A/N: Rick and Michonne's first date, at last! Thanks for all the feedback. I hope you enjoy!


Michonne adjusted the bill of her borrowed baseball cap, tugging her braids free as she squinted up the first base line. Rick was beside her, stealing nachos from her lap, a look of pure elation on his face as the game unfolded before them. He'd been excited all day, from the moment he arrived to pick her up for their date. His enthusiasm was infectious. Coupled with the warm summer weather, a road trip to Atlanta, and the promise of a whole day together, Michonne was thoroughly enjoying their first "real" date.

The crack of the bat startled her, causing her to flinch as a foul ball went soaring towards them. A fury of motion whirled around them as the crowd all surged for the ball. In a moment, Rick released the nachos, reaching up to snag the baseball before it landed on them. It smacked hard in his palm.

"Here you go," he dropped it in to Michonne's open hand, shaking out the sting of his own, a smile on his face. Michonne glanced up with just enough time to catch a replay on the jumbotron above them. She and Rick looked good together, especially when he settled down beside her, draping his arm over her shoulder. She had a sudden vision of him on that screen one day, on the pitcher's mound instead of in the stands.

"Thank you," she traced the laces, rolling the ball experimentally.

"No problem," he kissed her cheek, returning to their nachos.

Michonne studied the baseball, questions rising in her mind. Rick was good at this, almost effortlessly so. By the look on his face, this was what he lived for. Thoughts tumbled in her head as she watched him watch the first few innings.

"Rick," she began, drawing his attention to her during the seventh inning stretch. Rick tore his eyes from the Braves to look at her.

"What's up?" he smiled at her, "Are you having fun?"

"I am," she nodded, reaching for his hand. "I've never been to a pro game."

"I hoped you'd like it," he tugged at her hair. "I used to see you at games at the school."

Michonne grinned despite herself. "Well, the pitcher was cute. I heard he graduated though."

"Did he?" Rick returned her humor lightly. "I was wondering what happened to that guy."

"I heard he's looking for schools," Michonne broached the subject cautiously.

"He is," Rick confirmed, at last seeming to notice where she was going with this.

"You could be doing this one day," she gestured to where the pitchers were warming up in the bullpen.

"That's the goal," he told her easily.

"You need to pick the right school," she swallowed. "The one that gives you your best shot."

Rick paused, pinning her with that gaze of his. Michonne met his blue eyes, swallowing her nervousness. "Chonne, I think you're worrying too much about this," he told her, measuring his words carefully.

"I think you're not worrying enough," she countered.

Rick sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Michonne—"

"I know you like me a lot," she burst out, trying to explain her point. "And Rick, I like you so much but we can't just change our plans for each other."

"Who says I'm changing anything?" he looked amusedly at her.

"You're thinking about going to California—"

It was his turn to cut her off. "I am," he said firmly, "because USC has one of the best baseball programs in the country. They've been vetting me since last year. Them and a bunch of other schools."

Michonne blinked in surprise. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked.

"For one thing, I didn't want to talk about it till I made a choice. The less people who know, the better, since I was leveraging a bunch of offers." He adjusted his baseball cap then reached for her hand, coaxing the foul ball from it. "For another thing, we've been hanging out for just a few weeks. I didn't even know if you liked me. Took you a month to let me take you on a date." He tilted his head at her, amused.

Michonne flushed, embarrassment coursing through her. "I thought you were going to go for me," she admitted.

Rick grinned, "It's definitely a huge perk," he told her. "But Chonne, I ain't an idiot. I've wanted to play ball for a living since 6th grade. You ain't the only one with plans."

She dropped her eyes, her cheeks burning. "Oh," she said simply. On the one hand, the news was a relief. On the other hand, she was deathly embarrassed.

"Hey," he gripped her chin lightly, turning her face back to his. "I talked to you about it because I want you to be part of that plan. Kind of like the way I want to be part of yours."

It suddenly didn't matter to Michonne that they were in broad daylight with thousands of people around. She kissed Rick, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. He caught her easily, molding his mouth to hers. Someone a few rows back let out a wolf-whistle. Michonne pulled back. Rick was flushed beneath his hat, obviously pleased. "You think we can make it work?" she asked lowly, relaxing her head against his.

"I've got a good feeling," Rick settled her against him, holding on to her waist. She could feel his heart thumping against her chest. He grinned cheekily. "Plus, it'll be fun to kick your school's ass every baseball season."

"Hey now," Michonne scoffed, pretending to pull back. Rick's grip tightened around her as he laughed. "Jackie Robinson played for the Bruins. Who played for the Trojans, again?"

"About a hundred All-Americans," Rick smirked, "And a few dozen World Series champs." He ticked the numbers off on his fingers.

"But were they Jackie Robinson?" Michonne asked.

"Nah," Rick admitted, kissing her forehead. "They weren't Robinson."

"I rest my case then," she beamed up at him. Rick laughed, adjusting her under his arm as the game began again. "Maybe USC will have a legend soon," she ventured.

Rick grinned. "See? We're figuring it out already."

