Chapter Nine
This trip was going better than expected.
Daryl stared over the curve of his bottle as he sipped his beer. His two companions were having a lively discussion about restaurants or some shit he didn't really care about. That was fine though. He liked having the company without having to do a whole lot of talking. The bar's mid-week crowd worked for him too, not too rowdy but enough folks out to make it feel casual. A mix of classic rock and old blues tunes played from the speakers and a small group in the corner hooted over a pool tournament that had been going on since they arrived.
The rustic wood table shook with a slight wobble as he turned to observe the commotion. The move caused him to catch Michonne tossing back the last of her drink and he smirked at her. She shrugged and then returned to her conversation. That woman really could throw down on some liquor when the mood hit her. Her expression had challenged him to sass her about that but there wasn't much he could say.
After all, enjoying an occasional drink together had become their thing in the weeks after the whole Woodbury takedown.
Normally when he found himself on the road for work, he'd handle his business and then lock himself in his hotel room with some takeout, some TV and a beer if he could find it. Having a regular partner now changed all that. The last few trips together, they'd wordlessly sought each other out for dinner or a relaxed nightcap filled with mostly silent companionship. When they did stay in, they'd often do so together, finishing up reports or preparing for the next day's assignment. It was a good way for him to keep an eye on her and make sure she didn't retreat into herself after everything that went down with Andrea. He figured she was doing the same thing after his losing Merle.
Tonight, they were at this great dive bar they'd found called The Last Cabin and had invited Morgan Jones to join them. When Rick and Michonne last saw him, the man had been going through a rough patch, having lost his wife over a year ago and then laid off from his struggling company a few months ago. He'd sent his son to live with his wife's parents for a while and had been grieving that relationship too. Morgan said himself that he'd damn near lost his mind during those months. He wanted to make things right, though, and working with Rick again became part of that.
Daryl and Michonne had spent the last few days negotiating a contract with Morgan's new firm that provided them with some necessary equipment they often used on their projects, mostly infrastructural equipment: fencing, door locks, building supplies and such. It was Michonne who suggested they seal the deal on their new relationship with some quality time spent off the clock. She'd been wary of meeting up with him again, but at some point during the day, they'd put their dramatic history behind them.
And now the two of them were chatting it up like old friends, leaving Daryl to sit at the periphery and take it all in. Morgan had been tentative at the beginning of the night, but she'd coaxed him into opening up in that straightforward, quietly intense way of hers.
Michonne glanced over at him, pleading for an opinion about whatever had her and Morgan bickering, but he only smirked at her again. Rolling her eyes, she went back to arguing with the man across from her. He enjoyed letting Michonne take the lead—and Morgan clearly had little problem welcoming the attention.
Her insistent voice cutting into his thoughts, Michonne once more requested his backup. "Seriously, Dixon? You're going to let this man sit here and talk shit about your hometown?"
"Is that how it is?" Morgan responded. "Because as far as I'm concerned, I'm the only one at this table making sense." Michonne scoffed.
Daryl stopped her before she could resumer her argument with Morgan. "I already lost track of what y'all are goin' on about. What the hell is all this fussin' for anyway?"
Morgan fixed his stare on Michonne as she signaled to the bartender for another finger of whiskey. The woman truly did know how to hold her liquor so Daryl wasn't concerned. What did have him furrowing his brow was the way that Morgan's eyes traveled along Michonne's bare shoulders, taking in her toned arms and the way her smooth skin reflected the dim light of the bar. His gaze trailing down to her modest, fitted blouse and practical skirt, he'd probably insist on ogling her legs too if they weren't hidden from his view by the table. The man was totally checking her out right in front of Daryl and not even shy about it.
When Michonne turned back around, Morgan pretended to pick absently at the label on his beer, but one look up at the glower Daryl sported signaled to the man that he'd been busted. If Michonne picked up on any of the attention, she wasn't letting on. Instead, her focus returned to winning the argument that had gotten her riled up.
"Morgan here thinks that Esquires is the best barbecue place in the tri-county area," she explained. "But I think he's crazy. Everyone knows that Billy Joe's is where it's at."
Daryl thought about it for a moment. "I'd say you're both wrong. Mama May's has the best barbecue. You want a burned up salt lick, you go ahead on to Esquire's. And Billy Joe's is good if you don't care about paying twice as much for half the serving you get at Mama May's."
Both Michonne and Morgan heckled him loudly.
