Fic - All That We Can't Leave Behind (Alicia, Will/Alicia), NC-17, 1/1
Title: All That We Can't Leave Behind
Summary: There are these moments, you see, seemingly insignificant, that continuously grow and spread and change everything you have worked so hard to set straight. Decades later, and these are things she remembers most clearly.
Rating: nc-17
Author's Notes: 3,212 words. Post ep and spoilers for everything up to On Tap. What I wish we'd see in tomorrow night's episode but probably never, ever will. Thank you to lexiesloan for the beta and hand holding. Con-crit is both welcome and appreciated. All remaining mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not.
When it happens, it will go a little something like this:
Alicia shows up half-past midnight, standing outside his door in her coat and gloves, and when he pulls it open his eyes will go wide, jaw slack as he opens it to say something, but nothing comes out. It occurs to her then, in that small moment that stretches her too thin where they look at each other without really looking at each other, that Tammy might be there - in his bed, in-between his sheets. The thought alone does something to her insides, turns them in and out, twisting and tightening until she starts to feel sick.
She must not be, though, because Will says come on in like her showing up on his doorstep in the middle of the night is some normal occurrence, like they're still friends after all of this, after last spring when he put his heart on the line and got nothing but the bitter taste of rejection in return.
"Everything okay?" Will asks because that's just the sort of guy he is, always putting her first, ahead everything else that might be between them, any distance that has purposely been put between them. Alicia nods slightly, sliding off her gloves and shoving them deep into the pockets of her coat, stopping in the middle of the foyer as he continues right on through to the living room.
She watches him, still in jeans and a sweater, hair messy. She hears the faint sounds of SportsCenter in the background, the sound mingling with the pounding inside of her head, and if she took the moment to look, she knows she would see legal briefs and books strewn across the couch, mug of something expensive on the coffee table. Will always thought better with the TV brought to a dull noise in the background. Something about the silence being too stifling, too restrictive.
Decades later, and these are things she remembers most clearly.
"Alicia?"
"Last fall," she starts, almost cutting him off, and her hands are in her pockets still, curling and uncurling around the leather of her gloves, nervous, but not willing to show it. "You left me two messages?"
He nods.
"I never got the second one," Alicia swallows thickly. "What did it say?"
There is a moment, an eternity almost, where Will just looks right at her, lips pressed into the thinnest line, eyes narrowed. He opens his mouth a few times to say something and Alicia knows him well enough to know that he's choosing his words properly, trying to handle this situation the best way he knows how.
She also knows that he is acutely aware of the fact that she very rarely asks questions she doesn't know the answer to, which is why, probably, when he finally speaks he is squaring his shoulders, back standing a bit straighter as if he's preparing for the cross of a witness or closing arguments.
"You sure you want to do this?"
His back is to her when he says it, moving further into the apartment, closing in on the couch where sure enough the remnants of their most current case sat. He picks up his drink and finishes it in a solitary gulp before setting it back down, the ceramic of his mug clinking against the glass of the coffee table.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
It's almost the truth and practically a lie all at once. She'd be here regardless, really. Alicia has been stuck in some sort of limbo for weeks, constantly thinking what if throughout every single moment of the day, this quiet little daydream of the two of them seeping into every single thought she has, every time she closes her eyes.
There have been dreams, too. So vivid that they feel almost like memories, playing on constant replay in both consciousness and sleep, causing her to be distracted and jittery. Even now her hands are shaking as she removes them from her pockets, letting them dangle instead in fists at her sides. She blames it on something else entirely.
"What do you think it said?" Will asks, grabbing the nearby bottle of scotch and pouring a generous amount into his mug, he holds it up in her direction in lieu of an offer, but she shakes her head.
"I need," she starts, but her voice is too thin, too quiet so she pauses to clear her throat and begin again. "I need to hear you say it."
He laughs softly, the sound biting as he slides onto the couch, fingers tightening around his mug as he brings his left ankle to rest atop the opposite knee. She's still standing there, in the entry way between the foyer and living room, coat still snug around her shoulders.
