A/N: I am so very appreciative of all who have taken the time to read this story. Thank you for your follows, favorites, reviews and silent reads. Please enjoy :-)
Chapter 6 – Behind the Scenes, Part 2
Friday
It took him a few days to figure it out – to know for sure – but there it was, They are obviously seeing each other. He tried not to stare at their ridiculous attempts to act like they were not in a relationship, "Shit," he whispered to himself, When did this happen?
Michonne was doing her best not to stare in her co-stars eyes; while at the same time, seemingly unable to not stare in his eyes. A fierce warrior wielding a katana while walking around with googly-eyes could become a problem.
In-as-much-as she attempted to keep her distance, Rick was the exact opposite. He seemed intent on touching her every chance he got; brushing up against her and allowing his hand to linger on hers in casual conversation.
The director silently observed, Yep, this might become a problem, he ran his hands down his long whiskers.
Prep work behind the scenes was as intense as what was filmed. Blocking for the fight scenes had been an arduous task. Half the cast was on the road, while the rest remained on the interior industrialized set. Once the filming began, there was smoke, fights, and the continuous blare of the fire alarms; the scenes were some of the most exhilarating ones they'd filmed in a long time. Hours after starting, he called "cut" for the final time that day. It was a peaceful end to a crazy week. The team laughed and joked as the episode wrapped.
Tara, Aaron and Heath had their onscreen good-bye's, using the scripted words for their characters. Off screen they said their actual good-bye's to Tara. This was her final episode for the remainder of the season. She would be out on maternity leave until half-way through the upcoming season.
Everyone was back at the main set and the baby shower was well underway.
"Thank you so much everyone," exclaimed a very excited and very pregnant Tara. She rubbed her rounded belly as she wobbled across the room hugging the various cast mates and crew members.
She beamed, "You guys are so great—I'm really gonna to miss you all." The gender neutral shower was being held in one of the makeshift buildings on the main lot. Gifts that were both wrapped and unwrapped filled nearly half the room. The expectant mom was overcome.
The festivities began and everyone took the time to not only wish their departing expectant friend the best, but to also applaud one another for a great week.
"Michonne, I'm gonna miss you so much," Tara said as she reached to hug her friend.
Like most of her co-workers, Michonne had tried, in vain, to keep her distance from Tara. Initially deciding that opening herself up to the other actors, also opened her up to the possibility of betrayal. Her trust issued following the overheard Rick and Daryl conversation knew no bounds. She was shell shocked. Then there was Tara, and others like her; funny, kind, honest, completely unpretentious people. It was a struggle to remain closed off and secluded in her self-imposed mistrust.
"Awe, Tara, I'm gonna miss you too…" Michonne told her, gently placing her hand on the very round belly that prevented them from having a closer hug.
"…You be sure to let me know if you need anything," she insisted, "and let me know when this little bundle of joy arrives. Don't make me find out from a tweet." They both laughed.
"I will," her short brunette hair bouncing as she shook her head in laughter.
Michonne browsed around the room, "You made out like a bandit," she said, referring to the gifts that took up half the room.
Tara's eyes roamed slowly across the room. There were not just tangible baby gifts toppling over, but there were people that she sincerely cared about, "I'm truly blessed," she exclaimed, becoming just a bit emotional. Michonne took her hand.
"…Anyway," the expectant mom continued, "I'm so excited for you. You've got some pretty phenomenal things going on too."
"Thank you. It's all pretty crazy," that genuine admiration on the face of the younger woman brightened her smile, "It's not the same as bringing a new little life into the world—but, I am happy."
"I bet," the young woman smirked and then winked.
Michonne hesitated for a few seconds, quickly dismissing the wink as some sort of reference to her new and burgeoning relationship with Rick, that's impossible, we've been completely discrete.
Banishing the ridiculous possibility, "Between filming and interviews, Yep, it's been exhausting—but I'm happy," she reiterated with a smile, shrugging her shoulders in a 'what can I do' gesture.