-l-l-l-l-

"Where are we going?" Rick tugged her to her feet at the top of the ninth inning.

"I've got a surprise," he told her, helping her gather her bag. "You brought clothes for dinner, right?" he asked her.

"I did," the thought of the dress in her purse was enough to make her flush. She'd picked it just for him.

"Good," Rick steered them up the stairs to the elevator. An attendant beckoned them in. Rick fumbled with something in his pocket, flashing the scraps of paper at the employee.

"All right," the attendant looked impressed. "Third floor it is," he pushed the button with a flourish.

"What's on the third floor?" Michonne asked, curious now. Their seats had been phenomenal downstairs.

"The surprise," Rick countered easily.

The doors slid open, admitting them. Michonne's eyes widened. This was nothing like downstairs. Concrete and bright paint faded here into modern angles and soft lighting. Hard-backed chairs were now sofas and dining tables. There was even carpeted flooring.

"What is this?" she asked, turning towards Rick.

"It's the suite level," Rick responded. He too looked impressed. "I always wanted to come up here. Figured I'd have to wait till I went pro, but now…" he turned to smile at her. "They do dinners after the games and it's a special occasion."

"What's the occasion?" she asked, squeezing his hand.

"Our first date. Gotta make an impression," he kissed her cheek. "I'm going to go change. I think there's a ladies' room that way," he gestured.

A few minutes later, Michonne stood in the lavish bathroom, smoothing her hands over the fabric of her dress. She wondered, for perhaps the millionth time, whether the dress was too much (or rather, too little). It's not that anything was hanging out, really. It's just that it clung to her shape in a way that she new would make her parents worry.

This wasn't a dress a high school student would wear. Then again, she wasn't really a high school student anymore.

She took a deep breath and exited the bathroom.

"Wow," Rick reddened when he saw her, eyeing her outfit appreciatively. "Damn Chonne," he breathed.

Michonne tugged at the black fabric, working it back down her thighs. She'd heard of the effects of the little black dress, but this was her first time seeing it in action. Under anyone else's gaze she might have felt exposed. Under Rick's she just felt excited.

His eyes scarcely left her as they were escorted to their private suite. The game went on in the background, but Rick's attention was clearly elsewhere. He sat beside Michonne, a blush on his cheeks that seemed in no hurry to disappear. Michonne tried with difficulty to focus on the menu. Her mind was racing, filling rapidly with the memory of Rick's lips on hers, of being in close quarters, in the sounds he made when she touched him. She chanced a glance at him and almost came undone. He was staring at her across the table, looking completely floored.

"What's wrong?" she asked tentatively. She turned to look at the scoreboard. The Braves had won. The crowd was filing out now.

Rick shook his head, blinking the haze away. A smile was playing on his lips. "I just can't believe you're here, that's all."

Michonne flushed. "I've been right next to you all summer," she reminded him.

Rick shrugged. "Not the way I wanted you to be."

She laughed shakily. "You haven't been asking me out that long, Rick. Don't be a drama king."

"Doesn't mean I wasn't thinking about it," he didn't hesitate to answer her.

Michonne bit her lip, finding it hard to hold his gaze. "You were with Lori…"

"For way too long," he finished her sentence. "I think I just got used to it. Everyone expected us to be together, so we were," he shrugged. "And you were taken," he added.

"Why didn't you ever come talk to me?" she asked, surprised.

"I don't know," he laughed nervously. "I had some stuff to figure out."

"Like what?" she pressed.

Rick looked off behind her for a moment, swallowing hard. "Like if it was enough to stick around and be the biggest guy in King County, or whether I wanted to take a shot and go for more." He drew his eyes back to her.

Michonne smiled nervously, her heart racing. "Did you figure it out?" she asked.

"I did," Rick reached for her hand beneath the table. Michonne took it. "I know I waited way too long, but I got to take a chance and see where I end up. Maybe I'll be right back here one day, sitting on the porch with the same people we went to school with."

"Or maybe you'll be in the MLB," she encouraged him.

"Maybe," he agreed, grinning at her. "I'm following your lead, Chonne."

"What do you mean?" she asked, surprised.

"You always go for what you want. Always," he laughed. "We had class together freshman year. English, remember?"

She nodded. They'd been so young then, she'd almost forgotten. It was just after her family had come to King County.

"They tried to ban that book, To Kill a Mockingbird. You weren't having it," his laughter escalated.

"It's an amazing book," Michonne fired up at the memory. "Their reasons for banning it were such crap. And we didn't even get to read it!"

"They put it back on the list the year after us," Rick told her. "And it was a good book. I read it. And a bunch of other students will now too, because you went for it."

Michonne blushed, her dark skin turning dusky. Rick looked at her, almost beaming. "Sometime it pays to fight for things you want," she said quietly.

"It does," he agreed. "Chonne, will you be my girlfriend?" he asked.

For once, Michonne didn't hesitate.

"Yes."

-l-l-l-l-

"Rick," she called his name as he sucked on her pulse point. She scraped her nails down his back, ruffling the fabric of his dress shirt.

