Pointing the gun at the back of the stranger’s head, Carl ominously asks, “What are you doing in my house?”
“I’m just waiting for your parents to dress up.”
“Wrong house.” Carl is pretty sure he doesn’t have a plural number of parents.
Rick and Michonne come out of the bedroom with their weapons pointing in the same direction as Carl’s. “I see you’ve met Jesus?” Michonne asks Carl.
“Hershell once told me about—“
“No, that’s his name.” Michonne stops Carl from talking about the Deity.
Carl looks at them and sees how they’re dressed. His dad just in jeans and Michonne in what looked like his dad’s shirt. Well, that doesn't take an Einstein to figure out. “Since when?”
Rick looks at Jesus. It just keeps getting more awkward. “Just last night… Michonne and I…”
Michonne bites her lips to keep herself from grinning. She then unsheathes her sword and walks toward Jesus. “Go talk to your dad,” she tells Carl with a smile, then looks at Jesus with a scowl again.
Carl and Rick lower their weapons.
“Take your time, really,” Jesus whispers, trying to be as discreet as possible. Anyway, he is quite intrigued about this awkward love story/family meeting happening in front of him.
Why now? Rick thinks. Damn. Jesus is in the room watching and he can’t even take Carl aside so they can talk. This would have been the right time to have the dreaded “sex talk” as well... but first things first, this. How does he talk to Carl about this when he and Michonne haven’t even talked about this?
Rick opens his mouth and closes it again, not sure how to say it. He feels pretty sure that he and Michonne were a couple. But it’s not like they discussed it, talked about labels or what-not or screamed I love yous last night. Not that it actually matters. He doesn't doubt their love, at all. Still, it wasn’t time to say it yet, not when they still giggle/ orgasm / fucking cry a little at prolonged eye contact. They're like teenagers.
Ah, who could have known? No one would have predicted him grinning silly, having the best night of his life during the apocalypse. The “I love yous” will come, in its own time, but for now, there’s something great about saying it without words but kisses, touches and, looks, in their own private little language. His words, without being said, get across the same way hers do.
He remembers last night, and stops himself immediately. Not the best time for such thoughts. He shakes out the shiver. Damn! Oh, god, he's being distracted. That was a full minute of just squinting silently at Carl and Michonne trying to figure things out.
This doesn’t change things for Carl, now, right? He still doesn’t know what to say, or how to start. I’ve always loved her, just never knew it until last night? Nothing’s changed, we just consummated our marriage? Surprise? Since when... since I saw her across the fence with diapers and a sword? Since she told me she was talking to her dead lovers, too? Since she got your approval? Since she made you laugh. Since she made me smile. Since she lived with us? Since she knocked me out. Since she held my hand. Since she came into our lives. Our maybe just since last night? Because until last night, I was a complete idiot.
“Do I start calling Michonne, mom now?” Carl shakes him out of his reverie.
Rick and Michonne look at him shocked, eyes wide open, their jaws on the floor.
Rick sputters a cough, looks at Michonne as if talking through their psychic connection and says: “N-no?” Though yes sounded like a possible answer. He does feel like last night he just got married thanks to spearmints. Aaaand Michonne has been looking after both of his kids for a long time now.
“I was just kidding, dad.” Carl chuckles. “It’s cool, dad, you don’t have to explain it. Is it serious?”
“Yes.” He breathes a sigh of relief.
“Cool, cool. Surprised it took you this long.” Rick realizes then how much smarter than him his own son is shaping up to be. Probably Michonne’s influence, he thinks.
“She was right in front of me all along.”
Michonne and Rick meet eyes and start giggling, desperately trying to stop, and trying to look away from each other.
“Now, I really feel awkward about walking in on you.” Jesus says, reminding everyone of his somehow forgotten presence.
Rick’s gun is on him in a split second again.
“Damn, it, Jesus!” Rick yells and every one of them sobers up.
Still, Rick thinks, that maybe if Jesus didn’t sink their supplies down the lake, and he didn’t get a roll of mints for Michonne, then maybe last night would have played a lot different. So maybe he shouldn’t be too angry at Jesus. He doesn’t want to say it out loud, and when Michonne looks at him with that hidden smile in her eyes, it seems like neither does she, but they’re both thinking it—thank you, Jesus.