Fic: Another Word (I'm Never Certain How to Spell), Alicia/Kalinda, PG13
Title: Another Word (I'm Never Certain How To Spell)
Author: lauriestein
Rating: PG13
Pairing: Alicia/Kalinda
Spoilers: Up to 2x09
Words: 1480
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit, and I promise to put them back when I'm done.
Summary: How two internal monologues become a conversation, one impulsive moment at a time. Written for yuletide 2010, for llyfrgell
Kalinda tells herself that this is a one-time thing.
Alicia tries to tell herself this isn't cheating.
There’s no way that Alicia, distracted as she always is by the kids and work and Peter and Will, can have noticed how much Kalinda wants this. Kalinda has been careful, after all, not to smile too often or catch Alicia’s eye more than a friend should. It’s all about control, and Kalinda has a black belt in that.
It's a lawyer's skill, always looking for the technicality. In a sense, Peter's own infidelity has invalidated their marriage vows, and Alicia no longer feels bound by them. Maybe that’s why she sighs so contentedly when Kalinda finally kisses her; complicated friendships are the only kind Alicia has left.
Blake is the complication she can’t afford, and every day Kalinda feels just a little control slipping through her fingers. She masks the panic with indifference, tempted beyond reason by Alicia’s gentle questions, but unwilling to compromise herself any more than she already has been. It might be a relief to confide in someone, to share the story of Leela in the midst of Alicia’s overstuffed pillows and high thread count sheets, but it’s not really an option, and the truth dies a silent death on the tip of Kalinda’s tongue.
Peter tells her lies. Will tells her truths she can’t handle. But Kalinda, with her dark eyes and quiet voice, doesn’t tell Alicia much of anything at all. Sometimes, she thinks, that’s the greatest kindness anyone has shown her in the past year.
Maybe she’s just smarter than other people, or maybe Alicia is used to looking for the truth under the obvious, but she sees past the leather jackets and fuck-me boots that Kalinda has adopted as a de facto uniform. Men and women undress her with their eyes all the time, and she knows just how to use that to her advantage. With Alicia it’s different, somehow, and Kalinda has no idea how to manipulate that; it’s like Alicia actually sees her and that’s terrifying and a relief in roughly equal measures.
“Are you gay?” she asks, in the midst of tipsy conversation about the men that Alicia shouldn’t consider sleeping with. What she means, and hopefully what Kalinda understands is, “are you attracted to me?”. Alicia won’t admit it to anyone, but she wants to hear that, yes, Kalinda is attracted to her. Winning Kalinda’s attention feels like overcoming some kind of challenge, not like Peter with his possessive streak or Will with his rose-tinted nostalgia who’s in love with a twenty-two year old-one who no longer exists.
In the elevator, of all places. It's a ludicrous place to kiss someone, especially when you can't even be sure that they're into women, and even though you can access building security's files from your laptop to erase the grainy camera footage of it. Alicia freezes as Kalinda's lips make contact with her own, and the thoughts of cameras and surprises and what the hell are almost loud enough to be audible.
Just as Kalinda can bear to pull away, having greedily prolonged the contact for as long as possible-- if she's only going to kiss Alicia once, she wants enough to remember--Alicia starts kissing her back. It's a fierce kiss, one that defies anyone to tell Alicia that she doesn't know what she wants. Kalinda pulls Alicia closer with determined but shaking hands, unable to believe that a rush of blood to the head could have such amazing consequences. Not that she cares, of course. But as notches on the bedpost go, they don't come much more impressive than the dutiful Mrs. Florrick.
But Kalinda tells her inner soundtrack to shut up, because that kind of forced cynicism belongs to a different time. A time before someone left her fingerprints at a crime scene, before Alicia had proven herself to be a worthy adversary to just about any lawyer in Chicago. A time when Kalinda wouldn't have dreamed of hugging Alicia, never mind making out with her on the too-fast descent to the parking lot.
