stared at them in awe of the detail.

She wet her lips as her fantasies took hold. She imagined his full pink lips sinfully, slowly, making their way down her chin and neck as the phantom scrape of his beard tingled against her skin. It deliciously contrasted with the silk texture of his brown curls filling her palms and winding around her clenched fingers as puffs of his hot breath trailed down her chest and stomach. It heated her molten insides until it all finally settled in a concentrated ache, warm between her legs.

Shit. She nearly fanned herself, shaking off the magnetism of the stranger. She hadn't said two words to him and she was ready to offer herself up as tribute. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the erotic fantasies. She wasn't in the habit of fantasizing about potential customers and she wasn't about to start now. Michonne, be professional, damn it. Raising her smartphone back up to browsing position, she tried to focus on the screen as he moved to one of the closer shelves to check out her pricier pieces.

As he came near her, she caught his eye and gave him a polite vendor smile before staring back down at her phone, reading the same line of an email over and over again. She wanted to focus on her menial task but then her nose helplessly detected his subtle scent of soap and mint, gradually fanning her fantasies back to life. Her stomach quivered. Heat crawled up her neck. She was nervous.

His fingers uneasily drummed on his hips as he stole a few more glances at her, mirroring her apprehension before finally taking the reins. He cleared his throat in a not-too-slick attempt to get her attention, patiently waiting for her acknowledgement. She blinked slowly and peeked up at him with a small smile, hoping he didn't possess the ability to read thoughts. His lips parted as he stared for a moment, his eyes softening, warming her like the softest of velvet blankets.

"May I help you?" she asked, her voice an unintentional purr.

He could only breathlessly smile as if grappling to find his words before finally replying, "I like your cat."

She arched her eyebrow.

"I mean, th-the cat thang there, the colorful one. I-I like it."

"Ah," she nodded sagely, putting away her phone and slowly standing to retrieve the piece to which he was referring. "This one. One of my favorites. Took me a long time to get the colors right." She picked up the smooth figurine, appreciating the patches of primary colors. Blinking her doe eyes at him again, she handed him the figurine. "You won't find one like her anywhere else."

He gazed at her as if enthralled by every word. He visibly swallowed before taking it, staring down at the tiny feline. "Yeah, it's good. Really good."

Charmed by his eager, inarticulate way of complimenting her work, she gave him a restrained smile and a gracious nod. "That's high praise, Mr.?"

He offered his free hand. "Rick Grimes."

She slowly shook his hand, noticing the callouses of his palm and strength of his grip. "Mr. Grimes."

He stared as if mesmerized by her every feature. "Rick is fine."

"Yes, he is."

Shit. She drew a sharp breath, her eyes widening at her impulsive response. He stared at her for a moment before letting out a snort of amusement, releasing her hand and nervously rubbing the back of his neck. If she could blush, she knew she'd be as red as the tips of his ears, glowing like the bright nose of the Rudolph decoration in the booth next door. Instead, she scoffed at her blunder and smiled, retreating to the safe zone of polite small talk.

"You into cats, Rick, or were you just browsing?"

"Uh, mostly browsing." He delicately raised the cat up before setting it down on the nearby table to make his point.

She nodded, suspicious as to why one of the sexiest men she'd ever seen was hanging out at a craft fair. God, please let him be single. Assuming had gotten her in enough trouble at these fairs and she really didn't want to be wrong this time around.

"Sounds fun," she said carefully. "Are you checking out things on your own or did someone drag you to this?" She slyly, or at least what she thought was slyly, wove in the clarifying question, hoping he wouldn't see it as an obvious attempt to establish his availability.

Not picking up on her sneakiness, he slipped his hands into his pockets, looking up at her tentatively.

"Nah, I was helping out a couple friends set up their booth. They're down there with the music boxes and hats."

She looked in the direction he nodded toward and realized who he was talking about. "Oh, the Rhees?"

They were a new couple to the craft scene. Fairly popular with their modern touch to their selected crafts, she'd been sure to introduce herself to them a couple of months ago. She really liked their style.

"Yeah, you know them?"

"I've seen them around. Very talented artists."

"They are. Maggie and Glenn. They needed some help moving things and I have a truck." He shrugged. "Keeps me busy."

She nodded, trying not to mention how his eyes sparkled as he stepped near the Christmas lights.

"Well, that's very generous of you, Rick. I'm sure they appreciate your help."

He brushed off the compliment with another humble shrug. "Yeah."

"That must mean you're stuck hanging around here till this is over?"

He looked at her as if he wanted to admit something to her. Instead, he gave her a gentle half smile. "I don't mind. I like sticking around."

