Sunny's Boys 3: Officer Friendly
Back with another escapade from Sunny! I figured I'd give Rick some love. This one is a bit different because I feel Rick deserves some sweet love from Sunny. And Rick isn't the one night type... or is he?
Tig and Chibs were cruising in the tow truck, the engine rumbling like a lazy lion as they made their way to yet another call, the kind of mundane shit they usually got stuck with. The truck smelled of grease and coffee, a mixture of the mundane and the road-worn. The kind of smell that clung to their clothes and never quite left.
"Bet that truck ain’t gonna start without us," Tig grinned, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the dashboard, a slight smirk playing on his lips. He was never one for quiet moments. Chibs, on the other hand, was focused, his mind always somewhere in the zone of planning or observation.
The pair was heading toward a house down the road, but as they turned onto the street, something caught Tig’s attention—a flash of something he recognized. He leaned toward the window, squinting as they pulled up near Lori’s house.
“Hold on, Chibs," Tig said, his voice lowering as if he didn’t want to draw attention to it. “Is that... is that Shane's car?”
Chibs glanced over, following Tig’s gaze. The familiar patrol car was parked in front of the house, its lights dark, the engine off.
“Sure looks like it. Must be on his break.” Chibs quipped, rolling his eyes as he slowed down the truck, barely coming to a stop. “But I ain’t seen the car there before.”
“Guess the blind guy didn’t come to fix the blinds today,” Tig said with a grin, referencing the poorly adjusted blinds that weren’t doing their job of covering the window in Lori’s bedroom.
Sure enough, through the crack in the blinds, the unmistakable shape of Lori was visible, bent over the bed, and Shane’s figure was hovering nearby. The scene was far too clear, and for once, neither of them wanted to look away.
Tig chuckled, a low, knowing sound. “Well, damn. Looks like lunch and a show, huh?”
“Damn right," Chibs muttered under his breath, shaking his head but clearly amused at the accidental peek they were getting into the soap opera of Rick and Lori’s life.
But before either could say anything else, a loud roar broke the silence. Merle’s motorcycle screeched to a halt beside the tow truck, the man himself grinning like a kid with a new toy.
“Y’all slacking off today or what?” Merle hollered as he pulled up next to the truck, cutting off their view of Lori’s window with his oversized, grinning presence. “You boys should be out there ridin’, not doin' grunt work. Ain't that why you signed up for this job?”
Tig gave Merle a hard look. “Merle, not today. We got a call to—”
Merle stopped him mid-sentence, his eyes locking onto the house across the street. His gaze narrowed as he noticed Tig and Chibs had been staring at something in particular. Following their line of sight, Merle turned his head to look at Lori’s house, and in an instant, his expression went from playful to shocked.
“Hell, no…” Merle muttered to himself while his mouth gaped open, his eyes growing wide as he spotted the scene in Lori’s bedroom window—the unmistakable sight of Shane and Lori tangled in sheets on Rick’s bed.
He stared at it for a moment before he guffawed loudly, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe it. “Son of a bitch! I knew it! I knew he was gettin’ it in with Lori! Damn, poor Rick.”
Tig and Chibs both looked at each other, barely suppressing their laughter. They hadn’t expected Merle to have such a reaction, but now that the truth was hanging in front of them, the humor of it was undeniable.
“Fuckin’ Christ, Merle,” Chibs muttered, shaking his head. “You really had to call that out?”
But Merle wasn’t finished. With a gleam in his eyes, he revved his engine, the loud rumble cutting through the air. Without a second thought, he twisted the throttle, the noise from his bike startling both Lori and Shane, who were still fumbling with the blinds and trying to cover up their obvious affair.
Shane’s face looked like a deer in the headlights as he scrambled to pull his pants on, Lori’s wide eyes following his every move as they scrambled for cover. They didn’t even notice Merle until he was already taking off down the street.
With a wide grin plastered across his face, Merle hollered out, loud enough for the entire street to hear, “Fuck you, Shane! Get your dirty ass off that bed!”
As Merle peeled away, the sound of his bike echoed off the houses, and Tig and Chibs stared out the window in stunned silence, watching as Shane and Lori began to argue, throwing clothes around and closing the blinds—way too late.
