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threeguessesTitle: Four Times Alicia Was Thinking of Kalinda When She Shouldn’t Have Been (And One Time When She Definitely, Definitely Should Have)
Word Count: 1 000+
Disclaimer: Disclaimed!
Summary: As the title says.
AN: Written for excellent The Good Wife Summer Comment Fixathon.
Four Times Alicia Was Thinking of Kalinda When She Shouldn't Have Been (And One Time When She Definitely, Definitely Should Have)
[prompt from![[info]](https://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=3)
sweetjamielee, Alicia/Kalinda: four times Alicia was thinking of Kalinda when she shouldn't have been (and one time when she definitely, definitely should have been)]
1.
The first time’s an accident.
Peter’s still in jail, and even before then it had been a long time. Months. Alicia’s not shy about these things, two vibrators to her name and lube in the bottom drawer, but the new apartment is so tiny. Has such thin walls. In the old house, the kids were down the hallway and around the corner, guestrooms and the study in between, all that thick carpeting. Now they’re practically next door. It’s enough to put anyone off.
So on the rare occasion they’re both away at sleepovers, Alicia pours herself a glass of wine. Takes a breath. Sometimes she has a bath, sometimes she does this – cotton nighty up around her waist, heels digging into the mattress.
When the phone rings, Alicia doesn’t throw it across the room (because having kids means you always, always answer, even when you’re halfway to orgasm), but she wants to.
“Hello?”
“Found one,” Kalinda says, apropos of nothing. And Alicia doesn’t hang up on her stupidly cryptic face because a) it’s impolite, and b) that’s not what friends do.
Instead, she listens while Kalinda explains herself (a witness, she found a witness), while she recounts the story he’ll testify to (half-truths, mostly, but exactly the kind they need). Kalinda never goes into detail about her information-gathering techniques, but Alicia can always tell when she’s done something particularly impressive, pulled off an unusually spectacular manoeuvre – her voice gets low, secretive, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Look what I did. Normally Alicia finds it endearing, but right now she’s in no mood. “Is that it, Kalinda?”
There’s a short silence down the line. “Sorry,” Kalinda says slowly. “You busy?”
There’s no way, Alicia reminds herself, there’s absolutely no way she can know. She drops her head back onto the pillow. “A little.”
“Sorry,” Kalinda says again, and oh Christ, Alicia can hear the smirk now. “I’ll let you… get back to it.”
Just wonderful. “Thanks.”
“Have a good evening,” Kalinda adds lightly, like she never, ever does, and Alicia wants to kill her and die in equal amounts.
She’s nearly there when the phone buzzes again; Kalinda, texting her the witness’s address. Alicia’s still holding the stupid thing, and really, that’s what does it – the tandem vibrations, against her palm and between her legs. When she comes, she’s certainly not thinking of anyone in particular.
Still. It’s weeks before she can receive a text from Kalinda without blushing.
2.
The second time, she’s thinking of Will.
She’s thinking of what she would have done, in his office, if he’d still been there when she came back. What she would have done if she were a different person, less responsible. More of an exhibitionist. Across his desk or against the glass windows, lights out and backlit by the street. She’s imagining shoving him down onto the chair, hiking her skirt up.
Like she just hiked it up for Peter.
Peter’s good for this, actually – doesn’t talk a lot. He’s letting her set the pace, one hand between their bodies, fingers hard and fast against her clit. And it’s good. It’s so good, the thick hot pierce of him and how long it’s been, how desperate she is for it. Her head drops back as she imagines sliding Will’s hand into her panties, letting him feel how wet she is.
It’s wrong. She knows it is. She feels guilty, briefly, and then she hears Kalinda telling her to stop waiting for people to give her things. (Probably this isn’t what she meant; still, Alicia can’t help but think she’d approve.) Alicia imagines telling her, the wicked smirk she’d get in return, Kalinda asking how it felt to be a bad girl for once—
“Yeah,” Peter grunts as she clenches on him. “Yeah, Alicia, just like that.” He thumbs her clit. “You close, babe?”
Alicia blinks. Realises that she is. She squares her shoulders and grabs Peter’s collar, goes back to thinking about Will’s dark eyes and wet mouth, his large hot hands.
