"Really? Mike?"

"What?" Michonne playfully narrowed her eyes at the man sitting across from her. "Is there something wrong with my ex-boyfriend's very normal name?"

After a pleasant dinner, the quiet bustle of the Christmas decorated restaurant eased their appetites into a slice of pie, turning their conversation to their exes – a dangerous territory they were navigating extraordinarily well for a first date. The artificially frosted windows and white lights wrapped around the strung garland decorated the inside of the restaurant, adding to the magic of their instant chemistry.

Raising his eyebrows, Rick fought back a grin, wordlessly establishing his opinion of her ex-boyfriend's name.

"No, nothing, nothing's wrong with his name. I'm sure he was…," he paused, reaching for his glass of water before tilting his head to find the right word to describe her not-so-bright ex, "…somethin'." He took a sip, giving her a teasing look over the rim of his glass.

Not sure if to feel affronted by his unspoken assessment of her past mistake, Michonne leaned back in her chair and looked at him suspiciously. Choosing to go on a date with this man was proving to be the most fun she had in a long time.

Earlier that evening, he showed up on her doorstep dressed in a black sweater, gray slacks, and shiny dress boots. He instantly charmed her with his impeccable manners, helping her climb into his polished-up red truck without her sweater dress or black peacoat riding up or pumps getting caught on anything, a mercy for which she was grateful. Unexpectedly, the inside was well-heated and smelled of fresh pine, a scent emanating from a handmade car freshener gifted to him by one of the elderly crafters he helped out. And if that didn't have her melting, he had her small cat sculpture comfortably settled in his cupholder in a makeshift cat bed.

She laughed at the sight of her sculpture resting in a atop a thick winter glove. "Oh, will she be joining us for dinner?"

He buckled himself into his seat. "Well, I was going to take her home but she brought me such good luck, I had to keep her near." He eyed her with a coy smile and smoothly added, "Can't find one like her anywhere else."

She nearly melted into a puddle on the spot.

The melting only continued when he chose her favorite diner. Thankfully, the surprise on his face at finding out confirmed his admitted stalking hadn't moved to the next level. Thankfully.

But the fluttering in her stomach wouldn't have eased either way with all the genuine chivalry he put on display. He opened all her doors, took her coat without copping a feel, pulled her chair out, and smiled patiently as he waited for her to order first. Gentility was ingrained in his soul. She could easily imagine being swept off her feet with more dates but first, she needed to learn enough about him to pacify her friends and convince them to drop the moniker they gifted him at hearing about his craft fair confession. 'Creepy craft fair stalker' wasn't a nickname she wanted sticking.

Schooling her features, she set her fork down and prepared herself to pull back a few more layers of this seemingly perfect man, hoping to find more genuineness and sweetness. She'd start with the question that always revealed a man's true perspective on women.

"Okay, Rick Grimes, what about your exes? Any of them you'd consider to be 'something'?"

Carefully setting his glass down, he squinted as he considered her question. After a short moment, he responded with a swift, "No."

She couldn't help the disappointment at his brief response. She expected more. He was obviously skipping over a pretty big detail as evidenced by the faded pale band around his finger. She could understand if there was residual bitterness but a major commitment like that deserved more than a one-word answer.

Sensing her disenchantment, he took a steadying breath.

"Not anymore, at least," he said, "I was married for four years. She was something and then she wasn't." He eyed her guardedly before finally revealing his truth. "She chose my best friend instead of our marriage."

Infidelity? Now, that was unexpected. What kind of soap opera drama happened that had his wife sneaking around with his best friend? It was difficult to imagine someone choosing someone over this gem of a man but she knew there was a story there and hopefully didn't involve him doing something unforgivable. She cautiously nodded for him to continue.

"Lori and Shane," he began, scratching the stubble on his neck, staring up at the ceiling, "They're together now. There wasn't much I could do to change that. They chose each other so I had to swallow it, move on."

"Just like that? No marriage counseling? No working things out?"

Clearly uncomfortable discussing his failed marriage, he fidgeted in his chair and took a drink before continuing.