"Say what? That I love you? That I've been in love with you since Georgetown? Since the first time I saw you at that damn pool party?" He takes a slow sip of his drink and watches her for a moment, eyes running the length of her body appraisingly, a too-thin smile stretching across his lips as he finally meets her eyes. "That if I had never met you I'd probably be married and have two kids by now?"
She looks away, feet shuffling back and forth. "Will," she starts, but he cuts her off.
"Is that what you wanted to hear, Alicia?"
"If I had known," she tries, but he laughs something cynical and she stops short, watching as he rests both feet flat against the floor, takes another sip of his drink.
"Don't do that. Don't play innocent with me. You knew. You had to know. Everybody knew - even Peter. You just didn't want to know."
It's the truth and she knows it. There were signs, moments, quiet declarations. In the beginning it was about preserving their friendship, about being too young to know how to do it right, how to make it last without screwing everything else up. And then there was Peter, who came along at just the right moment, when Will started dating some first year med student, and Alicia wasn't quite sure how to adjust to the change. There was a bar, a look, and the fall was almost instantaneous, beautifully uncomplicated -- like something right out of the movies.
After, there was no going back.
It does something to her then, thinking about Peter, and something else entirely twists in the pit of her stomach and starts to move upward, tightening deep in her chest. Alicia makes a futile attempt at burying it as she finally puts one foot in front of the other, crossing the room towards Will. When she finally reaches Will it's still there, but this is for her, for her own piece of mind, so she still shoves the papers out of the way to make room for herself on the couch.
Sliding easily into the space next to him, Alicia’s fingers start working on the first few buttons of her coat out of sheer need to keep busy, before she gets distracted and reaches for his mug. He lets her, eyes widening slightly as she finishes the remaining contents in single swig, as she winces at the way it burns on the way down.
"You haven't said anything. You show up here in the middle of the night and you haven't said anything."
Alicia takes a moment to let the alcohol seep in, thinks of that night last year, that kiss they had but have never talked about since. How she ultimately went back for him. How she wanted things then that she shouldn't want and how she still wants them now, while he's next to her, so close that all she would have to do is reach for him, place her fingers ever-so-lightly against his cheek and lean in.
"I don't know what to say," she responds quietly, mug still in-between her fingers and it's the truth, words failing her at every end and she thinks about kissing him, eyes scanning his face, the edge of his cheekbones, the slight wrinkles at the edge of his eyes.
Alicia thinks about kissing him and all of a sudden just does, closes the distance between them, free hand on his face as she brushes her lips against his just once, the kiss slow and languid, so soft with its tenderness. Will pulls back after, eyes sliding open and she drops the empty mug somewhere next to her on the couch, other hand reaching forward, fingers burying themselves in his sweater in an attempt to pull him closer as he looks at her and continues to look at her, eyes half-lidded, lips twisting upwards just slightly.
There are moments before every kiss, a distinct span of time where one gives themselves a second or two to reevaluate what they want and what they could have and pull away if their brain chooses to think better of it. Will is still looking at her, hand reaching up to cup her cheek, and Alicia is thinking of all the reasons why not to do this -- the ring on her finger, her two kids at home, Peter.
This is one of those moments and Alicia knows that, feels it deep in her bones.
She leans forward and kisses Will again anyway.
Things start unravel almost completely after that, with his fingers in her hair and her arms around his neck, his mouth covering hers with an intense urgency that sets her skin on fire. Alicia pours everything into the kiss, every feeling, every thought, every dream she ever had for the two of them, all the things she wishes she could say but can't. Alicia chooses to be selfish and think of nothing but him, and the way he's kissing her like he's never, ever going to stop and keeps kissing him back until she has to pull away for a sharp intake of air.
Her coat comes off first, his fingers clumsy with the buttons, harsh as he pushes it over her shoulders and onto the floor. She's still half-dressed from work, blouse and jacket paired with jeans. Initially she had gone home, went through the every-day motions, but wasn’t able to stop thinking about this and him and all the possible results that might ensue after she showed up on his doorstep.