(She doesn’t tell Kalinda.)
3.
The third time, it’s on purpose.
She’s drunk, the first time in ages. Kalinda cajoled her into it, teasing and prodding, smiling the way she sometimes does after three drinks, bright and pretty. “Flirting with me isn’t going to work,” Alicia had grumbled, hand on the shot glass. Kalinda lowered her eyelashes, mock-seductive, and that had worked a little too well:
(“Peter and I don’t—“ Alicia finds herself saying, all vague hand gestures and blushing. “I mean, it’s separate beds, so.”
Kalinda’s mouth rounds out into a silent ‘o’ of understanding. “Huh.”
“So, it’s been—a long time,” Alicia continues, and doesn’t know why someone isn’t shutting her up. She lets her hair swing forward to obscure her face.
“Oh,” Kalinda says. “Well.” She’s doing that thing where she tries for comforting, a stilted hand on Alicia’s arm. “I wouldn’t feel too bad, I mean— I’m having kind of a dry spell too.”
Alicia brings her head up, incredulous. “You?”
Kalinda nods pensively. “I know. It is hard to believe.“
Alicia laughs so hard she forgets her embarrassment.)
But now, now she’s thinking about it. Kalinda poured her into a cab and the apartment is silent when she gets back, Peter and the kids in bed. She doesn’t turn on any lights, doesn’t even take off her nylons. Just sinks onto the bed and shoves a hand under them. Leans back.
She’s still drunk, the room spinning pleasantly. She isn’t really thinking about anything at first, just how nice it feels, how good it is. She’s sliding a finger inside when it hits her: Kalinda must do this. Kalinda probably does do this, especially if it’s been awhile. Like it has for Alicia. She wonders, idly, if it feels like the same for Kalinda: desperate and hot and needy. Wet.
Oh.
Suddenly she’s thinking about it - Kalinda getting wet, being wet. She tries to keep it abstract, Kalinda-being-turned-on, but she’s slippery and hot under her own fingers and it really, really isn’t staying that way. She wonders how Kalinda deals with it, if she runs a bath and lights candles, has a glass of wine. If she uses a vibrator. If she leaves her boots on, underwear shoved aside, up against the door of her apartment because she couldn’t wait, she couldn’t, and—
Alicia comes so hard she sees stars.
4.
The fourth time, she’d really rather not be thinking it.
Will’s kissing his way up her inner thigh (in increments, because all that “one hour” nonsense was bullshit), and Alicia thinks: Kalinda’s going to have a fit when I tell her.
Then she remembers.
1.
“I don’t know why our clients insist on getting arrested in other cities,” Alicia huffs into the phone.
“Mmm,” Kalinda murmurs. “Almost like they didn’t plan it.”
Alicia laughs. Kicks off her heels and falls onto the hotel bed. “Where are you?”
“Office.” There’s the shuffling of papers, Kalinda’s voice muffled and careful like she’s holding a pen in her mouth. “Yours,” she adds after a second, clearer. “I’m borrowing your stapler.”
“And what’s wrong with yours, exactly?” Alicia asks, laughing. “Or did you just miss me?”
“Oh, desperately.” More shuffling paper, the clack of typing. “Go away more often. Absence. Fonder. All that.”
There’s a missing word there. Alicia smiles. “Well, I miss you,” she says. She means it to be teasing, light, but it comes out half-serious.
There’s a pause in the typing. “Yeah,” Kalinda says. “I— yeah.” Probably that means ‘me too’, Alicia thinks, rolling her eyes, and then Kalinda surprises her by actually saying it— quiet and solemn, like she means it.
“Well,” Alicia says after a moment, smiling into the phone. “I miss you miss you.”
“Ah,” Kalinda murmurs with a smirk Alicia can hear. The typing starts up again. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Yeah.” Alicia sighs, slides a hand up under her skirt. They’ve only done this once before – last night, specifically, Kalinda’s voice steady across the phone line, short, suggestive sentences and breath.
“Alicia.” She sounds amused. “I’m at work. Can’t really help you out here.”
Alicia groans. “But I want— god. Kalinda.”
“So think of me,” Kalinda says. Quiet, serious. “Close your eyes and think of me.”
