Chapter 14

Michonne's laughter filled Daryl's small entryway as they stumbled into his trailer with their pizza. He'd just returned from picking up their meal, and she'd just arrived after finishing her errands for the day. He watched her shed her coat and then he shoved the box at her to hold while he locked up behind them.

"I told you I could have picked this up on my way here," she reminded him.

"I don't think so. I don't trust you not to add some dumbass topping and ruin the whole damn pizza."

"Basil is not dumb, Daryl. It's one of the most common pizza toppings in existence. It's in the sauce you just don't see it."

Daryl scoffed. "I don't care how common it is or where else they put it, I don't want it all over my food."

"Right, because those olives are really a staple pizza topping."

"If that means that it's supposed to be on there, then hell yeah."

She swatted at him and placed the pizza on his kitchen counter. "Speaking of which, there better not be one single olive on my half of the pizza or you're in big trouble."

"Oh yeah?" He finished latching the door and then turned to see her dropping her bag down by the bench that sat next to the fridge. "What you gon' do 'bout it? It's not like I cooked the damned thing."

"No, but you might have conveniently forgotten to mention the whole 'half-olive' part of the order."

She walked back to the large box and peeked inside, smiling as the delicious steam hit her face. Opening it a little wider, she chuckled at the discovery: no olives, but half sausage and pepperoni for him and half basil and extra garlic for her.

"Ok, you dodged a bullet, Dixon." Closing the box, she passed right in front of him and gently patted his chest. "Might've even earned yourself a reward," she leered before sliding against him and moving on. He bumped her shoulder playfully before she fully retreated, and Michonne's laughter bubbled up once more.

He enjoyed seeing her in such good spirits. They'd missed three good weekends of football because of work, and he'd been determined to relax today and get her to do the same. She'd mentioned looking forward to spending time together with her favorite pastime too, but one thing after another had threatened their plans.

Yesterday, someone had screwed up on one of their production sites, so Rick had sent her to clean up the mess, a situation potentially requiring her to spend the weekend in a small town she hated. That had been incentive enough for her to settle the matter quickly.

Then their usual football-watching crew had complicated things. They normally congregated at Tyreese's house but he had to spend the day supervising his contractors for the renovation to his kitchen. He'd assured them it would be done and ready for their big Super Bowl party in a few weeks. That meant Sasha was out too and he'd stolen Carol away, probably because she didn't love football and would prefer to spend the afternoon playing house with Tyreese.

Maggie was still out of town with her father and sister visiting relatives in another county, and Glenn was spending the day with his parents who he'd promised to see more often as his New Year's Resolution.

Both Lil Asskicker and Carl had colds, which kicked Rick's place out of the running. Michonne had swung by earlier to drop off some supplies. That left just her and Daryl so they settled on his place. Michonne had called it the most convenient choice since he lived not too far from Rick. Besides, her neighbors were still pissed about the last time they'd hung out at her apartment for a game.

And he knew Michonne particularly liked that he always kept a bottle of her favorite wine handy for when she dropped in.

Before that whole business with the Governor, he hadn't really gotten accustomed to having guests. Sometimes Rick or Glenn would stop by for a spell, but mostly he hung out on his own doing whatever he wanted with his free time. The last six months or so had him entertaining people on the regular, nothing formal, just him bringing folks by to watch some TV or sit out on the porch barbecuing or shooting the breeze. His trailer wasn't big but everybody liked hanging out there because it was remote, and they could be as loud as they wanted. The proximity to AGD made it the perfect after-work spot. He and Michonne had hung out at his place a few times, just the two of them, before he thought to be more self-conscious about it. Hell if he could even remember the last time he'd brought a woman back to his place. Then he just got used to her coming over. She wasn't a hookup. He could justify her presence as two friends and co-workers enjoying their downtime, no different from spending time with Glenn or Carol.

Except that she was very different. Especially lately.

