That’s the first thing Michonne says when she walks into their apartment at 8:00 p.m., four hours later than the time she was supposed to be home. She haphazardly kicks off her heels and drops her bag onto the floor, and then leans back against the closed door, shutting her eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.
Rick half-smiles regretfully at her as he stands in the entryway to greet her, lips pressed together, taking in her form - shoulders slumped, bags heavy under her eyes, feet sore as she reaches down to rub at her left heel. Her senior year has been taking a toll on her, physically and mentally. Sympathy pangs in his heart as he looks at the woman he loves, and he steps forward, grabbing her hand in his.
“C’mere,” he beckons, pulling her from the door.
He feels her follow him with slow steps. He looks over his shoulder and sees that she still has a frown on her face, and looks unequivocally exhausted.
He’s mostly joking, but is also half-serious as he gazes at her. It seems like she could fall over at any moment, here in the middle of the hallway.
She rolls her eyes, and finally smirks at him. It makes him smile.
“No, thank you,” she says, kicking the back of his calf lightly for his teasing, “but I appreciate the offer, cowboy.”
He laughs at her old nickname for him. When they reach the living area, he plops down on the couch, and hold out his arms for her.
“Still callin’ me cowboy?” he asks, as she curls up in his lap and rests her head on his chest.
“Mm-hmm,” she hums. “Always will, ‘til you get rid of that country accent and those boots and denim shirts.”
“But I thought those were the things you love about me.”
“Didn’t say I wanted you to get rid of them,” she murmurs, sounding far-away, like she’s on the precipice of sleep. “You’re a cowboy, but you’re my cowboy.”
“And you’re my fancy city girl,” he whispers, beginning to stroke her hair.
She doesn’t answer him. He’s not even sure if she’s awake anymore, her chest moving up and down at a slow and even pace as she breathes.
He smiles down at her fondly, and a pang of disappointment runs through him as he thinks of what he has hidden in the pocket of the suit jacket he was going to wear, hanging up and ready to go in their bedroom. The night didn’t go the way he’d imagined it would.
But then she shifts in his arms, and as his attention is drawn back to her - to the beautiful, intelligent, incredible woman laying against him - any bad feeling leaves him immediately. She’s here, with him, and that’s the only thing that matters. They have the rest of their lives together for nights to go as planned.
“We missed our dinner reservation,” he mumbles, almost to himself.
“What did we have dinner reservations for?”
He jumps a bit at the sound of her voice. He hadn’t been expecting her to respond; he thought she was sleeping. But when he registers her words, his face scrunches up.
“What are you talking about?” he asks.
“What are you talking about?” she counters, sitting up to look at him, and seeming just as confused as he is. “Why did we have a dinner reservation?”
He thinks she’s kidding for a minute, but then he sees that her confusion is immense and genuine, and his heart sinks.
“Michonne, baby. It’s your birthday.”
“No, I’m not. It’s November 4th. You’re twenty-six.”
She stands, and rushes down the hall. He hears her fiddling with something, and when she comes back, she has her phone in her hand.
“My mom called me, like, five times today, and I ignored her,” she tells him, sitting back down. “Shit, I have so many text messages. My dad, two of my aunts, Sasha, Maggie and Glenn, Daryl. A million more. Shit.”
She stops scrolling suddenly, and stares down at her phone. Rick reaches out and skims his fingers down the side of her arm.
Concern consumes his immediately, and he takes her phone from her before pulling Michonne into his side and wrapping her in his arms.
“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“I forgot my fucking birthday.”
“It’s okay, babe,” he says, trying to console her. “We can go to eat another night. I called the cake place, and they said it was fine if I picked the cake up tomorrow instead of today. And all those people know how busy you are. I’m sure they won’t get upset if you don’t answer right away.”
“I know,” she assures him through her crying. “I know that.”
She takes a deep, steadying breath, and then pulls away from him a little, gazing at him with streaked makeup and wet eyes.
“But that’s the thing. I’m so busy it’s killing me. I come home late every night. I don’t have any time for myself, or for you. I always bring stuff home with me. I’m stressed almost all the time. And now I can’t even take five seconds out of my day to realize it’s my birthday? I’m just...I’m tired. I’m so tired, Rick.”
“Baby,” he murmurs, something catching in his own chest as he listens to her. He brings his hand up and cups her cheek, wiping some dampness away with his thumb.
“Am I just lazy?” she asks, the tone of her voice high and desperate.
“No, Michonne,” he assures her. “You’re human. Everyone gets stressed and needs a break sometimes. And you’re so strong, but you don’t have to be every single second. Law school is hard. I know you can do it, because you’re the smartest and most capable person I’ve ever met. But it’s okay to get overwhelmed once in awhile, and just need to get everything out.”
“I wish it wouldn’t have happened today,” she says lowly, her tears slowing. “Worst birthday ever, right?”
He frowns as he watches her wipe at her eyes, and says, “I wish there was something I could do to make it better.”
Like a lightning bolt, an idea pops into his head.
Maybe he can make it better. Maybe he can cheer her up and make her forget about law school and work and everything else that’s putting pressure on her - at least for a little while.
“Wait here,” he instructs, and he gets up, as his stomach begins to churn excitedly.
“Where are you going?” she asks, her brow furrowing.
“I’ll be right back. Just - just stay here for a second.”
He jogs into their bedroom and heads straight to the closet, sorting through clothes and finding his suit jacket. He reaches into the inside pocket, and then rushes from the bedroom, fist closed tight around something.
She stares at him suspiciously as he sits back down next to her, and takes her hand.
“I know your life is crazy hard right now,” he begins, and then takes a deep breath to try and calm himself. “And so much is going on that you have to worry about. But one thing you don't ever have to worry about, is me. No matter how many hours you work, or how tired you are, or how stressed you get, I'm always gonna be here when you get home, and whenever or wherever else you need me. Always, Michonne. I know you know that, and I know that, but I...I want to make sure everyone else knows it too. So…”
He pauses briefly, sliding off of the couch and onto his knee. When he opens his hand, a ring rests on his palm.
“If you'll let me - if you'll have me,” he goes on, “I want to promise you that, in front of everyone - our family, friends, God, everyone else we know and love. I want to promise that I'm gonna love you, and I'm gonna be here for you, and support you and take care of you, for the rest of my life. For as long as you'll allow me to. Michonne Thomas - love of my life, the only thing I want - will you do me the tremendous honor of marrying me?”
She doesn't answer him right away, just stares with her mouth hanging open. His heart begins to jump and lurch in strange patterns.
“I had this whole...thing planned,” he says, as he starts to ramble in his nervousness, “but it was at the restaurant, and I thought maybe doing it tonight would help you to feel happier, or make your birthday better, or something. I can still do a big thing if you wa-”
“It's perfect,” she interrupts in a whisper, emerging from her trance.
“What?” he asks, just as quietly. He has to be sure he heard it right.
“It's perfect. It's perfect. Oh my God, yes, Rick. Of course I’ll marry you, yes, yes, yes!”
She grabs onto him, yanks him off the floor and half on top of her before he even has a chance to put the ring on. They lay there and hold each other, whispering words of love and elation back and forth.
“How did you manage to take my awful day and make it into my best birthday ever?”
He sits up slightly, sees her eyes shining with happy tears this time, and his heart swells.
“I don't know,” he answers. “But the best part is, we have the rest of forever to make even better ones.”
written by: @reciprocityfic | ff.net: reciprocityfic
