threeguesses (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
threeguesses) wrote2011-02-13 02:44 am
threeguesses) wrote2011-02-13 02:44 am
Entry tags:
FIC: Though I Once Supposed So [the good wife, alicia/kalinda]
Title: Though I Once Supposed So (Or, That Time Alicia Joined Diane’s New Firm, Divorced Peter, and Accidentally Started Dating Kalinda)
Word Count: 2500+
Diclaimer: Disclaimed!
AN: So, I had plans to write a fic called “Five Things That Never Happened to Alicia Florrick”, but then I was writing and the first part just kept going and going… basically, it is now one rather lengthy and involved thing that never happened to Alicia Florrick. Whoops. Plus: it's shameless wish-fulfillment. Happy early Valentine’s Day!
Title is from Amy Clampitt’s The Smaller Orchid.
Though I Once Supposed So
On their first day of work there are boxes in the hallway and the building still smells of paint. Kalinda helps Alicia pry the windows of her office open and then, for good measure, the windows of all the surrounding conference rooms.
“Well,” Alicia says when they’re done, sitting in the new open-concept kitchen with their sleeves rolled up, “It’s certainly different.”
“Smaller,” Kalinda adds, rolling a glass of water between her palms. They had to go hunting through Styrofoam and bubble wrap to find it. Inexplicably it was on its own in a box full of knives, so now they’re sharing.
“We should probably tell Diane to hold off on the flowers though,” Alicia muses. “Paint fumes might kill them.”
Kalinda rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she says, pulling Alicia to her feet. “Let’s unpack your office.”
They spend the rest of the morning rooting through boxes and rearranging furniture. Grace, who is apparently indiscriminating about the religions she subscribes to, emailed Alicia a link about how to maximize the office’s ch’i. Alicia reads it aloud while Kalinda sprawls at her feet, absentmindedly shredding packing kernels.
“You know,” Kalinda says, “I think we may have accidentally set it up so your fern is in the Wealth corner.”
“Oh good,” Alicia sighs, “if it grows, I won’t even need those alimony checks.”
Lunch is a group affair. Someone orders pizza and they pile into the expensive kitchen, making nervous small talk, feeling each other out. Most are from Stern-Lockhart, but there are enough new hires, enough poached from other firms that there’s a frisson of unease. It feels like the first day of school.
When Alicia tells Kalinda this, Kalinda raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to mingle?”
They’re sitting on the floor in the empty second conference room, far away from all the commotion.
“No,” Alicia says through her pizza. “I’m pretty sure I’m already at the cool-girl table.”
Kalinda’s only response is to flick an errant piece of Styrofoam at Alicia’s lap, but she’s smiling.
After the first, lazy week of setting up the office and taking clients on reassuring business lunches, work begins in earnest.
Alicia is suddenly assigned to three cases. She spends all her time in the conference room, taking hours and hours of deposition. She doesn’t see Diane or David Lee or any of the senior partners for days at a time. It is nothing like Lockhart-Gardner and it is exactly the same, bowls of fruit in the hallway and flowers on the desks.
She doesn’t see much of Kalinda either. Kalinda is in high demand here, working six, seven cases at once, doesn’t have time to lean in Alicia’s doorway and chat. Alicia eats lunch with Courtney instead. Courtney – who followed Alicia to Lockhart-Lee unexpectedly, but with quiet resolution – is less shy now. It’s as if that naked show of loyalty made them equals instead of the opposite. Alicia is grateful for the bit of calm continuity she provides.
Because for all that this is a good change, it’s still a big change. Alicia is mostly happy with it, mostly okay, but she still looks up in court sometimes. Wishes for Will’s smile, or Diane’s smirk. Wishes for Kalinda, for sarcasm and sharp grins and notes passed across the railing. She looks at her unfamiliar second chair and feels— well, lonely.
“I can’t play favourites,” Kalinda says when Alicia mentions, offhand, how little they see one another now. “Not yet. We’re short staffed.” She looks almost apologetic.
Alicia is momentarily affronted. “That’s not what I—” her eyes widen. “You were playing favourites before? At Lockhart-Gardner?”
“Obviously,” Kalinda smirks.
“Oh.” That’s— well. Alicia had always thought maybe, but— “And I was…?”