"Yeah," Tara smiled. Michonne was the smartest and nicest woman she knew; while also being the most actively oblivious person she'd ever met. She, Rosita, and Eugene would often have conversations about the contention between Rick and Michonne. The trio decided some time ago that it was unexplored sexual yearning. But now—they were openly eye fucking and continually slipping off set all week. It was to the point where just standing in vicinity of the actors would get you all hot and bothered.
So now, she's forced to play along with her friend's willful obliviousness, how is it even possible that someone so smart could be so oblivious? She wanted to shout "We All Know About You and Rick!" and shake the soon-to-be movie star. Instead, she smiled and said…
"You're gonna be even more beautiful on the big screen than you are on the small one." They enjoyed another obstructed-hug again.
Rick watched his new lady-love as she spoke with Tara and a few of the other cast members. He waited until she was walking out of the room before attempting to make his way to her. He was stopped by a crew member before he could reach her….
She retrieved her cell phone, unlocked it, and tapped Sasha's smiling face in her favorites menu…
"Hey Sash," she greeted.
"Hey, Michonne. What's up?" Sasha asked.
"Just wanted to see if I can use the apartment tonight—I know its short notice," She said, scanning the deserted craft services area. The tenacious agent kept an apartment in the city for face-to-face client meetings. Since most of her client contact was done over the phone, she didn't use the home-like office very often.
"You must have a house of weary travelers again," her agent assumed. It was not unheard of for the actress to unintentionally host family and friends from both the United States and abroad.
"You know me so well," she giggled, "Yeah, some cousins dropped in Monday night. They've been doing the whole sightseeing thing. I think today they're stopping by Dr. King's house and church—I just need a little break," though partly true, the whole truth was that she wanted to spend some time with Rick in private. He suggested dinner and a movie, but she preferred that they have their date out of the public eye.
"Is this just to get away from your visitors?" Sasha asked.
"Um, sort of," she partially admitted.
"What is sort of?" The ex-counselor asked.
Michonne hesitated before answering, "I have a date, and I'd like it to be private," she fully admitted.
"You don't waste time do you," Sasha laughed, "you just gave Mike the boot a couple of days ago."
"So— is that a yes?" Michonne asked as dryly as she could, while also wanting to giggle.
"You have a key Michonne, you can use the apartment anytime you want—but you still have to answer my question," she dug deeper.
"It's just somebody that I'd like to spend some time with that's all," it was both a lie and the truth.
"It's Rick, right?" the attorney turned agent turned amateur sleuth asked.
"What?" The actress stopped ambling about the empty area she'd wandered to while speaking, and stared at the grass in front of her.
"I've known you since we were eighteen years old, Chonney. I may act like I don't know what you're thinking, but trust me, I know…" That was a nickname she used only when whatever point being made needed to be softened.
"Um…" Michonne was prepared to disagree.
"You've had a thing for Rick Grimes for as long as you've been on that damn show. You were always over the moon every time you talked about him, and every time he showed up to whatever event you invited him to. It made me happy for you—but also sad. I was worried at first because it was so obvious. I worried about your career—because he was married…" she took a deep breath and then slowly released a sigh…
"…But honestly, I was more worried about you, 'cuz I know the kind of person that you are. I know it wasn't easy for you to feel that way about somebody who was married. Then when you started hating him I was kinda happy. Though, it made me kinda sad too," she giggled into the phone after spilling everything that she'd held onto for years.
Michonne was taken aback. This was the first time she'd ever heard any of this. 'Was she really that transparent?'
Sasha continued, "…I never knew why all that passion turned to a different kind of passion, and since you would never tell me, I just accepted it and assumed it was for the best—something told me that couples counseling would change things."
"Wow, Sasha—why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Because Honey, you see what you want to see—always have. You're stubborn and trying to convince you of something is damn near impossible."
"How did I get so lucky to have a friend like you? And you're a pretty damn good agent too," she said sarcastically while laughing.
