Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! No matter where you are, wishing you a blessed end of 2020 and start to 2021. Please enjoy some Holiday Richonne fluff inspired by Andrew Lincoln's costume in the Old Vic performance of A Christmas Carol.
There were many ways in which Rick envisioned himself meeting the woman of his dreams. Shivering against the cold in a velvet top hat and coattails admittedly did not figure into his fantasy.
When Maggie sent her request two weeks ago in the groupchat, he'd figured it was innocuous enough. Caroling for canned goods wasn't too tall of an order and Glenn had promised there would be some kind of alcohol. Rick agreed, figuring a little Christmas spirit wouldn't kill him. What the couple had pointedly left out of their initial description was that this group was the type to add a certain flair to their holiday charity work. When the box arrived on Rick's front porch, he'd guffawed. The ensemble was significantly less comical now.
"You actually look nice," Maggie told him with no small amount of amusement, appraising him as though he was a mannequin at the mall. "I'm glad Zack's outfit fits."
"Oh great," Rick tugged at the ruffled scarf wound tight around his neck. "So it's a secondhand costume."
"We dry cleaned it," Glenn imparted. He looked slightly more at ease in his costume. At least he had Maggie to match him.
"Does it need so many layers?" Rick opened the navy blue coat to peer at the vest inside. Between the overcoat, inner layer, vest and dress shirt, he felt liable to pass out in the foyer of the Rhee's house.
"You'll be glad for it once we're outside. Trust me," Glenn pressed a thermos into Rick's hand.
"You do this every year?" Rick whispered as they filed out.
A group was already in wait, buzzing eagerly as Maggie rushed to join them. They looked like they had gotten lost on the way to a community theater rendition of Oliver Twist. Rick felt a twist in his guts when he realized he fit squarely in with them.
"Last five years," Glenn disclosed in a low voice. "Maggie loves it. Her dad and mom started the group 15 years ago and now it's she and Beth's thing. I tag along and help."
Rick threw his friend a sympathetic glance. "Nice of you," he complimented.
Glenn shrugged. "We raise enough money and donations to fill up a few trucks. I think we can do even better this year. Maggie got some others to join. It's going to be a huge group. You're not the only one new."
There was some comfort to be drawn in that. Rick stood dutifully at his friends' sides as they made the proper introductions, rattling off names he forgot just as soon as he heard them.
"And this is Michonne," Maggie finished with a breathless flourish. "We go to the same gym."
Clearly, the time spent there had done the woman in question quite a bit of good. She wore her Victorian garb with a panache Rick admired. As impressive a figure as her silhouette cut, her face was infinitely more lovely. Rick found himself grinning as he shook her hand through his gloves.
"Rick," he beat Maggie to the introduction. "I work with Glenn."
"Nice to meet you," the lilt of her voice was music to his ears.
"You two can be partners tonight," Maggie gave Rick a tiny shove forward. "Just follow what the rest of us are doing."
They shuffled along down the streets in a gleeful titter, drawing the attention of nearly every one whose path they crossed. Rick flushed at the disbelieving stares, bowing his head to avoid the phone cameras aimed at them.
"Are you ashamed to be standing next to me?" Michonne teased, watching him.
Rick peered out of the corner of his eye, glad at last for the high collar hiding the blush in his cheeks.
"Only because you put me to shame," he admitted.
She laughed, leaning conspiratorially towards him. "I borrowed this from Maggie," she whispered. "It was at least two sizes too big."
"Really?" Rick raised a brow. "Doesn't look like it."
His eyes darted down the length of her, noting the fact that beneath her scarf, her cups certainly seemed to runneth over.
She noticed, smirking. "I had to make some alterations. Underneath here, it's all safety pins."
"Just safety pins, huh?" Rick chuckled.
"What about you?" Michonne asked. "Did Maggie recruit you because you look so good in Victorian garb?"
Rick snorted. "We karaoke sometimes. Guess she decided I could carry a tune."
"What's your go-to song?" Michonne asked without missing a beat.
"Depends on how drunk I am," Rick rubbed the back of his neck, upsetting his absurd tophat.
Michonne reached out to straighten it. "Could have used some liquid courage tonight," she admitted. They were closing in on the first front door of the night.
The group jostled into place, bristling eagerly while Maggie rang the bell. Michonne drew in a nervous breath.
"Did you see the list of songs?" she asked him urgently.
Rick turned his surprised gaze towards her as the first door swung open. "No," he whispered back. "I got the email, but I figured it was just the usual lineup."
Michonne gave him a wide-eyed look. "Oh Rick," she whispered, shaking her head.
"Ready everyone?" Maggie announced brightly. "Let's start with song number 1!"
Rick had braced himself for a night of Jingle Bells and Let it Snow. It was within the first stanza of Good King Wenceslas that he realized he was out of his depth in more than just clothing.
