A/N: Easing into fic for this fandom. Since I got some practice with Kalinda's voice in my last fic, Kalicia seemed like the safest next step. Let me know how I did!
I shouldn't have done it.
I liked Alicia. Very much. And it's not like I took pleasure in the idea of complicating her life - adding another moral dilemma to her already-extensive collection.
But she was always better at morality than me, and selflessness wasn't anywhere close to my best quality.
And she just looked so damn cute, giggling and stumbling, holding onto my arm as we weaved down the alley to the taxi I had called to take us from the bar, to our respective homes.
It made me want to kiss her, so even though I shouldn't have, I did. Her look of slight confusion as I pressed her against the brick of the nearest building was somehow both guilt-inducing, and delicious.
I imagined I could taste both curiosity and shame on her tongue when she opened her lips and offered it to me – more bold than I'd expected from her, liquor-saturated confidence behind the action. I drew every drop of intensity from the moment, probing her mouth, tracing her lips, firmly clutching her wool-skirted hips and enjoying the way she clung to me for a split second before we parted.
She regarded me with gin-hazy eyes then, jaw slack while she blinked in what might have been shock or arousal. My lipstick smudged her mouth.
"We… shouldn't have done that." She said it weakly, with a tremor in her voice. And it was true. She was married. Had kids. We worked together. And she was just a little bit in love with our boss. For all those reasons, having "done that" was almost certainly wrong.
"It was my fault," I offered. It was the least I could do, and not inaccurate. Alicia had been so busy steeling herself against Will's charms and affections, that she'd had a blind spot to mine. I'd surprised her with a whole new kind of adulterous feelings. "We've been drinking."
That was always the most convenient excuse.
She pushed off the wall, and wobbled for a second; I didn't take hold of her this time, just in case it wasn't welcome. We walked together in silence to the yellow cab, fog swirling in the cool November night.
The cabbie gave us a cursory glance in the rearview mirror as we climbed inside. "Where can I take you ladies?"
I gave him my address, settling back against the well-abused leather seat. His eyes flicked to Alicia, in question. When there was only silence, I glanced at her, too, and raised my eyebrows when I found her returning my gaze with intent.
"Just one stop," she murmured.
I shouldn't let her do it. She was drunk, and resentful of Peter and probably (although she'd never admit it) Will, too. And she'd feel bad in the morning. And it wouldn't be all my fault anymore.
But morals can be fickle things. And did I mention about me, and selflessness?
As the taxi pulled away from the curb, my fingers crept under the hem of her wool skirt, sliding smoothly over the pantyhose whose ruin tonight was inevitable.
Maybe I shouldn't. But I would.
And so would she.