Chapter 13

Michonne twirled around in her chair and waited for Daryl to be done with the file she'd handed over five minutes ago. She was tired, starving and bored. If she didn't relieve one of those conditions soon, it was going to get ugly.

They'd been holed up in his office doing vendor evaluations for the last two days. The final reports were due at the end of the following day; they were close to being done but also at the most tedious part of the process. Along with the emotional complications, sitting around like this churning out paperwork fueled her reluctance to being tied down to the office. It's one of the things she feared would happen all the time if she signed the contract everyone had been on her about.

Yet as awful as the task was, at least she enjoyed the company next to her.

Daryl threw the folder down and looked at his watch. "Where's that damn takeout?"

Michonne tried to hide her grin. She figured Daryl might be even grumpier than she at this point. He'd been working on this all last week before she'd volunteered to give him a hand—thanks to their hard work, their active vendor list had more than doubled in the last six months. As one of the assistant directors and the head of the Vendor Relations department, Daryl had to review his staff's final reports so he could sign off on them. The way they'd coordinated it, Michonne handled the first pass at each evaluation to iron out any kinks before it got to Daryl. Her reports went straight to him since Daryl trusted that she'd prepare them just the way he wanted.

Michonne looked at the clock on her phone. "The food should be here soon. We only called twenty minutes ago."

Frowning, Daryl wrote down some notes and then pushed the latest folder aside. "I should've just gone and picked it up. Then we'd have it right now."

"It would have wasted time. It'll be here—"

As soon as she mentioned it, her phone lit up with a call.

"See." She flashed him an I-told-you-so expression and then left the room to go meet the delivery person in the lobby. It was their usual guy, and she handed him a little extra for the tip given the late hour. He told her to let Daryl know there were extra dumplings in the bag for him. She rolled her eyes but smiled. Her friend may be a grumpy redneck from the backwoods but damned if he couldn't charm the hell out of everybody he met.

Returning to Daryl's office, she deposited their huge stash of Chinese food on the extra desk she'd been working at. They'd ordered from their new favorite spot that had just opened; she and Rick had tried it one day on a whim. After going back a few times, she managed to drag a kicking and screaming Daryl there while he complained about how he didn't even like her "fancy international cuisine" as he called it. Of course, no one could resist the lure of good Chinese food, and it only took one visit for Daryl to become hooked. He especially liked the fried dumplings that he'd drown in the restaurant's special soy sauce. When she wasn't on the road, they tried to go at least once a week, sometimes for lunch but often as an after-work stop before spending the evening hanging out at Tyreese or Glenn or Daryl's place.

Before Michone could even get all the food out on the desk, Daryl had found the container with the dumplings and happily munched on them as he explored the rest of the offerings. He pulled out the sauce, and she frowned as he submerged his meaty morsel until his fingers were covered and then licked them with flourish after stuffing his mouth.

"We really need to work on your table manners, Dixon." Daryl ignored her customary complaint; they both knew he wasn't ever going to change when it came to that, no matter how much she fussed at him. He leaned across the table to check out her noodle dish and then dug his fingers into her container for a sample.

"Hey!" She slapped his hand and he laughed at her.

"I'm hungry and you're hoggin' shit over there."

She moved the dish closer to him and then handed him a fork. "I'm not hogging anything, you're just impatient." She pulled a couple of plates from the desk drawer and handed him one. He wasted no time loading up his plate with noodles, vegetables and juicy pieces of pork.

"You better get up in here, Woman. I told you I was hungry and I might eat all 'a this 'fore you can even wash those dainty hands 'a yours."

Michonne laughed. "You better not. I'm just as hungry as you are. We shouldn't have had that early lunch."

Daryl grunted his agreement around his mouthful of food. When he swallowed, he set his plate down to check his list of remaining vendor evaluations. "Rick wanted to get that first wave of reports out the way so it's good that we got him off our back. And we're almost done so we woulda been behind schedule if we'd stopped later. Don't make me less hungry right now though." He shoved another forkful of food into his mouth and eyed their spread to see which dish he'd target for an early second serving.

"Mmhmm." It was Michonne's turn to be engrossed in her meal. Maybe it was the hunger talking but the food tasted particularly delicious tonight. She'd have to mention it the next time they went into the restaurant. Making their way through the different portions, they didn't even bother trying to get work done. It was too much to just focus on filling their stomachs.

"You gon' eat that," he asked of the rice that she'd set off to the side. Michonne shook her head and gestured for him to take the rest since she'd scooped out plenty.

"Damn, this is some good stuff." Into his second container of dumplings, Daryl couldn't contain his pleasure over his favorite food. "I think they changed up the recipe or something. Probably put some secret Chinese spices in it."

"More likely that it's not Chinese at all. You know those guys are Korean right?"

"That's what Glenn said but I don't know no different. Whatever it is, it's damn good." He finished off the dumpling and then grabbed another one. "C'mon. You gotta taste this. Stop tryin' 'a be cute and give it a try."

