Hi, sorry for the delay again, but something happened and this fanfic has a new owner. The original author (mi amiga) will be writing occasionally, but for the most part, this story's will be written by another TWD fan, me, from now on. Hope you understand.
• Rain's POV:
You cried into Michone's shoulder, her crying also, while Rick and Carl looked on, for they just finished their heartfelt reunion with Michone as well.
She speaks, although still in your embrace, loud enough for everybody to hear, "I was lost without you guys."
"I was lost for a while too," Michone lets go at your response, bearing a smile of great care.
She smacks her stomach, searching around, "So, there any food in this joint?"
You bring her to the kitchen, motioning to the little food left on the counter, "Most of these are probably expired, so we try to avoid most of the canned stuff, but there's some stale frosted flakes over here."
Michone laughs, "How the hell did you all survive here? I think it's time to go on a run."
"I second that, this oatmeal is nothing but shit," Rick yells from the living room, "I'll stay here, you three can go out." You grin, Carl walking in holding his and your's weapons.
Michone pulls a small package from her pants pocket, "Found these, check if they'll work in your guns. Now go and get ready upstairs, just needa talk to Rick for a little, then we'll head out."
Agreeing, you and Carl head up the stair case, into Carl's room. You already were wearing a new set of clothes, but he hadn't changed since the prison.
"Did you find any clothes?"
"I haven't looked yet," Carl drops the loaded magazines from Michone's package and walks over to the dresser, checking all the drawers. "Ah, here we go, jackpot," He laughs, showing me the collection of short sleeved flannels and t shirts.
You lie on the bed, feet on the wall, your head dangling off of the edge, "Wonder what they're talking about."
"I have absolutely no idea," Carl begins to take of his filthied flannel, "All I know is we probably shouldn't interrupt them, maybe they're coming up with some great survival plan."
He turns around towards you and can't help but laugh, sarcastically you respond, "What are you looking at sir?"
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Nothing why do you ask-" you stop, unable to speak as Carl takes off his shirt, "um," tearing your eyes away, you stutter, "nothin much."
Carl notices your stare and smirks, starting to do a little dance, twisting at the hip, "What? Like watcha see?" You laugh out of relief as he comes over to the bed, still prancing around like an idiot.
He turns you around, your feet falling back on the bad, now lying the correct way. Carl hovers above you, his legs intertwined with yours, and once again unable to form a proper sentence, you just mutter, "Nice...back."
"Why thank you, you know, I have had some self confidence issues dealing with my back, so that compliment means so much," You both laugh again, as Carl leans down, holding himself up by his elbows, kissing you on the lips. His rough hands ran through your scalp and your palms feel the warmth of his neck, traveling down his strong back.
Your heads and torsos move in sync for a while until Michone calls you from downstairs, "Come on guys, let's go."
So out of nowhere, Carl wraps his arms around you, and flipping over, launches you off of the bed, "haha!"
