A Night Out

"It's not up for discussion man," said Daryl over the phone, voice even rougher over the receiver. "You're going out tonight. All that time spent down at the station ain't doin' shit for your mood."

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. This was the third time Daryl had invited him out in the last week. It was starting to get ridiculous, but as much as Rick tried to deny it, the criminal-turned-parole officer had a damned good point. He'd pulled all-nighters four times this week, not wanting to face the now-empty house he had at home. After his accident, he and Lori tried to make it work, but it only added insult to injury—they just weren't right for each other. She and Carl had moved in with Shane, who still professed to be Rick's friend and told him he could see Carl whenever he wanted to.

Like I need a damn invitation to see my son, he thought bitterly, staring down at the scanty pile of warrants and busywork on his desk. He'd filed, sorted, and shredded his way through nearly all of his backed up work, leaving him almost nothing to do.

"I've got work to do, Daryl. Some of us don't get to collar parole violators all day."

"Well Officer Friendly, you can take a night off an' get a drink with your friends. Ole Marley's—8 PM. If you don' show up, I'mma come to your house, Grimes."

"Whatever," sighed Rick, hanging up. He barely had time to register what he'd agreed to when someone knocked on the door. "Come in."

A smile graced his lips as King County's legal shark walked in, disguised as a 5'7" woman with a pretty face, dreads, and a business suit. She returned his smile and plopped a thick file on his desk.

Michonne studied him and saw all the telltale signs. Stubborn bastard, she mused with a smirk. His eyes were bloodshot, clothes wrinkled, and hands trembling from what she presumed was his fifth cup of coffee in the last six hours. She knew he was having problems with his wife and son. Still, that didn't justify imprisonment at the office. "I see you didn't go home last night," she said, taking a seat; he looked at her like a kid who'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah I did," he lied, eyebrow twitching.

She rolled her eyes. Though she could work with any officer she chose, Rick Grimes was one of the first people to welcome her to King County. His partner, Shane, was a bit too high-strung for her tastes, but Rick was cool-headed and just as passionate about the law as she was. "Must I remind you that I've known you for three years? I'll say it again—you didn't go home. You're eyes are red, your hair is messy and—"

His mouth curled into the telltale half-smile that told her she'd won.

"I get it," he said, admitting defeat. "I'm assuming you didn't come here just to bother me?" Though I wouldn't mind. Michonne's presence, as brief as it often was, was always welcome. She put up with his moods, but didn't hesitate to put him in his place when his sulking got out of hand. By the determined look in her eye, this visit was for the latter.

"No, I actually came to drop off a few appeals I need cross-referenced with rap sheets. But that can wait until next week, there's no rush…" Her words dropped off into silence, and he could sense what was coming next.

"Before you ask, yes, I'm going," answered Rick, giving her a weak smile.

"Good. You need it." She was halfway to the door before he could reply, hips swaying to some tune only she could hear. "See you later."


Marley's was a crowded, dim-lit place with a bar on the far right and a series of tables to fill up the remaining space. Banners advertising Jack Daniels specials and Budweiser happy hour deals were plastered everywhere, offset by the light that filtered through multicolored liquor bottles. The unofficial watering hole of King County, Marley's was the place to visit on Fridays for a friendly face and wicked bartender who made "the best damn drinks in the county."

Daryl Dixon was on his second beer, having arrived an hour before the others just to get a head start. It'd been a shitty week for him. He'd arrested ten of the parolees in his care for possession of meth, including his brother, Merle. What's worse, all of the guys were people he used to run with—the druggies, thieves, and overall town scum.

Of course, they were all extremely offended when he didn't turn the other way and let them off, labeling him a "snitch" and a "two-timing whore". And as much as Daryl didn't agree with Merle's illegal choice of career, it was hard to collar his own brother. "After all I did for you—keepin' you away from Dad, showin' you what I know—this is how you repay me? By bustin' me for some damn crystal? You ain't nothing but a worthless piece of—"

"Hey." He turned around to see Michonne behind him. Damn. She was a sight for sore eyes—dreads pulled back in a ponytail, dressed in a black tank top that fit snugly in all the right places, and tight blue jeans.