She was intoxicated by him, by his physicality, his voice, even by his sapphire gaze. Those eyes of his were steady, intense, stripping her down to her bare essence. He wasn't a man of many words but the quiet confidence oozing out of his every pore stole her breath away. Damn. If this guy turned out to be single, she wasn't going to think twice about snatching him up. She looked down, furrowing her brow in concentration. First, she needed to temper the strange impulses flopping around inside her like the one telling her to bury her nose in his neck and inhale until she was drunk on his scent.

She tightly smiled, suppressing the chaos fluttering inside her. She needed to be more direct if she was going to figure out if he was single or not.

She bluntly asked, "So are you looking for something for someone special?"

His eyes twinkled. There was a look there she couldn't decipher but he looked down before she could try to make it out. He sucked his cheeks in as if to control his smile.

"Yeah, something like that."

"Oh."

She hid the disappointment that settled in her stomach like a block of cement. Of course, he was taken. No way somebody like him wasn't already attached, especially with that adorable twang and chiseled jawline. She wasn't the only one with eyes. It was wishful thinking believing otherwise. Oh well, she thought resignedly. At least I got a nice fantasy out of it.

She put on a cheery smile, returning to vendor mode. "I'm sure if you keep browsing, Mr. Grimes, you'll find something you like."

Politely stepping back to give him space to continue his search, she hoped she wouldn't have to hear all about this special someone who'd won the lottery in gorgeous boyfriends. But before she could completely pull away, he quickly amended his response.

"Well I," he stuttered, "I'm done looking. I was done when I saw you…your work."

His words seemed to hold a deeper meaning she couldn't quite make out. She narrowed her eyes in uncertainty.

He visibly swallowed again, shifting his weight uneasily. He looked like he was bracing himself for an uncomfortable confession.

"I should tell you that I, uh, I've actually been watching you for the past few weekends," he revealed, gauging her response.

She knit her brow. "Have you?"

He nodded once, licking his bottom lip. "Yeah, I-I know it sounds pretty…," he eyed her carefully before continuing, "strange."

She hesitantly agreed with a nod. She wasn't sure if she'd call it weird being that she was the one who'd just had a full-fledged sex fantasy about him after sharing one look. Besides, if their roles were reversed, she'd be shamelessly scoping him out, too. But that wasn't something she needed to share with the nervous man in front of her so she let him continue.

"I-I don't want it to seem like I've been following you around or anything 'cause I haven't." He nodded in the direction of the Rhee booth. "But I've been sitting over there for the past few weekends, noticing you with all your nice art everywhere, and those Christmas lights shining next to you. And you looked, I thought…," he struggled to come up with the words to describe what he saw.

She tilted her head, unsure if she should be freaked out just yet.

"You were…," he paused, intensely studying her eyes.

"I was what?" Her murmur was barely audible as his heated gaze made her heart hammer in excitement.

"Something else."

A giant smile stretched across her lips. Resisting the urge to guffaw at his cheesy line, she crossed her arms with a scoff. "Something else?"

He looked down at his scuffed boots with a knowing smile that pulled at his full pink lips. He shook his head before he gave her a self-assured look. She held her breath, waiting for him to explain. Instead, he stunned her with a declaration.

"I'd like to take you to dinner." His unwavering gaze made her eyelashes flutter. When she remained quiet, he amended his statement, presuming her distrust. "If that's something you wanted."

She couldn't believe it. Here she was fantasizing about him and he'd already made up his mind about taking her out. She didn't expect him to be so forward. Just a few moments ago, she was trying to coax out complete sentences and now he was telling her how it was going to be. Even then, he was letting her decide if it was something she was going to allow. Her heart beat furiously. He wasn't just sexy, hard, all man; Rick Grimes was fucking perfect.

Taking in his masculine assuredness, she wanted to scream out 'yes!' but knew she needed to be careful. She didn't mind his forwardness, or if he turned out to be a little freaky, but scary weird is where she'd have to draw the line. She needed to make sure he wasn't a stalker serial killer before she did something reckless.

"Soo, you've been watching me for several weekends and suddenly decided you wanted to take me to dinner?"

He looked away as if recalling his exact motivation before finally nodding. "Yeah, pretty much."

She smiled in amusement. "You don't even know my name."

He squinted one eye in shame, wordlessly telling her everything she needed to know.

"You know my name," she said, slowly realizing how proactive he'd been in finding out details about her.

"You're Michonne," he drawled, his deep timbre sending a tingle down her back.

