Rick woke slowly, feeling very groggy from the painkillers that he'd taken yesterday afternoon. He could hear a light rain pattering against the windows. He blinked, trying to focus his eyes in the dim room, not sure if it was night or if he'd slept into the next morning.

Rick tried to move but realized that there was something heavy leaning against his side. Confused, he turned his head to see Michonne.

She was curled up beside him, sharing his pillow, arm draped across his chest so her hand rested on his other shoulder.

The moment was so warm and peaceful that, in Rick's foggy mind, he thought it had to be a dream.

He and Michonne were spending a lazy Saturday morning in bed, slowly waking up to the day, the outside world muffled by the steady rain.

Carl's baseball game would be cancelled due to the rain. Later, they would go downstairs and make a breakfast of scrambled eggs, sausage, hash-browns, toast, and orange juice.

But for now Rick was comfortable right where he was. Michonne's soft breath was warm against his neck. Gently, he ran his fingers along her arm, savoring her closeness.

His hand touched something rough. It was a piece of gauze taped to her shoulder. From where she scraped her arm on a fence post, that's what she said, after nearly giving me a heart attack, thinking she got bit by a walker.

Rick frowned at that thought, discordant in the quiet dreamlike moment. He felt something stuck on his face. Strange... Reaching up to feel what it was, Rick realized that he had a small band-aid across the ridge of his nose, another on his temple.

Ohhh. Michonne was giving me first aid yesterday and I passed out after she bandaged my leg. She must have put these on my face too.

The memories caught up to each other and fell into place in his mind. She must have fallen asleep and flung her arm over me without realizing it.

Rick felt a twinge of disappointment at the knowledge that his dream wasn't real. No, isn't it better this isn't just a dream?

"Mmmm," Michonne shifted in her sleep, disturbed by Rick's movements.

She's waking up! What do I do?! Rick panicked for a few seconds and then decided that the best possible course of action in this particular situation would be to close his eyes and pretend to be asleep.

He felt Michonne's body tense beside him and her arm pulled back. Too late. She's awake now. Rick hesitantly opened his eyes and turned to see Michonne's brown eyes wide open with a rare mix of surprise and uncertainty.

Michonne reflexively pulled away to lie on her back only to elicit a muffled "Hey..." from Carl, who had been sleeping curled up with his back pressed against Michonne. Last night the storm had been so violent, with no signs of stopping that all three of them had ended up sleeping in the queen sized bed together.

"Sorry, Carl," Michonne murmured, sitting up instead.

Rick sat up as well, watching Michonne beside him, her hands gripping her knees, head bent forward so she could hide behind her hair.

This is something new. Rick couldn't help but smile wryly at her awkward position. I've seen her look thoughtful, angry, fierce and focused and ready for battle, or sad when we found Andrea at Woodbury, or happy talking to Carl or teasing Daryl because of his fleas, or alert for danger...but this is the first time I've seen her look embarrassed!

He wanted to reach out and sweep back the dreadlocks from her face so he could see what she was thinking, but he hesitated too long.

"Rick," she tilted her face to meet his eyes.

"I wasn't cuddling with you. We were huddled together for warmth."

Rick blinked.

"Oh," was all he could manage to say.

For a long moment Michonne stared at Rick, frozen. His expression was so soft and affectionate that part of her wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss him soundly on the lips but another part of her wanted to run away and pretend that nothing at all had happened, that she didn't feel anything at all.

Michonne took a deep breath, seeming to come back to herself.

"I'll get some breakfast ready," she said, leaning forward and crawling over the end of the bed.

She picked up her sword from where it rested against the door frame and headed down the hall to the stairs without looking back, leaving Rick sitting on the bed still only dressed in his T-shirt and boxers, looking a little bit dumbfounded.

Meanwhile, Carl got up and retrieved his hat from where it had fallen onto the floor during the night.

Carl looked at his dad and shook his head in disappointment, "You are such a dork."

"Carl!" Rick exclaimed, astonished at his son's attitude so early in the morning.

"Dad, if you like Michonne then you should just say it," Carl declared and promptly ran off.

Rick was stunned into silence. Am I that obvious?

He stared at the empty doorway and listened to Carl's boots stomping down the stairs.

Carl called, "Michonne, wait for me, I want to help!"

He found her in the kitchen, looking through the meager pile of scavenged foodstuffs on the table.

She held up a box and smiled at him, "Do you like pancakes?"

"No," Carl answered.

"What?" Michonne looked at him as if he had grown a second head.

"I didn't say I wouldn't eat it. You know I'll eat anything," Carl explained, shrugging, "but I've never liked pancakes."

"That, Carl, is blasphemy."