Will frenzily works on the buttons of her blouse, jacket still on her shoulders, and she dips her left hand under the collar of his sweater, palm flat against his warm flesh. There is a sigh, his maybe, but it gets lost somewhere between them as he pushes her onto her back, blouse and jacket meeting the floor in the process. His sweater is next, his undershirt going along with it, and there is another sigh - definitely hers this time - as he settles between her thighs, her legs bending at the knees to accommodate him. There is no method in their movements, no skill or precision, just her mouth on his, hands tracing muscle and bone, dips and contours, making tiny memories as she goes along, filing them away in the back of her mind.
They just keep moving and moving, his fingers on the button of her jeans, the resulting snap echoing in her ears and this is nothing like she imagined it would be. More than what she imagined it would be. Where she imagined smooth and slow and countless hours and all the time in the world, they are fast and impatient, all emotion and no thought. They're crammed onto his too-small couch, her foot continuously sliding off the edge, sock slipping against the leather and hitting the floor every few minutes. She thinks about saying something, breaking away to slip her lips against his ear, whisper something about the bedroom, maybe, but instead she wraps her leg around his waist, not wanting to pull away and break the moment, to give them any opportunity to think about what they are doing and just why they shouldn't be doing it.
They've always been too pragmatic for their own good.
Will's hand slips between them somehow, fingers slipping into her jeans and under cotton. There is a moan wrapped up in the sound of her name when he finds her already wet and waiting. He pulls away, burying his head in the crook of her neck as his fingers work against her, tiny circles around her clit, his lips and teeth gently attacking the soft skin behind her ear. Before Alicia can think, she's writhing beneath him, coming hard and blindly fast, choking around his name as he coaxes her softly. She didn't used to be this easy.
There's barely a moment that passes before he's kissing her again, slower this time, more tender than fierce and while she's trying to catch her breath she's pushing at his jeans, using her feet to push them down his legs and onto the floor. He chuckles, the sound sinking into her skin as his fingers work to do the same, pulling away to lean back on his knees, pulling her jeans and panties off in one solid movement. Alicia has her fingers at his shoulders, trying to pull him back towards her, but Will resists, smiling as his index finger softly traces from hip bone to navel, that thin line that travels up her stomach, in-between her breasts, all the way to the small dip at the center of her collar bone.
"Alicia," he says. Just her name, so quietly she literally strains to hear him and something inside of her starts to ache uncontrollably, turns her inside out with want and need and before she knows it, Alicia is on her knees, palms against his shoulders as she pushes him backwards, thighs settling on either side of his as she presses herself into him, molding them both into a single, languid line.
Their kiss is so hard she feels it in her teeth, and she takes him in her steady hands, squeezing and tugging and loving the way he moans and wriggles underneath her as she guides him between her legs. His fingers tighten around her hips, pulling her backwards, away from him, and she pulls away to look at him through half-lidded eyes, smile so wide it makes her cheeks ache.
"You're sure?" he asks because he's Will, always putting her first, always wanting to do the right thing and her chest starts to feel too tight and too full all of a sudden. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but can't, so she nods, just once, before sinking onto him completely.
There is an adjustment period where her heart pounds in her ears and his fingers are so tight around her hips that she'll carry reminders of this for days afterwards. Alicia breathes and keeps breathing, trying to catch her breath because it seemed to have flown right out of her just a moment ago, before she starts to move, and keeps moving, pace quickening with every passing second. Will’s eyes are on her the entire time, hands guiding her movements and she wants to look away, needs to close her eyes because it's too much, but she can't. She doesn't want to break the moment, the spell, doesn't ever want to forget the way he is looking at her then, eyes wide and bright, like she's it, like she's everything that ever mattered in the world. Like he's never going to let her go.
And she doesn't, not until his left hand leaves her hip to wrap around the back of her neck, pulling her down to him. Their pace goes from quick to frantic, his hips raising to meet hers, matching her for every inch she gives and already that familiar feeling is spreading from her toes to her head, setting everything in-between on fire. Alicia is so close that she can taste it, slips a hand between then and comes, white hot and fast with her thumb on her clit and her bottom lip between Will’s teeth. He’s not far behind, coming with a whimper, her name falling out of his mouth as he comes.
