Ember -- a TGW fic
Title: Ember
Author: sweetjamielee
Fandom: The Good Wife
Pairing: Kalinda/Alicia, references to Alicia/Will
Word Count: ~2000
Spoilers: Ham Sandwich (2x17) and beyond, sorta.
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: M
Summary: It isn’t enough to be the cause of Alicia’s downward spiral - she might as well be a part of it.
A/N: Began this for the Porn Battle XII (prompt: cigarette), obviously finished very late, mostly on the airplane on the way to vacation. I sort of think of this one as an unofficial prequel to Bare, but yanno. Any angry, bitter sexing between these two can work as a standalone. In my humble opinion.
Unbeta'd and irredeemable.
--
Alicia’s changed since she left Peter; it’s only obvious if you know her. Her lipstick’s a little darker, hair a bit fuller. It’s hard to tell if her heels are taller or if she’s just… lifted, spine straight, chin up. And there are those looks she gives Will in the moments between all the professional. Carnivorous, like it’s been too long since her last meal.
They’re fucking, Kalinda knows it. She can see it in those looks, in Will’s looser swagger. It should feel like a victory, really - Kalinda’s parting gift, the consolation after unintentionally tearing the other part of Alicia’s world down.
Of course, Alicia has looks for Kalinda, too. But they’re not quite as easy to decipher.
What Kalinda really wants to do is stay as separate as possible, give Alicia space to be angry and fuck Will and do whatever else it is that she needs to do. Give herself space to remember the person she used to be and wants to be again, the one who never did anything as stupid as get attached to a relationship that was always doomed.
But there’s been something brewing between them. And for whatever reason, Alicia Florrick is a particularly difficult habit to break. That’s why Kalinda’s powers of perception always seem pulled squarely to the one woman she should really forget.
She knows Alicia’s perfumes, knows the scent of her fabric softener, her lotion, her shampoo. All these are things she’s used to, so the first time she smells smoke she writes it off as a fluke. Alicia must have been lingering too close to the smoke-break area of the courthouse (ten feet from the building at all times, thank you for your cooperation), or spent a long briefing session with a cigar-smoking client. The second time could have been a coincidence, but the third time Kalinda knows with nary a doubt that Alicia Florrick is being a bad girl.
Kalinda is no stranger to self-destructive habits, not even this one - when Alicia walks past, Kalinda remembers hazy drags in high school toilet stalls, cigarettes passed inside crowded cars.
She eventually stopped. Not because it was bad for her. She quit because she hated craving anything.
But now, the scent of it stirs something deep inside her.
--
Kalinda’s unquiet mind perseverates on the details. The investigator in her wants visible evidence of Alicia’s dirty little secret… rock solid proof. But mostly she just wants to see Alicia being a little improper.
She would do it somewhere that no one would see; after all, there’s still an image to maintain. Not in the building, not in the break areas, not in…
The alley. The one behind the building, the one that everyone avoids for its dinginess and faint sewer smell. The one that stays empty aside from early deliveries and God only knows what in the wee hours. It’s positively seedy. That’s where Alicia’s conducting her dirty business.
This, Kalinda has to see.
They’ve both been busy all day, high profile cases, can’t afford to be sloppy. But Kalinda observes Alicia fidgeting just a little during their late afternoon briefing, checking her watch a time or two more than usual. When the meeting’s finally over she doesn’t make small talk with the partners, simply slips out. Kalinda makes sure no one’s paying attention first and then follows her, quiet as a ghost, staying at least a floor behind as they descend the stairs down, down further to the ground level. Then past the information desk, back through the hallways where things get less business-like and more nuts-and-bolts functional.
The road less traveled.
When Kalinda sees Alicia head for the boiler room that contains the exit to the alley, she’s momentarily filled with a muted triumph that she was right, before realizing she’s not quite sure how she should proceed. Yes, she wants the visual, but Alicia will be pissed at the invasion of her privacy. At Kalinda’s very presence.
Well. Not like there’s really anything left to lose. So Kalinda pushes her way through the door, out into the humid summer air.
The alley’s narrow, and the towering buildings to either side put everything in shadows, make it seem later and darker than it is. And sure enough, standing in the middle of the oily, gravelly pavement with her expensive pumps and perfectly styled hair is Alicia Florrick, lit cigarette between her fingers.