"Hey. You look nice," he said as she slid into the seat next to him.

"So do you." She scanned him—messy hair, a pair of beat-up jeans and a light denim shirt with the sleeves torn off. Never could keep those arms hidden, she thought with a smile. The bartender wandered over. "I'll have a mojito, hold the ice please."

As she sipped at her drink, Michonne was keenly aware of Daryl's curious eyes on her. "I don't want to talk about it," she said mid-sip. Won't change anything.

Andrea—her longtime friend and A.D.A—abruptly moved to Atlanta with her new boyfriend, Philip. Honestly, Michonne anticipated the move at some point; Philip seemed to have a profound hold over the otherwise iron-willed woman. So when he suggested the two move to Atlanta so he could enter the city's political circuit, Andrea immediately agreed, leaving Michonne her cases and a sloppily-filed transfer request. As a result, Michonne was left to shoulder the work of two people until she could find a capable replacement.

Daryl grunted and downed the rest of his beer, careful not to push his friend too far. Michonne didn't take too kindly to intrusions, a fact he'd learned both inside and outside of the courtroom. "Alright."

"Got room for one more?" asked Rick, sidling up to the counter. He hadn't trimmed his beard, too exhausted to do much besides throw on a pair of old Levis and a grey t-shirt.

"You made it," smiled Michonne, breaking out of her gloom; the mojito was doing its job. She motioned to the bartender. "Three beers over here."

"Hey man," greeted Daryl with his usual cool nod. "I was jus' about to get in my car."

Rick nodded back and hugged Michonne before sitting down. As much as he didn't want to admit it, just being out of the office had done wonders for his mood. For the first time in three days, his friends had him smiling again. The bartender delivered the three beers and they drank them slowly, chatting about whatever came to mind. Michonne told them about her ex's attempts to win her back. Daryl went on about his parolee's girlfriend who'd started hitting on him. Rick was content to listen and laugh.

It was about an hour later that trouble struck. They'd ordered a second round of beer, but that wasn't the only thing the bartender brought over. Along with the beer bottles were tiny shot glasses rimmed with salt and filled with a bright red drink.

"Freebies?" asked Michonne, quirking a brow. Her words were a little slow in coming. A happy buzz spread through her system, flushing her cheeks and dizzying her head.

"Friday night special," answered the bartender, winking. "Order two rounds of lager, you get a free round of Prairie Fire. Happy drinking!"

"I don't know about—"

"Shut up, man," laughed Daryl, nudging Rick's shoulder. "You don' turn down free liquor."

"What's in these, anyway?" asked Rick, staring distrustfully at the little glasses. He hadn't come to get drunk, but knew that's exactly what would happen if he tried to keep up with Daryl. Still, the mischievous glint in his friend's eye told him the matter wasn't up for discussion.

"Tobasco and tequila," said Michonne, eyeing the glass wistfully. "What? It was my poison of choice in college."

Daryl led the way, raising his glass and gulping the liquid fire. His whole chest blazed and his face scrunched tight. "Damn, that's strong," he whooped, motioning for the other two to follow.

Michonne looked at Rick and both drank it down on the count of three. Rick felt like he was going to explode. The hot sauce combined with tequila made him cough so hard he had to chase it down with beer. As the night went on, they continued in the same pattern: beer, shot, beer, shot. By that time, all three of them were a step away from being hammered. Even Daryl, Boozehound Extraordinaire, was slurring his words and talking volumes louder than he usually did.

Michonne was giddy, singing off-key to some country song the band on stage was playing. She swayed back and forth, leaning on both Daryl and Rick for support. Though she'd tried to fight it all night, the urge to dance was winning out. It was a sharp departure from her usual formality and she loved it.