“Well, that was… something,” Tig said, his voice dripping with amusement. He turned to Chibs with a smirk. “I think Merle just gave ‘em the ol' one-two.”
“Yeah,” Chibs chuckled, looking at the scene for one last time. “Poor Lori. Never thought she’d be the one caught with her pants down. Couldn’t happen to a nicer couple.”
Tig’s grin widened as they pulled away from the curb. “I’d say we just got ourselves a hell of a show today, but I think the real drama’s gonna happen when Rick gets home.”
They shared a laugh as they drove off, the image of Shane and Lori’s frantic movements still fresh in their minds.
The bar was quieter than usual, the only sound was the soft hum of a jukebox playing some classic tune from the '70s. The regulars were there—Daryl and Merle, the two Dixon brothers, leaning over the pool table with Tig and Chibs from the motorcycle repair shop. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey and a touch of cigarette smoke. In the corner, the guys bantered back and forth, their laughter sharp and loud enough to cut through the low murmur of conversation.
Rick entered, his boots making a soft thud against the wooden floor. His uniform was wrinkled, and he wore the look of a man who had just survived a battle. His jaw was tight, his eyes were weary, but the moment he stepped inside, the tension in his chest loosened, if only for a second.
The moment he walked up to the bar, Sunny was there, wiping down the counter with a practiced hand. Her dark eyes flickered up to meet his, and she gave him a smirk, her usual teasing smile softened tonight.
“Evenin’, Officer Friendly,” she said, her voice a little quieter than usual, as if she could sense the weight he was carrying.
Rick returned a tired grin, leaning against the bar. "Evenin', Sunny."
She didn’t miss the subtle way he sighed as he sank into the stool. Something had shifted in him tonight, a look in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t here just for the usual drink. He wasn’t even sure what he needed, but he knew he wasn’t going back to an empty house to stew in his thoughts. Not tonight.
The pool table behind them was a spectacle, as usual. Merle had just made a show of sinking a shot, flashing his signature cocky grin.
“Ha! Take that, you grease monkeys! That’s how you play pool.” He laughed, barely able to finish the sentence before Tig piped up.
“Keep dreamin’, Dixon,” Tig shot back with a smirk, cracking his knuckles dramatically. “You ain't got a clue, man.”
Chibs, leaning casually on his cue, added, “If you played like that in the shop, we'd need to get a mechanic to fix your game.”
Merle flipped them both off, still grinning. “Yeah? Well, at least I don’t need a mechanic to fix my damn ego. You’re welcome, fellas.”
Daryl, quietly observing in the background, muttered, “Keep talkin’, Merle. You might finally get it in.”
Rick couldn’t help but chuckle, the familiar bickering of the Dixon brothers and the repair shop guys a momentary escape from the tension eating away at him. The noise lightened the load just a little, the comedy relief pulling him back from the edge. He shifted on his stool, his gaze meeting Sunny's.
She raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his attempt to seem unaffected. She slid a drink across the bar to him without a word. He took it, savoring the burn of whiskey as it slid down his throat.
“What’s goin' on tonight, Rick?” she asked, leaning a little closer, her voice soft but insistent. “You’re usually not so... quiet.”
He glanced over at the pool table, trying to find a distraction, but he knew she was waiting for an answer. He turned back to her, trying to force a smile.
“I’m just... tired. Long shift. And, uh, Shane and I had words.” He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t push. She had heard enough about Shane and Lori. She didn’t need to know every detail of the mess that had become his life.
Sunny tilted her head, eyeing him carefully, a mix of concern and playfulness in her gaze. “You know, I’ve got plenty of distractions around here if you need one. The T&M boys seem to be putting on a show for you.”
Rick chuckled again, watching Tig dramatically “accidentally” knock over Chibs’s beer. “Yeah, they’re good for that.”
But then, the laughter in the background faded as the weight of the evening crept back in. It was as though the whole bar could be quiet now, and the only thing left would be him and Sunny. And that... was more tempting than he wanted to admit.
He leaned in slightly, his eyes softening as he met her gaze. “You don’t have to be nice, you know. I’ve heard enough about your... escapades.”
Sunny’s lips quirked upward, and she leaned in just enough for her voice to drop. “And I’ve got my own ways of coping.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something else there too—a knowing look.