Michonne continued to munch on her rice and vegetables. "You know I don't love those things like you do. Stop trying to convert me—it just means there's more for you."

"I'm just tryin' to help you out. Here."

He offered her a dumpling from where he sat beside her at the desk. His arm extended close to her face, and it was too awkward for her to reach around and pull the chunk of food from his fingers with her chopsticks. Without putting much thought into it, she leaned forward and let him guide the dumpling between her lips.

He'd dipped it in the special soy sauce and the tang of it hitting her tongue was the first thing she registered. When she bit down into the meaty center, she felt the dumpling collapse around her perforation; Daryl tried to compensate by scurrying to scoop the falling morsel up from her lips and pressing his fingers against her mouth. Michonne obliged his gesture and opened wider so he could slide the rest of the disintegrating snack onto her waiting tongue.

Time seemed to stop as she felt his fingers slide along the bottom of her lips, and the slightest of strokes hit her tongue before she could press them closed. Her mouth captured Daryl's fingers, sucking at him as she worked the dumpling across her taste buds. On instinct, she reengaged and licked along his fingers at the sauce that lingered on each digit. Daryl's hand retreated in slow motion, brushing along her mouth as his eyes met hers over the shared culinary experience. Michonne chewed his offering, relishing the flavor but also the intimacy of how he'd delivered it to her.

Neither could drop their gaze so caught up in their closeness. Her stare was uncertain and intense. Daryl's eyes flashed panic but were clouded and fiery, his mouth slightly opened at the vision of her. He licked his lips and then pulled one between his teeth, biting it in that way of his. Her mouth had captured his full attention. When he registered his actions finally, he looked away, flushed and embarrassed.

This kept happening to them, these moments where something sparked between them that would flare and linger a little too long, always slow to taper off, always threatening to reignite and consume. They respected the boundaries of their relationship, but that didn't mean they completely ignored what they sometimes felt for each other. The feelings of friendship rather than boss and subordinate, the feelings of attraction rather than simply being co-workers who liked to hang out on road trips and at lunch. And after work. And on weekends.

"You're right, it's good," Michonne said at last. She reached over across his plate and picked up another with chopsticks. When she leaned into him, she felt him take a deep inhale and stiffen so she moved away quickly. The last thing she wanted to do was make him uncomfortable. They got along well but some things about their relationship could be fragile.

Instead of backing off though he closed his eyes for a moment and then relaxed. Smirking over at her, he took his fork and picked some broccoli off her plate.

"You better stop tryin' 'a start some shit, gettin' up in my plate. Might not like how it comes back on ya?" As he watched her nibbling on the dumpling, that challenging directness had returned to his eyes. And maybe something else, if she wasn't imagining it.

"So far it seems pretty harmless. I think I'll take my chances." Michonne reached over again and took some of his sautéed beef. She didn't back down, wanting to be bold and candid when she did it. His eyes darkened and narrowed on her but he didn't say anything further.

Instead they finished eating in silence, one taking in the other every so often and keeping their own counsel about what had passed between them. When they had their fill, they packed up the food and set it off to the side. Daryl would probably take the rest home and eat it for breakfast. She knew him well enough to bet money on that.

When they'd cleared and cleaned the desk, Daryl dragged over the remaining files and Michonne returned to her computer to fill in the necessary data in their tracking spreadsheet. They had gone back to working at their usual pace when she cut her eyes to him and noticed a bit of sauce stuck in the whiskers of his chin. She smiled at the endearing messiness and grabbed a napkin.

"Can't take you anywhere," she said and reached over to dab at his chin, stroking along the skin as she gently cupped his face in her hand. He looked down at her fingers but didn't move away. Rather, he leaned forward and let her clean him. He fixed his blue eyes on her, taking her in for a moment before Michonne blinked and turned back to her computer. She felt hot and flustered, both in a good way and in a more complicated way. Daryl only leaned back in his chair and swiveled around to get back to his paperwork. The retreat felt as if he'd forced himself to maintain this distance from these moments passing between them.

They worked in charged silence until Michonne finished her cataloguing.

Standing up to stretch, she walked over to the other side of Daryl's desk to gather up the files they'd finished with. She'd reorganize them in the morning after they turned everything over and Daryl had signed off on their work. Her vantage point over him caught the hunch of his shoulders and his pinched eyes as he finished reviewing whatever dull report sat in front of him. He underlined some item and put a post-it note on the page covered with his impatient scrawl.

In a fit of frustration, Michonne questioned what held them back from addressing this thing happening between them. He wasn't her boss anymore. After his promotion and the recent reorganization, she technically remained in his department but reported directly to Hershel. She didn't get the sense that anyone thought ill of their friendship. If anything, people like Carol and Tyreese were actively encouraging something more to happen between them, probably because it would deflect some of the gossip from the nature of their own overly-friendly relationship. And she wouldn't deny her raging attraction to him. The beauty of this man incited a wild passion in her that she hadn't felt in a long, long time. In flashes, she detected the promising certainty of her hold on Daryl as well.