“Yes, Alicia,” Kalinda says with a roll of her eyes. “You are my favourite.”
“Oh.” Alicia smiles, feeling suddenly shy. “Well, um. You too?”
“Oh god.” Kalinda rolls her eyes again, breezing out of the office. “I’m buying you a drink to erase the memory of this conversation,” she calls over her shoulder.
Alicia grins at her computer screen.
They do have that drink, but the next week is exactly the same – deposition after deposition. Alicia barely sees the light of day, let alone Kalinda.
Then, one evening: a note on her desk. It’s on the back of one of her own memo-sheets, the writing slanted and scrawling and absolutely unmistakeable.
Surveillance update: the Melia client has a pony fetish.
Alicia sits for a moment, puzzled. The Melia thing isn’t her case, and even if it was, this is not remotely relevant to the—
Oh, Alicia thinks, her brain finally making the connection. She laughs at herself, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Apparently sometime during the past two years, with the scandal and the politics, she’d forgotten the mechanics of normal friendship.
She scribbles an answer – ride ‘em cowboy? – and tapes it to the computer in Kalinda’s unused office.
In the morning, there’s a reply sitting on her keyboard: an image I could have done without. Alicia smiles.
After that, they fall into a habit. Kalinda leaves a message in the morning and Alicia answers it at lunch, dashing off a one-handed reply as she eats. Kalinda is just as terse and sharp in writing as she is in conversation, but clever in her own, Kalinda-ish way. Once, when Alicia is working a particularly awful case, she finds a ten dollar bill pinned to the Wealth fern. Beside Alexander Hamilton’s head it reads: because I can’t buy you coffee.
(And for all that they don’t see each other, Alicia feels… closer. They were friends before, yes – friendly, certainly – but the effort makes it deliberate. Makes it a conscious choice.)
“So,” Alicia says on a rare morning when they are together in person. “Want to do something this weekend?” She never would have asked, not before, but things feel different now. Things are different now. Alicia’s lonely, the kids off with Peter and Will so distant, hurt by her decision to go with Diane and—
And Kalinda has been staring at her for a very long time.
“…Or not?” Alicia finishes.
Kalinda blinks. “Sure,” she says slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”
They end up going to an Art Crawl, perusing hotel lobbies full of easels, tiny shops and second-floor apartments transformed into galleries. There are plastic glasses of wine at every stop, miniature hors d’oeuvres and dishes of candy laid out on low tables.
“So. This is what you do for fun?” Kalinda asks. Her head is cocked at what may or may not be a painting of a man masturbating.
“Yes,” Alicia says firmly, pressing a drink into her hand. “Before the kids, Peter and I did things like this all the time.” Kalinda continues to stare balefully. Alicia rolls her eyes. “Come on, we can be drunk and cultured at the same time.”
Kalinda looks skeptically at the fingers-width of wine. “It’ll take some doing.”
Alicia laughs, tugging at her wrist. “We’d better get going then.”
They watch a short film about the art of screen-printing, see an exhibit comprised entirely of plastic chairs. In the back of a bicycle shop they find constellations of photographs hanging from the ceiling, fairy lights on the walls. A picture of a red wheelbarrow gets caught in Kalinda’s hair. Down the street, an old-fashioned diner showcases paintings about the evils of capitalism.
“So?” Alicia asks as they navigate a gallery sprawling through someone’s railroad apartment.
“Wait,” Kalinda smiles, her lips wine-dark. “I’m not nearly drunk yet.”
They weave in and out of the crowds, dodging eccentric elderly couples and university kids, intellectuals and art snobs. The night is warm and smells like wood smoke. In a miniature outdoor market, Alicia is captivated by the artisan jewellery; Kalinda looks on, amused, as she purchases a tiny working harmonica charm for Grace.
“You just got ripped off,” Kalinda says afterwards, smirking. “Quite badly, actually.”
“I don’t really care,” Alicia retorts. And she doesn’t. She missed in-person Kalinda, missed her sarcasm and her arch looks. Missed having fun period.
Later, at the taxi stand, Kalinda turns, hands in her pockets. “Yes,” she says. “Okay. This was… entertaining.”
“I knew it!” Alicia crows. “And you aren’t even drunk!” she yells at Kalinda’s retreating back.
