Was Pete ever going to leave? Michonne could hear him downstairs talking to Rick, his drunken voice carrying through the house. And she was too damn impatient to listen to the intoxicated neighbor go on about owl sculptures and check ups for the kids. Not that the kids didn’t need a good once over, but she wasn’t so sure she trusted the idiot downstairs enough to even do it. And she knew for a fact that Rick wouldn’t.
No, it was best that Pete take his offer elsewhere. Or better yet, take his entire body elsewhere.
When he’d knocked on the door, they’d discussed ignoring him. Rick had just put on that brand new white t-shirt and Michonne eyes had barely had time to appreciate the sight in front of her when Pete had suddenly showed up. But they both knew they had to answer it. They were playing the part of the friendly, neighborly type, were they not? No, it was best to get the small talk over with. To let the man believe they wanted to make friends.
But now as she laid there in bed, growing more impatient by the minute, she was regretting the decision. Friendly chit chat could have been put off, there were more important matters that needed her attention. Namely - the idiot downstairs in his brand new white t-shirt, the one who was doing a piss poor job of getting Pete Anderson out of their home.
She continued listening in and when she heard Rick turn down the other man’s offer of a beer, Michonne actually smiled. Rick might have been doing a bad job of coming back but at least he was trying. And judging by how greedy his hands had been only moments before, sliding underneath her tank top, she knew he was trying his best. With Carl at a friend’s house and Judith napping, they’d finally had the chance to really explore each other.
God knew their first time had been quick. Not that she blamed him, it’d been a while and the tension had simply been building for far too long. It hadn’t exactly been her lengthiest performance either. And the second time hadn’t been much better. Rushed in the shower while Carl watched Judith downstairs. No, they were both ready to finally take their time.
Time that was quickly disappearing if Rick didn’t hurry up.
And just when she started to consider going down there herself to take care of it, Michonne heard the front door shut followed by Rick’s footsteps coming up the stairs. God, she knew the sound of those boots anywhere, that rhythm. And finally those boots were headed to where they needed to be going, back to her.
“Sorry, he wouldn’t leave.”
It was the first words out of Rick’s mouth as he shut the bedroom door behind himself, a shy smile on his face.
And it amazed her how a man that could bite out a throat, or kill when necessary without batting an eyelash could still stand there by the door like a ball of nerves, his blue eyes meeting hers with apprehension. It was why she knew it was right. Rick looked at the world through the eyes of a hardened man. But when he looked at her? All of that faded away, his face painted with a vulnerability she knew nothing else ever brought out of him.
Even with his kids he pretended to be brave more often than not. But with her? There was no pretending, no walls.
“He sounded pretty drunk.” She told him, feeling his gaze flick over the length of her body as she laid there, his mind already changing gears.
Michonne could see it in his eyes the moment he took off the mask he’d just been wearing for Pete. When he stopped being the new friendly neighbor and was back to being Rick, her Rick, with his eyes greedily drinking in every last inch of her. And even with the stare of a predator, Michonne knew he was more than happy to be her prey.
