Together

• Translation into Italiano available: Insieme by MaryFangirl

Who are you when I’m not around?
When the door is locked, and the shades are down?
-Blake Shelton

Rick was indulging in a moment he’d never even considered would happen: He was watching Michonne when she thought she was alone.

Voyeurism wasn’t Rick’s style but now that it was happening, now that he could see her and she didn’t know it, he couldn’t quite stop watching her. It wasn’t that she was doing anything particularly unusual, but watching her in a private moment, when she was completely unguarded, was proving to be a very interesting experience, something that captured his attention and held it like a good TV show.

She was humming something familiar but Rick couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it before. He didn’t bother trying to figure it out. The song wasn’t the important thing. She was. Her voice was deep, soothing, pretty. He leaned against the back door frame and peered into the kitchen, watching her wipe down the sink, doing the mundane task of cleaning up a little mess she’d made as she put together a loin of pork roast, something wild taken from a boar Daryl had caught and brought in to feed the people.

She folded the dish rag neatly and then stood at the sink to stretch and yawn with her arms stretched over her head. Rick looked over every inch of her body, took in every curve, every patch of smooth skin. Her nipples were perky due to the slight chill in the air. Nobody taxed the power grid for heat until night when it was really cold, and they weren’t allowed to keep it warmer than sixty degrees. He looked at those nipples now, perked up, and he enjoyed it. He’d seen them make an appearance before but he’d always been too concerned with keeping his kids and the rest of the group fed, together, and alive to enjoy something as simple as a beautiful woman’s nipples.

Now such concerns weren’t at the forefront of his mind. Now Rick had the time to just look. He could let his mind wander to thoughts of something indulgent like sex. He knew it was stupid but he hoped Michonne would start touching herself. Right there, in the kitchen, just reach up and play with her nipples, maybe slip one of her hands down her jeans to massage at her wet core. Just the idea of her doing such a thing made his groin stir and this time he could actually indulge in it, actually let himself like it, rather than ignore it because it was just another biological function that got in the way of surviving.

Of course Michonne did no such thing. Her concerns lay with folding laundry. Her hands were so strong and made up of long fingers. They were deceptively delicate in appearance. He’d seen those same fingers grip a katana and deal out death. He’d seen those fingers pull the trigger on a gun and end the lives of the living. He’d also seen those fingers stroke his son’s fringe away from his face as her soothing voice offered words of comfort. She’d used those fingers to bathe Judy, rock her to sleep, feed her, mother her. They’d even gripped his hand a couple times in a show of support.

Now they were folding laundry. Judith’s towels and his own jeans and tee-shirts. She didn’t have to do his wash. It was a kindness, something he’d tried to return, but she told him she didn’t want him touching her underwear and getting ideas.

He didn’t need to touch her underwear to get ideas. He’d had them plenty of times before, on those long nights when he’d have just enough time to let his mind wander before he went to sleep. What would it be like to see her straddle him? To feel himself inside of her? What did she smell like in the heat of passion? He’d bet she smelled like a perfect match to him, like love and friendship, family, sex, heaven. She undoubtedly would taste the same. He could see her now, above him, her head thrown back, her neck slick with sweat, her entire body covered in a sheen of the moisture, as his hands played softly over her breasts, tipped with those beautiful nipples, her hips rolling over him, her body gripping him inside where she was moist, tight, wet…

He was panting now, dangerously close to being erect. He watched her hum, he watched her fold laundry, he watched her just be, and as he did Rick Grimes let himself enjoy the sight, and he let himself admit, in his own heart and his private thoughts, that he loved her. He knew, without her having to say it, that she loved him too.

Rick opened the door and came into the house. He shut it softly behind him and greeted her smile with one of his own before he sat down at the table beside her and began to fold laundry with her.

“How as your day?” she asked.

“Boring,” he answered, and returned her bright smile. “I love boring. It feels safe.”

Those long fingers of hers reached out and took his hand in hers. He looked into her eyes, those lovely brown pools of tranquility and kindness.

“We are safe,” she said. “We can have a full life here.”

“Then let’s start one right now. Us…together.”

Before he could over think it, talk himself out of it, Rick stood up, pulled Michonne to her feet and then to him until she was flush against him.

“Together,” he repeated.

A moment later his lips met hers. A moment later those strong, steady fingers of hers came to rest on his waist where she gripped him, and pulled him close as he deepened the kiss, and she returned it.