Kalinda just waves.
Quickly, the outings become another habit. Alicia feels a bit guilty for monopolizing so much of Kalinda’s time (and she always avoids scheduling things for Friday and Saturday nights, just in case— well, just in case) but the weekends without Grace and Zach are hard. Alicia has never lived alone; at home with her parents, in college with roommates, and then with Peter. Now she can stand and stand in the shower and the hot water won’t run out.
Besides, Kalinda doesn’t seem to mind. She allows herself to be towed around exhibits, pulled into novelty shops, lead down the chilly pier. She rolls her eyes at some of Alicia’s more out-there suggestions – the Field Museum and the jazz club get particularly strong reactions – but she always agrees. Always shows up, sometimes with folders from work, sometimes with sunglasses and coffee and a sour expression (especially if it’s before ten a.m.), but always on time. Alicia revels in the company, in getting out of the apartment.
“I’m just saying,” Owen says on the phone one day. “I want to be there when you come out to Mom.”
“What?” Alicia laughs, slicing onions into her stir-fry (it was hard at first, learning to cook smaller portions).
“You,” he pronounces gravely, “are basically dating this Kalinda woman.”
Alicia frowns at the pan, wondering if it needs more soy sauce. “I am not.”
“A hop and a skip from homosexuality,” Owen sing-songs. “A leap from the fruit basket. A rainbow away from being a friend of Dorothy—”
“God, stop, stop!” Alicia laughs, breathless. “Would you believe I just don’t have any other friends?”
“That, my dear sister,” Owen says seriously, “I would believe in a heartbeat.”
Alicia doesn’t think anything of it. But later that evening they’re at the movies (Kalinda is sans boots for once, jeans and flats and feet propped up on the seats in front of them, causal and relaxed) and it just sort of— falls out of Alicia’s mouth.
“My brother thinks we’re dating.”
Kalinda raises both eyebrows (which, in Kalinda-speak, is practically a double-take). “I feel I would have noticed that,” she pronounces evenly.
Alicia laughs. “Well, one would hope,” she says, and Kalinda smiles a half smile, relaxing back into her chair, and that should be that, but—
“Besides,” Alicia adds on a whim, “I told him I wasn’t your type.”
As soon as it’s out her mouth she wishes she could take it back; it’s fishing or flirting, borderline something, and Alicia is surprised at herself.
Kalinda’s face is as still as a lake for a full moment. Then:
“Well,” she says slowly, “lovely as you are, I prefer slightly less baggage.”
Alicia lets out her breath in a rush. “So that’s a no then?” she teases, but the lights are going down and the previews are starting and Kalinda just smiles.
It isn’t until a week later that she realizes.
“It wasn’t a no,” she says suddenly. (They are helping Grace make brownies for a bake sale: Kalinda is pouring over a casefile, Grace is down the hall laughing on the phone, and Alicia is stirring the batter.) “It was more of a qualified yes.”
“Come again?” Kalinda asks, flicking flour off the corner of the toxicology report.
“You—you basically said that, without the separation and the emotional damage and the— otherwise, you would.” Alicia feels like someone hit her over the head with something.
A look of comprehension dawns on Kalinda’s face immediately (and that, that really should have told Alicia—) “The kids too,” she says neutrally. “Deal breaker.”
“Kalinda,” Alicia hisses. “Just— are we dating?”
Kalinda rolls her dark eyes. “Does this feel like a date?” she asks, gesturing with her highlighter.
“I—” Alicia starts, but then Grace bounds into the room and the conversation is over.
For the rest of the weekend she doesn’t hear from Kalinda. Work is more of the same; no notes on her desk, no shared lunch breaks, no coffee. Alicia feels lonely and confused and embarrassed. She sits in her still-unfamiliar office and stares at the Wealth fern like it holds the answers.
Finally, on Thursday, she leaves a note on Kalinda’s keyboard. Sometimes it feels like we are.
Kalinda sweeps into Alicia’s office less than an hour later. She’s still in her coat, eyes flashing and cheeks flushed dark. She slams the note on Alicia’s desk with a gloved hand.
“That’s not my fault,” she says heatedly. “I’m not the one suggesting we go to the movies and take walks along the pier.”