"That's just nonsense," Morgan said. "Now that you mention it, though, you know what place is terrible? Terminus BBQ." All three agreed enthusiastically, Daryl proclaiming it horrible and Michonne calling it the worst. "Truth is," Morgan continued, "the best barbecue is what my dad used to make every Saturday when I was little. Barrel grill, his own rub? Now that was some perfection right there."
"I know what you mean," Michonne said, seeming nostalgic as well. Daryl didn't know what to say. He didn't have family like that. Hell, if there had been food in the fridge on any given day, even if it was crackers and mayonnaise, he counted it a win. As if sensing his discomfort, Michonne considered him for a moment and then flashed a brief smile to apologize for the awkward turn in their conversation.
Before ordering this string of business trips Rick and Hershel decided that Michonne would probably take well to working with him because she'd be able to travel and get out of the office and Daryl could then really show her the ropes. And for now, they both were pretty determined to do damage control after the business with the Governor had done a number on AGD's sales and their reputation. Based on how they were back at the office, he figured they'd get along just fine.
But he hadn't anticipated how much he'd enjoy her company and how easy she made the whole process. Her instincts were amazing and usually he'd only have to explain something to her once and she'd run with it—that's if he had to explain himself at all because she hadn't already guessed what he was getting at. Being an upfront kind of guy was Daryl's thing and he'd been successful conducting business that way. Michonne seemed a straight-shooter too. Yet she also had this charm that she could turn on and, boy, was it a masterful skill to watch. That's how they'd ended up at this bar with Morgan.
He didn't know if Michonne was playing Morgan or not but she'd certainly done a number on the man.
The waitress breezed by and dropped off Michonne's drink. "Anybody else need anything?" She directed her comments to the two men at the table but her eyes never left Daryl. She was a young girl, cute if you liked a woman who probably spent a little too long making herself up before leaving the house. She had on a tight low-cut t-shirt and made it a point to stand right next to him, almost touching. He leaned away from her which brought him slightly into Michonne's personal space.
Daryl wasn't sure how to handle the situation. He could never tell if a woman was really interested or if she was just making fun of him. He didn't feel like trying to figure out what this woman wanted right now anyhow, not with Morgan across from him making eyes at Michonne. It fell on him as her boss to keep an eye on her, after all.
"Naw, I'm good." He heard Morgan order another beer. The woman tossed him a sassy look and a wink over her shoulder as she left, her messy bun swaying at the top of her head in a tangled cluster streaked blonde and red. He noticed that Michonne sat as still as stone as he put more distance between them now that the waitress had gone. He wondered what to make of that.
Morgan staggered to his feet and excused himself to the bathroom, oblivious to the subtext going on with either him or Michonne. The man grinned at her a little drunkenly before he walked off. He sure as hell held his liquor worse than either of them.
Michonne turned to him as soon as Morgan reached beyond earshot. "So is this what it's like to run across your fan club?" She tilted her head towards the waitress and raised an eyebrow. He frowned at her teasing.
"You aint one to talk with all that droolin' this fool's doing over you." He gestured towards Morgan's vacant chair.
She waved him off. "He's just being cute. There's no way anything's going to happen there."
He felt relief hearing that but he tried not to let on. "What? You aint into the square, responsible type?"
Laughing, she took another sip of her drink. "More like I have no interest in a long-distance relationship with someone on the rebound and who doesn't even know me that well."
"Sounds like y'all gettin' to know each other pretty good right now. And I don't think he's ponderin' some boyfriend-girlfriend shit the way he's got his eye on ya." He refused to hide that he was prying—or his disapproval. She picked up on it and shook her head.
"I know how to keep a professional distance in these situations, if that's what you're getting at. But point taken, Dad." He gently kicked her foot under the table for the dig, and she bumped him right back which brought a lift to the corner of his lips. Staring at him, her face held a rather complicated expression, one he couldn't quite decipher. He didn't back down, holding her gaze in return.
Morgan's return and the scrape of his chair brought them out of their moment, although it was a slow extraction from the other's attention. Right after he sat down, the waitress returned with Morgan's beer. She made sure to lean over as she placed it on the table, giving both men a view of her ample cleavage. Morgan snuck a good peek while Daryl simply fiddled with the hair on his chin and looked away.
One glance at Michonne confirmed her amusement over the whole thing. He nudged her again with his foot.
