Rick spent his Wednesday lunch break eating an Italian sub with seasoned fries and a coke in his squad car off the side of a busy highway. He watched the cars pass him by but his mind was elsewhere. His radio provided a steady stream of noise while he sat in his thoughts.
He contemplated texting Michonne but he knew she was at work and didn't want to be a disturbance for her. He had already texted her this morning so he was still riding that high admittedly. It was crazy that she had the ability to just brighten up his day that easily.
This past Friday was the first of his waltz lessons. Rick had taken Michonne's words about hearing from him soon to heart because he texted her the very next day. She had responded almost immediately.
They talked about the little mundane things through text but before bed, they would call and sit on the phone for an hour. Rick began to heavily anticipate those phone calls. Recalling each other their day felt so natural.
He loved laughing with her. She had this dorky, dry sense of humor that one would not have guessed off of first impressions. Rick was sure Michonne could hear his dopey smile through the phone.
He could imagine her bright smile on the other end as she described to him something silly Andre did. Even if he hadn't seen her with her son just by the sound of it, Rick knew that she had to be an amazing mother. Her son was lucky to have her.
It couldn't be helped that Rick thought about the lack of a mother figure in his own son's life. Lori had been diagnosed with breast cancer a year after Carl's birth, and it was early enough that they were able to treat it with chemotherapy. Everything was fine until it wasn't. They thought she had gone into complete remission until the cancer came back meaner than ever two years later. By that point, Lori was already so tired that treatment didn't matter anymore.
Carl was only three so he had little to no recollection of this time period. Thankfully so, because Lori and Rick's relationship had shriveled up and died, long before she did. They argued all the time. And when they didn't argue, the house was engulfed in raging silence.
Rick was beyond grateful for his siblings during this time as he was certain he would have floundered otherwise. A toddler and a 26-year-old widower. Rick might've not liked his wife by the end but her death still hurt all the same. They were high school sweethearts; he never would have guessed when he was mooning over her in homeroom that not even ten years later, he would be burying her.
But now ten more years later, Rick was rapidly falling for a woman he had just met five days ago. The descent was happening too easily, too fast but he was powerless to stop it.
He had been on dates before but those women never stuck around long. A year ago, Rick had a girlfriend named Jessie for about six months and it took him far too long to realize that they were not compatible. She took it hard but there was nothing he could do about that. He had not heard from her since so he took that as a sign that she finally moved on.
He wondered how Carl would take to Michonne. Rick knew that he himself was enamored with the woman so she would likely make his son fall in love with her after their first meeting as well. It was probably next to impossible to not succumb to her charms after spending just a little bit of time with her.
A notification popped up on Rick's phone causing a ding. He usually had his phone on silent when he was on duty but he had been slacking lately all on account of one pretty attorney.
"Hope you're having a nice day, sheriff. Anything interesting happen already?" Rick read Michonne's text aloud, his slanted grin breaking his face.
"Not yet, anyway. Are you having a good day, beautiful?" He sent back.
His phone dinged again with her response. "I am now."
Another text came in before he could reply. "Am I gonna be hearing from you tonight?" She said.
Rick texted back, "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
He rubbed his cheeks, trying to smother his blush. If anyone was looking into his car, they would have thought him crazy. He stared out his windshield as the cars continued to pass him by totally unaware of the happiness that coursed through his body.
He was about to send another text to Michonne when a car sped past him going at an inappropriate speed. It nearly shook his squad car. Rick watched it weave in between the cars on the highway, instantly pissing him off.
He threw his finished lunch in the passenger seat and tucked his phone away, intentions of texting Michonne tossed. He flipped his lights and sped down the highway.
The yellow sports car was in Rick's sight, he pursued harder. The other cars on the road moved out of his way thankfully. Rick expected the person in the car to make this much harder for him but once he got right behind them, they pulled over in the parking lot of a gas station.
Rick ran the plates and saw they were registered to a Randall Culver Sr. He narrowed his eyes, grabbed his stetson then exited his car.
What kind of idiot speeds during lunch rush hour unless their intention was to get somebody hurt? Rick despised people who had little care for others.
He knocked on the tinted window with a less than inviting expression. What caused a fracture in his demeanor was the fact that a teenager rolled down the driver's side window.
"License and registration," Rick said calmly.
The gap-toothed dark haired teenager chuckled nervously. Rick arched an eyebrow at him.