It wasn't until after his promotion that he really started to notice something had shifted in his mind about her. Hershel and Rick, along with Carol, had reorganized his department—he'd fought to keep Michonne instead of them moving her to legal. But as a concession, all supervisory authority shifted to Hershel because it wasted resources for Daryl to be an intermediary for work that didn't need his oversight. And while they may have had ulterior motives—Carol in particular—they also thought that Michonne was too senior and already too independent to remain under such a hands-off supervisor as him. They didn't deny what a great team he and Michonne made, but they had other plans that involved integrating her so fully into the company that she'd have no choice but to sign her contract and stay on.

Daryl had his doubts about whether their plan had a chance of working. Still, he figured it couldn't hurt and agreed to it in the end.

He saw her less and less around the office. She sat in on fewer departmental meetings and stayed out on the road a lot more with him grounded at AGD. Yet somehow that transformed into them spending more time together off the clock. They'd share a beer after work or meet up on the weekends to catch up, sometimes including Carl and Rick too. They stayed in regular contact via email and text, and he'd harass her into eating lunch with him on the rare days she spent at the office. When he'd walk in and see her light on or catch her chatting with someone in the hallway, he'd get excited, unable to hide his grin of pleasure. And she'd continued to do little things to help him out, summarizing reports for his meetings or stepping up when the department had some big project going on. That's how they'd ended up working on vendor evaluations late into the night a few weeks ago.

And he hadn't stopped fantasizing about her since.

Sure, he'd had some overly friendly thoughts about her from time to time. He'd never shed the memory of her sitting at the side of his bed, him drunk and grieving and looking up at her with so much emotional baggage weighing him down; the feel of her hand in his as they drank together on the roof or shared a moment of companionship in his office; the walk back to the hotel from The Cabin after she'd out-flirted their aggressive waitress and then teamed up with him to drive the point home. He tended to dwell on those moments where she seemed so relaxed in his company or would challenge him, knowing exactly the way his mind worked.

Yet nothing else had affected him like having her hands massaging his body into submission. He'd never touched her so intimately either, feeling her lips glide over his skin as her mouth yielded to him feeding her. Ever since that night, he'd fallen asleep and woken up to the satisfying images in his mind of her across his desk or in his lap—and him in various stages of giving her the best sex of her life. His cold shower count was getting ridiculous.

He didn't even know why he'd hesitated in responding to her. He'd had his doubts before but there'd been no denying her interest. And he'd never denied his own so much as restrained it. So when he got home that night, he'd berated himself for missing an opportunity with her while also vowing to rectify the situation in good time too. They'd both crossed some unseen internal boundary; although they'd since been separated by their work responsibilities, they'd also been relentless in getting under each other's skin through indirect means.

It made him nervous but excited to unexpectedly have her to himself for the rest of the afternoon.

After Michonne hung up her coat, she proceeded to make herself at home. She rifled through his kitchen to find plates and napkins. Noticing that his only two plates sat in the sink waiting to be washed and not finding any paper plates, she flashed him an exasperated look. He responded with a smirk and a shrug.

It took her another moment to notice the other major problem with hanging out at his place today: he'd moved his TV from the small living room to his bedroom area last week when he'd decided to combine the football schedule with his weekend nap schedule. On this, she barely registered a reaction. Before he could suggest moving the television back, she'd bypassed the living room with the entire pizza box and his roll of paper towels in hand, kicked off her shoes and crawled casually onto his bed. She reached for the remote and started flipping channels like she owned the place.

He shook his head and grinned to himself.

He was slow to follow her, placing his keys on a hook by the door and removing his coat and boots to put away as well. He puttered around the kitchen for a few minutes and then joined her on the bed, a beer for himself and a glass of wine for her. She was propped up against his headboard with a pillow supporting her back, already munching on her slice. She flashed him one of those brilliant smiles of hers when he handed over her drink.

"I see you've mastered use of the corkscrew I bought you." He only nodded. He wasn't much of a wine drinker, not with how his mom had spent so much of his life practically marinating in the stuff. And truth be told, it scared him how mellow he got when he drank it. He could see how his mom got so hooked. With beer and liquor, he felt the harsh buzz of it and it kept him sharp, even if a little mean when he overdid it.