"That's right—you don't deserve me, but as fate may have it, you're kinda of stuck with me."
"Thanks," she wiped a few tears while holding her phone closer to her ear and glanced around to make sure that no one was watching.
"Don't go gettin' all emotional," Sasha joked; she could hear the faint sniffles, "Anyway, there's not much in the fridge, so you're gonna have to hit the grocery store. Just so that you know, the sheets are pretty fresh."
"Sash…" she laughed "You are too much. You're the older brown version of Carl's wild cousin Tina—which is really funny because she's the older female version of Carl. Apparently I tend to like the exact same person no matter what form they come in," she continued laughing, causing her friend to also cackle through the phone.
"That's funny," their giggle fest continued. Michonne looked up and saw Rick walking towards her.
"I'm not an oracle, but I'm gonna make a prediction that you're about to blow that boys mind—I'm just sayin…"
"Sash…"
"All that passion you've had for that man for all these years is about to be unleashed…"
"I gotta go—talk to you later." She grinned, ending the call as she tried to quickly shake off the heat that both her friend's words and seeing him stroll towards her was causing.
"Where'd you slip off to?" Goosebumps appeared out of nowhere when she heard his voice; that southern drawl of his seemed to get deeper and more pronounced when he was flirting. She turned to face him, looking around the open area to see if they had an audience…
"I just needed to make a few calls," she told him.
"Hmm," he turned his head slightly and smiled…
"Rick...Mmm," she muttered.
He never gave her the opportunity to make any more phone calls. They walked separately towards the opposite side of the expansive open set; she was currently pinned against the wall of the dark and vacated canteen. His hand was between her legs gently but methodically rubbing. The kiss was so deep- air could only be released through their pressed noses; his short beard scratching the softness of her face. Their tongues were intertwined as they basked in the warmth of the other.
He moved his other hand up, underneath her shirt, landing on her ample breast. He palmed and rubbed it while using his thumb to torturously caress her aroused nipple. She ran her fingers through his hair before rubbing his back, his rear and then caressing his erection…
"Michonne—baby..." he breathed heavily, "…don't think I can take many more of these make out sessions—I wanna be with you," he kissed her lips and then nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, "I'll wait—but, I hope it'll be soon," he chuckled lessening the intense carnal tension between them.
"Tonight, okay? Uh, we can go to my friend Sasha's—privacy. I'll, um, make us dinner," she panted.
"Good," he began sucking her neck. She giggled as his facial hair tickled her skin.
He gazed over both shoulders to ensure that no one was in the immediate vicinity. They were in the darkest corner of the room; hidden in the shadows. He turned to her. Before she could completely come down from the high that he'd already sent her to; her belt was unbuckled, her pants unzipped, and both her panties and pants pulled down. He leaned down, quickly undoing the shoe strings of her right shoe. He removed the shoe, pulled down the jeans from that leg, bent her knee and removed her panties from that leg as well.
"Rick…" she was befuddled.
"I've gotta taste you," he was on his knees before she could voice her dissent; her panties and pants hanging midair as he threw one of her legs over his shoulder pulled her closer to his face.
He latched his mouth onto her smooth folds, "Oh my g…" her hand went to her mouth.
"Ahhh," she moaned as his hands held her magnificently plump rear. Amidst her growing sensual wails, his beard gloriously agitating her inner thighs, he slipped his tongue into her; teasing her clit mercilessly.
"Rick…" she panted, both hands now planted firmly in his hair.
"Cum for me baby," he muttered mid-suck. His tongue was methodically assaulting her clit. His beard brushed her inner thigh as she squirmed nearly out of control; she needed him to both stop and never ever stop. The journey ended as he sent her soaring off the fiery cliff that his tongue and fingers had built.
"Rick…Uhhh!" She cried as her body shook. He consumed every bit of her gifted essence before removing her leg and standing. She remained frozen; stuck in a sexual haze and unable to move. He pulled up her clothing, buckled her belt and replaced her shoe. He gazed at the confused satisfaction on her face and grinned.