He hummed and swayed, hoping that no one was the wiser. Beside him, Michonne sang every word in a clear soft voice, keeping time against her skirt by drumming her fingers. They brushed the back of Rick's gloves, distracting him further from the task at hand.
In a clatter of coins and bills in their donation can and many shouted well-wishes, the group moved on to the second house on the block.
"Rick," Glenn turned around with a cheeky grin. "I didn't hear you back there buddy. Figured you'd have the harmony."
Rick glowered but quickly fixed his face when Maggie turned as well.
"Don't be shy, Rick," she instructed. "It'll get easier as we go along."
They pressed on, arranging themselves again at the next front stoop.
"You don't know a single song, do you?" Michonne leaned in to whisper.
"Nope," Rick wished he could feel ashamed, but it was hard to feel anything but pleased with the look of amusement he'd put on Michonne's face.
From her sleeve, Michonne covertly extracted her cellphone. She dampened the light glow against her frilled sleeve, her thumb maneuvering expertly.
"Here," she told him, moving closer still.
"Number 3!" Maggie called as the door swung open.
"I Saw 3 Ships?" Rick whispered in disbelief, squinting at Michonne's phone. "Who the hell picked these?"
Michonne missed the first line or so from laughing, but they both quickly recovered. By the second stanza, Rick had the tempo and could successfully fumble his way through.
By house five, their system was tried and true. During the First Noel, Rick risked showing out a bit, singing in his best voice loud enough to be heard. Michonne arched an eyebrow in his direction, looking impressed.
"Well," she teased as they continued down the street. "Doesn't look like you need help anymore."
Rick opened his mouth to respond but was beaten to the punch.
"Rick!" Maggie chirped. "Why don't you come to the front? Let people hear you."
A matching look of disappointment flashed on both Rick and Michonne's faces. Blessedly, Glenn noticed.
"He's good back there, babe," he told Maggie.
She looked confused for a beat, then registered how closely the former strangers were standing. With a wicked grin, she went back to her work, but not before whispering something in Glenn's ear.
"That was close," Rick exhaled.
"Shouldn't have been showing off like that, Mr. Baritone," Michonne shook her head, tucking her phone away.
Rick leaned over to nudge her with his shoulder. "So you noticed?" he asked.
A lovely flush came to her cheeks, heightened by the colors of the Christmas lights flashing from every house.
"Yeah," she admitted, her lips curving into a smile. "I noticed."
By the second block, Rick didn't need the lyric sheet anymore. Neither of them was eager to put any distance between them despite this. The night around them grew cold as their donation tins grew heavy. The truck trailing behind them filled steadily with blankets and clothing and canned goods. The carolers became more enthusiastic by the moment. Perhaps the sentiment was catching, or perhaps there was something in the air this evening, but Rick felt a reckless kind of joy seize him.
By Angels We Have Heard on High, he was positively giddy. Michonne easily kept pace, a giggle dancing on her words as she sang beside him. Steadily, they moved from trailing the pack to the center of it, cosseted on all sides by scratchy wool and holiday spirit.
An hour into the night, true spirits made an appearance, heightening the excitement. Someone passed around dixie cups of mulled wine. The sweet rich smell was enough to make Rick dizzy. He cupped his own between his hands, watching as the steam obscured his view of the woman beside him. Michonne leaned into hers, inhaling.
"This is fun," she said with a slight air of surprise.
"Good company helps," Rick pointed out. He smiled at her and she dipped her head to hide her nervous grin.
"Now that we're caroling friends, maybe I'll get to hear your karaoke song now?" she mused, taking a sip.
Rick took a draw of his own, the tartness of the wine bursting on his tongue. "Maybe we can go next weekend," he posed the question. "Just the two of us."
"Christmas karaoke?" Michonne asked.
"Whatever kind you want," Rick took another gulp.
"As long as it's a date," she said. Her tongue darted out to taste a droplet of wine lingering on her lips. Rick's mouth ran dry.
"It's definitely a date," he confirmed.
He reached for her, sweeping a wayward loc of hair out of her face. Michonne leaned into his touch, her breath catching.
"If you like me in a bonnet, I'm going to dazzle you in my normal clothes," she joked.
"I don't doubt it." The thought of seeing her again was appealing, even as they stood just inches apart. "I'll leave my tophat at home next time."
"Really?" Michonne pressed her lips into a faux pout. "I kind of like it." She touched it again, lingering to curl a lock of his hair behind his ear.
Rick was seconds from throwing caution to the wind and kissing her when they were again interrupted.
"How are you two doing back here?" Glenn found them as he topped off cups.