Rick's throat tightened. He had heard all the whispers—Joel Miller, the contractor, caught in a position in the men’s room just a few days ago. He could still hear the hushed chuckles of the other guys at the pool table, Tig’s voice loudest of all: “Yeah, Joel, I think you missed a spot.”
Rick didn’t know why, but that moment had stuck with him, lingering in the back of his mind all day. He knew Sunny wasn’t an angel, but damn if she didn’t have a way of making him forget about everything else. And tonight, after everything, he needed her to be something more than just a distraction.
“I’m not looking for perfection,” Rick said quietly, his voice low. “Just... something real.”
Her eyes softened at his words, and she placed a hand on the bar, sliding closer toward him, the intimacy between them palpable. “Well, I’m not a saint, Rick. But I’m here. And sometimes, that’s all you need.”
Before he could say anything else, the sound of pool balls crashing together interrupted them. Daryl shouted from across the room, “Merle! You’re all talk, no game! I’ve got the shot if you don’t.”
Merle shot back, “Yeah, yeah, just make sure your ass can actually make it.”
Rick chuckled, feeling a flicker of relief. The tension between him and Sunny was still there, but for the first time that night, he felt a little less like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
Merle’s voice carried across the room again, now teasing Tig, “Heard you were more interested in blowjobs than pool, huh, Trager?”
Tig laughed loudly, his voice almost a bark. “If it gets me a win, I’ll take it.”
Sunny’s eyes twinkled as she looked at Rick, her lips curling into a smirk. “It’s always the quiet ones, huh?”
Rick snorted, finally letting out a genuine laugh. It felt good—something he hadn’t allowed himself to do in too long.
But then, the laughter died down, and the air between him and Sunny shifted again, the light banter from the boys fading into the background as she locked eyes with him. She wasn’t waiting anymore. She didn’t need to. The moment was there.
Rick’s voice was barely a whisper as he leaned in closer. “Just for tonight, Sunny.”
She didn’t respond with words, just a knowing look. Her hand found his on the bar, her fingers brushing against his. She didn’t need to say anything more.
And for once, Rick didn’t feel so lost.
As the door swung open, Joel Miller strolled into the bar like he owned it—cool and relaxed, his boots making a rhythmic thud on the wooden floor. The local contractor wasn’t one to make a scene, but when he walked in, it was as though the room noticed. Joel had that effect—people liked him, he had a way with words, and the ladies sure didn’t mind his company.
He spotted Rick sitting alone, nursing a beer, out of uniform, with no Shane in sight. Joel cocked an eyebrow, a slight frown tugging at his lips. He wasn’t the type to pry, but when something was off, it was obvious. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Rick looked... different. Tired, worn, and carrying some weight tonight.
"Well, well, well, if it ain't Officer Friendly, out of uniform and looking like he's ready to kick back for once," Joel said as he leaned against the bar, scanning the room. He gave a nod toward the pool table where Merle and Daryl were jawing off with Tig and Chibs, their laughter and bickering carrying over, the distraction almost loud enough to mask the tension in the air.
Rick didn’t bother with pleasantries. “Hey, Joel,” he said, taking a slow sip of his beer, but there was something about the way he said it that made Joel pause. He didn’t want to push, but he wasn’t blind either.
“Shane’s not with you tonight?” Joel asked, but it was more of a casual observation than a question. He wasn’t one to dig too deep, but seeing the absence of Rick’s usual partner told him all he needed to know. He caught the subtle shift in Rick’s posture, a little stiffer than normal.
“Yeah, no Shane tonight,” Rick muttered, avoiding eye contact for a second. The weight of everything, the betrayal, the secrecy, it all felt like it was bubbling under the surface, waiting to spill over.
Joel scratched his chin, his expression softening. “Damn shame. Boy’s crossed a line. He’s got his issues, but I never thought he’d go that far.” He shrugged, oblivious to how heavy the words landed. “You don’t deserve that, Rick. You’re a good guy.”
Rick’s lips tightened into a thin line, his grip tightening around the bottle. He didn’t want to talk about it. Not with Joel, not now. It was just too much, too raw. But before he could respond, Joel’s eyes flicked to the kitchen as Sunny walked by, carrying an order for a table.