Perhaps because of the late hour and her fatigue, or perhaps because she felt emboldened by their charged dynamic throughout the evening, Michonne wandered behind Daryl and rested her hands on his shoulders. She'd half expected him to jump—he wasn't the kind of guy that liked people getting too close to him, physically or emotionally. Yet, he only turned his head a bit, continuing to add notes to his document.

"What you doing back there?" He asked, tone unreadable.

Michonne began kneading his shoulders and neck through the worn, oversized shirt he wore. "Just helping you get to the finish line." The muscles underneath her fingers were unyielding, tense and hard from years of hardship. That didn't deter her though. Daryl hadn't told her to stop so she moved her hands across his back in what she hoped were stress-relieving gestures.

Daryl remained stiff and hyper-aware of her presence behind him. She worried that this was too much for him. Accidentally flirtatious behavior over dinner was one thing, but this intentional intimacy was quite another, and the last thing she wanted to do was make Daryl uncomfortable. Yet something in her needed satisfying: the part of her that felt drawn to his side and to reach out to him for comfort and friendship and camaraderie—and also the part that longed to strip him naked and fantasized about how he might navigate her body with those rough, expressive hands of his. But how to make that happen? The man remained such a damn mystery to her.

Her movements stopped and she rested her hands at his shoulders again. "I'm sorry, I can stop—"

"Naw," he said quickly but softly. "It's fine, just been a long time since anybody's done that is all. It feels nice." Michonne's face twisted into a contented grin as she resumed her massage.

"Makes me wish I had better skills. We gotta book you a spa day." Daryl scoffed and she chuckled that the jest could ease his nerves a bit. "But don't mind me, just finish up what you were doing." He turned his head back down but she could tell that her actions were distracting him. As she continued to knead his muscles, he'd settle into her and then tighten up again when he realized how relaxed he'd become at her attention. Those lapses were fewer and farther between as she kept up the circular motions against his body.

His pencil dangled in his hand, and when she extended her attention to crawl up his neck and into his hair to massage his scalp, his eyes closed and he moaned a bit as he leaned further into the pressure she created against him. His head brushed against her chest and it sent tingles down her spine where it encouraged a familiar throbbing in every part of her. It hopefully felt similar to what he was experiencing with her massage. She imagined Daryl guiding her hands from his shoulders and pulling her around to him. Maybe he could sit her across his lap or perch her on his desk until he worked up the nerve to kiss her. It would be tentative but it would quickly ignite into something feral and searching. And maybe she'd yield to his alpha nature, letting him take the lead as he swept the desk of their work and spread her across the hard wooden surface to ravish her.

Not that her fantasy sounded like Daryl's M.O. at all.

She wondered what would happen if she just took matters into her own hands and openly revealed her interest to him. It wasn't her nature to be shy about sex and romance. If anyone else had grabbed her attention, Tyreese or Rick, for example, she'd just straddle him and have her way until they gave in to their mutual attraction. Maybe she could wait until he was good and distracted before climbing into his lap and directing his mouth to hers, goading his lips apart for a deep taste of him. He'd be stiff at first, reluctant to touch her for fear of getting things wrong, or perhaps hesitant due to being out of practice. When their desires got the best of them though, all bets would be off. She'd show him how good her roughness could feel as well.

But that didn't sound right either. When they came together, she wanted it to be because they'd both decided the moment felt right, not because she—or he—had forced the issue. Their working relationship and friendship were at stake. She couldn't afford to take that lightly and ruin the solid bond they had because her hormones were raging in his direction. She needed more of a sign than just a few intimate moments.

Michonne continued to rub his head and then followed it up with a languid sweep back down his neck to his shoulders. With one last smoothing caress, she stepped away and went back to her spot beside him, but not too close.

"Better?" she asked.

His hooded eyes refused to look at her, cast downward in a hazy comfort. He reached for his pencil, pushed it away with a lazy gesture and then slowly retrieved it to return to his work. "Thanks," he mumbled. Yes, definitely hard to read.

Michonne watched him for a few more moments and then went back to organizing her paperwork. She wondered if there'd been an opening somewhere in there, although if seemed as if it wasn't their time, yet. She could wait for him to decide whether starting something with her didn't mean taking on more than he could handle. And for now, their friendship created enough of a connection to keep them both feeling grounded and not so alone.

But after tonight, she vowed to clarify her intention to make this man hers.

TBC ...

AN: And now I want dumplings (full disclosure: I always want dumplings). Their Chinese restaurant is actually based on my dad's favorite place which, despite his denials, is indeed run by a Korean family. And it's also based on my favorite fried chicken spot, also run by a lovely Korean family, who always took good care of me and who I love to pieces.