57 with rick? ps i love your blog lol
Prompt #57 : “Is that my shirt?”
Warnings : shameless flirting, implied smut at the end
You had woken up with the knowledge that you were alone in the house. From what you’d heard the night before, you had the whole morning to yourself.
Alone time seemed to be quite hard to find these days, and so you decided to take advantage of it, which roughly translated to you raiding the fridge. With the only thing in mind being the box of leftovers labelled “CARL’S - DON’T TOUCH”, you rolled out of bed, snatching up a red plaid button-down which had been left draped over the back of the antique chair near your door. Admittedly, you had stolen it from the laundry room, knowing full well it was Rick’s, but it was yours now. You had claimed it.
You shrugged it on, lips twitching up slightly as you realized that the soft fabric fell down to your mid thigh, the sleeves stretching out past your fingers. You marveled at yourself in the mirror for moment while you rolled up the sleeves, and then began doing up a few of the buttons.
With Carl’s leftover lasagna on the brain, you headed downstairs, wandering into the kitchen before you had the chance to notice that it was already occupied. Much to your surprise, Carl himself sat at the kitchen table eating breakfast happily, while Rick stood by the stove cooking eggs. Despite your initial confusion, you hid your surpise well, continuing towards the fridge to help yourself to some orange juice.
Rick spared you a glance, before looking back at what he was cooking, only for his head to abruptly snap up again when his brain registered what he was seeing. He stared at you for a long moment, his reaction not going unnoticed by Carl, before he managed to choke out a response, “Is that my shirt?”
You glanced at him, a smile coming to your face, before you suppressed it, replacing it with a look of disappointment. “Damn, I thought it was Carl’s,” You told him, shrugging your plaid-covered shoulders as you headed towards the kitchen table, where Carl himself sat, looking rather amused.
Rick’s lips twitched up slightly, cocking a brow. “You seen Carl wearing that?” He asked you, watching as you casually leaned against the counter on the other side of the table, tilting your head back as you heaved a dreamy sigh.
“In my dreams,” You joked, sending a sly wink Carl’s way, who rolled his eyes at the familiar back-and-forth.
Rick gave a fond sort of chuckle, shaking his head slowly. “‘s that all you dream about?” He asked, paying no mind to the expression of disgust Carl quickly adopted.
You gave a shrug, eyeing the man in front of you. “No,” You breathed out slowly, fingers tapping against the smooth counter top, “There’s a great deal about walkers.. guns…” You trail off, cocking a brow, “.. You.”
Rick feigned surprise, while Carl choked on his food. “Me?” He asked firstly, looking halfway between intrigued and turned on, “And what exactly happens in these.. dreams of yours?”
You nodded, readjusting yourself as you brushed your hair back gently, all while tilting your head to the side in a faux innocent way. “Yeah,” You admitted, “I shouldn’t go into detail, but—”
“Can you stop?” Carl suddenly interrupted, eyes widened and glaring at the both of you with flushed cheeks, “I’m trying to eat here! What is wrong with you people?”
You gave a bright laugh, glancing at Carl for a moment, before returning your gaze to Rick, who was still looking your way, an unreadable expression etched across his face. You stopped laughing, smile fading into an almost-smirk. “I think I’m going to take a shower,” You spoke slowly, your voice dropped lower all of a sudden.
Carl nodded, thankful that the most uncomfortable minute of his life was finally over. He waved his fork in your direction as some dismissive form of a goodbye, while you shot a lasting look in Rick’s direction, who still hadn’t taken his eyes off of you. With that, you walked smoothly out of the kitchen, without saying another word.
“Jesus Christ,” Carl found himself mumbling, going back to his food, only to glance in the direction of his father when he realized he hadn’t moved. With a piece of bacon half hung from his mouth, Carl raised an eyebrow, “Dad?”
Rick remained glued to the stove, staring at the space you had once occupied, his bottom lip between his teeth. Finally, he broke himself from his stupor, and sent his son a quick glance, “Er.. I’ll be right back.” Carl widened his eyes in shock, the bacon dropping from his mouth and hitting his plate with a dull thud as Rick abruptly exited the room, following right after you.
“Dad!” Carl shouted after his father, who paid no mind to him, or the smoke slowly rising from the pan of now burnt eggs. Carl listened in shock for a moment as your laugh echoed down the stairs, followed closely by the shower turning on, and then the slam of a door. His face twisted in disgust, Carl wiped his mouth free of any bacon grease, suddenly losing his appetite, before dropping his fork, which hit the wooden table with a low clatter.
“Unbelievable,” He muttered sourly, immediately heading towards the backdoor, where he would hopefully find a group of walkers to tear him apart, so he’d never have to experience his father flirting with anyone ever again.