"How…," her question tapered off when she sensed a pair of eyes on them. In the distance, she caught the Rhees peering over at them then awkwardly waving, pretending like they hadn't just been caught staking out their friend.

Her guise of uncertainty quickly melted away when she looked back at Rick's hopeful gaze. She wondered how much of a hand the Rhees had in setting up this meeting between them and how much she'd have to thank them for sending him her way. He wasn't giving off serial killer vibes and he was way too unassuming to be a creepy stalker. However, she still needed a little more information. If he'd done his investigating and found out details about her, she needed to figure out how far his investigation had gone.

She crossed her arms knowingly, repeating his request in a teasing tone. "Dinner then?"

He gave her a tender look and smiled. "Yeah, if you want."

She approached him until she was toe-to-toe, her face inches from his. His eyes looked her up and down, standing firmly. She tilted her head.

"Before I give you an answer, I haven't decided if I'm good with you knowing things about me when I barely know anything about you."

"What do you need to know?"

"How much do you know about me?"

"Not much. Just what Maggie and Glenn know."

"How much is not much?"

The blue hue of his eyes darkened as he continued to hold his ground against her assault.

"I know you have a smile that lights up this whole arena. I know you're nice and kind and everybody here likes you enough to bring you free drinks. I know you're talented, too talented to only be selling your stuff at a place like this."

She rubbed the tip of her tongue against the roof of her mouth. This man was not making it easy for her to keep her guard up.

"Hmm, sounds like you know quite a bit. You know my last name, too?"

He blew out a laugh at her innocuous question, looking at her in amusement. He pursed his lips, glancing down, then back up to hold her questioning gaze for a few tense moments.

"I know what it's gonna be."

Fuuuuck. Fire spread through her veins, settling itself in the throbbing ache between her legs. If any other man had said that to her, she'd be laughing hysterically or sending him on his way. Instead, Rick's quiet yet upfront confidence had her wondering, what made him think she could be convinced to make that level of a commitment to him? He must've worked out details on her those past few weeks that had him thinking he could fulfill her wants and needs. Or maybe he'd fantasized filthy scenarios that were good enough to have her accepting marriage proposals.

Deeply inhaling the moan building in the back of her throat, she hoped it was a mix of both. She raised her chin resolutely, doing her damndest to not climb him like a tree.

"You sound sure of yourself, Rick Grimes."

"I am."

Her body swayed toward him like a sunflower desperate for the rays of a bright sun. He knew exactly what to say and even after she sized him up, her ogling had done nothing to soften his powerful stance. She slowly bit her bottom lip. The fact that they were in public barely registered in her hazy, curious mind. She wanted him. She wanted him bad. She forced her hands to remain still instead of exploring his sculpted chest.

Remembering the eyes on them, she sharply inhaled.

"How about I ring that up for you?"

The charged moment dissipated into reality. They both looked down at the feline figurine she picked back up from the table. He arched an eyebrow at her questioningly.

She leaned in and whispered, "I'm not in the business of putting on a show for people." She signaled his attention to their growing audience with her eyes.

He looked over at his friends and a few other curious vendors smirking at him before turning back to her, giving her a gentle laugh.

Barely managing to recover her professionalism, she grabbed the figurine and wrapped it in tissue paper. "Like I said, this is my favorite but she's far too gorgeous to be sitting here waiting for someone to take her home." She handed him the wrapped figurine. "So how about you take her home on loan and I'll stop by after dinner to see how she's doing?"

Realizing that she'd just accepted his dinner invitation and was hinting at something more, his smile grew, spreading across his face, reaching his gleaming eyes.

She slipped him her card with her personal number on the back while she handed him her beloved cat figurine.

"See you soon, Rick Grimes."

Rick's (earlier that day) POV

A month ago, when Rick first saw Michonne setting up her craft fair booth from afar, he dropped a heavy box of Maggie and Glenn's craft stuff on his foot. Luckily, it only resulted in a bruised toe but the mark she made on his heart was there to stay.

She was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen in his life. Her bright eyes and pouty lips had him wondering how anyone could manage to be in her presence and not dream about what it would be like to wake up to that face every morning. He'd bask in her soft gaze and kiss her pillow lips every chance he'd get. Just the mere way her long dreads hypnotically swayed with every graceful move of her agile body sent his imagination into overdrive. Every fantasy he had of her ended with being curtained or caressed by her hair as she rode him into oblivion.