It was probably apparent to the whole group how they were doing at this point, but a quick sweep told Rick that he and Michonne were far from the only two pairing up. He turned his attention back to Glenn, throwing him an exasperated look at his thinly veiled nosiness. Glenn only shrugged.
"Be glad it's me and not Maggie," he disclosed. "She's waiting for an update."
The woman in question was indeed staring back at them. She turned quickly when they caught her eye, bursting into laughter with her sister Beth.
"We have a date next week," Michonne shook her head lightly. "And that's all the information she's going to get."
Glenn grinned, delighted. "She had a good feeling about the two of you."
"Did she?" Rick asked. "I thought she just needed another volunteer."
Glenn shrugged again. "Does it really matter?"
Rick had to admit that it didn't. It was easy to forget the cold, easy to forget his discomfort in this itchy outfit, just so long as Michonne kept smiling at him from the corner of her mouth. Somewhere on the fourth block, her hand found his. Rick held to it tightly, flushed from the wine and her affections.
By evening's end, he was tipsy and totally besotted. He scarcely heard Maggie announcing the night's earnings. The cheers brought him back to reality. The stark truth that his night spent wandering a winter wonderland holding Michonne's hand was almost over began to settle in.
She smiled at him as the group dispersed, flashes of crimson and gold and emerald playing across her face.
"I'd ask you to go to a bar," she began. "But we'd look a little out of place tonight."
Rick chuckled, tugging at his collar. "You still look beautiful."
"Flatterer," she accused.
A silence stretched between them, punctuated by the jostling of the group around them.
"How did you get here tonight?" he asked.
"Maggie picked me up," Michonne said.
"Maybe we can share an Uber," Rick jabbed a thumb in no particular direction. "I'd offer you a ride, but that fourth cup of wine pushed me over."
She laughed again. "Let me just tell Maggie," Michonne smiled.
Rick ignored Maggie's giggles and Glenn's knowing looks as best as he could. Michonne hugged them both, promising to text Maggie the following day. Glenn winked over their heads as the two women embraced, giving him a thumbs up. Rick rolled his eyes and hid his smile.
His clothing was suddenly uncomfortably hot as they made their way to the corner to wait for the car. Michonne's hand was in his again. Rick rubbed his thumb against the fabric between them, wondering why he felt like a nervous kid on a first date.
"You know," he began. "I didn't even ask you what direction you lived in. This might not save either of us money."
Michonne tilted her head at him. Her braided locs were beginning to come loose beneath her bonnet. Rick wanted to reach out and touch them, to smooth his hand down the rest of her. No one had the right to look so beautiful in such costumey clothing. He swallowed thickly.
"That's ok," she said lightly. "We can just go to my place. It's not far from here."
"Yeah?" Rick's pulse pounded in his ears.
"We can wait out this buzz," she said, her tone deceptively light.
"Sure," Rick agreed, throat tight. "That's a good plan."
He called on every ounce of his gentlemanly restraint as he helped her into the Uber a moment later. Her skirts proved to be too much for a Honda Civic. She held them to her chest while she settled into the seat, exposing a sliver of ankle between her tights and her boots. Rick's reaction to the sight made him feel very Victorian indeed.
He piled in beside her, riding the few blocks up the road. The radio of the car hummed more Christmas carols still. Michonne sang lightly beneath her breath, still clutching her skirts. Rick noticed a slight tremble to her hands.
He reached for her, laying his palm over the backs. "I can just drop you off," he offered. "I don't need to come up."
Michonne stilled, her dark eyes finding his. Without preamble, she leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to his lips. It was little more than a peck, certainly nothing to inspire poetry. Still, it ignited a fire in Rick's blood.
"I want you to come," she assured him. She reached out for his face but got tangled in her outfit. She huffed, dropping her arms in her lap.
"Need some help?" Rick asked, laughing.
"I can't wait to get out of this outfit," she groused.
Rick's chuckles died at once.
They stumbled out into the cold street once again. Rick followed Michonne's lead as she hurried them into her building. The looks as they raced through the lobby didn't bother him. The elevator was blessedly empty. Rick fell in, watching as Michonne pressed a number for a high floor. She turned to him once the doors shut, smiling up.
"If this doesn't work out, I'm blaming it on the wine," she began, reaching for him.
"No chance," Rick wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Christmas magic?" she tried again, craning on her toes toward him.
"Nope," Rick leaned his forehead against hers.
"These sexy Victorian outfits?" She raised a brow.
"Sure," Rick agreed.
There was nothing chaste about their kiss this time. Michonne knocked Rick's hat clean from his head as she tugged at his hair, slanting his mouth down over hers. The taste of wine gathered between them. Rick tangled the cotton of her skirt in his fists, pressing Michonne against the wall of the elevator.
The ring of the bell broke them apart. They pulled apart as the doors opened. Michonne's neighbors gave them a curious glance.
