The Good Wife Ficlet: Surreptitious
Title: Surreptitious
Author: pharmduh
Characters: Alicia/Will, Cary
Rating: T
Spoilers: Set post season 4 finale, "What's in the Box?"
Summary: Alicia is no stranger to subterfuge.
AN: This is my first Good Wife fic. In fact I haven't written any fic for years but I couldn't help it, Alicia is a fascinating character. As always, constructive feedback is welcome. Hope you enjoy.
--
Etymology of Surreptitious: Late Middle English: ‘obtained by suppression of the truth’ - from Latin surreptitius (from the verb surripere , from sub- ‘secretly’ + rapere ‘seize’)
They were careful not to mark each other.
Between hotel rooms and his apartment and hers, always careful.
Open-mouthed kisses. No teeth where the eye could see. Her palms lay flat on his back as she resisted the urge to dig in.
Alicia refused to leave anything behind in his home. She would arrive whole. He'd take her apart with his hands (and that mouth) and she would put herself back together again, every piece in place. Being a lawyer made her cautious. Being a mother made her paranoid.
If Will had noticed he never said a word, but sometimes when she had stood at his threshold (crossing over to a wife again) his eyes would regard her with something like regret. She was never sure what to make of it (they were wrong in many, many ways) but all she could do was kiss him, slowly, and swipe her thumb over his bottom lip to get her lipstick off. Once, with a smile he had grabbed her wrist and quipped, "It's ok, red is my color."
There was no room for regret in what they were doing.
At times he would kiss her with such sincerity, angling her chin just so as if to pour himself into her. He would leave her lips naked and bruised and she remembers thinking she could feel it--him--in her bones. That he was claiming her the only way he could. He was her boss. She was married.
She is married.
Now she will start once again with the lies (there are always lies). She'll sneak out to secret lunches (actual lunches), perfecting the art of betrayal.
Now all that's left in her bones is weariness. But weariness is better than regret.
There is no room for regret in what they are doing.
--
Thanks for reading.
Author: pharmduh
Characters: Alicia/Will, Cary
Rating: T
Spoilers: Set post season 4 finale, "What's in the Box?"
Summary: Alicia is no stranger to subterfuge.
AN: This is my first Good Wife fic. In fact I haven't written any fic for years but I couldn't help it, Alicia is a fascinating character. As always, constructive feedback is welcome. Hope you enjoy.
--
Etymology of Surreptitious: Late Middle English: ‘obtained by suppression of the truth’ - from Latin surreptitius (from the verb surripere , from sub- ‘secretly’ + rapere ‘seize’)
They were careful not to mark each other.
Between hotel rooms and his apartment and hers, always careful.
Open-mouthed kisses. No teeth where the eye could see. Her palms lay flat on his back as she resisted the urge to dig in.
Alicia refused to leave anything behind in his home. She would arrive whole. He'd take her apart with his hands (and that mouth) and she would put herself back together again, every piece in place. Being a lawyer made her cautious. Being a mother made her paranoid.
If Will had noticed he never said a word, but sometimes when she had stood at his threshold (crossing over to a wife again) his eyes would regard her with something like regret. She was never sure what to make of it (they were wrong in many, many ways) but all she could do was kiss him, slowly, and swipe her thumb over his bottom lip to get her lipstick off. Once, with a smile he had grabbed her wrist and quipped, "It's ok, red is my color."
There was no room for regret in what they were doing.
At times he would kiss her with such sincerity, angling her chin just so as if to pour himself into her. He would leave her lips naked and bruised and she remembers thinking she could feel it--him--in her bones. That he was claiming her the only way he could. He was her boss. She was married.
She is married.
Now she will start once again with the lies (there are always lies). She'll sneak out to secret lunches (actual lunches), perfecting the art of betrayal.
Now all that's left in her bones is weariness. But weariness is better than regret.
There is no room for regret in what they are doing.
--
Thanks for reading.