It’s over before it even really starts and after there is absolute stillness.
She buries her face in the crook of his neck, closes her eyes tightly because everything seems too bright and loud -- her heart is pounding her head, legs aching with exhaustion. Will is holding her tightly, one hand still wrapped around her neck, the other at the small of her back, pressing her into him and for only the second time since she stepped foot into Will's apartment does she think about Peter. About how he used to hold her after, so tight she almost felt suffocated at times with his weight pressing her into the mattress.
It has been so long that she had almost forgotten.
There's a funny taste that gets stuck in the back of her throat and Alicia tries to swallow it away, bury it, but it her attempts are unsuccessful. Using her arms as leverage, she starts to pull away, muttering something about needing a glass of water at Will's concerned look. She's nervous all of sudden when she's standing in front of him, naked except for her worn, white bra and Will must sense it because he's pulling on his jeans and heading to the kitchen before she's even managed to find her own.
As her fingers work at the buttons of her blouse the diamonds of her engagement ring glares back at her, sparkling with all the broken promises and the guilt starts to seep through the cracks, that bitter taste still present at the back of her throat. She thinks of Peter again, of Grace and Zach and the life they've tried to re-build together and twists her ring so the diamond digs into her palm and all she can see is the sleek, gold band.
Alicia didn't use to be this woman.
When she looks up Will is watching her carefully, bare feet against the wood floor, jeans still unbuttoned, glass of water tight in his hand. When he smiles at her it's tight, stretching his face too thin, and they both are stuck in the aftermath now, their moment now over, and all Alicia can think about is how it shouldn't have been like this. With her still married and he with Tammy, on his couch with her family at home wondering where she is.
He hands her the drink and she takes it gladly, listens to the sound of his soft chuckle as she takes a sip before setting it to the side.
"It's always been you, you know," is all he says, and it takes a minute, but when she looks up he's looking at her once more, like he always does, like he's falling in love with her all over again in this exact moment and she simply doesn't know how to look away.
So instead she closes her eyes, makes a memory so she can carry it with her, lets his words embed themselves deep into her skin and bones.
They might not be here again.
Summary: There are these moments, you see, seemingly insignificant, that continuously grow and spread and change everything you have worked so hard to set straight. Decades later, and these are things she remembers most clearly.
Rating: nc-17
Author's Notes: 3,212 words. Post ep and spoilers for everything up to On Tap. What I wish we'd see in tomorrow night's episode but probably never, ever will. Thank you to lexiesloan for the beta and hand holding. Con-crit is both welcome and appreciated. All remaining mistakes are mine. These characters, however, are not.
When it happens, it will go a little something like this:
Alicia shows up half-past midnight, standing outside his door in her coat and gloves, and when he pulls it open his eyes will go wide, jaw slack as he opens it to say something, but nothing comes out. It occurs to her then, in that small moment that stretches her too thin where they look at each other without really looking at each other, that Tammy might be there - in his bed, in-between his sheets. The thought alone does something to her insides, turns them in and out, twisting and tightening until she starts to feel sick.
She must not be, though, because Will says come on in like her showing up on his doorstep in the middle of the night is some normal occurrence, like they're still friends after all of this, after last spring when he put his heart on the line and got nothing but the bitter taste of rejection in return.
"Everything okay?" Will asks because that's just the sort of guy he is, always putting her first, ahead everything else that might be between them, any distance that has purposely been put between them. Alicia nods slightly, sliding off her gloves and shoving them deep into the pockets of her coat, stopping in the middle of the foyer as he continues right on through to the living room.
She watches him, still in jeans and a sweater, hair messy. She hears the faint sounds of SportsCenter in the background, the sound mingling with the pounding inside of her head, and if she took the moment to look, she knows she would see legal briefs and books strewn across the couch, mug of something expensive on the coffee table. Will always thought better with the TV brought to a dull noise in the background. Something about the silence being too stifling, too restrictive.
Decades later, and these are things she remembers most clearly.
"Alicia?"
"Last fall," she starts, almost cutting him off, and her hands are in her pockets still, curling and uncurling around the leather of her gloves, nervous, but not willing to show it. "You left me two messages?"