Michonne poked him in the arm with her elbow. "Football or basketball? Football it is," she decided before he could get out a response. It was what he would have picked anyway but he smirked at her and grabbed the remote.

"My house, my pick, Woman." Her scowl didn't intimidate him anymore, not after the things they'd been through and the friendship they'd created together. Still, he turned the channel to football and then threw the remote on the bed. She'd opened the pizza box to offer him a slice and he reached in to claim his meaty portion.

Watching the game helped them further relax and unwind from the busy week. When they weren't snacking on their food or enjoying another round of alcohol, they provided the usual color commentary as they reacted to what was happening on the field. They fussed about some of the plays, little tiffs that mostly he instigated. He liked to get her all riled up about her superior knowledge of all things football. After the game ended, they switched to basketball but neither was as into it as the other game. During a commercial break, Michonne went to his fridge to put away the pizza box and refresh their drinks.

Upon her return, she handed a new bottle of beer to him. He thanked her as she crawled across his body to deposit herself on the other side of the bed with the half-full wine glass she'd left on his nightstand. For a brief moment, he felt an impulse to pull her to him as she passed, but she was back sitting at his side before he could act on it. Having her lying so comfortably next to him in his bed had his mind going down some unsafe paths. On the one hand, he couldn't tell what he was waiting for. On the other, knowing what he wanted didn't make it any easier to make a move.

"You know," she said as she settled, "I never really took to basketball. I like playing it; even played for a couple of years in high school. But watching it on TV isn't as exciting.

He shrugged. "Yeah, I get that. It's not my favorite but it's alright."

"Right. It's just 'alright'." She took a sip from her glass and turned to him. "Do you play at all?"

"A little, just for fun. Nothing formal, only a bunch 'a guys gettin' together and passin' the ball around. 'Fore it turned cold, me and T-Dog used to go out back behind the building and play sometimes."

"I saw the hoop but I've never seen anyone use it. I guess we've been too busy." She twirled her glass around in her hands before taking another drink. "It's not like I'm around that much at the office to see what goes on out there, though."

"No, you're not," he replied, getting in an unintentional dig. He stiffened wondering if he'd overstepped his bounds by letting his mouth run away from him. He dropped his gaze, but when he glanced at her, she was grinning at him as if amused by his constant insistence that she delegate more of her traveling and hang out with him back at the office.

"Anyway." She rolled her eyes. "We should play sometime. I could teach you a thing or two." Her grin was infectious. To drive her challenge home, she poked him in his muscled arm. He didn't know if it was the wine or her general mood, but she'd certainly been pretty punchy since walking through his door.

"More like I'd wipe the court with ya," he threw back.

"You think so?" She turned away from scrutinizing him, that grin still playing at her lips. "Of course you think so."

"I think you just got yourself a challenge, Miss Smart Mouth. Soon as the weather warms up, we gon' settle this."

She swiveled her body to face him and tucked her legs underneath her. It seemed like she was watching him more than she was watching the game; it unnerved him a little. She loosely grasped her almost empty glass, letting it rest atop her thigh.

"You've probably seen a lot of folks come and go in your time at AGD. All those guys I'm always hearing about like T-Dog and Shane and Dale." She downed the rest of her wine and passed him the tumbler to put with his empty bottles. Although he wouldn't say that she was sloppy, her glassy eyes certainly hinted at her relaxed state. Many earlier occasions of drinking with her led to an understanding of what to expect. She was a fun brand of tipsy.

"Yeah, we seen our share 'a folks come and go. That's what happens though. People get transferred or get a better gig. We had this one lady Jacqui who worked here, and she got a sweet gig workin' for the government after doin' some joint project. Couldn't begrudge her takin' advantage 'a that instead 'a puttin' up with all the drama we got at AGD."