"You okay, baby?" he smirked, aware of what he'd done to her. She was at a loss for words. A bewildered smile and head nod was all she could manage.
"Come on," he took her hand, "let's get back in there before they send out a search party. You go in first."
She had not yet recovered her ability to speak.
x-x-x-x
The apartment was a true reflection of the agent extraordinaire. It was comfortable home away from home, while also being the sterile-business like office.
The dining room exuded the warmth of Sasha the friend and confidant. The large handcrafted antique mahogany dining room table sat in the open area between the kitchen and the living room. There were matching end tables in the corner of the room with cream colored doilies and soy candles sitting on them. Expensive colorful pieces of cultural art hung on the walls.
The living room was the epitome of a very dogged takes no prisoners Ms. Williams. The medium sized off-white couch and matching love seat shared a combined total of three teal throw pillows. A small coffee table with a glass top sat between the furniture. The walls were bare.
After leaving Tara's on-set party, the day moved quickly for Michonne. She left the set and went directly to the grocery store, quickly grabbing items for a meal that she had only considered preparing just over an hour earlier. Rushing into her apartment and throwing clothes into an overnight bag was her second chore. The third chore was cooking the meal before he arrived.
It was an angsty two hours as she attempted to keep her mind off of the things that Ricks tongue had done to her earlier. The final chore, or rather needed task, was a quick shower. She had just slipped into her red cap sleeve wrap dress when the doorbell rang.
The door opened to a very handsome Rick Grimes holding a beautiful bouquet of red roses. He leaned into her, lightly kissing her cheek, whispering, "You look gorgeous," as she took the flowers from his hand. His dark locks were brushed back. His greying beard indiscernibly trimmed. He was wearing dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt that hugged his muscular physique in a way that made her breath hitch.
Her time in the kitchen had been frantic and far from relaxing. Being on the road so much, traveling from place to place, cooking was no longer second nature to her. Long gone was her ability to effortlessly maneuver around in the dreaded room. Her mother had been insistent that Michonne and her siblings learn to cook. She paid close attention and became a pretty good cook; clearly it was not like riding a bike.
After burning the first two sets of salmon croquettes, she managed to end up with five decent looking patties. The vegetables were easy and the steamed brown rice was pretty simple.
"Everything smells really good," Rick complemented as he followed her into the kitchen.
"Thank you. It took some doing," she laughed, "but I think it should taste okay, and I'm about 90% sure that it won't kill us," she giggled.
"90% sounds good to me. And since you do everything incredibly well, I have no doubt that your culinary skills are as incredible as you," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind, before she could put the flowers into a vase. He caressed her flat stomach as his hands moved up and landed on her breasts. He sensuously kissed the back of her neck.
"Keep that up and we'll end up eating a cold dinner," she placed one hand over his hands as they began to massage her breasts.
"Yeah," he chuckled.
She stepped slowly out of his hold, flushed and sexually aroused, "Uh, have a seat…" she pointed to Sasha's prized antique dining room table, "and I'll bring you something to drink."…...
Dinner was an appetizing success. The two found their footing and seamlessly fell in step with a friendship that once existed between them.
Music softly filled the room as they laughed about some of the things that happened when they used to be friends, and shared the things that happened when they weren't.
"What's your biggest fear?" He asked. Her eyes grew large at the enormity of the question. Most of their conversation had been pretty benign. This question was anything but.
"Um, honestly, I think my biggest fear is that I won't live up to the expectations that everyone has for me—that they'll find out that I'm not the perfect person they think I am," her eyes drifted up in self-reflection.
"Well that's not gonna happen," he laughed, "because you are perfect," It was his opportunity to break the seriousness that he unintentionally introduced into their easy going night. The levity brought a smile to her face.
"What about you," she began, "what's your biggest fear?"