"Caroling," Michonne explained.
Rick nodded, bending to scoop his hat from the ground.
"For charity," he added.
He followed her down the hall, doing his best to make it look as though everything was perfectly normal.
"This isn't how I expected this night to go," Rick admitted.
Michonne placed the key in the lock, turning it. She tossed him a salacious look over shoulder.
"Maggie mentioned she had a handsome friend," she admitted. "But I didn't expect this either."
She threw the door open. Without another word, she turned, seizing him by the collar and pulling him in.
They met in a clash of hands and lips and tongues, stumbling in the dark as Rick shut the door behind them. Michonne steered them through the living room and down a hallway, opening a door behind her.
"I'll give you a tour later," she promised against his mouth, guiding them into what could only be her bedroom.
Rick only nodded, bending to kiss her. Later, he would appreciate the bright colors and clean lines of her decor. Currently, the only thing he could manage to see was Michonne standing in front of her king-sized bed.
Michonne shoved at his jacket, managing to dislodge the outermost layer. She fumbled with his scarf, breaking away from his lips to look at it.
"What the hell are these clothes?" she asked, frustrated.
Rick shook with laughter, reaching for her hands. "Here," he offered, spinning her around. "Let me help."
He removed her jacket as well, allowing it to fall to the floor. The bonnet went with it, freeing her hair to fall down her back. He paused to press a kiss to her shoulder, delighting in her shiver.
"Don't stop," she sighed, tilting her head to allow him further exploration. Rick obliged her, sucking at her umber skin.
"I won't," he promised. He ran a hand up her back, chuckling when it caught. "Safety pins?" he asked.
"I told you," she reminded him, squirming against him.
Rick worked the pins open one by one, laying them on her dresser until he could slip the shirt over her head. He was happy to find a zipper in place of old-fashioned fasteners in her skirt. Back in familiar territory, he dragged it open, letting it pool at her feet. His fingers found the waistband of her tights and he began to ease them down as well. Michonne caught his hands.
"You next," she instructed, turning.
His clothing was just as complex still but they managed to get it off, piling the costumes in a forgotten heap.
"Maggie's going to be pissed," Rick chuckled, shucking the last item off. He was glad for the heater as he stood in his boxer briefs. He straightened up, ego spiking at the look in Michonne's eyes as she regarded him.
Michonne tugged her tank top over her head, then rolled her tights down. Her lacy black underwear would have certainly scandalized traditional carolers. Rick sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
"She's going to be thrilled," Michonne laughed. "And have a million questions."
"What are you going to tell her?" Rick asked, catching Michonne around the waist. He snaked his hands down until he could cup her ass, giving her a firm squeeze. She gasped delightedly.
"That I bagged the hottie caroler with the baritone voice," Michonne answered without pause, grinning wickedly. She ran her hands up his chest and over his shoulders.
Rick fell backwards onto her bed, all thoughts of Maggie forgotten. Michonne's skin felt better than he could possibly have imagined, smooth and even against his rough palms. She was just as eager to feel him, writhing and stroking him in turn. In no time at all the wet heat of her was pressed against his thigh, her hips winding in greedy circles against him. It only seemed natural to remove the last few barriers between them. Rick drew her legs around his waist, listening as she moaned and keened at the feeling of him pressed hard and hot against her.
They paused for a moment as Michonne went for protection, returning to place the square condom package into Rick's hand.
"Christmas caroling took a modern turn," she giggled. She fell back onto her bed, staring eagerly at him.
Rick pried the package open, handing the condom back to her. He groaned, falling onto his back as Michonne grasped him surely and rolled it down.
"Thank God," he huffed, lifting her over him.
She eased towards him, moaning loudly as she sank until their hips met.
"Thank God," she agreed, bending over him to kiss him again.
Rick did eventually get his tour, though it came an hour or so later, and they both were naked beneath the blanket he tossed over them. Michonne did not seem at all to mind his continued close proximity, or his hands around her waist as she took him from room to room, showing off her Christmas decorations.
"Stay the night," she suggested. "I'll drive you back to your car in the morning."
"Sweet of you," Rick complimented, distracting her again as she fiddled with heating water in her electric kettle.
She rolled back into him, smirking when he groaned. "Can't have you doing the walk of shame in a caroler's outfit," she joked, flipping the switch with a grin.
The tea was cold before they got around to it, but no less delicious when enjoyed from Michonne's couch with her in his lap. In the background, the television played a Christmas special. She settled against him beneath the blanket they shared, snuggling closer still.
"Might have to make this a tradition," Rick murmured, bending to kiss Michonne on her forehead.
"Even the outfit?" Michonne asked, tugging at his beard.
"It's growing on me," Rick smiled, setting his tea aside to give Michonne his full attention once more.