They arrive at the parking lot with a blast of frigid air that Alicia was hoping would force some sense into her. She doesn't even think to look around, to check for lucky spectators. She pulls away from Kalinda momentarily, but her lips are tingling with a distinct urge for more. Alicia feels dizzy, like she's on her fourth glass of wine, but nothing stronger than coffee has been past her lips today.
She looks up in time to catch it, the slow rising of Kalinda's defenses, and in desperation Alicia grabs her friend by the shoulders.
“Don't” is all she can say, a poorly-formed plea not to turn her world upside down and run. After all, Alicia's more used to people realigning her life and then sticking around to watch her survive it; she's basically asking Kalinda to join the ranks.
Kalinda wants to shake her head, she can hear her brain screaming the instructions to her neck muscles. Instead--surprising even herself--she takes a deep, shuddering breath and forces herself to relax a moment longer. She won't run, she won't leave Alicia unable to finish what Kalinda started; she's better than that.
“My car is less conspicuous” is the best she can offer, a hidden invitation that's as close as she comes to putting herself on the line. If Alicia laughs in her face, or drops Kalinda's hand instead of squeezing it like she is now in the half-darkness of the parking garage, Kalinda will shrug it off like a thousand other temporary setbacks. She'll stop playing favorites with the lawyers, giving most of her time to Alicia, and the firm won't notice the difference. Alicia can always have Blake, if Kalinda needs to take a step back and save both of their blushes.
She doesn't want to think about what it means when she's happy that Alicia says “yes” and follows her to the black SUV.
Alicia can't believe she's really doing this. Maybe it's curiosity run wild, a suppressed desire to know more about the mysterious Kalinda, but the throb between her legs suggests otherwise. This isn't a snooping expedition to Kalinda's home, because if Kalinda stops at some anonymous hotel, or steps things up right here in the car, Alicia already knows she's more than willing.
It's trust, she supposes. She can trust Kalinda because Kalinda will say nothing rather than lie to her. There's respect and something more between them, almost tangible in a way that Alicia's been scared to think about for too long, for fear of damaging it. She knows, even far removed from the early morning, that Will has not been the only star of her dreams lately.
Taking her home is a ludicrous idea, but Kalinda remembers the gossip blogs buzzing about Alicia and Will at a hotel check-in desk, and the roar of jealousy in her gut at the thought is shocking even to her. Kalinda thinks she believes Alicia's version of events, reserving just enough doubt to cover herself. Only thing worse than being wrong is to be wrong and a fool at the same time.
They walk quietly into Kalinda’s apartment, and she’s grateful that Alicia doesn’t comment on how surprisingly nice the neighborhood is. Just another assumption that Kalinda is shattering tonight, and she doesn’t know if there’ll be any left by morning; she already knows that Alicia will be gone long before the sun comes up.
Alicia feels the years of practiced small talk bubbling up as she steps inside the warm apartment, blinking at the warm glow of the lamps that Kalinda flicks on as they go. They could bask in the awkwardness a while, perhaps save themselves with a little wine and conversation. The kiss in the elevator could become just another topic to skirt around, to avoid bringing up in the first place.
All of a sudden, that’s the last thing Alicia wants.
She bites back compliments about the décor, forces every last excuse and the urge to bolt from her mind. That kiss is not something to be forgotten, or ashamed of. It didn’t taste like guilt or history, just the muted mint of Kalinda’s mouth and excitement. That kind of kiss is a beginning, not an ending.
So with the same determination that got her through excruciating press conferences and a city full of whispers behind her back, Alicia takes Kalinda’s hand once more and asks where the bedroom is. For a moment, Kalinda’s eyes go comically wide before she accepts, finally, that this isn’t some elaborate trick being played on her.
Kalinda stops thinking altogether as Alicia’s hands made their way under Kalinda’s shirt. There’s a time for doubts and consequences, they both know that only too well; that time just isn’t now.