As he spoke, she uncoiled herself and turned her body around until she was lying down on her back alongside him, her head at the foot of the bed looking up at him as she adjusted the pillow she'd taken with her.

"You ever think about leaving?"

He paused, wondering how to respond without getting into the complicated ins and outs of that answer. Then he reminded himself that it was Michonne asking and that he didn't have to worry about putting on airs; he could be straight-up with her and not have to worry about it coming back on him.

"A couple 'a times, I thought about checkin' out. Me and Merle started out wantin' to do our own thing eventually. And then right before the merger when Hershel and Maggie hooked up with us, I was pretty much through with all the drama going on and started lookin' to go out on my own." She crossed her legs and twirled her sock-covered toes while he talked. He found it kind of cute, if a little distracting. "But Rick's always done right by me and I figured I owed him my loyalty. And I'd made some friends by that time, Carol and Glenn and T-Dog, 'fore he got pushed out."

He wondered why she was asking; if she was wondering herself if she should check out or keep going at the company. True, he'd been hassling her about signing a longer contract or just plain getting on the regular payroll. He understood her reluctance but it had long since started to matter to him whether she stuck around. Maybe she was feeling that out for herself right now.

She'd started tapping her knee against his absently. Usually, the woman came off as serious and intense about everything that she did. But sometimes she could be as frisky as one of those chipmunks that liked to run around his porch stairs. When she'd built up a rhythm, he changed up the cadence by knocking into her knee on the off-beat. Michonne frowned and then flicked at the lower pocket on his slacks to tease him.

"You better stop poking at this tiger," he said finally. There was no bite to his words though. "And how you gon' see the game lying down like that?"

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head back to check the score. "Not much of anything going on for me to see. I'd rather annoy you."

"Well, mission accomplished. Now quit it." It's not that it bothered him, really; more that it reminded him of how much he liked her touch. The steady contact got his body reacting to the sight of this beautiful woman spread across his bed, staring up at him with such openness. He put his hand on her knee to still her leg's movement. When she kept trying to swing it despite his efforts, Daryl doubled down and pushed back a little harder.

What ensued was a mini-wrestling match as they playfully battled for dominance. Although he should have expected it, her legs were stronger than they looked—and he'd done a lot of looking. Her laughter almost distracted him into tilting off balance, which made them both teeter and waver on the bed.

His eyes swept down Michonne's body. "Damn, how are you holdin' yourself up like that? You must got abs of concrete."

"Pilates," she responded, still wrestling with him.

"What I tell ya 'bout them fancy foreign words?" His teasing came out breathy and strained, both due to the exertion and the incredible sensation of her powerful body rocking against him as they tussled. She pursed her lips in concentration and pulled herself into a full sitting position; it brought her firmly into his personal space.

"It's not another language. Pilates is what's going to kick your ass though."

Her deep chuckle so close to his face, encouraged him to redouble his efforts, though it was unclear what they were even trying to accomplish. He'd only started pushing back at her to get her to stop nudging him, but it had turned into a precursor to some kind of throwdown. And Michonne should have known by know that he wasn't one to back down on any kind of challenge.

"Oh you wanna play like that?"

In a surprise move that caused her to yelp, Daryl pulled her almost flush to him and then flipped her around to hold her arms behind her. This made her giggle in her tipsy state, a lovely tinkling sound, and she tried pushing back into him for leverage. But it was too late; he'd gotten a good grip of her as he held her arms down. Instead of an ass-kicking, she'd found herself immobilized and practically on his lap with her back to him.

"Okay, okay, I give!" She was now laughing so hard, she had to gasp for air. He grinned too and felt pretty damn satisfied at having bested her.

"You sure? Don't sound too sorry for tryin' 'a kick my ass just now." He held Michonne closer to him, almost murmuring the words in her ear. He'd had enough alcohol to bring out a more frisky side to him as well. That her proximity and challenge brought out the wanton alpha male in him might have been part of it too. Their tussling had them sniffing each other out and testing the waters, seeing who might make some kind of move.