Alicia does.
Kalinda listens the entire time, silent and waiting.
Word Count: 1 000+
Disclaimer: Disclaimed!
Summary: As the title says.
AN: Written for excellent The Good Wife Summer Comment Fixathon.
Four Times Alicia Was Thinking of Kalinda When She Shouldn't Have Been (And One Time When She Definitely, Definitely Should Have)
[prompt from
sweetjamielee, Alicia/Kalinda: four times Alicia was thinking of Kalinda when she shouldn't have been (and one time when she definitely, definitely should have been)]1.
The first time’s an accident.
Peter’s still in jail, and even before then it had been a long time. Months. Alicia’s not shy about these things, two vibrators to her name and lube in the bottom drawer, but the new apartment is so tiny. Has such thin walls. In the old house, the kids were down the hallway and around the corner, guestrooms and the study in between, all that thick carpeting. Now they’re practically next door. It’s enough to put anyone off.
So on the rare occasion they’re both away at sleepovers, Alicia pours herself a glass of wine. Takes a breath. Sometimes she has a bath, sometimes she does this – cotton nighty up around her waist, heels digging into the mattress.
When the phone rings, Alicia doesn’t throw it across the room (because having kids means you always, always answer, even when you’re halfway to orgasm), but she wants to.
“Hello?”
“Found one,” Kalinda says, apropos of nothing. And Alicia doesn’t hang up on her stupidly cryptic face because a) it’s impolite, and b) that’s not what friends do.
Instead, she listens while Kalinda explains herself (a witness, she found a witness), while she recounts the story he’ll testify to (half-truths, mostly, but exactly the kind they need). Kalinda never goes into detail about her information-gathering techniques, but Alicia can always tell when she’s done something particularly impressive, pulled off an unusually spectacular manoeuvre – her voice gets low, secretive, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. Look what I did. Normally Alicia finds it endearing, but right now she’s in no mood. “Is that it, Kalinda?”
There’s a short silence down the line. “Sorry,” Kalinda says slowly. “You busy?”
There’s no way, Alicia reminds herself, there’s absolutely no way she can know. She drops her head back onto the pillow. “A little.”
“Sorry,” Kalinda says again, and oh Christ, Alicia can hear the smirk now. “I’ll let you… get back to it.”
Just wonderful. “Thanks.”
“Have a good evening,” Kalinda adds lightly, like she never, ever does, and Alicia wants to kill her and die in equal amounts.
She’s nearly there when the phone buzzes again; Kalinda, texting her the witness’s address. Alicia’s still holding the stupid thing, and really, that’s what does it – the tandem vibrations, against her palm and between her legs. When she comes, she’s certainly not thinking of anyone in particular.
Still. It’s weeks before she can receive a text from Kalinda without blushing.
2.
The second time, she’s thinking of Will.
She’s thinking of what she would have done, in his office, if he’d still been there when she came back. What she would have done if she were a different person, less responsible. More of an exhibitionist. Across his desk or against the glass windows, lights out and backlit by the street. She’s imagining shoving him down onto the chair, hiking her skirt up.
Like she just hiked it up for Peter.
Peter’s good for this, actually – doesn’t talk a lot. He’s letting her set the pace, one hand between their bodies, fingers hard and fast against her clit. And it’s good. It’s so good, the thick hot pierce of him and how long it’s been, how desperate she is for it. Her head drops back as she imagines sliding Will’s hand into her panties, letting him feel how wet she is.
It’s wrong. She knows it is. She feels guilty, briefly, and then she hears Kalinda telling her to stop waiting for people to give her things. (Probably this isn’t what she meant; still, Alicia can’t help but think she’d approve.) Alicia imagines telling her, the wicked smirk she’d get in return, Kalinda asking how it felt to be a bad girl for once—
“Yeah,” Peter grunts as she clenches on him. “Yeah, Alicia, just like that.” He thumbs her clit. “You close, babe?”
Alicia blinks. Realises that she is. She squares her shoulders and grabs Peter’s collar, goes back to thinking about Will’s dark eyes and wet mouth, his large hot hands.
(She doesn’t tell Kalinda.)
3.
The third time, it’s on purpose.