“I—I wasn’t saying it was,” Alicia stammers, taken aback.
Some of the fight leaves Kalinda’s shoulders. She drops onto Alicia’s couch heavily, arms crossed like a teenager. “Well then what?” she demands.
“I don’t know.” Alicia sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. A thought strikes her: “God, you didn’t think— I mean, when I first asked, did it seem like I meant—?”
Kalinda laughs meanly. “I’m not quite that stupid, Alicia.”
And oh, that hurts, sharp and fierce. Alicia opens her mouth to fight back, but—
But—
Oh.
“….I think I might be,” Alicia murmurs helplessly. She is staring at Kalinda as though she has never seen her before.
Kalinda’s eyes are dark and shuttered. “There’s that light bulb,” she says with a mocking smile, pushing herself up off the couch.
“Kalinda, I didn’t kn—” Alicia starts, but Kalinda is out the door and walking, boots clacking along the marble floors.
Alicia doesn’t follow.
A week later, after talking herself in and out of it a hundred times, after losing sleep and sanity and god knows what else, Alicia catches Kalinda’s arm outside a staff meeting.
“Come on,” she says shortly.
And Kalinda’s face may be blank and empty, may be and wary and unfriendly and closed-off, but she comes. Trails Alicia into the elevator and through the lobby. Follows her down the street and around the corner. Waits while Alicia places their order, while Alicia pays the kid across the counter. Sits obediently at the tables outside even though it's freezing.
(Stays still and silent when Alicia shoves the coffee across the table, when Alicia says “This. This is a date.” Drinks it and ducks her head into the wind and doesn’t give anything away.)
Back at the office, Alicia drags them both into the side stairwell. Kalinda’s eyes are flat and guarded. Alicia feels hot and cold, ridiculously, childishly terrified.
“Okay,” she says, “Alright.” She takes a steadying breath. Kalinda's expression is achingly neutral. “This was a date,” Alicia repeats, her hands numb and shaking. “And now it’s the end of the date.”
Something flickers in Kalinda’s mirrored eyes.
Alicia takes a step closer. Then another. Then another. Her voice is soft and caught in her throat. “And now," she finishes with a firmness she doesn't feel, "now I am going to kiss you."
She does it before she can change her mind: quick and darting, a hand on Kalinda’s chin and a swift press against her lipsticked mouth. There’s no reaction, no returning pressure, so Alicia pulls back.
“Alright,” she says quietly, turning towards the stairway. “That was a date. And I was responsible for the whole thing, beginning to end, so now can we please—”
“Wait,” Kalinda murmurs. Her hand is on Alicia’s arm. And then her fingers are in Alicia’s hair and she’s pulling and Alicia still whispers “yes?” like an idiot, like there’s some sort of question. And then Kalinda is kissing her, slower and longer and warmer and Alicia can smell her perfume and yes, yes there is her answer.
Word Count: 2500+
Diclaimer: Disclaimed!
AN: So, I had plans to write a fic called “Five Things That Never Happened to Alicia Florrick”, but then I was writing and the first part just kept going and going… basically, it is now one rather lengthy and involved thing that never happened to Alicia Florrick. Whoops. Plus: it's shameless wish-fulfillment. Happy early Valentine’s Day!
Title is from Amy Clampitt’s The Smaller Orchid.
Though I Once Supposed So
On their first day of work there are boxes in the hallway and the building still smells of paint. Kalinda helps Alicia pry the windows of her office open and then, for good measure, the windows of all the surrounding conference rooms.
“Well,” Alicia says when they’re done, sitting in the new open-concept kitchen with their sleeves rolled up, “It’s certainly different.”
“Smaller,” Kalinda adds, rolling a glass of water between her palms. They had to go hunting through Styrofoam and bubble wrap to find it. Inexplicably it was on its own in a box full of knives, so now they’re sharing.
“We should probably tell Diane to hold off on the flowers though,” Alicia muses. “Paint fumes might kill them.”
Kalinda rolls her eyes. “Come on,” she says, pulling Alicia to her feet. “Let’s unpack your office.”
They spend the rest of the morning rooting through boxes and rearranging furniture. Grace, who is apparently indiscriminating about the religions she subscribes to, emailed Alicia a link about how to maximize the office’s ch’i. Alicia reads it aloud while Kalinda sprawls at her feet, absentmindedly shredding packing kernels.