He could practically feel Michonne pouting. "Don't get cute. You better let me go or I won't go so easy on you next time."

Her boldness further stirred something in him and he savored how close they were, his breath at her neck, his arms around her curves, and her ass really close to being wedged onto his lap. They'd circled each other like predators, each taking swipes until the full engagement. He'd come out on top of things and felt the strong compulsion to make sure she recognized that.

"Don't seem that way from where I'm sittin'." His voice sounded different to his ears. Maybe it was the throbbing of the blood pumping through him so quickly from all their activity—and maybe the flow southward with having her in his embrace.

She chuckled again. "I know. You got me." Her tone had just the right amount of submission, and Daryl smiled behind her, wondering if she'd pick up on where his thoughts were going. It was killing him the way his insides could burn for her at the drop of a dime. Slowly, he extricated himself from her, releasing hands that had been holding onto him as tightly as he was holding on to her. He pulled his arms from around her waist and immediately regretted the coolness as her hip left contact with his.

Daryl didn't have long too process the loss. Instead of returning to her reclined position, she sat at the head of the bed next to him and curled up into his side. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes while wrapping herself around his arm. He didn't want her to think the contact was unpleasant, but he also wasn't sure how to handle their closeness. The flustered heat receded from her cheeks although the warmth from her body continued to settle nicely along his side.

A little sigh escaped her lips and he forgot his awkwardness in favor of amusement. "You drink that whole bottle 'a wine?" She looked pretty content as she smoothed her hair around her shoulders to better lay against him.

Michonne chuckled. "No, I did not." When she stopped shifting around, she opened her eyes briefly to glance up at him. "Most of it, though." He joined in her laughter.

The beers he'd had made his thinking a bit muddled, and on the best of days, he was no good at trying to figure out situations like this. It almost seemed worse being so sure of her interest—she was waiting on a sign from him so he had to find the right way to let her know that he welcomed her attention. More than welcomed it; pined for it, in fact.

So he figured he couldn't resort to anything disrespectful like a drunken pass or pawing at her when he wouldn't be able to control himself. But he thought of her as the most direct kind of straight-shooter he'd ever met so maybe she wouldn't mind him getting a little fresh with her. She certainly hadn't held back much. Should he just kiss her or was she expecting some kind of grand declaration about wanting to be more than buddies and co-workers?

For all of his fretting, she didn't seem to be at all nervous about her actions, adjusting herself until she was more comfortable and reaching for the remote to turn the volume up slightly. So he sat there and tried to relax and buy himself some time. Normally he wouldn't be caught dead cuddling, but this woman always had him doing shit he'd never figured on.

"Stop thinking so hard," she ordered, her eyes still closed.

"Stop tryin' 'a get into my head," he fired back, pushing into her with his shoulder. Her grin widened and she held on tighter to him. She took his hand as well and he allowed it, rubbing along her fingers as he turned back to the game.

They sat that way for a while until she let go to stretch and climb over him to go to the bathroom. During her absence, he took the opportunity to take a few breaths and wipe his clammy hands against his pants.

The longer he waited, the more he questioned what the hell he was doing with Michonne. Was she really into him or just looking to fool around? Was he really into her, like all formal and relationship-style? He certainly found her hot as hell, but also respected her, liked her company and called her a good friend. Yet, if she came in here right now and offered him a night of sex, he'd jump at the chance. She made him laugh and he could be himself whenever they spent time together; he didn't have to worry about impressing her or getting judged. She just accepted him as is because they'd experienced the same hurts and triumphs, the same longings and fears. Even though they came from different backgrounds, they shared a similar kind of spirit.

Daryl knew in his gut that he wanted something more from her than just casual physical satisfaction, and the strangeness of that had him all jumpy. Basically, the situation terrified him—there was no other way to call it.

When Michonne came back, she set a couple of glasses of water on the nightstand and climbed over him again. She returned to his side to sit next to him. But instead of taking his arm again, he instinctively opened up his embrace to watch her snuggle even deeper into his side, her head on his chest, her arm around his torso, and her leg laying atop his.