Alicia seems unsurprised at the intrusion, stares Kalinda right in the eye as she brings the cigarette to her lips and takes a long pull, the tip glowing bright in the dim alley.
“That stuff will kill you.” Kalinda’s trying for nonchalance; thinks she’s successful. She lets the door fall shut behind her; crosses her arms and takes a step closer.
Another puff, and a cool look. “I know you’re not lecturing me.”
Kalinda makes a decision to commit and moves so she’s only a few paces away, now in the haze of smoke. There is a yearning like an itch, sharp under her skin, even though she hasn’t been tempted to smoke for years. The outline of the pack shows through Alicia’s jacket pocket, and Kalinda nods at it - a request.
There’s a beat where she thinks maybe Alicia will tell her to fuck off (politely, of course), to leave her alone, to go buy her own damn cigarettes. Kalinda only ever gave it half a chance that Alicia would offer her one from the pack, and she raises her eyebrow when instead, Alicia extends her hand - the one holding the already-smoldering cigarette.
It feels odd in Kalinda’s fingers when she takes it - like a memory, not as substantial as it should be. Alicia’s lipstick rims the filter. Kalinda imagines she can taste it when she brings it to her mouth and breathes in, holding Alicia’s gaze the entire time. The smoke burns hot in her lungs, in her heart. She lingers with it for a moment before handing it back to its rightful owner.
“So. Did you want something?” asks Alicia, flicking the ash that remains from Kalinda’s puff onto the gravel. “Or did you just need a fix that badly?” She’s trying the nonchalance game too.
Kalinda figures neither option’s more false than the other. “Yeah.”
There’s an anticipatory few seconds before Alicia seems to remember that Kalinda doesn’t give straight answers, and sighs. “What should I do with you?” Her voice is musing, and she’s giving that look again… the one that could be simple antipathy, but has that predatory, challenging edge that she owns right now. “I haven’t quite figured it out.”
Kalinda shrugs. She already wants another hit - another taste - but she won’t ask for it. “I think you’re doing it.”
And it’s true. It’s all masochism, every little thing each of them has been doing. Otherwise, Alicia would have left the second Kalinda came out into this alley; Kalinda never would have came here to begin with. It isn’t enough to be the cause of Alicia’s downward spiral - she might as well be a part of it.
There’s a dark amusement to Alicia’s expression, side by side with the usual disdain (or whatever the hell it is). With a small wave of the cigarette, she gives Kalinda the original explanation she didn’t ask for. “I find it relaxes me. Figure I deserve it sometimes.”
Bullshit. That might be part of it, but Kalinda knows the smoking is mostly another small rebellion, a ‘fuck you’ to the universe. Still.
There’s no air moving out here; it’s too warm, acrid. It makes Kalinda feel restless. Reckless. “There are better ways.”
This is a thing that Alicia should know - after all, it’s what she’s been doing with Will. But Kalinda suspects that if what she is doing with Will were truly scratching her itch, she wouldn’t be out here in the first place.
Dangerous games, are these. It’s like playing with matches… Kalinda knows better, but the fire’s hypnotizing. She wants Alicia to scream at her, slap her, just do it already, because it’s always been coming. They both need it.
Alicia’s head tilts. There was a time when she would have backed down, but she’s different now, and backing down isn’t her thing anymore. “Are you going to show me?”
Her eyes are the brightest thing in this alley, glowing like hot coals. Everything she does now is an ultimatum. Everything says do it. Do it, I dare you.
Kalinda should really walk away.
She doesn’t.
--
There’s something gratifying about the way Alicia backs herself up against the brick building without thought, when surely she’d normally balk at the filthiness of it, the way it will dirty and snag the fine material of her clothes. There’s something inflaming about the rasp to her voice when she commands rip it, as Kalinda’s fumbles under her skirt to find the elastic of her pantyhose. Alicia’s cigarette remains clasped between her fingers, smoke furling up high, but she holds it out and away where the tip ashes over.
Kalinda wonders briefly if she’ll get burned. But she has more pressing concerns.