“You know,” Kalinda says, “I think we may have accidentally set it up so your fern is in the Wealth corner.”
“Oh good,” Alicia sighs, “if it grows, I won’t even need those alimony checks.”
Lunch is a group affair. Someone orders pizza and they pile into the expensive kitchen, making nervous small talk, feeling each other out. Most are from Stern-Lockhart, but there are enough new hires, enough poached from other firms that there’s a frisson of unease. It feels like the first day of school.
When Alicia tells Kalinda this, Kalinda raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to mingle?”
They’re sitting on the floor in the empty second conference room, far away from all the commotion.
“No,” Alicia says through her pizza. “I’m pretty sure I’m already at the cool-girl table.”
Kalinda’s only response is to flick an errant piece of Styrofoam at Alicia’s lap, but she’s smiling.
After the first, lazy week of setting up the office and taking clients on reassuring business lunches, work begins in earnest.
Alicia is suddenly assigned to three cases. She spends all her time in the conference room, taking hours and hours of deposition. She doesn’t see Diane or David Lee or any of the senior partners for days at a time. It is nothing like Lockhart-Gardner and it is exactly the same, bowls of fruit in the hallway and flowers on the desks.
She doesn’t see much of Kalinda either. Kalinda is in high demand here, working six, seven cases at once, doesn’t have time to lean in Alicia’s doorway and chat. Alicia eats lunch with Courtney instead. Courtney – who followed Alicia to Lockhart-Lee unexpectedly, but with quiet resolution – is less shy now. It’s as if that naked show of loyalty made them equals instead of the opposite. Alicia is grateful for the bit of calm continuity she provides.
Because for all that this is a good change, it’s still a big change. Alicia is mostly happy with it, mostly okay, but she still looks up in court sometimes. Wishes for Will’s smile, or Diane’s smirk. Wishes for Kalinda, for sarcasm and sharp grins and notes passed across the railing. She looks at her unfamiliar second chair and feels— well, lonely.
“I can’t play favourites,” Kalinda says when Alicia mentions, offhand, how little they see one another now. “Not yet. We’re short staffed.” She looks almost apologetic.
Alicia is momentarily affronted. “That’s not what I—” her eyes widen. “You were playing favourites before? At Lockhart-Gardner?”
“Obviously,” Kalinda smirks.
“Oh.” That’s— well. Alicia had always thought maybe, but— “And I was…?”
“Yes, Alicia,” Kalinda says with a roll of her eyes. “You are my favourite.”
“Oh.” Alicia smiles, feeling suddenly shy. “Well, um. You too?”
“Oh god.” Kalinda rolls her eyes again, breezing out of the office. “I’m buying you a drink to erase the memory of this conversation,” she calls over her shoulder.
Alicia grins at her computer screen.
They do have that drink, but the next week is exactly the same – deposition after deposition. Alicia barely sees the light of day, let alone Kalinda.
Then, one evening: a note on her desk. It’s on the back of one of her own memo-sheets, the writing slanted and scrawling and absolutely unmistakeable.
Surveillance update: the Melia client has a pony fetish.
Alicia sits for a moment, puzzled. The Melia thing isn’t her case, and even if it was, this is not remotely relevant to the—
Oh, Alicia thinks, her brain finally making the connection. She laughs at herself, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Apparently sometime during the past two years, with the scandal and the politics, she’d forgotten the mechanics of normal friendship.
She scribbles an answer – ride ‘em cowboy? – and tapes it to the computer in Kalinda’s unused office.
In the morning, there’s a reply sitting on her keyboard: an image I could have done without. Alicia smiles.
After that, they fall into a habit. Kalinda leaves a message in the morning and Alicia answers it at lunch, dashing off a one-handed reply as she eats. Kalinda is just as terse and sharp in writing as she is in conversation, but clever in her own, Kalinda-ish way. Once, when Alicia is working a particularly awful case, she finds a ten dollar bill pinned to the Wealth fern. Beside Alexander Hamilton’s head it reads: because I can’t buy you coffee.
(And for all that they don’t see each other, Alicia feels… closer. They were friends before, yes – friendly, certainly – but the effort makes it deliberate. Makes it a conscious choice.)
