Dead Man Walking | Rick Grimes

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"You got good taste then, June," Rick chuckled. Damn right, I have good taste! Well... it's questionable when it comes to men, but my taste is impeccable for everything else. Or at least, that's the little lie I tell myself every day.

Slowly, we entered the beat-up town, pausing to admire it one last time. It was covered in snow, the ugly brown walls looking harsh against the snow's pure white. The streets were littered with cars, and the stores had already been looted before we settled down a mile away. "I hate to be a downer again, but you know we already got all the gas from these cars, right?"

"Yep," Rick muttered as he took in our surroundings. "We still have at least two canisters left from when we came last." Rick harshly rubbed his eyes as stress started to overwhelm him. These past three months have been absolute hell for all of us. Lori was progressing with her pregnancy. The food was almost gone, we didn't have enough gas to take us more than fifty miles, and everyone was beyond stressed from the constant moving around.

Despite all this, Rick and I are still determined to find a permanent home where we can grow and prosper, a place for the baby and Carl to grow up and live happy lives, and where families can start. We started walking deeper into town, eyes scanning the desolate building as we looked for our markings. I had the bright idea of marking the buildings we had already searched with spray paint that Glenn found about a month ago. It's made it easier for us to keep track of everything. We came to the one building we had yet to search, our eyes scanning the place for any signs of the undead.

I grabbed my knife and slowly walked forward, my eyes constantly darting around me as my skin erupted in goosebumps from the bitter cold. I pushed open the door, slamming my hand into the glass and waiting for any walkers to leave their hiding places. Nothing came forward, and the silence deafened me once more as I slowly walked into the building. Rick followed me, his knife held firmly in his hand as we broke off into different directions.

I looked around and sighed heavily once my eyes landed on a bottle of whiskey, the amber liquor begging me to take it. Shaking my head, I continued scanning over the shelves, a frown etching onto my mouth as I realized this place was a liquor store. Bottles and bottles of different hard alcohols lined the shelves, every single one of them calling my name. I used to drink a lot and party – Weird for a museum curator, right? No, we're entitled to have lives too! I haven't had a drink since Hershel, and I got pretty buzzed... that was also the night Randall came into the picture.

My eyes continued scanning the shelves, seeing nothing but liquor bottles and disappointment. I heard Rick whistle, my feet automatically taking me to him. I looked at him and saw him holding up a shotgun, smiling as he stuffed a box of shells into his jacket pocket.

"Not a complete bust," I whispered to him. Rick shook his head and started eyeing the different alcohols, his tongue coming out to lick his lips as he grabbed a bottle of rum. "Planning on getting wasted sometime soon, Grimes?" I teased the man as he put the bottle back down and smirked at me.

"Only if you plan on drinking with me." He remarked, his blue eyes intensifying against the dull light that flooded the store. I bit my lip and moved closer to him, my eyes lowering to the floor before coming up to meet his.

"Rum and I don't have a good relationship." I whispered, "Tends to make me take my clothes off." Rick smiled down at me, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from my face before lingering on my cheek. Since that night after the farm, Rick and I have been slightly more flirty than usual. A little flirting never hurt anyone, right?

"Then we have to drink rum." He smirked, his eyes dropping to my lips. I smiled and pulled away from him; We're treading dangerous waters here, and I don't know if I'd stop myself if something happened. I'm barely holding on as it is! Any more of this, and I'll do something I'd regret later.