Alicia’s wet - shockingly so, the experimental fingers Kalinda gets under her panties gliding easily - so Kalinda feels justified in forgoing the warm-up. She’s got two fingers inside her and a thumb circling her clit in the space of one shuddering curse.
There’s a siren somewhere in the distance, the generators for the building’s air conditioning unit a constant, monotonous grind. The smoke and the musty mildew odors fade to the background and all Kalinda can smell is Alicia’s perfume, her arousal; all she can hear are her sharp pants.
Alicia is flushed, thrusting, but doesn’t look impressed enough yet, so Kalinda leans in, tilts her hand, changes the pressure. And because it’s right there, she pushes her open mouth against the hot pulse of Alicia’s throat.
Something about it does the trick. The cigarette falls from Alicia’s fingers to the cement and her back arches, and it’s suddenly, desperately important to Kalinda that this is the dirtiest thing Alicia has ever done.
The word that Alicia grunts when she comes is the dirtiest Kalinda’s ever heard from her. She takes it as a sign of success, and it’s right now when the vast, aching emptiness of what she feels for Alicia makes a full metastasis into voracious need.
The moments after sex have the most potential to be awkward, Kalinda knows, but the brilliance about the two of them is that it’s impossible to get any more so than it has been - even with the ripped pantyhose, even with the smudge of Kalinda’s lipstick on Alicia’s neck. It’s been a small catharsis, but not enough. Never enough.
Alicia eyes the ground darkly as she tugs her clothes back into position, brushes the dirt off. “You owe me another cigarette,” she says.
It could almost be funny. Kalinda shrugs as she wipes her fingers against the fabric of her skirt. They still feel hot - everything feels hot, and she wants things. She wants them badly. “Sorry. I don’t smoke.”
This does make Alicia burst out into a humorless little laugh; she does, in fact, seem a little more relaxed. “I see. Something else, then.”
She’s right - Kalinda does still owe her a little something more. And after their smoke break, maybe Alicia owes her a little something, as well.
Kalinda crushes the butt of the fallen cigarette under the sole of her boot on the way back into the building. She’s not sure this one will be so easy to kick.
She’s not sure that she wants to.
--
Author: sweetjamielee
Fandom: The Good Wife
Pairing: Kalinda/Alicia, references to Alicia/Will
Word Count: ~2000
Spoilers: Ham Sandwich (2x17) and beyond, sorta.
Genre: Angst/Romance
Rating: M
Summary: It isn’t enough to be the cause of Alicia’s downward spiral - she might as well be a part of it.
A/N: Began this for the Porn Battle XII (prompt: cigarette), obviously finished very late, mostly on the airplane on the way to vacation. I sort of think of this one as an unofficial prequel to Bare, but yanno. Any angry, bitter sexing between these two can work as a standalone. In my humble opinion.
Unbeta'd and irredeemable.
--
Alicia’s changed since she left Peter; it’s only obvious if you know her. Her lipstick’s a little darker, hair a bit fuller. It’s hard to tell if her heels are taller or if she’s just… lifted, spine straight, chin up. And there are those looks she gives Will in the moments between all the professional. Carnivorous, like it’s been too long since her last meal.
They’re fucking, Kalinda knows it. She can see it in those looks, in Will’s looser swagger. It should feel like a victory, really - Kalinda’s parting gift, the consolation after unintentionally tearing the other part of Alicia’s world down.
Of course, Alicia has looks for Kalinda, too. But they’re not quite as easy to decipher.
What Kalinda really wants to do is stay as separate as possible, give Alicia space to be angry and fuck Will and do whatever else it is that she needs to do. Give herself space to remember the person she used to be and wants to be again, the one who never did anything as stupid as get attached to a relationship that was always doomed.
But there’s been something brewing between them. And for whatever reason, Alicia Florrick is a particularly difficult habit to break. That’s why Kalinda’s powers of perception always seem pulled squarely to the one woman she should really forget.
She knows Alicia’s perfumes, knows the scent of her fabric softener, her lotion, her shampoo. All these are things she’s used to, so the first time she smells smoke she writes it off as a fluke. Alicia must have been lingering too close to the smoke-break area of the courthouse (ten feet from the building at all times, thank you for your cooperation), or spent a long briefing session with a cigar-smoking client. The second time could have been a coincidence, but the third time Kalinda knows with nary a doubt that Alicia Florrick is being a bad girl.