"It's similar to yours. But it's my son," he took a moment to put his words together, "I don't want my son to ever think that I'm not the man that he believes I am. I'm not worried about what other people think—I have to set the right example for him—be someone he can respect," He smiled and reached across the table to take her hand. An instant surge of electrical energy flowed through them.
"That's good. He's the only one that really matters. Worrying about what everyone else thinks is actually ridiculous," she offered a small smile and slight shoulder shrug. Her statement was directly contradictory to what she'd confessed a few moments earlier. She suddenly felt a little silly.
He observed her body language, "There's nothing ridiculous about considering and thinking about other people," He assured while interlacing his fingers with hers, "I do worry about what you think." His piercing blues were immersed in her large brown pools of uncertainty, not allowing her to look away, "What do you think about me?"
She was silent for a moment, "Um, can I plead the fifth?" She laughed; becoming lost in his eyes.
"I'll let you get away with pleading the fifth this time—but only this time," he smirked.
They laughed, not releasing the hand of the other.
"Oh my goodness," she suddenly stopped laughing. Her stare went beyond the constraints of the walls as the new song started. The melody filled the room, "I love this song—one of my favorite Whitney Houston songs," he smiled and held her hand tighter. She listened as Jermaine Jackson began singing the sweet verses. He watched as she closed her eyes for a few seconds. She smiled dreamily listening to the lines of the song. Each word and expression had a new meaning. What had not existed before was now staring her in the face…
If you say my eyes are beautiful
It's because they're looking at you
And if you could only see yourself
You'd feel the same way too
You could say that I am a dreamer
Who's had a dream come true
If you say my eyes are beautiful
It's because they're looking at you
"…If you wonder, why I'm smiling…it's because, I'm happy with you," she sang looking into his eyes; her melodious voice blending with Whitney's, "...and the warm sensations, touch my heart, and fill me through and through…I could hold you close, forever, and never let you go…If you say my eyes are beautiful…it's because I just love you so…" she softly crooned, not breaking eye contact. The words had not been written by her, but they were undeniably hers. She professed through the lyrics what she wasn't ready to openly tell him.
He stood, still holding her hand, "Dance with me, Beautiful," He said.
They walked into the living room. He wrapped his arms around her. She caressed his back and laid her head on his shoulder. "…the window of my feelings to come through…" she continued to serenade him, barely above a whisper with her face nestled in his chest. Emotions had overtaken her. Heat rose to her face as a few tears quietly slipped down. She buried her face deeper into his shirt. They held each other tight, moving slowly to the music.
"Michonne," his voice was low and gravely, "Thank you." He leaned down and kissed her cheek; tasting salt from her tears and then capturing her lips. She opened her mouth, lightly sucking his tongue through the remainder of the song. He slowly backed up and took her hand. They walked silently to the bedroom.
There was a single candle burning in the corner of the room; giving off a soft light and a vanilla fragrance. The warm and neutral colors of the room seemed to fit what they were feeling. The unbridled and feverish clothed love making they'd done throughout the week had led to this. This was not about wild sex. This was the intimacy they both craved.
They took their time disrobing one another, gazing at her nearly naked body, he whispered his admiration, "You're so beautiful." Her black lace bra seductively showcased her cleavage; the matching panties molded against the curves, divinely revealing her hips and round rear. She watched as his eyes gently caressed her body; taking the same opportunity to admire him. She'd seen him shirtless many times on the set, but this was different – this was for her only. He was more muscular than she remembered–having never allowed herself to go there—this was actually her first time seeing him; the sparse amount of hair on his chest, his lean muscular body, his firm pecks jutting from his relaxed arms, his slim hips. He wore red boxers which barely contained his erection.
He put his hand out to her. They intertwined their fingers as the stepped into each other's space. His warm breath washed over her before he leaned into her and captured her lips. They embraced while the kiss grew more feverish.