"Ha, about that sir…"
"Do you know how fast you were going, kid?"
"No, how fast?!" He asked eagerly until he read the look on Rick's face.
Rick stood there with his hands on his hips, staring down at the driver. He looked around at the gas station, annoyed, before addressing the teenager again.
"What's your name, kid?"
"Randall Culver Junior, sir," he answered meekly. His hands gripped the steering with anxiety.
"How old are you?"
"17, sir."
"Does your father know you're out here driving recklessly in his car? Without a license at that." Rick tilted his head angrily.
Randall shrugged, chewing on his lip. "Well see what had happened was–"
"Don't care. Get out of the car. Now."
"WHAT?! No way, man! It was just a lil speeding. Ain't nobody was hurt either. Can't you just let me go with a warning?"
"The only warning you're getting is me asking you to get out the car one last time." Rick tapped his gun belt impatiently.
"Man, this is some fucking bullshit," Randall curled his lips, sucking his teeth insubordinately while turning off the car. "I ain't killed nobody. Just having a little fun."
"Yeah yeah, whatever. Randall Culver Junior, you are under arrest for reckless driving and driving without a license. You have the right to remain silent–" Rick handcuffed him while reading him his rights. He pushed the kid to the back of his squad car. The little shit sat back with a scowl on his face as if his whole day was disrupted.
Rick rolled his eyes and slammed the door. Having a smooth day was clearly out of the equation for him.
At Williams & Associates, Michonne sat in her office, tapping her foot while reviewing some paperwork that she had been putting off for days. She hummed The Rains of Castomere to herself as she sipped the last of her latte that she had gotten before coming into work.
Throwing the cardboard cup in the trash by her desk, she leaned back in her chair to stretch. She gazed around her deep maroon walls with gray accents. Her Ficus tree and spiderwort plants added a drip of life to her office while also reducing her stress. They were low maintenance and she had come to enjoy walking in every morning and seeing them. Though the black frameless 3D analog clock on the wall by the door was her favorite piece of decor by far.
A knock on her door drew her attention, she called out, "Come in!" She wasn't due for any clients yet so she assumed it was one of her employees.
"Busy, boss?" Spencer poked his head through her door with a smile.
Michonne popped her neck and then shook her head. "Nope. You need something, Spencer?"
Shutting the door, he stepped in with a styrofoam cup in his hand. "I just wanted to bring you a new coffee because I figured you might be done with the other one by now." His brown eyes scanned her mahogany desk and he nodded his head. "And by the looks of it, I was right on time."
"Well aren't you just the thoughtful lad," Michonne commented, taking a big sip of the fresh latte.
No one would be able to claim that Spencer Monroe wasn't handsome. Probably stood around 6'1 in height, angular jaw, thick curly hair that was cut into a neat fade with straight white teeth, and syrupy brown eyes. Some of her female associates had a hard time keeping their eyes off him.
He used his charm to get what he wanted, in and out of the courtroom. While Michonne was all for using whatever means necessary, she didn't care for him trying to use his charms on her.
Michonne used to work for his mother Deanna Monroe at her firm until she decided to open her own practice which Deanna was very supportive of. So much so, she sent her youngest son to work for Michonne though Michonne suspected that was to get him out of her hair.
She could admit that he was a decent attorney and she was grateful to have him on her team. When she had worked with him at his mother's firm, he was always trying to get with her, and she couldn't help rejoicing when he finally got the hint that she wasn't interested in anything romantic with him in the slightest.
As the liquid slipped down her throat, she moaned appreciatively. "Did you finish that paperwork for your Smith case? Ready for court?"
Spencer huffed, sitting down on her couch.
"That bad huh?" She chuckled.
"That Negan guy is a grade-A asshole. Only likes the sound of his own voice. I don't know how anyone actually deals with him," he complained.
"Alcohol is probably heavily involved."
"Do you hate me so much that you had to give me this case?"
"Oh, I have full confidence in you, Spence," her eyes gleamed, and he scoffed at her. "Just think of how much money you're getting paid. You can finally go on that trip to Bora Bora like you wanted."
"No need to butter me up, I already took the fucking case," Spencer sneered.
Michonne's shoulders shook as she laughed. "Anyway, how's your mom and Reg doing? Haven't spoken to 'em in a while."
"Mom misses you and Andre of course. You would've thought that you were her biological child the way she asks about you all the time. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she likes you more than me, dad too."
