A/N: A couple of years ago I wrote a series of Max/Mariam kisses for Valentine's, and I wanted to do something like that again. I decided on several separate oneshots, centered on different ships, for Valentine's Day and the days after. There will be six in total, each based off of a different kiss cliché or trope.

We're on number five, so winding down. This time, it's Rick/Mariah.

A Kiss to Shut Her Up

Mariah liked to have stupid conversations. Namely, conversations that made it sound like they were in some kind of serious relationship. One with commitments and engagement rings and Visas and other things that made Rick break out in hives.

Just because there hadn't been any other women since Mariah started spending the night didn't mean they were a couple. Sure, he tolerated her company more than he did anyone else. And she put up with his attitude, giving as well as she got in a way that managed to be more attractive than annoying most days.

None of that meant they were shackled to each other for life. Rick had seen people who were disgustingly in love with one another, knew how they acted. That wasn't him and Mariah. He thought they both understood that.

But then she'd start one of her stupid conversations. Ones where she said things like: "Maybe in a few years we could…" or "Next time you and I…" or the memorable "If we ever got married…" she threw at him during Max's wedding reception. He'd chalked that last one up to girls being stupid about weddings and had another drink.

He'd gotten really good at dodging, or downright ignoring, any long-term, lovey-dovey, head-over-heels relationship talk.

"I love you."

Or so he thought.

Rick froze, the words Mariah had whispered in his ear rocketing around his brain like it was a fucking pinball machine. He'd been drifting blissfully in the hazy middle ground between sleep and gearing up for round two, Mariah's body a welcome warmth on top of him as her lips lazily dropped kisses wherever she could reach.

He was wide awake now.

"Rick?" Mariah asked, having the nerve to tilt her head to the side and look confused as he tensed. Like she hadn't just casually dropped a fucking bomb on him while his hand was on her ass.

"Don't say that," he grouched, scowling up at the ceiling. He wouldn't lose his nerve looking at her, but if she got all pathetic and pouty he'd feel like an asshole.

"Your name?"

"No!" He looked at her now. She was propped up with her forearms on his chest and her hair a mess. It gave him a little less resolve when he said, "The other one."

Mariah stared at him, golden eyes narrowing in thought. After a moment, she shrugged and said, "I'm not taking it back."

Rick furrowed his brow. He narrowly avoided asking why not like a kid throwing a temper tantrum.

"I'm being serious, Mariah," he said instead, dragging himself up onto his elbows.

"So am I!" she shot back. She sat up, one leg on either side of his hips, and crossed her arms over her chest. It gave her great cleavage which wasn't Rick's concern right now so he kept his eyes focused firmly on her face. "It's been three years, Rick. I think I'm entitled to my feelings."

"Not that one," Rick replied. He was trying anything to stop the conversation at this point. If it was any other chick, he'd have handed them their clothes and shown them the door. But Mariah was…more complicated.

"Rick, I'm not asking you to say it back—"

"Good."

He gave her a nudge and she slid off of him to stare indignantly from the other side of the mattress. He ignored the stab of guilt in his stomach as he got out of bed and pulled on the first pair of pants he could find. Leaving the apartment was out of the question, but he wasn't about to hang around in the bedroom and subject himself to this. Not with something akin to panic making his chest tight and his heart race.

Too bad Mariah was really fucking persistent when she wanted to be. Rick was no sooner out the door than she was hurrying after him.

"Rick, can we talk about this?"

"Fuck, no!"

"Ugh!" Mariah exclaimed. "Why"—she went uncharacteristically quiet and a quick glance in her direction revealed she was pulling on his shirt from earlier—"are men so scared to talk about their feelings?!"

"Why do women need a cut and dry definition for every damn thing?" he retorted and turned on the TV in an attempt to drown her out.

Mariah stomped over to turn the television off manually. Turning it back on would feel juvenile, so Rick squeezed the remote hard and fought to keep from chucking it through the window.

"I didn't ask for a definition, Rick." Mariah was in his space again, jabbing him in the chest with her pointer finger. The flush on her cheeks would have been hot under other circumstances. "I told you how I feel, and even if you're too chicken to do the same, I know you care."

"Ha!" He dropped the remote, crossed his arms, and leaned in to accentuate their height difference. "Prove it!"

"Fine!" She squared her shoulders, put her hands on her hips, and said, "Ask me to leave. If you don't care, tell me you want to be done and I'll go."

Rick took a breath and almost did it. Almost.

Maybe it was the sight of his t-shirt gathered on her hips or the peeved off look on her face or that stupid flush that was starting down her chest in patches. Maybe it was the way her lower lip jutted out when she screwed her face up in an even deeper glare. Maybe it was the home-cooked meals or the easy company or the fact that training somebody else to put up with his bullshit would be more trouble than it was worth.

Or maybe it was the hollow feeling he got in his gut when he thought about breaking it off that made him think again.

A smirk wormed its way onto Rick's face.

"Don't be fucking dramatic," he snorted.

When her mouth opened in outrage, he claimed it with his own and sucked every smart little comeback from her tongue.

Mariah got over her shock fast and made a low, growling noise in her throat that he felt the whole way down his spine. Then her hands were in his hair and her elbows were on his shoulders and she was hoisting herself up, climbing him like a fucking tree.

Rick instinctively grabbed her butt to keep her from sliding and thought, as she pulled away with a gasp, adjusted the angle with a sharp tug of his hair, and kissed him to bruising, that this was the best way he'd found to shut her up yet.

A/N: Extremely in love with in-denial, oblivious Rick. I find him and Mariah so much fun to write about. I say it every time I feel like, but such a fun dynamic.

Thanks for reading! :)