Rick looked over at her, surprised. His head was swimming, but he managed a few slurred words. "You don' seem the country type." But he realized all too late that he hadn't looked at her at all. Rather, he caught himself staring at her chest. And how nice it is, he thought, not sure what had gotten into him. Michonne was a gorgeous woman, but she was just a friend. At least that's what his increasingly-foggy brain wanted to believe. His eyes saw the swell of her chest and the bright red bra that concealed it.

"See something you like?" asked Michonne, a knowing look in her eye. She only laughed when he blushed and leaned on his shoulder, pressing herself against his arm. A knot formed in Rick's throat, and though he was too embarrassed to admit it, knots were forming in other places too. "It's okay," she whispered. "You do it in the office all the time, Grimes."

"Damn Rick," chimed Daryl, taking a long pull from the beer bottle. "At leas' I try and hide when I'm lookin'…and I am lookin'," he finished huskily, resting his arm on Michonne's back.

"Stop!" Said the voice of reason, but Michonne was two shots too far to hear it. She'd had a dry spell since she broke up with her boyfriend, and as hard as she tried to deny it, there were thirsts even her deft fingers couldn't quench. Just roll with it… she thought, enjoying Daryl's hand tracing circles on her back. It wasn't like she hadn't thought about it—both of them were attractive in very different ways. Daryl had a rugged bad boy air that drew her in; Rick had a gentler brand of Southern charm. Sober, she was careful to keep the line between friend and friend with benefits very clear. But with each sip, that line got fuzzier and fuzzier.

Besides, it was fun to make Rick blush. We won't remember it tomorrow… Abruptly, she got up and held her hand out to the King County Sheriff.

"Dance with me, Rick," she said, vaguely grateful she wore flat shoes. Her hips swiveled in time to the music, making little figure eights. Unlike Rick, Daryl was a lot bolder with his admiration. His eyes were glued to her lips, sliding down to her chest, then lower.

"Michonne, I don' think—"

"Just go, man! Or I will."

Rick stumbled after Michonne onto the dance floor, unsure of what to do. Besides the fact he wasn't a great dancer, he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts straight. Somehow they kept straying to the great ass and seductive smile of the woman holding his hand. Calm down! It's just a dance. Weaving through the other people on the floor, she found them a spot and wasted no time. The music switched from country to a slower song with heavy bass. He choked up as she pulled his hands to her hips and closed the gap between them. Holy sh—

Someone's excited, thought Michonne as she pressed against King County's sheriff—the lump at her back was hard to miss. She let her body do as it pleased, swaying, dropping, and twisting to the beat. His hands clamped on her waist as she worked, silently urging her not to stop. Wonder how far he'll go, she wondered, biting her lip. Without warning, she turned to face him and wedged herself between his legs. There was confusion, hesitance, and overwhelming desire on his face.

Daryl downed his beer and watched them, suddenly wishing he was in Rick's place. From his seat he could see how sexily Michonne moved with the music, and judging from Rick's reaction, how good it felt. What I wouldn't do for a piece of that, he thought longingly. He'd always thought about Michonne, but sobriety warned him against it—that wasn't a problem tonight. Without realizing, he set the drink down and made his way onto the dance floor.

Rick was in such a pleasure-fueled fog that he barely registered Daryl's presence. In fact, there wasn't much he could focus on except for Michonne's body against his. He'd never danced this dirtily with anyone—even Lori. But there was no denying it was the hottest, most satisfying thing he'd ever done; or that it made him want to kiss her.

"Join the party," said Michonne, sighing as Daryl danced behind her. Looks like we're not getting any sleep, she mused, doubling her efforts. There was no doubt about it—she knew exactly where this was headed, and welcomed it. Closing the remaining gap between her and Rick, she pressed her lips to his. He kissed back with surprising fervor, grabbing her hips only to find Daryl holding her fast.

Daryl was enjoying the lovely view from the back when he felt Rick's eyes on him. Shit. He expected to see some sort of jealousy, or at least annoyance at being interrupted by a third wheel. But when they made eye contact, there was only primal understanding. Rick looked down at Michonne, then up at him, and Daryl instantly understood. Together? He hadn't taken Rick for the sharing type—poor guy was probably too drunk to recognize what he'd agreed to.