He nods.
"I never got the second one," Alicia swallows thickly. "What did it say?"
There is a moment, an eternity almost, where Will just looks right at her, lips pressed into the thinnest line, eyes narrowed. He opens his mouth a few times to say something and Alicia knows him well enough to know that he's choosing his words properly, trying to handle this situation the best way he knows how.
She also knows that he is acutely aware of the fact that she very rarely asks questions she doesn't know the answer to, which is why, probably, when he finally speaks he is squaring his shoulders, back standing a bit straighter as if he's preparing for the cross of a witness or closing arguments.
"You sure you want to do this?"
His back is to her when he says it, moving further into the apartment, closing in on the couch where sure enough the remnants of their most current case sat. He picks up his drink and finishes it in a solitary gulp before setting it back down, the ceramic of his mug clinking against the glass of the coffee table.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't."
It's almost the truth and practically a lie all at once. She'd be here regardless, really. Alicia has been stuck in some sort of limbo for weeks, constantly thinking what if throughout every single moment of the day, this quiet little daydream of the two of them seeping into every single thought she has, every time she closes her eyes.
There have been dreams, too. So vivid that they feel almost like memories, playing on constant replay in both consciousness and sleep, causing her to be distracted and jittery. Even now her hands are shaking as she removes them from her pockets, letting them dangle instead in fists at her sides. She blames it on something else entirely.
"What do you think it said?" Will asks, grabbing the nearby bottle of scotch and pouring a generous amount into his mug, he holds it up in her direction in lieu of an offer, but she shakes her head.
"I need," she starts, but her voice is too thin, too quiet so she pauses to clear her throat and begin again. "I need to hear you say it."
He laughs softly, the sound biting as he slides onto the couch, fingers tightening around his mug as he brings his left ankle to rest atop the opposite knee. She's still standing there, in the entry way between the foyer and living room, coat still snug around her shoulders.
"Say what? That I love you? That I've been in love with you since Georgetown? Since the first time I saw you at that damn pool party?" He takes a slow sip of his drink and watches her for a moment, eyes running the length of her body appraisingly, a too-thin smile stretching across his lips as he finally meets her eyes. "That if I had never met you I'd probably be married and have two kids by now?"
She looks away, feet shuffling back and forth. "Will," she starts, but he cuts her off.
"Is that what you wanted to hear, Alicia?"
"If I had known," she tries, but he laughs something cynical and she stops short, watching as he rests both feet flat against the floor, takes another sip of his drink.
"Don't do that. Don't play innocent with me. You knew. You had to know. Everybody knew - even Peter. You just didn't want to know."
It's the truth and she knows it. There were signs, moments, quiet declarations. In the beginning it was about preserving their friendship, about being too young to know how to do it right, how to make it last without screwing everything else up. And then there was Peter, who came along at just the right moment, when Will started dating some first year med student, and Alicia wasn't quite sure how to adjust to the change. There was a bar, a look, and the fall was almost instantaneous, beautifully uncomplicated -- like something right out of the movies.
After, there was no going back.
It does something to her then, thinking about Peter, and something else entirely twists in the pit of her stomach and starts to move upward, tightening deep in her chest. Alicia makes a futile attempt at burying it as she finally puts one foot in front of the other, crossing the room towards Will. When she finally reaches Will it's still there, but this is for her, for her own piece of mind, so she still shoves the papers out of the way to make room for herself on the couch.
Sliding easily into the space next to him, Alicia’s fingers start working on the first few buttons of her coat out of sheer need to keep busy, before she gets distracted and reaches for his mug. He lets her, eyes widening slightly as she finishes the remaining contents in single swig, as she winces at the way it burns on the way down.
"You haven't said anything. You show up here in the middle of the night and you haven't said anything."
Alicia takes a moment to let the alcohol seep in, thinks of that night last year, that kiss they had but have never talked about since. How she ultimately went back for him. How she wanted things then that she shouldn't want and how she still wants them now, while he's next to her, so close that all she would have to do is reach for him, place her fingers ever-so-lightly against his cheek and lean in.