Over the next hour, the waitress remained attentive, not giving up on the idea of a potential hookup with him. She'd even stopped to chat, weighing in on their barbecue debate (her vote was for Esquire's which was another vote against her), and each time she passed, she'd hover against him in that same fashion as before, almost touching and prompting him farther into Michonne.
"That woman is not giving up," Morgan commented after a while. "I think she's just gonna wear you down until you're too weak to fight back when she grabs you and takes you home with her."
Daryl snorted. "I don't think so. If somebody can't take the hint by now, that's somebody I don't want no parts of in my personal business." He wondered if that was Morgan's plan for Michonne: wear her down until she'd come home with him. His hand tensed around his beer bottle at the thought.
Morgan laughed and nodded. "Maybe. Or it could end up being a good time. Lord knows y'all have earned a bit of recreational reward after everything you've been through." A flash of tension distracted him before he then relaxed and turned shyly away. "We all could learn to appreciate a spell of enjoying ourselves to balance it out." He had the good sense not to look back in Michonne's direction when he said it, but it wasn't hard to figure out the double–duty his suggestion was pulling. Daryl nudged Michonne's knee and, from the corner of his eye, saw her suppress a secret, shared smile with him.
"Me and you gotta different idea 'a recreation," Daryl responded. "I think huntin' or fishin' would be a sight safer than messin' around with a wild one like that."
Michonne laughed. "Only you, Daryl Dixon." She sipped at her drink. "You want to get her off your back?" She swayed into him and he could smell the sweet aroma of whiskey on her mixed in with the freshness of her usual scent and the light smokiness of the bar.
All he could muster was a nod and wonder what she had in mind and how much trouble it'd be worth handing the reigns of the situation over to her.
"Don't look but she's coming back this way. And she's got determination in her eye." He almost cut his eyes towards the approaching woman but Michonne grabbed his chin and kept him facing her. At the same time, she slid her arm up around the back of his chair. Before he could register the feel of her hand on his shoulder, she had unleashed the full power of her smile, directed solely and beautifully on him.
He forgot to breathe.
He wasn't so liquored up that he could feign tipsiness as an excuse for leaning into her and offering a more convincing display. There was no use denying the impulse. Everything around him faded away, the white noise of bar activity, Morgan, and especially his aggressive suitor. All he registered was the feel of her hands on him and the way her body turned to sidle up closer than any woman had been to him in a long time. She let go of his chin and let her fingers trail along his cheek before disappearing under the table and settling on his thigh. Normally, he'd be jumping out of his skin to have someone this close, this touchy-feely. Yet his mind hollered to send her an invitation to continue.
"You are a bad girl," he grumbled at her and grinned.
She bowed her head even closer and let her lips linger just shy of contact with his ear. "You have no idea," she whispered. Again, the smell of liquor and the stroke of her soft breath along his neck.
Daryl felt the heat rise to his cheeks and knew his skin would flare an angry red before long. However, he wouldn't move away from her. Whatever fear it stirred up was overpowered by the undeniable desire crawling along his body.
A loud noise and jostling of the table turned their attention off to his side. The waitress stood next to Morgan and across from Daryl, dropping off his new beer and smiling a little too sweetly. She was still leaning over slightly and had glanced at Michonne as if in challenge.
"Oh, you've definitely got a feisty one here," Michonne said quietly into his ear. "She's not going down without a fight." Her chuckle breezed along his earlobe once more and it almost made him shiver at the hotness of it.
Pushing into her as she sat against him, he moved around so that he was now whispering in her ear. "So much for 'professional distance'. Looks like we gon' have to try harder." Michonne's smile faded and a smoldering expression replaced her seductive one from before. Daryl didn't know where all this playfulness came from. It wasn't like him at all and he could tell that it had started to make Morgan uncomfortable across from them. As the moments stretched on, it was unclear why they were really doing this—sure he wanted to shake the waitress, but Michonne's tactics were showing some real possibility.
He grabbed the beer the waitress dropped off and held it to his lips. He thanked the woman but his eyes didn't leave Michonne's. She removed her hand from his thigh—her arm remaining around his shoulders—and raised her glass as well. Before either took a drink, Daryl offered the neck of his bottle to her and she tapped it with the base of her tumbler. They then took a simultaneous pull. They heard the waitresses scoff before shuffling off.