"Let's get out of here," whispered Rick, breaking the kiss.

His eyes had the same hunger Michonne saw in Daryl's. Took you long enough.

"Works for me," she said, kissing Daryl before grabbing her jacket and bag from the bar. "How's my place sound?" The other two nodded and hurriedly followed suit. Within minutes, all three tipsy friends were drunkenly groping in the cab to Michonne's apartment.


She'd barely gotten them through her apartment to the bedroom before they were all over each other. Daryl pushed her up against a wall and kissed her hungrily, joining his tongue with hers. His hands roamed her body, slipping under her shirt to cup each breast in his hand. She moaned into his mouth and pulled an awkward-looking Rick into the fray by his belt loops. Her hand found purchase against the hardness in his jeans.

Rick bucked into Michonne's hand as she rubbed him, in disbelief at what he was doing. He'd thought about screwing her countless times, but a threesome? He hadn't planned on that. Still, it wasn't an unwelcome change. Daryl was one of his best friends, and sharing just meant an even more satisfied Michonne, something he couldn't possibly be opposed to.

"Lemme get some of that," sighed Rick, easing his friend over for better access. He pulled her thin black top over her head and growled at the sight that followed. Her deep brown skin contrasted perfectly against the red bra that strained to contain her ample chest. Floored by the sight, he could only manage one word: "Goddamn."

Daryl's hands ventured lower, anxious to unwrap the gorgeous ass her jeans covered. He struggled for a minute before unzipping them. He moaned as he brushed her bare leg, cock straining against the confines of his jeans. Her barely-there matching thong did nothing to help his situation. His mouth went dry as she parted her legs for him. The hairless mound that met his hand made him moan.

Michonne was in her glee. She squirmed and sighed as Rick lifted her tits from the bra cups and went to work, sucking and flicking his tongue across the near-black pebbled nipples. Daryl's hands only made it harder for her to breathe as he rubbed at her clit and slid a calloused finger into her. "Fuck me," she sighed, winding her hips against Daryl's hand and gripping the back of Rick's head.

"Not yet," replied Rick with a clever smile, reaching behind to unhook her bra. As it fell away, he cupped both handfuls of dark brown flesh in his hand and kissed each one.

"Oh, you like that don't you?" asked Daryl as her moans came quicker. He twisted his fingers and curled, chuckling when she yelped in pleasure. "I think she does, Rick—look at her."

"Tease," she breathed out, pulling Rick in for a sloppy kiss. She felt the crushing heat building between her legs with every passing second. Their hands were too intense, kisses too hot for her to last much longer. She tapped Daryl's hand and gently pushed Rick aside, ready to have her fun with them. I'll show you, she thought, licking her lips in anticipation. Turning to Daryl, she nibbled on his neck as her fingers made quick work of his jean zipper.

Daryl took his clothes off and found himself hard at attention; his eyes were glued to the round ass in front of him. Heart-shaped and beautifully smooth, he didn't even realize what he was doing until he heard the light "smack" of his hand against it. The breathy moan that followed only made him harder.

Rick sighed as Michonne played with him through his jeans and undid his zipper. His hand locked around her waist as he pulled her in for a searing hot kiss that sent shivers through his whole body. She pushed herself against him and not for the first time that night, he wished he had her all to himself.

Freeing herself from his grasp, she looked Daryl in the eye and dropped to her knees. Not bad, she thought, starting on him while Rick stripped. Long and thick with a slight curve to it, she had to hand it to him—he was well-hung. Wetting her lips, she circled the head with her tongue before taking it into her mouth.

"Holy shit," moaned Daryl, lodging a hand in her dreads. She was an expert, not that he expected any less. Her tongue worked wonders, swirling from base to tip and back with such skill his knees buckled. He bucked greedily, urging her to take his whole length. Rick's face burned red hot as he stroked himself to the scene in front of him. Mid-lick, Michonne switched from Daryl to Rick, pumping his shaft twice before sucking. Rick couldn't stop the sigh that came out of his mouth as he watched her at work. She was different with him—wild, determined, slurping obscenely and taking his length down her throat with ease.