"I don't know what to say," she responds quietly, mug still in-between her fingers and it's the truth, words failing her at every end and she thinks about kissing him, eyes scanning his face, the edge of his cheekbones, the slight wrinkles at the edge of his eyes.
Alicia thinks about kissing him and all of a sudden just does, closes the distance between them, free hand on his face as she brushes her lips against his just once, the kiss slow and languid, so soft with its tenderness. Will pulls back after, eyes sliding open and she drops the empty mug somewhere next to her on the couch, other hand reaching forward, fingers burying themselves in his sweater in an attempt to pull him closer as he looks at her and continues to look at her, eyes half-lidded, lips twisting upwards just slightly.
There are moments before every kiss, a distinct span of time where one gives themselves a second or two to reevaluate what they want and what they could have and pull away if their brain chooses to think better of it. Will is still looking at her, hand reaching up to cup her cheek, and Alicia is thinking of all the reasons why not to do this -- the ring on her finger, her two kids at home, Peter.
This is one of those moments and Alicia knows that, feels it deep in her bones.
She leans forward and kisses Will again anyway.
Things start unravel almost completely after that, with his fingers in her hair and her arms around his neck, his mouth covering hers with an intense urgency that sets her skin on fire. Alicia pours everything into the kiss, every feeling, every thought, every dream she ever had for the two of them, all the things she wishes she could say but can't. Alicia chooses to be selfish and think of nothing but him, and the way he's kissing her like he's never, ever going to stop and keeps kissing him back until she has to pull away for a sharp intake of air.
Her coat comes off first, his fingers clumsy with the buttons, harsh as he pushes it over her shoulders and onto the floor. She's still half-dressed from work, blouse and jacket paired with jeans. Initially she had gone home, went through the every-day motions, but wasn’t able to stop thinking about this and him and all the possible results that might ensue after she showed up on his doorstep.
Will frenzily works on the buttons of her blouse, jacket still on her shoulders, and she dips her left hand under the collar of his sweater, palm flat against his warm flesh. There is a sigh, his maybe, but it gets lost somewhere between them as he pushes her onto her back, blouse and jacket meeting the floor in the process. His sweater is next, his undershirt going along with it, and there is another sigh - definitely hers this time - as he settles between her thighs, her legs bending at the knees to accommodate him. There is no method in their movements, no skill or precision, just her mouth on his, hands tracing muscle and bone, dips and contours, making tiny memories as she goes along, filing them away in the back of her mind.
They just keep moving and moving, his fingers on the button of her jeans, the resulting snap echoing in her ears and this is nothing like she imagined it would be. More than what she imagined it would be. Where she imagined smooth and slow and countless hours and all the time in the world, they are fast and impatient, all emotion and no thought. They're crammed onto his too-small couch, her foot continuously sliding off the edge, sock slipping against the leather and hitting the floor every few minutes. She thinks about saying something, breaking away to slip her lips against his ear, whisper something about the bedroom, maybe, but instead she wraps her leg around his waist, not wanting to pull away and break the moment, to give them any opportunity to think about what they are doing and just why they shouldn't be doing it.
They've always been too pragmatic for their own good.
Will's hand slips between them somehow, fingers slipping into her jeans and under cotton. There is a moan wrapped up in the sound of her name when he finds her already wet and waiting. He pulls away, burying his head in the crook of her neck as his fingers work against her, tiny circles around her clit, his lips and teeth gently attacking the soft skin behind her ear. Before Alicia can think, she's writhing beneath him, coming hard and blindly fast, choking around his name as he coaxes her softly. She didn't used to be this easy.
There's barely a moment that passes before he's kissing her again, slower this time, more tender than fierce and while she's trying to catch her breath she's pushing at his jeans, using her feet to push them down his legs and onto the floor. He chuckles, the sound sinking into her skin as his fingers work to do the same, pulling away to lean back on his knees, pulling her jeans and panties off in one solid movement. Alicia has her fingers at his shoulders, trying to pull him back towards her, but Will resists, smiling as his index finger softly traces from hip bone to navel, that thin line that travels up her stomach, in-between her breasts, all the way to the small dip at the center of her collar bone.