“So,” Alicia says on a rare morning when they are together in person. “Want to do something this weekend?” She never would have asked, not before, but things feel different now. Things are different now. Alicia’s lonely, the kids off with Peter and Will so distant, hurt by her decision to go with Diane and—
And Kalinda has been staring at her for a very long time.
“…Or not?” Alicia finishes.
Kalinda blinks. “Sure,” she says slowly. “Yeah. Okay.”
They end up going to an Art Crawl, perusing hotel lobbies full of easels, tiny shops and second-floor apartments transformed into galleries. There are plastic glasses of wine at every stop, miniature hors d’oeuvres and dishes of candy laid out on low tables.
“So. This is what you do for fun?” Kalinda asks. Her head is cocked at what may or may not be a painting of a man masturbating.
“Yes,” Alicia says firmly, pressing a drink into her hand. “Before the kids, Peter and I did things like this all the time.” Kalinda continues to stare balefully. Alicia rolls her eyes. “Come on, we can be drunk and cultured at the same time.”
Kalinda looks skeptically at the fingers-width of wine. “It’ll take some doing.”
Alicia laughs, tugging at her wrist. “We’d better get going then.”
They watch a short film about the art of screen-printing, see an exhibit comprised entirely of plastic chairs. In the back of a bicycle shop they find constellations of photographs hanging from the ceiling, fairy lights on the walls. A picture of a red wheelbarrow gets caught in Kalinda’s hair. Down the street, an old-fashioned diner showcases paintings about the evils of capitalism.
“So?” Alicia asks as they navigate a gallery sprawling through someone’s railroad apartment.
“Wait,” Kalinda smiles, her lips wine-dark. “I’m not nearly drunk yet.”
They weave in and out of the crowds, dodging eccentric elderly couples and university kids, intellectuals and art snobs. The night is warm and smells like wood smoke. In a miniature outdoor market, Alicia is captivated by the artisan jewellery; Kalinda looks on, amused, as she purchases a tiny working harmonica charm for Grace.
“You just got ripped off,” Kalinda says afterwards, smirking. “Quite badly, actually.”
“I don’t really care,” Alicia retorts. And she doesn’t. She missed in-person Kalinda, missed her sarcasm and her arch looks. Missed having fun period.
Later, at the taxi stand, Kalinda turns, hands in her pockets. “Yes,” she says. “Okay. This was… entertaining.”
“I knew it!” Alicia crows. “And you aren’t even drunk!” she yells at Kalinda’s retreating back.
Kalinda just waves.
Quickly, the outings become another habit. Alicia feels a bit guilty for monopolizing so much of Kalinda’s time (and she always avoids scheduling things for Friday and Saturday nights, just in case— well, just in case) but the weekends without Grace and Zach are hard. Alicia has never lived alone; at home with her parents, in college with roommates, and then with Peter. Now she can stand and stand in the shower and the hot water won’t run out.
Besides, Kalinda doesn’t seem to mind. She allows herself to be towed around exhibits, pulled into novelty shops, lead down the chilly pier. She rolls her eyes at some of Alicia’s more out-there suggestions – the Field Museum and the jazz club get particularly strong reactions – but she always agrees. Always shows up, sometimes with folders from work, sometimes with sunglasses and coffee and a sour expression (especially if it’s before ten a.m.), but always on time. Alicia revels in the company, in getting out of the apartment.
“I’m just saying,” Owen says on the phone one day. “I want to be there when you come out to Mom.”
“What?” Alicia laughs, slicing onions into her stir-fry (it was hard at first, learning to cook smaller portions).
“You,” he pronounces gravely, “are basically dating this Kalinda woman.”
Alicia frowns at the pan, wondering if it needs more soy sauce. “I am not.”
“A hop and a skip from homosexuality,” Owen sing-songs. “A leap from the fruit basket. A rainbow away from being a friend of Dorothy—”
“God, stop, stop!” Alicia laughs, breathless. “Would you believe I just don’t have any other friends?”
“That, my dear sister,” Owen says seriously, “I would believe in a heartbeat.”
Alicia doesn’t think anything of it. But later that evening they’re at the movies (Kalinda is sans boots for once, jeans and flats and feet propped up on the seats in front of them, causal and relaxed) and it just sort of— falls out of Alicia’s mouth.