His mouth moved slowly across her cheek, stopping at the ridge of her ear. He confessed quietly, "I'm so very much in love with you." It was said so matter-of-factly, with such honesty, tears again clouded her eyes.
She wanted to echo his words—shout them from the rooftops—removing any doubt that she felt exactly the same way. But she couldn't; she was too overcome to say anything. Her breath hitched. He stroked her back and kissed her neck; savoring the taste of her skin.
Holding onto this man and being held by this man was everything. She held him tighter.
"Rick…I…I" she whispered, unable to formulate everything she wanted to say. If she hadn't been so outdone, she would've laughed at herself; a playwright who's unable to formulate any coherent words.
"I know baby," he said, guiding her the few feet to the bed. Michonne wanted him. She wanted him. He could see it in her eyes. He could taste it in her kiss. He could feel it in her body when he held her. It was a powerful feeling; to know that someone truly wants you.
She sat on the bed gazing up at him. She scooted further to the middle of the bed, laid back, and reached out to him. He climbed on the bed and into her arms. He began to run his hands at the length of her body.
He reached behind her, unsnapping the lacy bra. She sat up slightly so he could remove it. He tossed it onto the chair and then reached down and slid down her panties.
"I've dreamed about this, Michonne—about you," his eyes washed over her body, his admiration apparent in his wicked smile and unapologetic stare, "You're so amazing."
"You too, Rick," she panted while reaching up, putting her thumbs on either side of his hips and pulling down his shorts.
He kissed her softly before putting one finger, and then a second, gently into her slick folds.
"My god, you're so wet," his voice was low and lust-filled. Shivers went through her body as she arched her back. He strummed her slowly; her body began to writhe.
She reached up to him, moving her hands down his chest, his abdomen, and then taking hold of his hardened manhood.
"Michonne…" her name was all he could manage to stammer out as she began to stroke him.
As much as she wanted to enjoy foreplay, reciprocating his generosity from earlier; she couldn't wait.
"Now…" she voiced her nearly inaudible demand, "I want you—I wanna feel you."
He removed his fingers. They didn't break eye contact as he placed the tip of his hardened length at the entry of her slick folds. He eased himself into her…
"Uhhhhgg," she moaned as he entered, "Rick…" she seductively whined as he inched in—filling her completely.
"Fuuuck—you're so tight," he softly grunted, adjusting his hips to give her deeper strokes, "Are you okay?" he asked reticently; her eyes were closed and her face was mildly askewed. It looked like she was lost in ecstasy, but he wasn't sure.
She opened her eyes, softening her expression, "Yes...uhh...you just...feel so good, Rick," she purred, putting her hands on his face; playing with his beard. He leaned down, kissed her lips, and then moved his mouth to her breasts; licking and flicking each nipple as she quietly whimpered. She wrapped her arms around his back. He increased his speed. Their combined heat was electrifying.
"Baby—God—you feel so good," He ran his fingers through her short locks until his fingers were planted on her scalp; gently massaging. Their bodies glistened with sweat as they slowly moved in unison. They basked in their long awaited consummation.
Everything that he felt for her - all the passion that had bubbled inside of him for so long - took form.
He began to move on top of her with a rhythm that he'd learned in his youth. Tonight he would perfect it. They moved in synch. She held him tighter as he moved deeper inside her…..
He opened his eyes to her snuggled gently in his arms; his little spoon. After a full night of love making it was not surprising that she was still knocked out. She breathed softly, moving closer to him in her sleep. He kissed the back of her neck, pulling her closer.
He glanced around the bright room. Sunlight filled their current resting place through a small window; the sheer curtains doing very little to keep out the jubilance of a new day. The candle still burned, its light blending with the room's brightness. The flame on the wick, though ignited, merely floated on top of the liquid remnants of the wax. The room was sparsely decorated. A full-sized bed sans headboard, white chest of drawers, a matching night stand and a single chair, were the only pieces of furniture.
The comforter was on the floor at the foot of the bed. It rested on top of their clothing; visible proof of the amorous activities they'd enjoyed throughout the night and into the early morning.