"Alicia," he says. Just her name, so quietly she literally strains to hear him and something inside of her starts to ache uncontrollably, turns her inside out with want and need and before she knows it, Alicia is on her knees, palms against his shoulders as she pushes him backwards, thighs settling on either side of his as she presses herself into him, molding them both into a single, languid line.
Their kiss is so hard she feels it in her teeth, and she takes him in her steady hands, squeezing and tugging and loving the way he moans and wriggles underneath her as she guides him between her legs. His fingers tighten around her hips, pulling her backwards, away from him, and she pulls away to look at him through half-lidded eyes, smile so wide it makes her cheeks ache.
"You're sure?" he asks because he's Will, always putting her first, always wanting to do the right thing and her chest starts to feel too tight and too full all of a sudden. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but can't, so she nods, just once, before sinking onto him completely.
There is an adjustment period where her heart pounds in her ears and his fingers are so tight around her hips that she'll carry reminders of this for days afterwards. Alicia breathes and keeps breathing, trying to catch her breath because it seemed to have flown right out of her just a moment ago, before she starts to move, and keeps moving, pace quickening with every passing second. Will’s eyes are on her the entire time, hands guiding her movements and she wants to look away, needs to close her eyes because it's too much, but she can't. She doesn't want to break the moment, the spell, doesn't ever want to forget the way he is looking at her then, eyes wide and bright, like she's it, like she's everything that ever mattered in the world. Like he's never going to let her go.
And she doesn't, not until his left hand leaves her hip to wrap around the back of her neck, pulling her down to him. Their pace goes from quick to frantic, his hips raising to meet hers, matching her for every inch she gives and already that familiar feeling is spreading from her toes to her head, setting everything in-between on fire. Alicia is so close that she can taste it, slips a hand between then and comes, white hot and fast with her thumb on her clit and her bottom lip between Will’s teeth. He’s not far behind, coming with a whimper, her name falling out of his mouth as he comes.
It’s over before it even really starts and after there is absolute stillness.
She buries her face in the crook of his neck, closes her eyes tightly because everything seems too bright and loud -- her heart is pounding her head, legs aching with exhaustion. Will is holding her tightly, one hand still wrapped around her neck, the other at the small of her back, pressing her into him and for only the second time since she stepped foot into Will's apartment does she think about Peter. About how he used to hold her after, so tight she almost felt suffocated at times with his weight pressing her into the mattress.
It has been so long that she had almost forgotten.
There's a funny taste that gets stuck in the back of her throat and Alicia tries to swallow it away, bury it, but it her attempts are unsuccessful. Using her arms as leverage, she starts to pull away, muttering something about needing a glass of water at Will's concerned look. She's nervous all of sudden when she's standing in front of him, naked except for her worn, white bra and Will must sense it because he's pulling on his jeans and heading to the kitchen before she's even managed to find her own.
As her fingers work at the buttons of her blouse the diamonds of her engagement ring glares back at her, sparkling with all the broken promises and the guilt starts to seep through the cracks, that bitter taste still present at the back of her throat. She thinks of Peter again, of Grace and Zach and the life they've tried to re-build together and twists her ring so the diamond digs into her palm and all she can see is the sleek, gold band.
Alicia didn't use to be this woman.
When she looks up Will is watching her carefully, bare feet against the wood floor, jeans still unbuttoned, glass of water tight in his hand. When he smiles at her it's tight, stretching his face too thin, and they both are stuck in the aftermath now, their moment now over, and all Alicia can think about is how it shouldn't have been like this. With her still married and he with Tammy, on his couch with her family at home wondering where she is.
He hands her the drink and she takes it gladly, listens to the sound of his soft chuckle as she takes a sip before setting it to the side.
"It's always been you, you know," is all he says, and it takes a minute, but when she looks up he's looking at her once more, like he always does, like he's falling in love with her all over again in this exact moment and she simply doesn't know how to look away.
So instead she closes her eyes, makes a memory so she can carry it with her, lets his words embed themselves deep into her skin and bones.
They might not be here again.