Their red-hot gazes bored into her and she could tell they wanted her in the worst way. Aware her other hand was unoccupied, Michonne reached out to stroke Daryl. She was on fire, the moans from both men driving her crazy. Her clit begged to be toyed with and the cool air stiffened her nipples even more, but she forced herself to be patient; for now, this was about pleasing them. Another minute of muted moans passed between the three before Rick pulled out of her mouth with a pop.

"Get up," he rasped, offering a hand.

He positioned himself against a wall and pulled Michonne's hips against him. Daryl followed Rick's lead and dropped to his knees in front of her.

Rick played with her, sliding in an inch and pulling out before she could push back.

"Please," Michonne whimpered, looking over her shoulder at him; his cocky grin made her want him even more, if that was possible. He knocked the wind from her lungs as he entered her, holding her waist in a vice grip. Daryl took her sudden yelp as a cue and locked his mouth onto her mound, flicking his tongue over her clit and gently suckling. The hoarse scream that followed let him know he was doing just fine.

Michonne nearly died. Her heart sped as Daryl's mouth sent shockwaves through her body. She gripped his head tight, fearing if she let go she'd collapse in a pleasure-ridden heap. Grinding against Daryl's face, she squeaked as his tongue did some unholy thing to drive her crazy. "Yes," she hissed, resting her head against Rick's shoulder. Latching onto his neck, she moaned and bit down, hoping to leave a bruise he'd remember her by.

"Shit that's tight," he groaned, burying himself inside of her.

He could feel the pressure building with each thrust, the lust threatening to consume him—the feeling was beyond words. Rick couldn't believe how tight, or eager or hot she was. She matched his rhythm perfectly, her round butt bouncing as he slammed in and out of her. She begged him to go faster, and he listened. Picking up the pace, he couldn't stop his loud moans nor did he want to. He reveled in the feeling of her plush lips biting at his neck and doubled his efforts, ravenously pushing himself toward a tremendous orgasm.

Daryl savored Michonne's sweet taste against his tongue and growled, feeling impatient as he listened to the sound of Rick screwing her. His mind raced as he imagined how good it'd feel. His hand found its way to his cock, but it wasn't enough. Luckily for him, Michonne dislodged herself from Rick and shakily led him to her bed by the hand. Rick's eyes were glazed in lusty confusion, but it seemed to click as he kneeled in front of her. Michonne got an all fours and beckoned Daryl over, playfully slapping her ass for his benefit.

"Don' need to tell me twice," he hummed, pulling her in for an over-the-shoulder kiss before gently pushing her back down. Eager to feel him, she pushed against Daryl and grunted nastily as he slid in. Successfully stuffed, her alcohol-addled brain demanded more; she licked her lips impatiently and looked up at Rick. He was more than happy to oblige, and pushed into her mouth, sighing as she sucked on his shaft.

Rick mouth dropped as she took him all in without using her hands. Talent—that's the only word that came to his one-track mind. Still, he didn't much care what it was as long as she kept at it; the warm tightness in his stomach was building again, growing hotter with each passing second. He smirked at Daryl—he had the same look on his face.

Daryl nearly lost it right there. She felt phenomenal, and her muffled whimpers as she sucked on Rick's cock told him she thought the same of him. He started gently, not wanting to hurt her. Contrary to what people probably thought, Daryl wasn't one for being rough until he got the go ahead. Michonne pulled her mouth off of Rick and looked behind her, a challenging glint in her eye.

"All that talk about fucking me, Dixon, and that's the best you can do?" she asked, arching a brow.

He saw Rick snicker and glared. "You asked for it, girl." Dropping any semblance of gentleness, he bore down and fucked her for all he was worth, drowning himself in the moment. Michonne yelped in surprise as Daryl pounded her, not expecting him to be that good; tingling warmth snuck up on her, curling toes and wracking her spine. Rick held her head steady and pumped into her mouth with such abandon she thought her jaw would drop off.