Kalinda is no stranger to self-destructive habits, not even this one - when Alicia walks past, Kalinda remembers hazy drags in high school toilet stalls, cigarettes passed inside crowded cars.
She eventually stopped. Not because it was bad for her. She quit because she hated craving anything.
But now, the scent of it stirs something deep inside her.
--
Kalinda’s unquiet mind perseverates on the details. The investigator in her wants visible evidence of Alicia’s dirty little secret… rock solid proof. But mostly she just wants to see Alicia being a little improper.
She would do it somewhere that no one would see; after all, there’s still an image to maintain. Not in the building, not in the break areas, not in…
The alley. The one behind the building, the one that everyone avoids for its dinginess and faint sewer smell. The one that stays empty aside from early deliveries and God only knows what in the wee hours. It’s positively seedy. That’s where Alicia’s conducting her dirty business.
This, Kalinda has to see.
They’ve both been busy all day, high profile cases, can’t afford to be sloppy. But Kalinda observes Alicia fidgeting just a little during their late afternoon briefing, checking her watch a time or two more than usual. When the meeting’s finally over she doesn’t make small talk with the partners, simply slips out. Kalinda makes sure no one’s paying attention first and then follows her, quiet as a ghost, staying at least a floor behind as they descend the stairs down, down further to the ground level. Then past the information desk, back through the hallways where things get less business-like and more nuts-and-bolts functional.
The road less traveled.
When Kalinda sees Alicia head for the boiler room that contains the exit to the alley, she’s momentarily filled with a muted triumph that she was right, before realizing she’s not quite sure how she should proceed. Yes, she wants the visual, but Alicia will be pissed at the invasion of her privacy. At Kalinda’s very presence.
Well. Not like there’s really anything left to lose. So Kalinda pushes her way through the door, out into the humid summer air.
The alley’s narrow, and the towering buildings to either side put everything in shadows, make it seem later and darker than it is. And sure enough, standing in the middle of the oily, gravelly pavement with her expensive pumps and perfectly styled hair is Alicia Florrick, lit cigarette between her fingers.
Alicia seems unsurprised at the intrusion, stares Kalinda right in the eye as she brings the cigarette to her lips and takes a long pull, the tip glowing bright in the dim alley.
“That stuff will kill you.” Kalinda’s trying for nonchalance; thinks she’s successful. She lets the door fall shut behind her; crosses her arms and takes a step closer.
Another puff, and a cool look. “I know you’re not lecturing me.”
Kalinda makes a decision to commit and moves so she’s only a few paces away, now in the haze of smoke. There is a yearning like an itch, sharp under her skin, even though she hasn’t been tempted to smoke for years. The outline of the pack shows through Alicia’s jacket pocket, and Kalinda nods at it - a request.
There’s a beat where she thinks maybe Alicia will tell her to fuck off (politely, of course), to leave her alone, to go buy her own damn cigarettes. Kalinda only ever gave it half a chance that Alicia would offer her one from the pack, and she raises her eyebrow when instead, Alicia extends her hand - the one holding the already-smoldering cigarette.
It feels odd in Kalinda’s fingers when she takes it - like a memory, not as substantial as it should be. Alicia’s lipstick rims the filter. Kalinda imagines she can taste it when she brings it to her mouth and breathes in, holding Alicia’s gaze the entire time. The smoke burns hot in her lungs, in her heart. She lingers with it for a moment before handing it back to its rightful owner.
“So. Did you want something?” asks Alicia, flicking the ash that remains from Kalinda’s puff onto the gravel. “Or did you just need a fix that badly?” She’s trying the nonchalance game too.
Kalinda figures neither option’s more false than the other. “Yeah.”
There’s an anticipatory few seconds before Alicia seems to remember that Kalinda doesn’t give straight answers, and sighs. “What should I do with you?” Her voice is musing, and she’s giving that look again… the one that could be simple antipathy, but has that predatory, challenging edge that she owns right now. “I haven’t quite figured it out.”
Kalinda shrugs. She already wants another hit - another taste - but she won’t ask for it. “I think you’re doing it.”