She began to stir; stretching her arms mid yawn. Her dark skin was an exquisite contrast to the white sheet that barely covered them.
His arousal was becoming more pronounced as her bare bottom gingerly bumped him. He nuzzled his face into the crux of her neck, "Good morning," he said in a low gravelly voice.
"Good morning to you," her voice was a little more muffled than his, "How'd you sleep?"
"I'm always gonna sleep good as long as you're in my arms," he told her, his voice becoming less husky.
She turned to face him. His eyes were wide and a softer color of blue than they usually were. His erection was now pressing between her leg and pubic bone. She kissed his lips while running her hand over his warm skin.
He chuckled, "Guess you can see, and feel, what you do to me."
"Yep," she wasted no time pushing him onto his back and climbing on top of him.
They made love for the next thirty minutes. After their passion filled synchronized climax, she collapsed on top of him; her breasts flush against his sweat drenched sculpted chest…
"Wanna go get breakfast? I think we both worked up a pretty good appetite," he lightly squeezed her luscious rear end and chuckled.
They had fallen back to sleep after their morning dalliance.
"We did," she giggled, completely agreeing with his assessment.
"Where do you wanna go? There's a few good places near here."
"Um," the wheels were turning, "Do you mind if we just have something delivered?" she asked, lifting her head off his chest to gauge his reaction, "I'd like to keep us private, for now at least…"
"I figured as much," he leaned up, gently kissing her lips."
"Are you really okay with that?"
"As long as I get to have you at the end of the day—I'm fine with that."
"You definitely get to have me at the end of the day," she flirtatiously told him, "as many times as you'd like—in whatever position you'd like," she swirled her finger through the hairs on his chest.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
A few weeks had passed since he first thought that something was going on with them. It was now the worst kept secret—yet again—on set. Detective skills were not needed to put the clues into a complete picture; they left an accidental trail of breadcrumbs. Rick began locking his trailer door anytime she dropped by for a casual visit. The two slipped away constantly when they filmed away from the main set. Their tryst in the woods was always visibly apparent; she generally returned with leaves embedded in her wig. She once rejoined the filming with the shirt under her vest turned inside out. On a few occasions Rick resumed shooting scenes with grass stains on his jeans - stains that weren't there before the break.
The protective and discrete costume crew did their best to cover for the new lovers, but there was really no way to completely hide what was going on, I swear they're not just the king and queen of the apocalypse, they're also the king and queen of quiet drama. He grimaced at the thought of talking to Rick about his growing concern. However, it was a conversation that needed to happen before the big wigs at the network got wind of the new developments.
His conversation with both the director who first noticed something going on, and one of the executive director's, had happened weeks back. The time had come to address the rumors and speculation directly.
"Rick…" the newly emboldened showrunner called to his lead actor, "You have a sec?"
Rick nodded, saying a few parting words to the cast members he was speaking with, and walked towards his boss. They walked without speaking towards one of the smaller stationary trailers. The two set designers who were lingering in the room when they entered greeted their boss's boss. He politely requested the room….
She wasn't sure where Rick had gone. Staring at him from a distance had become her favorite pass time sport on set. After work they spent their nights watching movies and making love. They generally chose Rick's house, which was in a more secluded and rural part of Georgia, than was Michonne's downtown Atlanta condominium. On the nights when they were too sexually turned on by a day of flirting to make it to Rick's place, they would go to Sasha's awaiting apartment; Michonne's place was a revolving door for her relatives.
Daryl and Maggie had caught her and Rick making out in his unintentionally unlocked trailer a week ago. They didn't ask a lot of questions; though it was obvious that they wanted to. Without much discussion, the duo promised to keep the relationship private. Discretion was the better part of valor after all—for both men and women. They left out the fact that everyone on set already knew.