Joel’s face softened into that familiar, self-assured grin as he nodded toward her. “Well, I’ll tell you this much, Rick... Sunny’s got skills. I can’t say I didn’t learn a thing or two from her.” He winked at Rick, not realizing the tension in the room, unaware of how the words landed.
Rick’s gaze narrowed as the implication hung in the air. He’d heard those skills firsthand, and it wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed his mind. His hand froze mid-air with the bottle, his stomach twisting for a moment. The memory of hearing Sunny and Joel in the men’s room a few days ago had him biting his lip, trying not to let it show. He didn’t want to acknowledge the awkwardness in the air, not yet. Not with everything else on his mind.
But Joel, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling behind Rick’s eyes, chuckled and slapped Rick on the back, a little too hard, like it was all one big joke. “You’re in good hands, man. Take it easy tonight.” With that, he grabbed his bagged meal from Sunny and gave her a grin.
Rick couldn’t help but feel a fleeting moment of tension leave his body. Joel didn’t have a clue. He wasn’t trying to make things awkward. But as Joel made his way to the door, he turned back one last time, looking at Rick with a wink. “And hey,” he said, giving a nod toward the backroom door where Sunny had disappeared to. “She sure knows how to make a man feel... welcome.”
Rick’s gaze followed Joel as he walked out, the door swinging shut behind him with a soft jingle. The tension in the room hadn't quite lifted, but for a moment, he could almost laugh at how clueless his friend had been. Almost.
Sunny didn’t meet his gaze, but he could feel the quiet heat between them now, the kind of heat that didn’t come from words but from everything else. The flirting, the banter, and now, Joel’s offhand comment—it all stirred something inside Rick. Something real. Something he hadn’t let himself feel in a long time.
As the laughter and bickering from the pool table resumed, Merle’s loud voice carrying across the room, Rick turned back to his beer and leaned against the bar. “Thanks for putting up with him,” he muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching into a faint, almost-smile.
Sunny shot him a quick, almost imperceptible smile, her eyes soft but guarded. “You’re welcome. Just don’t make me regret it, Officer.” Rick bowed his head briefly, nursing his drink until the roadhouse slowly emptied, everyone picking up on the atmosphere. It was almost as if everyone could see what Sunny was doing for Rick- and it was a silent sign of support and maybe pity. But it was, somehow, a way of showing that they cared about Rick.
Rick found himself leaning against the doorway, asking if Sunny’s brothers would mind.
“They’re over at the church. They said they found something in the basement, and they had to go there tonight with Father Mulcahy. I don’t know, and I don’t ask. They know not to ask me either.” Sunny grinned at Rick, kissing him playfully and tugging him in the room and slamming the door.
It wasn’t wild. It was gentle. Sweet.
Sunny undressed him slowly, like she was peeling away more than just fabric—like she was trying to make him feel human again. She kissed every scar she could find, from the one on his jaw to the old ones he tried to hide beneath his hands. When he touched her, it was cautious, reverent, like he was afraid she'd disappear. She was not Lori- she was all curves in the right places, scars of all colors and patterns in various places. A tattoo rested on her hip, and Rick kissed her tattoo on the way down, listening to her voice hum in approval.
They moved together in soft rhythm, no rush, no demands. She whispered kind things into the crook of his neck, ran her fingers through his curls, let him breathe.
When she went down on him, it was deliberate, careful—like she was offering him something more than release. Like she was anchoring him back to the moment. She was gently carrying him into a new beginning, with her warm mouth suckling gently on his long shaft, bobbing merrily up and down until Rick gasped, he couldn’t hold back. Sunny withdrew, and reached over for a condom.
“Better safe than sorry, Rick. Breathe- I know you’re ready. Are you?”
“Yeah.” Rick whispered, after a long moment, letting a tear fall from the corner of his eye. He needed this for him, and Sunny was just what he needed. Sunny grinned her bright smile showing Rick how she was named Sunny, and her eyes shone with warmth as she slowly slid on the condom and positioned herself.
“Yee haw, cowboy- show me what Officer Friendly got.” Rick’s laugh rasped into a moan as he felt Sunny warm him up, and he let Sunny ride him until he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to give. He had to do something. Tugging Sunny's hips, he rolled them over until he was on top.