“My brother thinks we’re dating.”
Kalinda raises both eyebrows (which, in Kalinda-speak, is practically a double-take). “I feel I would have noticed that,” she pronounces evenly.
Alicia laughs. “Well, one would hope,” she says, and Kalinda smiles a half smile, relaxing back into her chair, and that should be that, but—
“Besides,” Alicia adds on a whim, “I told him I wasn’t your type.”
As soon as it’s out her mouth she wishes she could take it back; it’s fishing or flirting, borderline something, and Alicia is surprised at herself.
Kalinda’s face is as still as a lake for a full moment. Then:
“Well,” she says slowly, “lovely as you are, I prefer slightly less baggage.”
Alicia lets out her breath in a rush. “So that’s a no then?” she teases, but the lights are going down and the previews are starting and Kalinda just smiles.
It isn’t until a week later that she realizes.
“It wasn’t a no,” she says suddenly. (They are helping Grace make brownies for a bake sale: Kalinda is pouring over a casefile, Grace is down the hall laughing on the phone, and Alicia is stirring the batter.) “It was more of a qualified yes.”
“Come again?” Kalinda asks, flicking flour off the corner of the toxicology report.
“You—you basically said that, without the separation and the emotional damage and the— otherwise, you would.” Alicia feels like someone hit her over the head with something.
A look of comprehension dawns on Kalinda’s face immediately (and that, that really should have told Alicia—) “The kids too,” she says neutrally. “Deal breaker.”
“Kalinda,” Alicia hisses. “Just— are we dating?”
Kalinda rolls her dark eyes. “Does this feel like a date?” she asks, gesturing with her highlighter.
“I—” Alicia starts, but then Grace bounds into the room and the conversation is over.
For the rest of the weekend she doesn’t hear from Kalinda. Work is more of the same; no notes on her desk, no shared lunch breaks, no coffee. Alicia feels lonely and confused and embarrassed. She sits in her still-unfamiliar office and stares at the Wealth fern like it holds the answers.
Finally, on Thursday, she leaves a note on Kalinda’s keyboard. Sometimes it feels like we are.
Kalinda sweeps into Alicia’s office less than an hour later. She’s still in her coat, eyes flashing and cheeks flushed dark. She slams the note on Alicia’s desk with a gloved hand.
“That’s not my fault,” she says heatedly. “I’m not the one suggesting we go to the movies and take walks along the pier.”
“I—I wasn’t saying it was,” Alicia stammers, taken aback.
Some of the fight leaves Kalinda’s shoulders. She drops onto Alicia’s couch heavily, arms crossed like a teenager. “Well then what?” she demands.
“I don’t know.” Alicia sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. A thought strikes her: “God, you didn’t think— I mean, when I first asked, did it seem like I meant—?”
Kalinda laughs meanly. “I’m not quite that stupid, Alicia.”
And oh, that hurts, sharp and fierce. Alicia opens her mouth to fight back, but—
But—
Oh.
“….I think I might be,” Alicia murmurs helplessly. She is staring at Kalinda as though she has never seen her before.
Kalinda’s eyes are dark and shuttered. “There’s that light bulb,” she says with a mocking smile, pushing herself up off the couch.
“Kalinda, I didn’t kn—” Alicia starts, but Kalinda is out the door and walking, boots clacking along the marble floors.
Alicia doesn’t follow.
A week later, after talking herself in and out of it a hundred times, after losing sleep and sanity and god knows what else, Alicia catches Kalinda’s arm outside a staff meeting.
“Come on,” she says shortly.
And Kalinda’s face may be blank and empty, may be and wary and unfriendly and closed-off, but she comes. Trails Alicia into the elevator and through the lobby. Follows her down the street and around the corner. Waits while Alicia places their order, while Alicia pays the kid across the counter. Sits obediently at the tables outside even though it's freezing.
(Stays still and silent when Alicia shoves the coffee across the table, when Alicia says “This. This is a date.” Drinks it and ducks her head into the wind and doesn’t give anything away.)
Back at the office, Alicia drags them both into the side stairwell. Kalinda’s eyes are flat and guarded. Alicia feels hot and cold, ridiculously, childishly terrified.