It felt real good.

The basketball game went into halftime without comment from either of them. The change on-screen barely registered to Daryl as his mind continued to reel with doubts and calculations while the fog of alcohol cleared. Michonne grabbed the remote and flipped channels until they got to some old 80's teen movie. She handed off the remote to him and he set it on the side table next to their water.

"You're an excellent host." Her voice was relaxed, sleepy. He figured he should probably offer to drive her home in a bit, but he was pretty damn comfortable where he was and she looked it too.

"Well, you are a cheap date. All's it takes is a bottle 'a wine and Saturday afternoon sports."

She grinned lazily. "And pizza. But that's true enough." Opening her eyes, she gazed up at him until he looked down at her. That stare of hers had a way of cutting right through him. All those fears and thoughts running through his mind quieted as he took in the nearness of her full cheeks, the smooth, rich skin of her forehead and the familiar scent of her hair as it tickled against his chin. The urge to shower her face in kisses pulled at him, and he wondered if he was still drunk after all.

Before he could register her intentions, she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his cheek, which promptly blushed pink. His eyes brightened as he felt his emotions all slide into place, his yearning for her simmering and calming him for once.

Pushing away his nerves, he held a gentle finger to her chin to hold her attention. He then leaned down himself and brushed his lips against hers, feeling the reciprocal pressure urge him on. Her arm tightened around him and he moved his fingers to caress her face. The more he touched her, the more certain he felt about giving in to their attraction.

He held her lips for as long as inertia and his air supply would allow and then immediately went back in for more. He tasted the wine on her over remnants of garlic, a not unpleasant combination. Then that warm, wet comfort took over his senses after she gently nipped at him and then lingered until he chased after her in retaliation. When she offered him a deeper taste of her, he took it with gratitude, relishing the satisfying sounds of their tongues and lips and teeth exploring each other.

Their movements pushed him deeper into the mattress until he grasped her hip and countered their momentum, all the while enjoying the slick suction of her mouth getting just as thorough a sampling as his. They again battled for control. Their breaths deepened and their kisses took on a sense of abandon. The pleasure of her fingers gliding through his hair mingled with the soft moan he let slip when she slid her thigh along his and pressed into him.

When they finally separated, her smile sparked a blissful one of his own.

He thought that when they finally acknowledged to each other this thing between them, it would be this explosive event full of groping and hungry kisses from all the pent up sexual tension. In his mind, he'd devour her until they ended up naked and sweaty after several rounds of amazing sex. Or maybe they'd have some awkward conversation about dating each other while working together and then proceed to the explosive, sweaty sex. Either way, they'd end up naked, entangled and panting in each other's arms within minutes of giving into their attraction.

Instead, this acceptance whispered along their nerves and climbed along the connection their hearts had made a long time ago, just waiting for the right time to settle in. All the rest could wait, it turned out.

The reality of the line they'd finally crossed made him grin. Michonne traced her fingers along his smile and reached up again to slide his lips along her own; she snuck in a subtle taste of him before retreating. He more firmly gripped her back to hold her close. Now that he had her in his arms, he wouldn't be letting her get too far from him.

Her sleepy words jolted him out of his thoughts. "So, are we gonna do this, Boss?"

Daryl pinched her at the hip for using that nickname he hated and then rubbed the exposed skin with his thumb. The "this" she referred to remained as undefined as ever. Yet he knew that they'd mold it into whatever worked for them, just like everything else in their relationship. He could sense how much she wanted this and he did too.

"Yeah, let's do it." He took her hand in his and pressed kisses to her knuckles.

"My treat next time," she murmured into his shoulder. "I'll make you dinner at my place." Her head fell back to his chest and his hand moved to now stroke the arm she had around him.

Ten minutes later, they were both fast asleep. The last thing Daryl remembered was the cadence of her heart beating against his chest, steadily pulsing in concert with his.

TBC ...