"Oh god, Mich—holy shit, I'm close—" said the sheriff, speeding up. The thrum of her moans against his cock was too much to handle as he thrust a few more times. With one last guttural groan, he came, riding the intense wave with such fervor he thought his heart would give out. He watched in awe as she swallowed, amazed that none of it spilled.

"Good for you man," panted Daryl mid-thrust. He could feel himself losing it, but controlled himself. Ladies first. "Now help me get her off."

Those words alone made Michonne shiver as she gripped the sheets and hiked her ass up even higher. "There's—a vibe—first drawer—holy fuck, Daryl—" Rick scrambled over to her nightstand and yanked the first drawer open. Sure enough, there was a bright purple vibrator in the shape of a bullet just waiting to be used; he snatched it, and switched it on the highest setting.

Daryl pulled out and lied down and sighed as Michonne slid down with her back to him. The warmth had progressed to a full-on inferno that promised to burn her out if she didn't come soon. He watched in awe as she ground her hips against him and motioned for Rick to come over. Michonne's hand flew to Rick's and she screamed as Rick pressed the bullet to her clit. Her mind could think of nothing else as the searing hot combination of Daryl's cock and the buzzing bullet brought her dangerously close to losing it.

"You know you wanna come, Mich," whispered Rick in her ear, free hand rolling her nipple between his fingers. He could feel her quiver beneath her hand as she bucked against the bullet.

That did it. Her whole body seized up and she tried to scream as wave after brutal wave of pleasure slammed her body. Rick and Daryl kept her steady as she rode the wave, thrusting and rubbing as she managed choked, half-breath "fucks". After what seemed like an eternity, she felt herself come down and couldn't stifle a girlish giggle as Rick pecked her cheek.

"Your turn," she said, moving so they were face-to-face with her on top. Daryl didn't need any encouragement. Seeing both her and Rick come was enough to make him antsy for his own orgasm. He put both hands on her hips and thrust up as she bounced. By the way she moved her hips and the dominant look in her eyes, he knew it wouldn't take long for her to launch him into a fit of his own—he could feel it coming. With every bounce, his body coiled in on itself, begging for release.

Determined to make him come, she worked him in every way she knew how—up, down, sideways, in circles—and smiled when she felt him speed up. "Give in, you know you want to," she cooed, leaning down to suck on his neck.

Daryl pumped a few more times, but the way she squeezed him with each bounce shoved him over the edge. "Jesus, Mich—I can't—I'm coming—" He held her hips in place and thrust up, grunting loudly as he burst inside of her. The sensation was amazing, steeping every inch of his body in ecstasy so strong he thought it'd tear him apart. Michonne guided him through, kissing his chest and swaying gently as he finished.

Rick helped a still-shaky Michonne off of Daryl and all three of them collapsed on the bed, sufficiently exhausted. Michonne gave Rick her spare pillow and with a satisfied smile, settled between him and Daryl. She barely had enough energy to get underneath the blanket before she curled up and fell fast asleep. Rick and Daryl were right behind her, exchanging satisfied nods before falling into deep slumbers of their own.

Morning came all too quickly, and with it the slight hangovers that followed a good night of fun. As the sun rose, Rick and Daryl found themselves awoken by the scent of pending breakfast. Before they could ask questions, Michonne appeared in the bedroom doorway, with Rick's t-shirt on and a steaming mug in hand. Rick wiped the sleep from his eyes and chuckled. Struggling to sit up, Daryl slumped against her headboard and brushed the hair from his eyes.

Yawning, she smiled at the sight of both friends in her bed. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, but something told her this wasn't the last time they'd wake up in the same situation. Unsure of exactly what to say, she raised her cup and asked the one question she knew the answer to. "Want some coffee?"

A/N: For the Richonne, Dixonne and Rixonne fans! Hope you liked the story. Lemme know what you thought :)

That's all for now,