Rick wasn't a religious kind of guy but she was a beautiful goddess and he was more than willing to kneel at her alter. Of course, he wouldn't dare say any of that to her or anybody else for that matter. Instead, he sated himself with his unabashed staring and silent yearning whenever he saw her at the craft fairs Maggie and Glenn invited him to for the past month. Unfortunately, she never noticed him.

His pining came to an end when he saw that he wasn't the only one who noticed a heavenly being among them.

Early that morning, a floppy-haired guy approached Michonne with a self-assured, unmistakable grin. He handed her a steaming cup of something and chatted her up, earning himself her dazzling smiles and melodic laughter. Rick didn't mind, not entirely. A beautiful woman could have friends. Guy friends. That was fine. He was fine.

Then the asshole went and touched her shoulder, giving it a squeeze that lasted far too long to be considered friendly.

When Maggie noticed his stormy scowl, she was quick to play innocent bystander and not the impatient matchmaker he'd been shutting down for the past few weeks.

"Rick, are you okay?"

He remained stony-faced, his eyes taking in the nausea-inducing scene a few booths away.

"Rick?"

"Who's that guy?"

His gruff tone brought a knowing smile to his friend's face but she quickly fought it back.

"What guy?" She blinked at him innocently.

Her ridiculous question was enough to tear his gaze away and bestow her with an annoyed glare.

"Oh! You mean the guy that's been flirting with that beautiful, talented, incredibly single artist who has no reason not to be flirting back as she doesn't have any commitments to anybody, especially to some moonstruck stalker who doesn't have the balls to say two words to her? You mean, that guy?"

Rick sneered, tilting his head in irritation. He went back to glowering at the scene, silently fuming and waiting for his so-called-friend to stop goading him.

"Well, Rick, that very handsome man is Dr. Harlan Carson, an artisanal craft enthusiast. He's well known for purchasing some of the more expensive pieces at these meets. It's his way of supporting the community."

He huffed. Of course, he wanted her work to be admired as it deserved but he couldn't stand the thought of some well-off doctor trying to buy her affections.

"He brought her coffee," he growled.

"Yeah, so?"

"He knows how she takes her coffee."

They watched as she took a sip of her cup, swallowing back a grimace the doctor didn't notice.

"Or not," Maggie pointed out.

Glenn approached them from behind, curiously glancing at them and then at the scene they were observing.

"What's going on?" He whispered, careful to not distract his wife and friend from their focus.

"Michonne."

"Pottery girl?"

"And Dr. Carson," Rick snarled.

"Oh, is he buying his wife another piece?"

They both turned to glare at him, his wife's expression tinged with annoyance and his friend's with uncertainty.

Glenn widened his eyes, sensing he said something incredibly ill-timed. "What?"

Maggie smacked him on the shoulder and walked away, returning to stocking their booth.

"What do you mean his wife?" Rick cautiously questioned his oblivious friend, needing to know every detail about this bold, apparently married, asshole talking to his dream woman.

Glenn shrugged, rubbing his shoulder, staring at his wife in confusion. "He's always buying his wife stuff at the fairs. She's like an artisanal decorator or something. He told us when he bought a few things from us last month."

Rick sent Maggie an impatient glance. So much for friends having each other's backs.

"Does he tend to buy all the vendors coffee?"

"No." Glenn looked thoughtfully at pottery girl and the doctor as the vein in Rick's forehead protruded at the idea of a married man hitting on Michonne. "He bought me and Maggie hot chocolate once."

Rick closed his eyes and inhaled a deep breath to summon the last of his patience. He turned away from his friend with the shake of his head, both annoyed and relieved.

He was glad the doctor wasn't somebody he needed to worry about but it was enough to make him realize that a woman like Michonne wouldn't stay single forever, if she was still single. The thought of her being with someone else twisted his gut. She was everything and she'd stolen his heart. He couldn't let her get away.

He walked back to Maggie in the booth, planning out his next move. Today was the day he'd finally ask out the woman of his dreams. Today, Michonne would be his.

Hey everyone! Happy Last Day of the Year!

I decided to take a break from teaching and my grad school studies (yup, I'm in grad school now) and give a sign of life lol. Even though it's kind of holiday themed and I probably should have released it before Christmas, I really hope you enjoyed this little Richonne one-shot!

As for any El Paso fans, I'm still chipping away at it. With all the real-life stuff going on in my life, it'll be awhile before I finish that up. I truly appreciate your patience though!

As always, I love hearing from y'all! Especially nowadays when some of our Richonne fam has gone into hibernation (I refuse to accept that the Richonne fandom is gone and will forever live in denial if that ever happens because it's the best damn fandom in the whole world).

Happy New Year everybody!

Lots and lots and lots of love,

semul