“Okay,” she says, “Alright.” She takes a steadying breath. Kalinda's expression is achingly neutral. “This was a date,” Alicia repeats, her hands numb and shaking. “And now it’s the end of the date.”
Something flickers in Kalinda’s mirrored eyes.
Alicia takes a step closer. Then another. Then another. Her voice is soft and caught in her throat. “And now," she finishes with a firmness she doesn't feel, "now I am going to kiss you."
She does it before she can change her mind: quick and darting, a hand on Kalinda’s chin and a swift press against her lipsticked mouth. There’s no reaction, no returning pressure, so Alicia pulls back.
“Alright,” she says quietly, turning towards the stairway. “That was a date. And I was responsible for the whole thing, beginning to end, so now can we please—”
“Wait,” Kalinda murmurs. Her hand is on Alicia’s arm. And then her fingers are in Alicia’s hair and she’s pulling and Alicia still whispers “yes?” like an idiot, like there’s some sort of question. And then Kalinda is kissing her, slower and longer and warmer and Alicia can smell her perfume and yes, yes there is her answer.
no subject
no subject
This is amazing
The best overarching aspect of this story is the manner in which you expanded these characters giving them further depth through exploration outside of their typical motivations of litigation and investigation. Yes you preserved the existing characterization of circumspect Kalinda however you also reintroduced us to dimensions of Kalinda's humor which we only sometimes glimpse in the episodes of the show. If the talented writing staff at the Good Wife production offices were to ever consider banking on the apparent chemistry between Kalinda and Alicia, I very much believe it would unfold something like you've proposed in this story. Well done!
Re: This is amazing
I'm glad the bit with Owen worked; I've never written him before and I was worried about their dynamic. (So I made Alicia talk to vegetables, lol.) And that their characterizations shone through in the crazy AU-world of pseudo-dating.
In conclusion: &hearts and thank you.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
You always just… get it. You take this stuff that should be unlikely and make it seem so natural and real, like you could just slip it into canon without a single person being able to say “HEY, THIS DOESN’T FIT.” Because… it happens, yanno? You’re going about your life as usual, going through the motions, then you blink and realize that somehow without your even being aware of it something IMPORTANT has changed. And it can rock your world, yo.
The notes made me glee. It’s so girly and adorable and yet SO REAL – reaching out for each other across the chasm of their busy lives. And Kalinda going along with her to these things that seem crazy to her, but she does it because it’s with ALICIA, and that’s where she wants to be. *happy sigh*
OWEN TEASING ALICIA ABOUT KALINDA. YOU MADE MY LIFE. And as a catalyst for her understand about what exactly is going on. Omg. Amazing, and spot-on.
And K lashing out at Alicia’s confrontation… oh. OH. IT HURT MY HEART. All that stirred-up pain and vulnerability and… and… I just hate the thought of Kalinda ever feeling alone in all these emotions. My baby. *sobs* But you went and fixed it in that way you do, where Alicia is so completely mature even when she’s uncertain and afraid, and I just can’t even breathe for being so relieved.
In conclusion, I’m asking you in a very calm and coherent way, to please have my babies.
Thank you and goodnight.
no subject
I'M GLAD IT ACTUALLY WORKED. They were passing notes and going to f-ing Art Crawls, and I was all: :/ - BUT AS LONG AS IT'S RELATIVELY IN CHARACTER.
Owen is fun, yo. I've decided he should be in all Kalicia fics from now on, so someone with authority can point the finger and be like "gay, very very gay".
So yes. Your babies; I will have them.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Hm... accidental dating huh...? It's a good subtle way in, works for them I reckon!
Thanks for sharing!
no subject
Thanks so much for the comment!
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
I get a pathetic little happy flutter when I see you've written something new, because you always just deliver something perfect.
(and sometimes I don't get the updates and read/review a couple at a time... *cough*)
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
Between (“I knew it!” Alicia crows. “And you aren’t even drunk!” she yells at Kalinda’s retreating back.) and (“Kalinda,” Alicia hisses. “Just— are we dating?") your characterizations are just...bogglingly accurate and amazing!
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
You are a master and believe me, I do not dispense such niceties just like that. Beautifully done.
Cheers!