She’s drunk, the first time in ages. Kalinda cajoled her into it, teasing and prodding, smiling the way she sometimes does after three drinks, bright and pretty. “Flirting with me isn’t going to work,” Alicia had grumbled, hand on the shot glass. Kalinda lowered her eyelashes, mock-seductive, and that had worked a little too well:
(“Peter and I don’t—“ Alicia finds herself saying, all vague hand gestures and blushing. “I mean, it’s separate beds, so.”
Kalinda’s mouth rounds out into a silent ‘o’ of understanding. “Huh.”
“So, it’s been—a long time,” Alicia continues, and doesn’t know why someone isn’t shutting her up. She lets her hair swing forward to obscure her face.
“Oh,” Kalinda says. “Well.” She’s doing that thing where she tries for comforting, a stilted hand on Alicia’s arm. “I wouldn’t feel too bad, I mean— I’m having kind of a dry spell too.”
Alicia brings her head up, incredulous. “You?”
Kalinda nods pensively. “I know. It is hard to believe.“
Alicia laughs so hard she forgets her embarrassment.)
But now, now she’s thinking about it. Kalinda poured her into a cab and the apartment is silent when she gets back, Peter and the kids in bed. She doesn’t turn on any lights, doesn’t even take off her nylons. Just sinks onto the bed and shoves a hand under them. Leans back.
She’s still drunk, the room spinning pleasantly. She isn’t really thinking about anything at first, just how nice it feels, how good it is. She’s sliding a finger inside when it hits her: Kalinda must do this. Kalinda probably does do this, especially if it’s been awhile. Like it has for Alicia. She wonders, idly, if it feels like the same for Kalinda: desperate and hot and needy. Wet.
Oh.
Suddenly she’s thinking about it - Kalinda getting wet, being wet. She tries to keep it abstract, Kalinda-being-turned-on, but she’s slippery and hot under her own fingers and it really, really isn’t staying that way. She wonders how Kalinda deals with it, if she runs a bath and lights candles, has a glass of wine. If she uses a vibrator. If she leaves her boots on, underwear shoved aside, up against the door of her apartment because she couldn’t wait, she couldn’t, and—
Alicia comes so hard she sees stars.
4.
The fourth time, she’d really rather not be thinking it.
Will’s kissing his way up her inner thigh (in increments, because all that “one hour” nonsense was bullshit), and Alicia thinks: Kalinda’s going to have a fit when I tell her.
Then she remembers.
1.
“I don’t know why our clients insist on getting arrested in other cities,” Alicia huffs into the phone.
“Mmm,” Kalinda murmurs. “Almost like they didn’t plan it.”
Alicia laughs. Kicks off her heels and falls onto the hotel bed. “Where are you?”
“Office.” There’s the shuffling of papers, Kalinda’s voice muffled and careful like she’s holding a pen in her mouth. “Yours,” she adds after a second, clearer. “I’m borrowing your stapler.”
“And what’s wrong with yours, exactly?” Alicia asks, laughing. “Or did you just miss me?”
“Oh, desperately.” More shuffling paper, the clack of typing. “Go away more often. Absence. Fonder. All that.”
There’s a missing word there. Alicia smiles. “Well, I miss you,” she says. She means it to be teasing, light, but it comes out half-serious.
There’s a pause in the typing. “Yeah,” Kalinda says. “I— yeah.” Probably that means ‘me too’, Alicia thinks, rolling her eyes, and then Kalinda surprises her by actually saying it— quiet and solemn, like she means it.
“Well,” Alicia says after a moment, smiling into the phone. “I miss you miss you.”
“Ah,” Kalinda murmurs with a smirk Alicia can hear. The typing starts up again. “It’s like that, is it?”
“Yeah.” Alicia sighs, slides a hand up under her skirt. They’ve only done this once before – last night, specifically, Kalinda’s voice steady across the phone line, short, suggestive sentences and breath.
“Alicia.” She sounds amused. “I’m at work. Can’t really help you out here.”
Alicia groans. “But I want— god. Kalinda.”
“So think of me,” Kalinda says. Quiet, serious. “Close your eyes and think of me.”
Alicia does.
Kalinda listens the entire time, silent and waiting.