"I tried but I wasn't the best communicator throughout our marriage and that was on me. I figured, things didn't need to be said but, it turned out, she needed to hear them. So, when she started inviting Shane over more often, I thought it was to give us a break from the constant arguing. But then things happened between them. She admitted to that. I told her we could move past it, that I could move past it, but she said it wasn't enough."

He paused, his eyebrow furrowed as his fingertips tapped against the table.

"Shane wasn't known for his loyalty to women so I thought he was just playing with her but I found out he wasn't. I don't-," he faltered, appearing to still be confused by his best friend's betrayal, "I don't know how long he'd been holding those feelings for but he did. It took me a while to accept it and once I did, I couldn't stand in the way. So, I let her go."

Judging by the sadness in his downcast eyes, Michonne knew it was still difficult for him to relive his experience. She shook her head in sympathy, reaching out and squeezing his hand. "Rick, I'm so sorry."

He gazed at their hands, turning his up, palm against palm, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

"Yeah, I was too, for a while. I even talked to a counselor to figure things out."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, he helped me realize that even though she was my wife and we made a commitment, she was still her own person with her own thoughts and her own feelings and I couldn't control those as much as she couldn't control mine. Once I accepted that, I couldn't hold it against her. They made their choice so I had to pick up the pieces and move on, live my life."

He nodded in certainty. "That's when Maggie and Glenn came into the picture and took me in. I owe them everything."

Impressed with his assertiveness in seeking out help and figuring out how to properly heal himself from his failed marriage without bad-mouthing his wife or expecting his next partner to do the healing for him – a pair of traits very, very few divorced men had in them – she remembered her divorced friend's mantra.

"Marriage isn't a guarantee of anything," she said, repeating her friend's wise words, "People are people. So, even though marriage is constant work, sometimes putting in the work isn't enough. Things happen, change happens, and people grow in different directions. But life works out in the end, even if it wasn't how we planned."

He gently gazed at her as if she just revealed a secret to the universe. She felt self-conscious under his stare but she waited to see if he agreed.

His Adam's apple bobbed before he looked down at their clasped hands again and spoke, his voice raspy with emotion, "Yeah, things happened and plans got broken but if living through all that led us here, led me to you," he gently rubbed her thumb, before nodding in certainty, "I'd do it all over again."

His sincerity pierced her heart. Even through his suffering, he held onto the hope that he found someone again and to think it was her was incredibly humbling. This heartbreakingly modest yet confident man knew exactly what to say to bring her guard down. If she wasn't careful, she would fall hard for this man – if she hadn't already.

"Those are some serious words, Rick," she said, searching his deep blue eyes.

He contemplated their hands with a thoughtful look before steadily holding her gaze, his warm honesty pouring into her soul.

"They are and I am. My eyes are open this time, Michonne. I know a good thing when I see it."

His words snatched the breath from her lungs. In all her years of dating, out of all the relationships she'd ever taken a chance on, none, not one man compared to the man in front of her. Rick wasn't playing games or waiting for her to change her mind. He wasn't manipulating or forcing his way into her heart. And he certainly wasn't trying to get her to fix the parts of him he already put the work into healing. He just wasn't wasting any time in recognizing the strong connection between them. His certainty about them scared her yet fueled the fluttering in her stomach, readying her to run, either away or into his arms. But she knew without a doubt, if she ran away now, she'd regret it for the rest of her life. Something in his calm blue gaze told her to not worry, to drop her walls, and to surrender to the visceral moment.

She nodded with a smile, deciding to do just that. She gently slipped her hand out of his and sipped her cold water, hoping she could compose herself enough to resist the urge to take him to the back of the restaurant and surrender herself to him in all kinds of indecent ways. She scrambled to find coherent words and finally arrived at a question – a question that she had already formed her own answers to – that had been on her mind for a while.

"So, after all this time that you say you've been watching me, why didn't I ever see you at the craft fair? I'm sure I would've noticed you staring me down like you are right now." She casually flirted as she picked up her fork and took a bite of dessert.

Not minding the sudden topic change, his sweet, shy smile slowly spread across his face. "I don't know about that. I can be pretty stealthy."

She chewed, giving him a wary look, thinking about how 'stealthy' he was when he approached her booth.

