Backgammon
So - I wrote this right after Ghost aired. And I know it ignores the Olivia scene and what is now accepted to be O/A canon. But I don't care. We all have our OTP. And it's my birthday, so I can post if I want to.
I should note this is just a brief little work in never-to-be-completed progress.
Oh, thanks to idledandy for the shamelessly stolen icon. I'll give it back, I promise, but I needed one for this post.
It was getting to her. Two days and it was too much. Everything about the situation was infuriating, exasperating, irritating, aggravating, stimulating, captivating… Whoa - where did that come from? "Do you have to do that?" she blurted, trying to stop her train of thought as well as his distracting tic.
"What?" he asked, continuing to stroke his thigh absently.
"That, that… oh, just forget it and roll the damned dice."
"It's your turn - unless you want me to roll for you. You know, it couldn't hurt."
There it was again - that smug smirk. She had forgotten how insufferable he could be. It was one of the many things she had missed.
"So, what do you say - you want me to roll for you?"
She smacked the dice from his hand then gave them a determined shake. No one beat her three times in a row. Not in this lifetime or any other, she vowed, breaking into a grin of her own. Then she made the mistake of looking up.
There were times, when she was gone, that she tried to remember his eyes. Dark and brooding, clear and calculating, haunted and cloudy. And on those rare occasions, bright, dancing and dazzling. When she really wanted to punish herself, she'd remember that one night, when his eyes showed nothing but naked desire and then the morning after, only remorse and shame.
But now, tonight - there was something new. Or maybe forgotten. It had been so long since she'd felt it or seen it, she almost didn't recognize it. She knew she couldn't trust it.
Safety. Familiarity. Joy.
After a few blissful seconds, she jerked her gaze away from his and threw the traitorous cubes. Everywhere she looked was looming disaster. The board revealed only losing options. But one look up and the only thing she could focus on was how sexy and relaxed and calm he seemed, casually tapping his feet, rubbing his neck, smiling. What right did he have to be so happy?
"Didn't I ask you to stop doing that?" she finally snapped.
"Doing what, exactly - breathing?" he chuckled.
"You know damned well you're doing more than just breathing. Just… stop it."
"I can't help it if you're distracted," he leered, leaning back in his chair, stretching his muscular legs and broad shoulders.
"That's it - we're done!" she declared, tossing the backgammon board over. She moved over to the nightstand and began flipping through the room service menu. There was no way to make hotel food sexy, she reasoned, at least not in this dump. She pored over the dull menu as if it contained selections prepared by Daniel Boulud himself. Bland though her culinary options might be, they were, she reminded herself, the only thing available to her tonight.
"Wow, you are still a really bad loser."
"Pot, kettle, Detective," she countered, not missing a beat, even as she sensed him moving to stand behind her.
"Well, you certainly haven't lost that competitive instinct, but your retorts need a little work, Counselor."
Up until that moment, Alex Cabot hadn't realized she missed hearing that as much as hearing her own name.
I should note this is just a brief little work in never-to-be-completed progress.
Oh, thanks to idledandy for the shamelessly stolen icon. I'll give it back, I promise, but I needed one for this post.
It was getting to her. Two days and it was too much. Everything about the situation was infuriating, exasperating, irritating, aggravating, stimulating, captivating… Whoa - where did that come from? "Do you have to do that?" she blurted, trying to stop her train of thought as well as his distracting tic.
"What?" he asked, continuing to stroke his thigh absently.
"That, that… oh, just forget it and roll the damned dice."
"It's your turn - unless you want me to roll for you. You know, it couldn't hurt."
There it was again - that smug smirk. She had forgotten how insufferable he could be. It was one of the many things she had missed.
"So, what do you say - you want me to roll for you?"
She smacked the dice from his hand then gave them a determined shake. No one beat her three times in a row. Not in this lifetime or any other, she vowed, breaking into a grin of her own. Then she made the mistake of looking up.
There were times, when she was gone, that she tried to remember his eyes. Dark and brooding, clear and calculating, haunted and cloudy. And on those rare occasions, bright, dancing and dazzling. When she really wanted to punish herself, she'd remember that one night, when his eyes showed nothing but naked desire and then the morning after, only remorse and shame.
But now, tonight - there was something new. Or maybe forgotten. It had been so long since she'd felt it or seen it, she almost didn't recognize it. She knew she couldn't trust it.
Safety. Familiarity. Joy.
After a few blissful seconds, she jerked her gaze away from his and threw the traitorous cubes. Everywhere she looked was looming disaster. The board revealed only losing options. But one look up and the only thing she could focus on was how sexy and relaxed and calm he seemed, casually tapping his feet, rubbing his neck, smiling. What right did he have to be so happy?
"Didn't I ask you to stop doing that?" she finally snapped.
"Doing what, exactly - breathing?" he chuckled.
"You know damned well you're doing more than just breathing. Just… stop it."
"I can't help it if you're distracted," he leered, leaning back in his chair, stretching his muscular legs and broad shoulders.
"That's it - we're done!" she declared, tossing the backgammon board over. She moved over to the nightstand and began flipping through the room service menu. There was no way to make hotel food sexy, she reasoned, at least not in this dump. She pored over the dull menu as if it contained selections prepared by Daniel Boulud himself. Bland though her culinary options might be, they were, she reminded herself, the only thing available to her tonight.
"Wow, you are still a really bad loser."
"Pot, kettle, Detective," she countered, not missing a beat, even as she sensed him moving to stand behind her.
"Well, you certainly haven't lost that competitive instinct, but your retorts need a little work, Counselor."
Up until that moment, Alex Cabot hadn't realized she missed hearing that as much as hearing her own name.