He pulled back enough to allow her to unfold her legs from beneath her. She spread them out, wrapping them around his narrow waist. He let out a groan, grasping her thighs and pinning her to the seat.

"Shit," he cursed, lowering his head to her chest. "You're going to kill me, Chonne."

"Sorry," she panted, threading her hands in his hair. He began to trail kisses along her collarbone, toying with the hem of her skirt.

"Don't be," he assured her, glancing up. Michonne tugged his face towards hers again, coaxing his mouth open against hers. Their tongues dueled, hands wandering. She felt dizzy, flushed, needy in a way she wasn't used to. She squeezed her legs around his waist, desperately seeking to lessen the pressure between them.

"Rick," his name slipped from her lips again. "Can you?" unsure what she was asking for, she rolled against him.

"You want me to touch you?" he asked, nipping at her ear. She shuddered.

"Please," her hands groped for his waist band. She was clumsy in her motions, but Rick wasn't much better. He gripped her hips almost painfully tight, lifting her up enough to work his hands beneath her. She leaned back against the seat, panting. She reached for him, guiding his fingers to where she desperately needed him.

The first touch was enough to draw a low moan from her.

"Chonne," Rick rested his forehead against hers. "You're so damn beautiful."

"You are too," she breathed. She'd never seen a sight that she liked half as much as Rick with his hair mussed and his shirt unbuttoned.

"I want you so bad," he pressed a finger slowly into her. Michonne's body tightened around him, the intrusion new, but not unwelcome.

"Oh," she exhaled, clutching his arms. He watched the pleasure play out on her face. "I want you too," it was embarrassing to say, even with his hands under her skirt. He adjusted his position, leaning into her. Michonne feared for a moment that the pressure might kill her. She tossed her head back, writhing shamelessly against him.

He kissed her, smothering her moans. Blindly, she groped for him, grappling with his pants until she got them undone. His stomach was warm, the muscles tight as she touched him, reaching down to repay the favor he was doing for her. She grasped him and he detached from her mouth, letting out the sexiest sound she'd ever heard in her life.

She wanted him so badly that she could hardly think straight, especially when Rick began to rub at her harder, touching something inside her that nearly caused her eyes to cross.

"You're so beautiful," Rick repeated, his voice a low rumble. "You're so beautiful baby."

Michonne fell over the edge. The shock of it left her reeling, mouth open, bucking against him. Her eyes flew open and she took in the sight of her boyfriend, disheveled and beaming. He kissed her gently.

"You ok?" he asked, withdrawing from her.

Michonne could only respond by grasping him tighter, her resolve to make him feel good growing. He let out a string of curse words, reaching down to cover her hand with his own.

"Tell me how," she whispered.

"You're doing great," he hissed through clenched teeth. His eyes danced between her face and where her hands were, almost in disbelief. "Chonne, holy shit…"

On instinct, she leaned forward, sucking lightly at the place on his neck that always made him shiver, pressing her chest into him. His hands left hers as he reached for her, one hand firmly on her bottom, the other grasping her by the back of her neck.

"Does that feel good?" she asked him, breathless.

In answer, he came undone, burying his face in her neck. He collapsed against her, sated. Michonne held him for a moment.

"Damn," he exhaled, looking up at her with so much adoration that she couldn't help but smile. He sat up, fumbling for his gym bag below them.

"It's kind of messy," Michonne observed on a giggle. Rick nodded in agreement, chuckling.

"I didn't expect…this," he admitted, handing her a t-shirt from his bag. Michonne accepted it gratefully.

"Is this what sex is like?" she asked suddenly. She felt a tiny pang of regret that this was so new to her, and so familiar to Rick. If only they had met sooner…

"I don't know," Rick looked up at her. He coaxed the shirt from her hand, gently wiping at her legs. "But I'm guessing it's similar."

"You never?" Michonne couldn't help the smile that graced her face.

"Nah," he kissed her softly. "I've never."

"Do you want to?" she asked, unsure.

"One day, yeah," he grinned. "Especially if it's you. But not here," he gestured to the back of his truck. "And not right away."

"Ok," Michonne agreed, relieved. "It's probably good to wait." That's what her sexual education teachers and parents preached at least.

"Probably," Rick agreed with a laugh, tossing his soiled shirt to the floor. "I need to get you home before security catches us." He opened the door, stepping out on shaky legs. Michonne giggled at the sight. He shot her a petulant look. "It's your fault," he teased, reaching for her. "C'mon," he helped her down, walking her around the front passengers seat.

He held her hand as he drove, chatting amicably. Michonne contributed effortlessly, reminiscing on high school and speculating about the possibilities that laid ahead of them in college. By the time he dropped her off at her house, just in time for curfew, she was dead tired but reluctant to leave.

"I'll see you soon, baby," he used the pet name again, walking her to her door. "Thanks for coming out with me."

"Anytime," she promised.

Smiling, she watched him leave.

The answering machine in her room was blinking up at her as she readied herself for bed, but Michonne paid it no mind. Her head was filled with thoughts of her boyfriend, of how he fit into this new version of her plan.

She fell asleep that night and dreamed of the future.