He laughed at her reaction.

"Alright, you would've caught me if I wasn't moving things around for Maggie and Glenn. They like to keep me busy."

"Oh, do they?" She fluttered her eyelashes knowingly. She set her fork down and straightened up, ready to reveal the conversation she had earlier that week. "You sure those boxes you were moving weren't empty?"

He paused, playfully narrowing his eyes. "Who told you that?"

"Maggie might've reached out and thanked me for, as she put it, 'finally putting him out of his misery' and 'getting him to stop hiding behind our empty boxes'."

"I…that wasn't…she shouldn't've…," he let out a breath of resignation when he saw her biting her bottom lip with a teasing look in her eyes.

"Yeah, alright," he drawled reluctantly, the tips of his ears burning red, "I was. I did. Those boxes are easy to hide behind if you're carrying enough of them."

She took her forest green cloth napkin and dabbed her mouth, smoothing it down onto the table, taking a moment to decide what she would've done if the roles were reversed.

"If we're being completely honest, if I had noticed you first, I might've done the same."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Disbelieving of his unassuming nature, she flipped her locks over her shoulder and gave him a doubtful look. "You know why."

"Why what?"

He looked genuinely curious.

She scoffed. "Really?" Holding up her hand, she began counting off all his desirable traits. "One, you're a handsome, single man in a town where those are scarce. Two, you have humble manners all the time and not just when people are looking. Three, you help out your friends and elderly strangers out at craft fairs in your free time without expecting any kind of repayment. Four, your-," she almost said "sexy strut" but chose her words carefully, "the confident way you carry yourself stops people in their tracks. And five, the kindhearted honesty you bring to every conversation makes me want to trust you with all my secrets. And that's just the traits that fit on one hand."

He blushed, quietly chuckling at her list.

"I'm serious, Rick Grimes, you're a catch."

His soft gaze roamed over her face as if searching for a hint of insincerity. "Yeah?"

She raised her chin and rested her hands on the table, leaning in closer. "Yes."

His eyes dropped down to her lips before dragging back up to her eyes. He nodded before speaking, an intensity sparking in his eyes that had her taking a steadying breath.

"You wanna get out of here?"

Rick wasn't sure if he was moving too fast but it seemed like anytime he was around Michonne, there was only one speed. Now.

Finding the nerve to ask her out had solidified that pace. He took in every moment in her presence, from the minute he settled her into his truck with the fated cat sculpture that brought him the luckiest of luck to their open conversation over dessert about their exes. Then, she had to go and compliment him.

It wasn't that he didn't believe he was attractive to women. He had a short list of dates ranging from dull to disastrous that proved that idea wrong but hearing all his qualities plainly laid out by her sent him into a trance. It was as if she'd found the perfect words to summon the libido he thought had disappeared years ago. The suddenness and immensity of his desire was like a punch in the gut. Luckily, she was the one who took the reins after he suggested they leave the restaurant.

He wasn't sure what he intended in asking her to leave with him but holding her hand and sharing gazes on the drive to her apartment would have had him seeing stars for the rest of the week. But when he found himself pinned against her door, her lips firmly planted on his, he knew not ending their first date in her arms would have been the greatest regret of his life. Her kisses were a spring of desire, her taste a quenching relief. The beautiful, vibrant reality of her tinted all his mind's fantasies with shades of inadequacy.

He couldn't hold back the moans emanating from his throat when she gracefully lifted herself up and wrapped her legs around him, prompting him to find the nearest couch. They tumbled onto its soft cushions, lips barely parting a she adjusted to straddling his lap. With her hair curtaining around them, she kissed him with her sweet mouth in their cocoon of seclusion, grinding her warm center against him with the gentle roll of her hips. He whimpered, gripping her hips, pulling her closer, already addicted to her touch.

She pulled away but his lips chased hers, refusing to spend a moment without her kiss. Resting her hand on his chest, he opened his eyes and immediately stopped, out of breath and concerned.

Softly, she gazed at him, sliding her hands across the soft sweater stretched over his chest and resting them on his broad shoulders. "I hope I'm not going too fast for you." A line of concern wrinkled between her eyebrows, her worry about what he'd shared with her over dinner showing in her eyes.