“Fuck, yeah.” Sunny chuckled, kissing Rick in approval and delight of his newfound determination. “C’mon and fuck me into the mattress.” and Rick did, a hand on Sunny’s hip and his elbow next to her head, kissing her deeply as his hips moved fiercely. He didn’t care that the headboard was pounding into the wall with each thrust. Sunny’s hips flexed and legs tightened around his waist. He felt his life being sucked out of him. All of the heartbreak, and the sorrow was leaving him as he came as he had never came before; an explosion of fire and heat.
After, as the sweat cooled and their breathing slowed, Rick stared up at the ceiling like he wasn’t sure how to reenter the world.
“You didn’t have to,” he whispered.
“I wanted to,” she murmured, her voice a balm against the ache. “Let someone take care of you for once, Officer Friendly.”
He turned toward her and kissed her slowly, like he finally believed he was allowed to want something soft again, and he allowed himself to relax and fall into the bliss of a dreamless sleep.
Several hours later, The motel door creaked open, and Dean was already muttering under his breath, “Thank Chuck she didn’t bring someone home this time”
Sam wasn’t so sure—he squinted down at his coffee like it might offer some clue. "Let’s not jinx it," he said, voice low but steady.
Rick leaned against the bathroom door listening to Sunny’s brothers, a slow grin tugging at his lips. He hadn’t expected the chaos this morning would be anything less than entertaining. He had belatedly realized that his handcuffs—his little reminder of last night’s fun—hung carelessly on the back of a chair, right where anyone walking in would see them first. Not exactly subtle.
Dean and Sam stepped inside, their eyes instantly snagging on the metal cuffs before anything else. Dean’s face went from relief to confusion in a heartbeat. The room looked empty—no sign of Sunny or anyone she had brought home. The sound of running water came from the bathroom as the door opened, steam pouring out from behind Rick.
“Mornin’,” Rick called out, trying to keep his voice casual, but he could feel the heat creeping up his neck.
Dean’s voice cracked with disbelief. “What the hell?”
The shower curtain shifted, and there she was—Sunny, standing in the steam with a towel wrapped around her tightly, grinning like she owned the place. And Rick, barely covered by a towel that was doing its best to hold on, trying not to look as embarrassed as he felt.
Rick’s mind and blood raced with excitement and panic. Lori never knew anything like this. Back home, sex was quiet, awkward, and frustrating. No handcuffs during sex. No laughs. Just tension and a lot of things left unsaid. Here? This was wild. This was real. And maybe a little ridiculous—but it was his kind of ridiculous.
Sunny’s voice cut through the tension, dripping with mischief. “Community service, remember?”
Dean shook his head, disbelief mingling with that ever-present grin. “You’re in the shower with the Deputy Sheriff?”
Sam pointed at the handcuffs like they were the smoking gun. “And what’s with those?”
Rick flushed but didn’t try to hide the smirk that tugged at his lips. “Uh… just some community service with benefits.” Sunny winked as she pulled on her clothes behind Rick.
Dean grunted with annoyed exasperation, low and slow. “Sunny, you’re fucking impossible.”
“Pot, meet Kettle.” Sunny shot back tartly, moving next to Rick, tugging on a hoodie over her damp head of hair.
Rick glanced down at the towel, tugging it a little tighter as if it could somehow cover his embarrassment. But really, he was already hooked on this messy, loud, unexpected new tangent on life Sunny was dragging him into, and picking up his clothes. As Rick moved into the bathroom to dress, he listened to Sunny and her brothers behind the door.
Sam, still cautious, took a sip of coffee. “Come on, Sunny.”
Sunny’s grin widened. “Bring me a donut, and maybe I won’t bring a guy next time.”
Dean and Sam shared a look, shaking their heads like they’d just lost a bet. “Nope.”
Rick raised an eyebrow, dressed in his uniform and opening the door. “I think I’ve earned a donut.”
Sunny’s laughter filled the room, handcuffs jangling in time like a mischievous little soundtrack as she moved the handcuffs over to Rick. “You earned it, sugar.” Sunny’s brothers both cringed, choosing to just wash down their commentary with gulps of coffee and filling their mouths with donuts.
And in that moment, Rick realized maybe this chaos—this sass and sassiness and chaos—was exactly the kind of morning he needed to start his new life.