"I mean, what can I say I was the best attorney she had," she dusted off her dress with a smirk. "No offense to you of course."
"Definitely some taken…" His expression dulled. "You have any plans for lunch?"
Michonne looked at the clock and noted that it was nearly one in the afternoon. Her eyebrows furrowed, realizing that she worked all morning without any interruptions, bar the current one, and like on schedule her stomach rumbled.
She checked her phone, reading the last text from Rick. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
She wanted to ask what he had for lunch, perhaps it would give her some ideas. They liked much of the same food so she knew she could rely on his recommendation.
Too many times in the past five days had Michonne caught herself grinning madly at her phone. She never wanted to silence it in the chance that she missed a text from Rick. She found herself wanting to talk to him all the time, but not wanting to come off as clingy or obsessed.
Talking on the phone at night, hearing his deep voice, had already become her favorite activity. She would shower, get Andre fed and in bed, and wait for his call like a giddy teen.
He talked all about Carl, about how smart and how he funny was. He mentioned that his son was his best friend and that he would do anything for him, hence the waltz classes. Michonne had to put the phone on mute so she could swoon properly without embarrassing herself.
Michonne did take note of his lack of a wedding ring so she wondered what the story was there but she hadn't felt comfortable enough to ask yet. She figured he would tell her on his own time just as she would about her ex-boyfriend.
That was not a story she was looking forward to telling.
Though she knew Rick wouldn't judge her. He was a good man, that much she could tell from their conversations. Her feelings were getting tangled up so quickly in this man that it made her dizzy.
"What the hell's got you smiling at your phone so hard?" Spencer questioned.
"None of your damn business," Michonne countered, blinking at him.
"You know I'm a nosey son of a bitch. C'mon, tell me. I won't tell," he smiled innocently. He came to sit on a corner of her desk.
"You're a damn liar, Monroe."
"We're lawyers, it's our job."
"I ain't telling you shit so you can have my business out there before 5 o'clock traffic. Go away, pretty boy." She shooed him with her hand while laughing.
"Is it a man? Did you get a boyfriend? Have some decent sex?" He pressed further.
Michonne groaned loudly, then hit a button that called to her assistant outside of her office. "Jacqui, make a note to not let Spencer in my office for a week."
"Got it, boss lady."
Spencer cackled, leaning back comfortably on her desk. "Aw don't be like that, Mich. I promise I won't tell anybody," he pleaded, pouting his lips. "We're friends, are we not?"
"Go away, Spencer. Before I call your mom." Michonne narrowed her eyes at him playfully.
He stood abruptly with his hands up. "Not cool, Michonne."
She threw her head back laughing at his shocked expression. Just as she was about to threaten him with filing work, her desk phone rang. She swallowed the tail end of her laugh to answer it.
"Williams and Associates. Michonne Williams speaking."
"Ms. Williams…"
She sighed. She knew this voice.
"Mr. Culver, what can I do for you today?"
"I know that tone. Listen it's Junior. He got in some shit today and he's down at station 610. He said they arrested him for reckless driving and driving with no license. I would go down there right now but I'm afraid I'll wring his neck if I see him. Do whatever you think is best."
Michonne pinched the bridge of her nose, and Spencer quietly slipped out of her office, amused at her obvious frustration.
"I'll get it taken care of. I'll contact you when I can, Mr. Culver."
"Thanks, Ms. Williams. You're the best," he said, hanging up.
"You're damn right I am," she said to an empty room.
"Grimes, that kid you brought in won't stop blubberin' in the cell," Lieutenant Leon Basset cackled, knocking his thigh on Rick's desk.
"Yeah I bet," Rick commented absentmindedly, looking over the arrest report.
"Did he make his phone call?"
"Sure did, said he called his daddy."
"Whatever the man said probably scared the shit outta him since he's in there cryin' like a baby," Leon hooted gleefully.
"Well, play stupid games, win stupid prizes," Rick shrugged, writing intently.
"Y'know I might just get that put on a t-shirt…" A lilted melodic voice said from behind Leon.
Rick knew the sound of that voice. His head shot up while Leon just about broke his neck turning his head so quickly.
Standing there in a royal blue sleeveless sheath dress that cinched her tiny waist and accentuated the curve of her hips, with close-toed black velvet ankle strapped heels that played up her strong calves was the woman who had begun to snatch his heart. Michonne held a black cardigan and a white leather briefcase in one hand with a coffee cup in the other.