He searched her gaze, wondering how ironic it was that they were both concerned about the natural speed in which everything was unfolding. But he wasn't scared, not in her arms. In her embrace, he couldn't have been more ready for what came next.

His hands slid up from her hips and cupped her face, gently pulling her in for a sweet kiss. He pulled back and rasped out, "You're perfect."

She smiled. "Yeah?"

His gentle gaze and sure nod appeased her as his hands settled back on her hips.

She bit her lip. "I'm on the pill but if you want to wear a condom, I can go find one."

Swallowing thickly, he tried to find words to respond. "I-I have one in my wallet."

She raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

"I didn't think anything was gonna happen tonight. But I thought, maybe…later…if you wanted…"

Her fingertips slid to the back of his head and combed through his curls, gently scratching the back of his skull causing his eyelids to droop in ecstasy. She laid another quick kiss on his lips before reaching over to turn on a nearby switch. The living room filled with the dim white glow of her strung Christmas lights, illuminating her tasteful decorations, a small Christmas tree twinkling near the window.

She settled back into his lap and stared into his eyes as she carefully pulled off her yellow sweater dress, untangling her thick, dark locks from the collar before tossing it to the ground. The dim glow of the twinkling lights bathed her in an ethereal light, the lacy red bra and panty set hypnotizing him. She was better than any Christmas gift; she was an exquisite, rare treasure just waiting to be unwrapped. He swallowed back the nerves threatening to choke off his air supply.

She leaned in and cupped his cheek, softly brushing her lips against his, leaving him yearning for more. His warm palms slid up her waist, his thumbs grazing the sides of her breasts before sliding one up to the back of her neck and the other around her lower back, pulling her closer. They kissed desperately, as if it was their last. She grasped at the hem of his sweater, pulling it up and over his head. Feeling more of her skin against his sent him into a state of uncontrollable fervor. They pulled off the rest of their clothes and shoes until only her panties were left. He slid her off his lap and laid her down on the cushions, pulling the closest throw blanket underneath her. Sliding her panties off, he stared down at her in awe, his pupils fully dilated.

Before he could effusively appreciate the moment and begin his journey starting between her thighs or reach for his wallet, she pulled him down on top of her, drowning him in her kisses. Her every touch drove him mad. Her supple breasts pushed up against his downy-covered chest, their touching abdomens contracting in similar breathlessness as he cradled her head between his forearms. Her strong thighs wrapped around his hips as she dragged her palms over the curve of his ass, clearly guiding him to where she needed him. Trying to savor the moment as he let her lead, he unhurriedly entered her, her scorching wetness contracting around him in a tight, raw grip, nearly sending him over the edge. He rested his forehead against hers as they groaned breathlessly at their connection. She impatiently rolled her hips up, needing more but he quickly reached down to firmly grip her hip before her eagerness had him apologizing for a quick end to their night.

"Wait, please, just a second," he panted, struggling to find his self-control after going so long without such a pleasurable connection.

His pleads snapped her out her rush. "Oh, sorry."

"No, no, don't be," he choked out, his body breaking out into a sweat, refusing to let her feel sorry about driving him to the brink, especially if she expected him to be more in control than he felt. "I just need a second."

She nodded, waiting until the anguished expression on his face smoothed out. Once he found his control, she held both sides of his face and kissed him, slowly, gently, her tightness fluttering around him. He moaned loudly, his hips moving of their own accord.

"Michonne, you feel so good," he grunted breathlessly against her lips, fully filling her to the hilt.

"Rick," she moaned into his mouth, "Oh, shit."

Her whimper sent him into a lust-filled haze, possessing him to grind into her, deep and slow, wanting her to feel every inch of him, needing her to feel the desperation he carried with him since the moment he saw her. She gripped his biceps as she rolled her hips up, deepening their connection, pleading for more. They continued grinding, their sliding bodies and increasingly loud moans filling the air. He reached under her to grip her ass, undulating into her in a delicious rhythm until her moans turned nonsensical. Her breath grew ragged and shallower, painted by the occasional desperate whimpers when he dug in deep. She widened her legs around him, raising them higher up the sides of his body, allowing him to deepen his stroke. It continued for a few minutes until she shouted at one sensually long stroke, her body vibrating before his next stroke had her arching firmly against him, her tightness pulsating around him wildly, pulling him further inside her. She frantically gripped at his back, her sweat slick body pressed against his, her choked cries punctuated by an array of curse words.