Michonne's eyes tracked the retreating woman and he saw the merriment dancing in them. Removing her arm from around Daryl, she shifted to a respectable distance and faced forward again. "That is how it's done, boys." Her laughter came pouring out like champagne uncorked; both he and Morgan let the dizzying effect of it flow over them. "Did you see that?" Her chuckles died down. "She was about ready to fight me. Like I'm going to get into it with that girl over a man."
She brushed off the incident for the act that it was and Daryl tried to do the same, though he was having a much harder time of it. Michonne shook her head and leaned back in her chair. Morgan looked between them, not knowing how to process the exchange that had just taken place.
"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Daryl said to Michonne, attempting to play the whole thing off as she appeared to be doing.
Morgan's scrutiny turned to humor as he accepted the farce of their show. "I don't think she liked you stealing her man. And when I say her man, I mean her man." The two of them cracked up which puzzled Daryl.
"What y'all talkin' 'bout? How she figure I'm her man, I don't even know her."
"Oh, she didn't need to know you personally," Michonne added. "It's more like you're her people and she didn't appreciate that I wooed you over to the dark side."
"What dark side you—oh." He realized now what they were getting at. He shifted in his seat and turned away. Michonne rubbed his shoulder trying to sooth his discomfort.
Morgan looked a bit contrite as well. "At least you don't have to worry about her being all up on you now. I think she's pissed enough at the both of you to leave you be."
"Thanks," he mumbled at Michonne, still embarrassed about what they'd implied. He hoped she didn't feel too bad about it. He didn't mean to expose her to any kind of hatred or anything. He'd just wanted the woman off his back.
"Although," he added," you were pretty convincing." Morgan's expression turned serious. "Makes a person wonder."
Michonne rolled her eyes across from him. "The man is my boss."
Daryl bristled at that a little. Not that it wasn't the truth, and he understood she didn't want to kick up any dirt surrounding them. Yet it still felt more dismissive than he'd expected.
"You mind sayin' that one more time? 'Cause you sure as hell don't act like it when you get all pushy." His bruised feelings turned to mischief as he teased her and reveled in her enjoyment of it. She shrugged and brushed off his complaint.
"Yeah, you guys definitely don't have your typical supervisor-subordinate dynamic, not when you're throwing back the drinks and ganging up on fast waitresses who can't take a hint." He pushed his chair back and grabbed his coat from the hook by their seats. "It's cool though. On that note, I'm gonna head home. I'm not as young as I once was and I need a day to recover before my son comes back from his grandparents' house." Downing the rest of his beer, he turns his attention to Michonne. "It's been a pleasure seeing you again." Reluctantly, he turned to Daryl. "And a pleasure finally meeting after Rick's talked my ear off about you. I look forward to doing business for a long time." Daryl stood and he shook Morgan's hand. Michonne went around and did the same, giving him a warm but casual side-hug in the process. "I'm gonna grab a cab but are you guys good to get back to the hotel?"
"We're fine," Daryl said. "It's not far and we could use the fresh air to sober up."
"Speak for yourself," she said. "I'm fresh as a daisy. And we already know I can drink you under the table."
He grinned at her. "That was the one time. We gon' settle that matter fair and square one 'a these days." Turning back to Morgan, he noticed that again the man was staring at them with a questioning expression. Daryl didn't blame him—he was a little confused about the two of them himself, truth be told. "Don't worry 'bout the tab. I got this. Rick would insist. He'll try to catch you next time when things aren't so busy back at the office."
"Thanks, man." He sent them one last wave and strolled out the door."
They returned to their seats after Morgan's departure and mostly sat in comfortable silence as they finished their drinks. Daryl's waitress kept her distance, although Michonne commented that if glares could inflict real damage, she'd need to pack some Kevlar the next time they rolled through.
Checking the time, Daryl threw back the last of his beer, noting that Michonne had finished her drink as well. "I'm 'a go settle up at the bar. Be right back." He left her at the table, gathering up her things and checking her phone.
He was signing the credit card slip when the waitress came out of nowhere and sidled up next to him. "Hey, Jimmy, gimme two of the house draft, an Old Fashioned and a gin and tonic, standard." The bartender frowned at hearing her request and probably annoyed about the pain in the ass it was to stack that kind of order. After listing off her drinks she turned to Daryl as if her presence wasn't a poorly fabricated coincidence. "I guess it'd be a waste of time to invite you back to my place when I get off my shift." She peeked around his shoulder and scowled at Michonne who wasn't paying the woman a lick of attention. "Your friend over there seems like the type to spoil all your fun. Wouldn't want to get someone like her mad."
