This Time

Characters: Alicia and Will, set immediately after 3x22 "The Dream Team"

Disclaimer: I own nothing, apart from the season one to three DVDs. Title and song lyrics are from "All In" by Lifehouse.

AN: So, I started watching The Good Wife in January – here we are in April, and I've all but devoured the first three seasons. I'm absolutely, 100% in love with the relationship between Will and Alicia, and although I have my doubts that I'll get to see their happy ending on screen (I don't know any season 4 spoilers so please don't tell me!), they've inspired me to take a step out of the Castle fandom where I've been writing most recently, and having just watched the season 3 finale, I was struck with this 'what if' scenario. As it's my first time writing the characters, I would absolutely love to hear what you think.

we've had each other's backs for too long

there's no giving up this time

Standing outside her old house, quietly watching Peter and the children through the window, Alicia struggles to identify the feeling fluttering low in her belly. By the time she starts her car engine and reverses out of the driveway, away from her family, she finds that she is still none the wiser.

The drive across the city passes in a blur, and it isn't until she is knocking on an all-too-familiar door (two short sharp knocks forming a code that sends a thrill jolting through her body), and the door swings open to reveal him that she finally starts to realise what that feeling was.

Not that she holds onto it for long.

"Hey," he greets her, his voice a low and relaxed evening rumble as a smile spreads slowly all the way from his eyes to his lips. She has to fight back a shiver as he wraps his fingers loosely around her wrist, drawing her inside before backing her up against his closed door. His palms flatten against the smooth, sleek wood on either side of her hips, close enough to touch.

And he does, crowding into her personal space like he owns it.

She makes no move to stop him.

"When you asked me if it was a mistake," she whispers as he leans forward, lips ghosting against hers as their noses bump, "in the elevator," she adds, tipping her head up a little to meet his kisses, "were you… referring to us starting this up again, or to our… relationship, in general?" she chokes out, already breathless from the lightest of his kisses.

"Does it matter?" he asks, the strong, sleek lines of his body pressing up against her as he lifts a hand to cradle the back of her skull. She lifts a hand that's shakier than she would like, and her fingers curl into the crook of his elbow, dipping under his rolled up sleeves. And damn, Will Gardner suited and booted and ready for court certainly does it for her, but the Will standing in front of her in a pale blue shirt unbuttoned two buttons too low for the office and jeans that look like they were made for him kicks her body into overdrive. "Does it matter, Alicia? Right now?" he husks against her ear, teeth catching the lobe and tugging gently.

"No," she breathes, her back arching as he slides his other hand round to the small of her back, his palm almost scalding even through the silk of her blouse. "Will," she whispers shakily, as his lips settle against the spot right beneath her ear that only he has ever been able to find. That only he, the most attentive lover she's ever had, has ever taken the time to find. Her knees feel like jelly, and his laughter against her skin sends another jolt of pleasure shooting through her body as he tightens his arm around her.

"How about we take this to the bedroom?" he murmurs, the index finger of his other hand hooking against her lip in the briefest of touches that she knows is intended to make a memory flood her senses.

Don't move.

"Does it count as role play if the characters we're playing our ourselves?" he breathes into her ear, pinning her against the door for a long moment before catching both of her hands and pulling her down the hallway as she realises that maybe that wasn't just in her head.

"I said that out loud?" she asks, just for clarification, and his laughter is all the answer she needs. She finds that she doesn't have it in her to be embarrassed when he only moves faster, and before she can quite wrap her head around it, she finds herself landing on her back on his sinfully comfortable bed.

His arms slide back into her vision as he braces his weight on either side of her, and then she sees the smile that she's now more than willing to admit that she thinks she's always loved. "What a memory it is," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss her again. "Reckon I can have you moaning that again? In my… bed, this time?" he asks, as his fingers trail a path of fire up and under the conservative hem of her skirt. The moan she lets out is anything but decent, and his lips find a home against her jaw because she doesn't have to be quiet.

Not here. Not now.

Her mind goes a little hazy, after that.