He wanted to give her a moment to enjoy her peak before finding his but his self-control completely disappeared when she shouted his name in pure ecstasy. He artlessly thrust into her, his climax quickly tingling throughout his body before culminating in the most satisfying, aggressive releases he'd ever experienced, blanking the world out momentarily as he surged inside her. His whole body clenched, from his eyelids to his toes, his wildest fantasy living out its remaining traces.

Once his feeble limbs found the energy to move once again, he pulled out and off of her as much as he could, too weak to find a position that didn't end up with half of him on top of her. He found one that allowed him to rest his cheek against her stomach without suffocating her as he caught his breath. The tingling throughout the nerves in his body and heat of her skin lulled him into a fuzzy state of bliss.

The woman he'd fallen for had given herself to him, without any reservations, without question, and he was the luckiest son-of-a-bitch to have ever lived. There was no going back. She was his present, his future. He would do everything, anything, to love her, to protect her, and to cherish her. He contentedly smiled as she ran one of her hands through his damp curls, her body completely limp beneath him.

"That was…," he couldn't even begin to describe his pure pleasure and elation.

"It was," she blearily agreed anyway.

After a few peaceful moments of laying naked surrounded by the sensual glow of decorative lights, she drowsily giggled.

Exhausted yet curious, he couldn't help giggling along with her. "What?"

She sighed happily. "My friends call you my creepy craft fair stalker."

He snorted, unoffended by the somewhat accurate moniker, affectionately kissing her stomach. "I'll take it."

"Of course, you won't, I won't." She hummed. "It's just if that's what my friends call you after telling them about us meeting, what'll your friends call me after hearing about this?"

He snorted again knowing good and well Maggie and Glenn would never push him for details they couldn't already detect. Besides, they'd be the last people in the world to give her a nickname based on their private moments.

He confidently slurred out his reassurance. "I wouldn't know 'cause it ain't their business."

She laughed sweetly, gently twirling the ends of his curls around her fingertips. She conceded, "Okay, if you told them about tonight, what nickname do you think I would get?"

He remained silent. After spending weeks falling for this woman from afar, he didn't want to scare her away but he couldn't handle her not knowing how deep he felt. He wanted moments like this with her over and over again, he wanted her arms wrapped around him for as long as she'd have him. He wanted to soak her in, to share in the warmth of her radiant life, and to never take it for granted. He wanted her for his own, he wanted her more than she could ever know.

Finally, with a soft smile, he gave her the most obvious answer in the world.

"If they knew, they'd call you Michonne Grimes."

Her snort turned into a delighted laugh at his cheesiness as he turned to look up at her adoringly, fully surrendering his heart to the woman who made his Christmas wish come true.

So, it's been a while, a very long while, a very pandemic-filled while. I hope you've been staying safe and healthy!

Lots of change happened in my little corner of the world this past year. Too much to go into detail but I promise I haven't given up on writing. Real-life just hasn't given me much room for focus and motivation, something I'm sure a lot of us can relate to but I hope that changes soon.

I do want to thank you for your messages and comments throughout the year! Seeing them gave me such a precious piece of joy and were the bright moments that helped me forget this inescapable tragedy of a U.S. pandemic existence.

Thank you so much for reading this, I hope it brought you a little lightheartedness, I little something-something to add to the fantasy box, and a little relief at knowing I haven't forgotten you. I promise I will do my pandemic/grad student best to wrap up El Paso as soon as I can (the last chapters are all half done).

Until then, stay safe, stay healthy, cover your beautiful faces, keep your distance, be kind, be your best, Black Lives Matter, and stop procrastinating (last one was a reminder for me). All my love!

Happy Holidays and Good Riddance 2020!

semul