She smiled and wandered away from the crew; happy with all aspects of her life. She knew without a doubt that she was in love with Rick. It was a new feeling, but it was most certainly love. Her career was also exactly where it should be. After working for years, she was finally realizing the dream—the dream that both she and her parents had always had for her. She glanced around the expansive area again for Rick, just as some of her fellow cast members approached her to chat…..
He closed the door behind the exiting designers.
"What's going on?" Rick inquired once the two men were alone. The large man sat in one of the make-up chairs and faced the actor,
"I was gonna ask you the same thing," he removed his dark rimmed glasses, his eyes narrowed as he studied the eyes of the other man.
"Not sure what you're talkin' about," Rick tilted his head and squinted before taking a seat in one of the vacant chairs.
Not one to beat around the bush, "What's going on with Michonne?"
"We've had this conversation before…" the actor kept an even tone.
"I know we've talked about the acrimonious relationship you two seemed to have—I'm not talking about that…"
"What are you askin'?" Rick could feel his blood begin to heat up.
"Is there something—um—romantic going on between you two?" He already knew the answer to the question. Everyone who worked for the show knew the answer to the question. Rhetorical as it may have been, it seemed inappropriate to start the conversation with an assumption.
A palpable air of awkwardness instantly beset the room. How could asking a grown man about his romantic life not be awkward?
Rick chuckled, running his hand over his face, "Pretty sure that ain't none 'a ya bizness," his southern vernacular becoming more pronounced as his dander began to rise.
"Look, Rick, I know it's none of my business," he attempted a smile, "but I consider both of you friends—not just colleagues, and…"
"You don't need'ta worry," he could see the concern on the face of the executive; there was no judgment, "we're professionals—and adults. I, uh, appreciate your concern."
"Again, none of my business, but…" Rick interrupted with a laugh, "…That but always means I'm about to do exactly what I've just said I don't plan to do,"
"Yeah," the showrunner agreed and joined in the laughter.
"Is this uh—new?" He asked the question which followed the 'but.'
"Uh, yeah, it is," he rubbed his hand over the nape of his neck, "It's different—different than anything, than everything. She's…" he trailed off, deciding not to disclose any other information.
"I'm glad for you, Rick," he reached over and hit his knee, "She's an amazing woman—you're a lucky guy."
"Thanks—I appreciate that. And yes, I am a very lucky guy," he said, smiling as Michonne's face flashed through his mind; "Can you do me a favor and just not mention it to anyone? Michonne is very private. I wanna respect her wishes to keep this as private as possible…"
It was the other man's chance to laugh, "…You do realize that everyone on set has already figured out what's goin' on with you two—weeks ago," he laughed, "you guys did a lousy job of hiding your dislike for each other—and trust me, you've done a way worse job of hiding that you're in a relationship."
"I figured as much," he smiled, shaking his head, "but Michonne seems to do a good job of living in her own world—a world where people don't pick up on the things that she doesn't want them to pick up on."
Michonne was a great actress without question. She was destined for Emmy's, Oscar's and every other kind of acting accolade. She was, however, horribly transparent when it came to hiding her actual-real life emotions. Both men knew it.
"Rick," his face constricted and became more serious, "You have Comic Con coming up next month. You both are on the panel. Trust me when I tell you that it'll be obvious to everyone there…" he paused and rubbed his temple, "Maybe we can just do some strategic seating for you two."
"That would be great," Rick agree, sighing deeply.
"You know, I always thought there was something beneath all the anger you two had for each other," his smirk that was barely visible under the growing hair on his face; but was clearly visible in the corners of his eyes.
"S'pose there was," Rick smiled, wiping his hand over his face.
"That's some damn good counseling," the now relaxed executive joked, "I might just need to get that doctors card from you." The tension lessened as they both laughed.
A/N: There is just one chapter remaining for this story. It may possibly be broken in half as well, depending on how long it ends up being once its all fleshed out and edited, ugh...lol.
Please let me know what you think of this chapter. Your feedback means so much to me. The finale will be up soon. Blessings to you...