And it’s true. It’s all masochism, every little thing each of them has been doing. Otherwise, Alicia would have left the second Kalinda came out into this alley; Kalinda never would have came here to begin with. It isn’t enough to be the cause of Alicia’s downward spiral - she might as well be a part of it.
There’s a dark amusement to Alicia’s expression, side by side with the usual disdain (or whatever the hell it is). With a small wave of the cigarette, she gives Kalinda the original explanation she didn’t ask for. “I find it relaxes me. Figure I deserve it sometimes.”
Bullshit. That might be part of it, but Kalinda knows the smoking is mostly another small rebellion, a ‘fuck you’ to the universe. Still.
There’s no air moving out here; it’s too warm, acrid. It makes Kalinda feel restless. Reckless. “There are better ways.”
This is a thing that Alicia should know - after all, it’s what she’s been doing with Will. But Kalinda suspects that if what she is doing with Will were truly scratching her itch, she wouldn’t be out here in the first place.
Dangerous games, are these. It’s like playing with matches… Kalinda knows better, but the fire’s hypnotizing. She wants Alicia to scream at her, slap her, just do it already, because it’s always been coming. They both need it.
Alicia’s head tilts. There was a time when she would have backed down, but she’s different now, and backing down isn’t her thing anymore. “Are you going to show me?”
Her eyes are the brightest thing in this alley, glowing like hot coals. Everything she does now is an ultimatum. Everything says do it. Do it, I dare you.
Kalinda should really walk away.
She doesn’t.
--
There’s something gratifying about the way Alicia backs herself up against the brick building without thought, when surely she’d normally balk at the filthiness of it, the way it will dirty and snag the fine material of her clothes. There’s something inflaming about the rasp to her voice when she commands rip it, as Kalinda’s fumbles under her skirt to find the elastic of her pantyhose. Alicia’s cigarette remains clasped between her fingers, smoke furling up high, but she holds it out and away where the tip ashes over.
Kalinda wonders briefly if she’ll get burned. But she has more pressing concerns.
Alicia’s wet - shockingly so, the experimental fingers Kalinda gets under her panties gliding easily - so Kalinda feels justified in forgoing the warm-up. She’s got two fingers inside her and a thumb circling her clit in the space of one shuddering curse.
There’s a siren somewhere in the distance, the generators for the building’s air conditioning unit a constant, monotonous grind. The smoke and the musty mildew odors fade to the background and all Kalinda can smell is Alicia’s perfume, her arousal; all she can hear are her sharp pants.
Alicia is flushed, thrusting, but doesn’t look impressed enough yet, so Kalinda leans in, tilts her hand, changes the pressure. And because it’s right there, she pushes her open mouth against the hot pulse of Alicia’s throat.
Something about it does the trick. The cigarette falls from Alicia’s fingers to the cement and her back arches, and it’s suddenly, desperately important to Kalinda that this is the dirtiest thing Alicia has ever done.
The word that Alicia grunts when she comes is the dirtiest Kalinda’s ever heard from her. She takes it as a sign of success, and it’s right now when the vast, aching emptiness of what she feels for Alicia makes a full metastasis into voracious need.
The moments after sex have the most potential to be awkward, Kalinda knows, but the brilliance about the two of them is that it’s impossible to get any more so than it has been - even with the ripped pantyhose, even with the smudge of Kalinda’s lipstick on Alicia’s neck. It’s been a small catharsis, but not enough. Never enough.
Alicia eyes the ground darkly as she tugs her clothes back into position, brushes the dirt off. “You owe me another cigarette,” she says.
It could almost be funny. Kalinda shrugs as she wipes her fingers against the fabric of her skirt. They still feel hot - everything feels hot, and she wants things. She wants them badly. “Sorry. I don’t smoke.”
This does make Alicia burst out into a humorless little laugh; she does, in fact, seem a little more relaxed. “I see. Something else, then.”
She’s right - Kalinda does still owe her a little something more. And after their smoke break, maybe Alicia owes her a little something, as well.
Kalinda crushes the butt of the fallen cigarette under the sole of her boot on the way back into the building. She’s not sure this one will be so easy to kick.
She’s not sure that she wants to.
--