The corners of her mouth twitched upwards as she gazed at both of the men. Rick liked the little eye makeup she wore and the gloss on her full lips. Her hair was styled in a high bun with two single locs framing her round face.
Rick was overwhelmed with the urge to scoop her up in his arms as he hadn't seen her since their waltz class.
"Hey–" He stood from his desk, giving her another once over.
"And what can I do for you, pretty lady?" Leon swiveled in front of Rick when he cut him off.
She saw Rick roll his pretty eyes behind Leon's back. "Well, I'm here to see my client…Lieutenant Basset," Michonne smiled politely, reading his badge.
"And who might that be, Miss…?"
"Williams. Michonne Williams," Rick answered, annoyed. Leon gawked at him.
Michonne loved how he said her name with that country drawl of his. She wanted to hear him say it all the time. Even briefly, she imagine what he would sound like in the throes of passion. Would her name come out in a breathy moan or a harsh growl? She tried to not let these imaginations keep her up at night.
"Don't you have work to be doing, Lieutenant? If not I'm sure I can find you some." Rick crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes.
"Uh, right. Right. Afternoon, Ms. Williams," Leon nodded coyly, then hurried away.
"So sheriff…" Michonne stepped closer to him and viewed Rick's scowling face smooth into a familiar grin.
"So are you just here to see your client, Ms. Williams?" Rick mirrored her steps.
"There might be a handsome cowboy that has caught my attention here as well. He's got some real moves if you didn't know," she teased.
"Oh is that so?" He took the cup out of her hand, set it on his desk, and brought her now empty hand to his lips in a gentle kiss.
Michonne bit the inside of her cheek and glanced around the police station. "You are something else, you know that?"
"Only for you, darlin'."
Her eyes glazed, and her breathing shuttered.
"Sheriff, you are distracting me. I have a job to do," she cleared her throat and put space between them. She stepped beside him, then whispered, "I'll come find you after okay?"
Rick squeezed her hand, then released it, eyeing her as she walked away.
Michonne put a little extra sway in her hips as she knew he was no doubt looking at her. She bit her bottom lip, saving the big smile from cracking her face. She had to be professional. She took a deep breath when one of the officers let her into the room with the holding cells.
Her client sat on a metal bench whimpering with snot and tears running down his face. She sighed, thinking she had seen this image one too many times.
"Randall," she called out. "How many times are we gonna go through this?"
Randall sat up straight, wiping his face. "Ms. Williams? My daddy called you? Why ain't he come?"
"He's pissed. You know how much trouble you're in?" She whispered harshly. "You're only a minor now but next year? They can try you as an adult, and you won't be getting off as easy anymore. This is gonna go on your record, Randall. We're gonna have to go to court over this."
"I– I know. I don't know what's wrong with me," he muttered pathetically.
Michonne observed him with softer eyes when he said that. As bad as he was, he was still just a kid. An annoying stupid kid, but a kid nonetheless. He did all of this in an attempt to get his father's attention and the old bastard never picked up on it. Now his kid was going to pay for this neglectful behavior.
She huffed out an irritated sigh. "Look here, you're gonna sit in this cell for a night. Think about your actions, hmm? Your dad's gonna come bail you out tomorrow and you're gonna sit at home until I need you for court, okay? Understood?"
Randall screwed up his face like he wanted to protest but she shot him a look that cut that off before he started. He simply nodded. She nodded at him, then allowed one of the officers to escort her out.
Michonne caught Rick at his desk and sat on the edge of it, looking down at him. One of her legs grazed his arm causing him to stiffen. He licked his lips when he glanced up at her.
"And what can I do for you, pretty lady?" Rick drawled, mocking Leon's words from earlier.
Michonne squeezed her eyes shut, holding in her laughter. This man was destined to ruin her, she felt it in her bones. She fluttered her eyelashes prettily at him, eyes sweeping over his features.
She sucked in a deep breath and said, "Go on a date with me."
He placed his elbows on the desk, making a bridge with his hands to set his chin on top. Rick lifted an eyebrow at her that promised they would discuss this tonight over the phone. "Isn't that my line?"
"Better luck next time, cowboy," she winked, hopping off his desk. She let him keep her coffee, as she had all the energy she needed for the rest of the day.
"The Rains of Castomere" is a song from Game of Thrones for reference. Michonne was humming the version by The National. If you have any questions let me know, dearies.