Married at First Sight II, a walking dead fanfic
Rick's POV on his brand-new wife. A/N: I enjoyed writing the last chapter so much and so many of you requested a follow-up, so I decided to turn this into a mini-fic. I might write one or two more chapters along these lines. I hope you enjoy!
“This is nice.” Michonne’s quiet compliment cut through the otherwise quiet morning. She was walking stealthily beside him, her feet scarcely making a sound as they traipsed through what would soon be their community.
“It was part of the project that created Alexandria. Took a few weeks to clear it out. In a month or two, we had a proper wall up,” he gestured behind them to the steel plates shutting out the outside world. Michonne took them in calmly, her large brown eyes inspecting her surroundings carefully. She was an interesting woman, Rick was sure of that. He’d seen her before, gone on runs with her even. She was always quiet, calculating, careful, almost studious. On the road, he had never seen her smile or heard her laugh. He’d heard her laugh last night. He also had heard her gasping in pleasure.
His wife. It was a strange reality to confront in the light of day. Like waking up in a dream, he was sure he’d imagined the night before. She was so shy, so tentative, nervous even. It caught him off-guard. The Michonne he knew was always sure of herself.
Then again, he didn’t really know her. At least, not outside of the Biblical sense.
“Which one is ours?” her voice startled him from his musings. He turned to look at her. She was staring back expectantly. He took a moment to observe her, her long, dark lashes, her round nose, her full, heart-shaped mouth. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail. The effect was just as pretty as her elaborate updo had been for their wedding. She was beautiful and she was married to him.
“I thought I would ask you to pick,” he nodded in the direction of the large houses. “I figured maybe you should get a say.” He meant it as a joke, but instantly regretted it. Michonne had not picked him. He had been chosen for her. It was a daunting thought.
She smiled at him, the corners of her mouth lifting prettily. “Can we pick together?” she adjusted the katana strung across her back. Rick felt himself touch his Colt Python almost instinctively.
“I’d like that,” he reached for her hand before he could think better of it. He had dated a girl once before, a pretty, waifish brunette. She hadn’t been cut out for this world, and he couldn’t save her, but he did learn everything he knew about romance from the experience. She had told him that he was too touchy, always kissing or hugging on her when they were alone. He wondered if his wife would feel the same.
Her slim, dark hand tensed for just a moment at his touch, then she relaxed, lacing her fingers around his. “Lead the way,” she instructed.
They strolled through the street in silence, listening carefully for any sign of walkers. Michonne’s eyes stayed on a constant swivel, bouncing from the houses to the yards between them.
“Do you like any of them?” he wished he had something better to say than these simple questions, but the woman who was now his wife robbed him of his ability to be clever. He had never found the confidence to say more than a few words to her all those times before. That did not stop him from jumping at the opportunity when his parents began to mention picking a partner for him. Their system may have been antiquated, but following his parents’ orders had kept him alive this long.
“The blue one is pretty,” her girlish comment brought a smile to his face. He had hoped she would pick that one. Glenn and Daryl had helped him paint it before it occurred to Rick that he should ask his wife what she thought.
“We can go look at it. Just give me a second to clear it out,” he released her hand, reaching instead for his gun.
Her fingers clutching his arm made him pause. For a moment, he thought she might have been frightened, but her resolved expression soon dispelled that myth. “Together,” she said simply.
He held the door open for her, watching her draw her sword. From the foyer, to the kitchen, to the living room, they quickly canvased the downstairs. When they reached the upstairs bedrooms, Rick felt his heart begin to race.
“What do you think?” he watched her circle the bed in the master bedroom, trying and failing miserably to not think of their first night together. All her uncertainty had vanished once he pressed his lips to hers last night. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, her legs wrapped around his waist, the heat of her, pulling and clutching at him until he felt like he might die of pleasure. Her gasps and moans still rung in his ears.
“It has a good vantage point,” she went to the window, peering out. “You can see almost all of the community from here. That could come in handy.” She gazed back at him, then looked quickly away. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked quietly.
“Like what?” Rick was certain that he was drooling a bit, but he could not help it.
“Like that,” she found the courage to look up again, the hint of a blush beneath her coppery cheeks. “Even before the wedding, you would look at me.” She turned to face him, waiting expectantly.
Rick felt his own cheeks coloring. “You’re beautiful.”