It isn't until after he's had her moaning that again, more than once, that they find themselves sharing a pillow and her breathing is finally beginning to return to normal. She has no idea how much time has passed, but when he speaks again his voice is coloured with night time. "How was the house?" he asks softly, and she finds herself empowered all over again by the fact that his voice sounds just as breathless as she feels. And as she contemplates his question and thinks back over the earlier evening, she finally manages to put a name to that fluttering feeling that she had felt outside the house.

Acceptance.

"I think… that Peter has finally accepted the separation," she tells him softly, watching a crooked smile spread across his incredibly satisfied face.

"So I heard," he murmurs, his wandering fingers finding a proprietary resting place at the top of her thigh even as she shivers against him. "Diane looked like she was about to fall over even after the deposition."

"You need to work on your poker face," she murmurs through the shivers his resting fingers cause. "Smug doesn't suit you, Gardner. Six months away from the law has clearly affected you," she adds teasingly, laughing at the look of affront on his face.

"Oh I'm only smug because of the noises you were making when my tongue-"

"Enough!" she laughs, her hand covering his mouth. His tongue flicks against her palm and she laughs harder, shoving on his shoulder to roll him away.

Secretly, she loves that he hasn't lost the playful edge he had in college, even after so many years.

"Can't handle the heat, 'Leesh?" he whispers, leaning down to brush a hint of a kiss against her lips, his fingers against her thigh now gentling rather than arousing.

"After you've scrambled my brains as thoroughly as you just did? I'm not ashamed to say no." She laughs, letting her fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck and smiling at the soft hum of contentment he lets out. Despite the strength of his personality, there's still a gentleness to him that she first glimpsed at Georgetown, and as she feels his muscles go loose against her she feels almost privileged that she gets to see this intensely private side to him.

"Scrambled your brains, huh?" he murmurs, pride and affection warring for prominence in his voice as he nuzzles into her neck, the heavy, relaxed weight of his thigh draped over hers.

Intoxicating. That's the word to describe a post-coital Will Gardner.

"Something like that," she laughs, hooking her arm gently around his neck as he settles down against her. "I'd say your mental powers took a hit back there too, though," she adds, fingers stroking a soothing path behind his ear as he chuckles his agreement. It had been a pleasant surprise to find out that he was a secret cuddler, and one who manages to strike the right balance between sweet and overbearing. There were no extremes, just a pleasant sense of warmth and security, and one that she was slowly growing addicted to all over again.

If she's being completely honest with herself, she's not sure that she's ever really gotten over her addiction to his hugs back in Georgetown, where he always was her antidote to a bad day. And seeing him as he is now, a managing partner in a law firm who's so strong and stoic and effortlessly composed in the office and the courtroom, she finds herself even happier that she's the one who gets to see this side of him.

Knowing the way that she feels now, she never should have broken it off in the first place (although she still stands by her reasons), and she's not quite stopped being thankful that they finally found the strength to get past everything that went wrong in the past and figure out exactly what it would take for things to go right.

Because good timing really does feel exceptional.

"Alicia?" he murmurs, and she realises he must have been calling her name when his fingers brush against her cheek, his head lifted from the crook of her neck. "Hey," he murmurs, letting his thumb graze her bottom lip as he smiles. "Where'd you go there?"

"Just thinking," she murmurs softly, pressing a kiss against his lips as he quirks an eyebrow at her. "About you, before you ask. And good stuff," she adds quickly, when he goes to ask another question. Laughing, he rolls onto his back, waving a hand in surrender before tugging her towards him. Settling on her side next to him, she trails a finger down his stomach, grinning as his muscles ripple beneath her fingers. He shoots her a warning grin, catching her fingers in his as he turns his head to face her.

Uh huh. Just as scrambled as she was.

"Seriously, though" he murmurs, letting his thumb graze over her knuckles gently. "How did it go, earlier?"

"It was...weird," she offers quietly. "Zach wanted me to stay, for pizza, and I... I was stood outside, watching the three of them through the window, and I just... I didn't know what it was at the time, but I realised that we've all accepted it, I guess."

"I can order you pizza if you want," he offers with a grin, giving her a moment of lightness that she didn't even realise she needed.

"Funny. And so not the point," she adds, although the rumbling of her stomach does nothing to help her cause. He laughs properly then, pushing up on his elbows.

