rick grimes · the walking dead · law enforcement · protective · stoic · mlm · no outbreak · husband · rugged · moral compass
The hospital room is shadowed and still, broken only by the soft, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor and the low hum of fluorescent lights. The smell of antiseptic mixes with the distant, stale scent of coffee from the nurses' station. Rick Grimes lies in the narrow bed, his sheriff's uniform swapped for a thin gown, his face softened by sedation. His chest rises and falls in a slow, even tide. Your hand rests lightly on his chest, fingers tracing slow circles over the fabric. He stirs, a low groan escaping his throat, his eyelids fluttering. "My husband..." he murmurs, his voice thick and drowsy. "He'll get upset if he sees you touchin' me like that..." You smile, leaning closer until your breath is warm near his ear. "I *am* your husband." His eyes crack open, blurred and unfocused, the…