Daryl didn't appreciate her tone or her bullshit assumptions. "I'm only in town for the night on business." He didn't volunteer that he would likely be back soon. There didn't seem any point to encouraging her. "Got my hands full till I head back home." Daryl handed off his signed receipt to the bartender when he returned with one of the waitress's drinks. Instead of leaving well enough alone, she grabbed his pen and scribbled her name and number on a napkin that she placed in front of him.
She smiled at him and tossed her hair. "You sure you don't have room in those hands for a little something else? What I can fill has got to be better than whatever else is on your plate." Her tone was dismissive, chastising.
It was possible that she thought herself an alternative to his work but he had a feeling that she was more referring to Michonne. It pissed him off. Who was she to think she was better than anybody else, especially someone like Michonne who was a smarter, classier, more … everything than this woman throwing herself at him. It didn't matter that he and Michonne weren't together for real—the waitress didn't know that. He wouldn't stand for anybody disrespecting his friend like that, and certainly not some trashy, know-it-all bitch.
"My girl over there would disagree, although you best quit worryin' yourself about her and try not pissin' me off. What you got to fill sure as hell aint worth my time." He pocketed his receipt and walked off, leaving her number. He ignored the irritated look on her face but caught the bartender's chuckle as he mocked his co-worker.
When he returned to Michonne, she'd already shrugged on her jacket and held his to pass over to him. "What was all that about?" she asked, not mad but certainly curious.
Daryl shrugged and slipped on the leather outwear. He waited for her to secure her scarf around her neck and grab her purse that he always made fun of for being so big. "Girl don't know when to quit." He couldn't keep the irritation out of his voice. "You in the mood for one last trick?"
Her curiosity turned into a conspiratorial glee. "Of course."
He pulled her towards him and appeared to nuzzle into her neck, although he only came close to making contact rather than actually burying himself against her. It was difficult to tell in the noisy bar, but he thought he heard her sigh into his ear. It thrilled him.
Raising his head up, he said, "I thought we'd make us an exit."
He wrapped an arm around Michonne and kissed the top of her head before leading her towards the door. He stopped before opening it and faced her, adjusting her scarf more securely and pushing her hair off her shoulder, an intimate gesture of familiarity. As she pulled his collar a little tighter around him as well, Michonne looked up into his face with a soft, feminine expression that made his insides twist. Running her gloved fingers through his hair, she pressed herself closer to him and he closed his eyes briefly to the sensation of her surrounding him.
"Well played. She is shooting us such daggers right now." Of course, she would be completely assessing the situation for them, calculating whether their scheming had paid off. Again, it made him feel lucky that she was on his side.
"She messed with the wrong badasses, now didn't she?" He squeezed her as they went through the door. After they got around the corner, he thought of letting her go but it was cold and she didn't seem to mind the weight of him. In fact, she snuggled farther into his side as the wind picked up. The hotel was only about six blocks away but they took their time despite the weather, letting the chill and the movement burn off some of the alcohol they'd consumed as they joked about the evening's highlights. When they reached the hotel lobby, he finally released her.
He dropped her off in front of her room and then made his way to his door across the hall. Lingering in her doorway, she called out to him.
"Hey, we do make a good team don't we? That is when I'm not sexually harassing you," she added carefully, gauging his reaction.
Daryl stared at her, making her wait for a response. "I guess you aint so bad." A grin skated across his lips and she met his eyes with a smile of her own. "And the only harassment I'm lookin' to correct you on is that fool idea that Billy Joe's got the best barbecue. Gonna have to straighten you out on that when we get back."
Michonne rolled her eyes but her smile widened. She opened her mouth as if to tell him exactly what she thought of that idea. Yet, instead of tossing him a snarky reply, she hesitated. Her amusement held strong as she stepped back and closed her door on him. Daryl shook his head at that. The woman was a mystery, an enigma of the best kind.
When he stood on the other side of his own door a few moments later, he realized he had just sort of offered to take her on a date. His chest tightened. As her boss, he was horrified.
But as a man who'd felt the power of her affection, even as a pretense, the idea stirred up all kinds of feelings in him.
TBC …
AN: It's nice to finally get into the fun stuff. Since we're venturing into new territory, thing's get to be a little more "interesting" between Daryl and Michonne for sure. We'll see how it unfolds (well, hopefully, you'll stick around and see. I already know, of course).
Thanks for reading! More (relatively) soon.