"Regardless, it sounds like it's time for me to feed you," he grins, reaching for his boxers. "How does Chinese sound?" he asks, before she can even make the request.

"As long as you don't hog all the fried rice like last time, you've got yourself a deal," she murmurs, taking his shirt when he hands it to her and shrugging it on, feeling the heat of his gaze as she catches his fingers in hers. There's something about wearing his clothes that makes her almost ready to go, all over again. Slipping up against him, she snakes her arms around his waist, pushing up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

"Mm," he hums contentedly, both hands resting at her shoulder blades. "What was that for?"

"Just because," she murmurs softly, laughing softly as he leans down for another, slower kiss. They're interrupted by her stomach again, and she drops her forehead against his shoulder, laughing.

"Food," he murmurs, running a hand down her back before releasing her. "I know when to take a hint," he adds, fingers tangling lightly with hers again as they walk down to the kitchen. "So you're really okay, with Peter living in your old house?" he asks, once he's called in their food order and she's settled on one of the stools in his kitchen.

"I don't know," she tells him softly. One of their conditions, when they decided to give this a try for real, was honesty, from both sides. So they talk now, about the important things. "I think I'd be lying if I said I was happy with it, and there was part of me that wanted to stay, for the kids," she adds quickly, reaching out to lay her fingers on his arm, "but I think that it's good for them to see that we can still be a family, even though we're not together anymore."

"That sounds like a very mature approach," he murmurs softly, leaning over to kiss her lightly. "Would it sound patronising if I said that I'm proud of you?" he asks, grinning softly as she shoves him away. "Wrong choice of words, noted," he offers with a grin, moving across the kitchen to find a bottle of wine. "So Zach and Grace are taking it okay?"

"They seem to be," she agrees, watching the play of muscles in his back with admiration as he opens a bottle of wine. "I think that they both wish this wasn't how it worked out, but they're getting there. And if you wanted to say you were proud of them for their mature approach, that would be far less creepy." He laughs at that, turning back to her with a grin as he eases the cork from the bottle effortlessly.

"On the subject of creepy, you might want to work on curbing your staring habit," he shoots back, grinning at her. "Can't have you undressing me with your eyes at work." She gives him little more than a roll of her eyes for that, because he's just as guilty as she is on that behalf, if not more so. "But creepy habits aside, does this mean that we're still… on track?" he asks softly, passing her a glass of wine and leaning against the counter in front of her. Standing her glass down, she foregoes the wine in favour of curling her fingers against his cheek.

"After your suspension ends," she confirms softly, her thumb stroking against his eye. They made a plan - properly this time, sitting on the floor of his office in the dead of night, shoes and jackets discarded and beer in hand. More like Georgetown than she thinks they've ever been. And they decided that they would take the time until his suspension was over for themselves, time to figure out whether this time was for keeps. Then, once his suspension was up, her stipulation was that they would tell Grace and Zach first, and then take it from there.

It's exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time, because the last few weeks have been fantastic, and it's going better than she ever hoped that it would. They still have so much to figure out – work and Peter and the press and the rest of the world around them, but its feeling more like it could really, actually work than it ever has, with every day that passes.

"Can you believe you've only got two weeks to go?" she asks softly, watching with concern as it's his turn to drift somewhere far away from their conversation.

"It can't go fast enough," he confesses eventually, but there's a bittersweet edge to his voice even though his elation for returning to the law is shining clearly. She knows how much it means to him, and she's seen first-hand now that it's been harder for him than she thought it would be.

She's seen him punch a wall in frustration (she stopped him before he actually did any damage, to his hand or his office). She's watched him pace the corners of his living room because a case he'd put months of work into was in court and he wasn't and he couldn't stay in the office (it had really hurt her to leave him and go back to the office at the end of her lunch break that day).

She's watched him propped on his elbows above her in bed, half their clothes discarded as he ranted about how much he missed the law (he fell asleep exhausted before they even got to the sex, and she found that she didn't mind at all).

So for anything to be dampening his joy, it has to be serious.

"Lockhart Gardner is in trouble, isn't it?" she asks softly, the events of the day crashing back down around her. She knows it isn't good. "Will," she breathes, when his lack of answer tells her everything she needs to know. "You didn't… you should have said something sooner."

