Author's Note: I originally wrote this fic for one of Syb's prompts (Kalinda and Alicia go to IKEA) in the 2014 TGW Ficathon. Someone else responded to the prompt before I finished writing, so I never posted my fic. I forgot I'd written it until today, and I figured I'd share because (a) it was already finished and (b) Syb said I should. This is a short, silly little fic that exists in a TGW universe in which Alicia and Kalinda still interact and in which Kalinda's apartment hasn't yet received a makeover (see episode 6x05). Also, sorry the title is so unimaginative. I just wanted to get this posted.
It's Kalinda Sharma's first time at IKEA, and she hates it already. The store is big, boxy, bright, blue. The parking lot is massive and Kalinda can't help but observe the store's clientele: young families, college students—the middle class. She glances at Alicia, next to her, striding elegantly across the parking lot. Alicia's the first lady of Illinois. She most definitely does not belong here. Kalinda chuckles.
"You're out of your element."
"No, I think you are," Alicia retorts. Now it's Alicia laughing quietly to herself. They're only here because Alicia stopped by Kalinda's apartment the other night—new information in a case; a lawyer's life— and found that she barely owned any furniture (she wouldn't even get started on the lack of accessories. First things first.) After some judgmental glances and playful teasing, Kalinda admitted that she had ordered some minimalist furniture online and had it delivered. If it was any consolation, she'd said, she'd chosen it carefully. Off Alicia's continued horror, Kalinda had suggested the two go furniture shopping that weekend (Alicia didn't know it, but what Kalinda wanted was to make Alicia feel welcome. Having her company was nice). They'd decided on IKEA: simple, modern designs (with a hint of color!) that complemented the furniture Kalinda did have, plus affordable prices that ensured Kalinda wouldn't have to spend too much money to indulge Alicia.
And now they're at IKEA, walking through the doors. Alicia looks over toward the children's play area. She remembers how she came here with Peter when they first moved in together, how she'd looked at that very same ball pit and daydreamed about the day she'd come here with her children. Secretly, she likes it here. The recollection doesn't last long: Kalinda interrupts.
"What is a FÖRHÖJA?"
Alicia stares at the bin of desk supplies Kalinda's pointing to. Alicia's non-answer: "You've discovered one of the great mysteries of IKEA."
"One?"
"You really haven't been here before," Alicia responds as she starts up the staircase.
Kalinda doesn't know what she's looking at when they reach the top of the stairs. There are five separate living rooms, furnished and decorated, within view- little windows into different lives, each idyllic in its own way. Each painfully generic, too. Kalinda visits dozens of apartments a month for work. Now she knows that they're all filled with LIATORPs and NOCKEBYs and MALMs. Helpful.
"I love being in here," Alicia ventures. "You follow one path through the entire store. It's organized. You get to see everything."
"We're not getting out of here any time soon, you're saying."
Alicia side-eyes her. "You could at least try to enjoy it."
"Fine," Kalinda mutters as she walks over to the first coffee table she spots. "I really need a VEJMON, Alicia."
"No," Alicia says. "You need two VEJMONs."
Kalinda looks at her quizzically. "And why is that?"
"Symmetry."
"I need two coffee tables?"
"It was all the rage back in Highland Park," Alicia says dryly, and Kalinda realizes she's making a joke.
"I'll keep that in mind," Kalinda replies, quickly following the arrows on the floor into the next show room. She selects a plain, sleek coffee table and scribbles down its name in her blue notebook. (She's heard enough about this place to know that's how it works.)
"There," she proclaims unceremoniously. "Coffee table."
"Kalinda. Really?" Kalinda is acting just like Grace did when Alicia dragged her here to furniture shop for the new apartment, and Alicia's not amused. But Kalinda's already marched off to the next room and selected a bookcase. It's by sheer coincidence that it matches the coffee table, and Alicia sighs.
"Bookshelf. Read anything good lately?"
"I... Yes, as a matter of fact." Alicia's too startled by the question to provide a title.
"Great. Desk. Mirror. Chair. Lamp."
Alicia can barely keep up. There's no discernable rhyme or reason to what Kalinda's selecting, but it's all working together somehow. Alicia slows down as she tries to come up with an explanation for why this is happening. Kalinda knows what she likes and has specific standards, and so all of her selections are linked in that respect, Alicia decides.
It takes fifteen minutes, tops, before Kalinda has a complete list. She's even selected a few accessories.
"Wow, Kalinda. You've sucked the fun out of IKEA," Alicia states. "I could spend a whole day here trying to get everything just right."
"Why would you?" asks Kalinda, heading for the nearest shortcut.
"Kalinda, indulge me for a second? I want to look at this." Alicia's motioning to the Children's IKEA section—precisely the section Kalinda's tried to avoid.
"Your kids are teenagers, Alicia. It'd be illogical to buy anything there," says Kalinda sharply.
"I know," Alicia replies wistfully. "You're right."
A pause, followed by another, "you're right." Kalinda senses she's struck a nerve, and so it's back to the jokes about how silly the names of the furniture sound coming out of the mouths of non-Swedish speakers.
"That play kitchen is called a DUKTIG," Kalinda ventures as she watches Alicia shake off her emotions yet again.
"Do you think these words have any relevance to the products? I would love to know," Alicia responds. One of those questions meant to keep a conversation going that betrays an actual interest in the subject. "They are real words, right?"
"Yeah. Places, names. There's a whole system."
Alicia looks at her in amazement.
"I thought you'd never been here."
"I haven't . The shortcut," Kalinda segues so abruptly Alicia's not sure how to react. Kalinda wins this one—the two take the shortcut (which, from where they're standing, is no shortcut at all) to the self-serve warehouse.
The warehouse operates smoothly, thanks to the system that the store's perfected over the years. Helpers eagerly pitch in when need be, and the whole ordeal only takes a few minutes. Alicia's pleased by the efficiency (if only bureaucracy worked this way!) and Kalinda's pleased that they're almost done. The checkout lines are miraculously short and Kalinda rushes past the food and the ice cream, wanting to spend time with Alicia but not wanting to spend another second in the store.
"So. That's IKEA." Kalinda sighs, exhausted, as she and Alicia exit the store pushing stuffed, oversized shopping carts.
A playful smile crosses Alicia's face: "Oh, Kalinda. You know that the products are named after different places, but no one told you that trying to put the furniture together is the hardest part?"