"Tonight was exactly what I needed, Alicia," he murmurs softly. "Don't for a second feel guilty about anything, because I wanted to be there for you." He pauses, and she lets her forehead rest against his cheek in silent acceptance, giving him a chance to gather his thoughts. Sometimes, it's easier not to say things face to face. "We're… I don't know how much trouble we're in exactly, but it's not good."

"Do you think we'll survive?" she asks softly, feeling his fingers tighten around hers.

"I hope so," he says quietly, dropping her hand to snake his arms around her. "Diane and I are going in tomorrow to thrash it out, figure out where the land lies. Hopefully we'll have a better idea then."

"Well you know…" she trails off, her I'm here if you need me going unsaid.

"I know," he agrees quietly, his nose bumping against hers affectionately as he kisses her slowly.

Time seems to spin on from there, as she lets him make out with her in his kitchen like they're a couple of teenagers, but by the time their food arrives his hand is under her shirt and she actually has to tell him don't move and really mean it. He doesn't, move that is, and the delivery boy has to ring the bell a second time before he manages to deliver their food.

She finds she isn't embarrassed at all.

He smirks at her over fried rice as she tries to pull herself back together and she kicks him under the kitchen counter, but there's a lightness in his eyes that begins to convince her that maybe this was the kind of night he needed.

Once the food is gone, they settle on his couch with the rest of the bottle of wine, but it's gentler than it was before and she finds herself leaning back against him, some soft, lyrical jazz playing in the background. The lights are low and romantic, and it's the type of evening that is everything she'd expected from the Will Gardner she thought she knew now, but nothing that she thought it would be all rolled into one.

"Hey, can I ask you something?" he asks quietly some time later, his fingers gentle on her shoulders as he works out some of the tension of her day. When she nods, he continues. "Would you have taken the job, with Canning?" his voice is quiet and a little hesitant, and when she turns her head to try and look at him she gets rewarded with one of his warmest smiles.

As he leans down to kiss her, she hopes it might have been a rhetorical question.

Or not.

"If Diane hadn't beaten his offer," he continues, "would you really have taken the job? Left Lockhart Gardner?" Left me, she thinks he's leaving unsaid.

"I think… at the time, I felt like I needed to do what was right for my family," she offers quietly. She knows that he remembers what it was like for her then, but she can see from his face that it's not quite what he wanted to hear. "Canning… what he was saying was offering me stability, for my family. He was promising me better hours, more money when I needed a deposit… it was a tempting proposition." She pauses, considering her next words carefully. "And then there's the fact that if I had taken the job, you wouldn't be my boss anymore..."

"And that would make this a lot easier," he summarises quietly, sounding resigned.

"It would," she agrees quietly.

"So you would've taken it?"

"It made sense on paper, but…" she pauses, thinking back. "It's easy to answer in hindsight, but I think that I don't like a lot of the work he does, or the people that he represents. I'm not sure that I believe that my workload or my hours would actually have been any less, and the fact that you wouldn't be my boss anymore would also have meant that we weren't working together."

"So you wouldn't have taken it?" he asks, his arms sliding around her shoulders, dragging her back against him in a hug.

"I hope I wouldn't," she says softly, "because when it comes down to it, I just don't like him that much." He laughs harder than she does at that, and she feels him nuzzling into her neck.

"And you do already have the best boss," he murmurs, pressing a line of soft, sucking kisses along her neck.

"Diane?" she asks, trying her hardest to keep a straight face, "yeah, she's pretty good…"

"Not what I meant," he growls, laughter in his voice, "and you know it." As he tackles her to the couch, part of her wants to ask why he asked, but a bigger part of her knows why and has a suspicion as to what's to come for Lockhart Gardner over the next few weeks and months, and there's something about the way he's relaxed and happy and honest with her despite it all that makes her want to let it rest and focus on the fact that they're finally in a relationship that actually has a fighting chance of making it.

Just for tonight, she thinks that maybe it's more important to focus on that.

And as he all but scoops her off the sofa and heads for his room, she has a suspicion that he's feeling the same.

"Just don't tell Diane what I'm about to do to convince you otherwise."

fin.