A/N: Random snippets from an Alicia/Will love story that's probably very little canon, mainly denial-land. It's most likely an AU in which Peter doesn't exist and Will doesn't die. (So, definitely denial-land, then.) Not in any particular order; some are clearly Georgetown-era, others are ambiguous.
This is something I am considering adding to in the future, especially if you guys have ideas for snippets you'd like to see, but not until after anything I've already started is finished. ;)
Title and inspiration taken from the John Mayer song of the same name. The cinnamon toothpaste bit was inspired by a prompt of mine and an entry by ziplockbaggy in last summer's ficathon. I agreed with her that cinnamon toothpaste seemed fitting for Will, so I included it here, as well.
This is a birthday gift (albeit a few days late) for our girl Sab. I hope this is a good present, love. :) xoxo.
when you show me love / I don't need your words.
love ain't a thing / love is a verb.
The books, bound in royal hues of green and blue, spill out from his arms and onto the table. The two cups of coffee he's carrying remain mainly intact, with just a few drops falling onto the table. He wipes them away with his sleeve and smiles at the girl sitting across from him.
"Thanks for the coffee!" Alicia says cheerfully as he slides one of the paper cups over to her. She peers inside to check the contents: black coffee.
Will reaches into the pocket of his hoodie and places a handful of creamers and four different types of sweetener on the table. "I didn't know what you would want," he says apologetically.
Alicia smiles up at Will as she reaches for two creamers and one packet of sugar.
The next time he brings her coffee, he sets two creamers and one packet of sugar next to her cup.
"I'b sick" are the first words out of his mouth when Alicia calls to find out why he isn't ready to leave. "I dob't think I should go to class. I'b probably contagious," he says in between coughs and sneezes.
"Yeah, I'd say so," Alicia says. "Can I bring you anything?"
"No, I'b okay," he insists. "I have tissues and some cough syrup."
"I'll come by after Contracts," she insists back. "You sound awful."
"Leesh, I don't want to get you—sneeze—sick. Just stay home. I'll see you Monday."
But in true Alicia-I-do-what-I-want-Cavanaugh fashion, she's at his door only a few hours later, a grocery bag full of items in tow. She inspects his bottle of cough syrup momentarily before throwing it away (it's expired) and presents him with a whole host of medicine options, plus a sleeve of crackers, a box of popsicles, and a container of homemade tomato soup.
"How did you—?" he starts, staring at the container. "Tobato soup is by favorite when I'b sick."
"I know," Alicia replies, with a sly smile. "I called your sister."
"Which one? Oh by god, did you talk to Sara? I'b sure if she heard I'b sick she'll be sending in the National Guard."
She laughs. "No, no, I called Aubrey."
When the soup is warmed up, she sits with Will on the couch. He's perfectly capable of feeding himself, but he allows her to do it anyway, because he's sick and she wants to take care of him. When the first spoonful of soup touches his lips, he smiles.
"Good," he says, and Alicia smiles.
"Good," she repeats.
He arrives home from the firm not long after she does; only 45 minutes, anyway, but at this time of night, it seems like hours since he kissed her goodbye.
Alicia's in bed already, curled up in her normal sleeping position, her left arm tucked underneath the pillow. When he sees her, he closes the bedroom door behind him quietly, hoping not to disturb her.
Before he tiptoes to the bathroom to brush his teeth, Will takes the bunched-up sheet from the end of the bed and gently places it over her so that it will keep her warm until he can join her.
"Take the window seat," Alicia insists as Will stows their carry-on luggage in the overhead compartment.
"No," he insists. "You like it."
"So do you, but you always let me have it."
Will chuckles as he gently nudges her into the seat. "You can make it up to me later."
When the flight attendant comes around, Alicia smiles sweetly. "Could we get an extra packet of those peanuts? My husband just loves the honey roasted ones," she says, conjuring up her sweetest North Carolina drawl, reminiscent of her college days spent in Chapel Hill.
"Of course," he replies, and hands them several of the small yellow packets.
As Alicia takes a sip of her soda, Will kisses her on the cheek. "Now that's what I call making up for it."
Her head rests in his lap as he strokes her hair. She whimpers just a little, and he moves his hand to rub circles on her back.
"I'm so sick," she whispers, turning so she can look up at him. "I don't think I've ever been this sick in my entire life."
"I know, baby," he says soothingly. "You're going to be okay."
"Thanks for doing this," Alicia adds, and Will smiles down at her.
"There's nowhere I would rather be on a Friday night than sitting on the bathroom floor, holding your hair back," he assures her.
"There's no way that is true," she says, rolling her eyes before closing them again.
"Oh, but it is," he says softly, kissing her on the forehead. "It is."
He recognizes the scent as soon as he enters the apartment; it's that of his favorite cookie, the double chocolate ones with walnuts.
Alicia's sitting at the counter reading something on her laptop when Will wraps his arms around her from behind. She reaches up and holds his arm with her left hand as he presses his lips into her hair and places a soft kiss atop her head.
"Hi," she says softly, swiveling around on the stool to greet him face-to-face. Will smiles down at her and reaches to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her right ear.
"Hey," he replies. "I smell cookies."
"You smell correctly," she replies teasingly. "The first batch should be out of the oven soon."
"Why did you make cookies?" he asks, walking to the fridge.
Alicia smiles as she watches him pour a glass of milk. "You've had a rough week. I thought you could use a cookie."
Will sets the glass down on the counter and walks back to Alicia, cupping her face in his hands. "Thank you," he says sincerely, and she smiles against his lips as he kisses her. "You are the best girl in the entire world."
She's exhausted when her key turns in the lock sometime after one in the morning. This damn case, and the damn State's Attorney's office dragging it on with a never-ending list of witnesses. Alicia has been up half the night every night so far this week, and it looks like tomorrow might be the same if they don't make it through closing arguments.
Will is still awake, surprisingly, and he mutes SportsCenter when he hears the door close behind Alicia. "Hey," he says, standing up to greet her with a hug.
"I'm so tired," she says hoarsely, and when he pulls back from their embrace, he notices just how tired his wife really looks. "I just want to sleep. But I need to shower."
He turns the television off and tosses the remote onto the couch before following her into the bedroom. The bed looks tempting—too tempting, and he knows it—so he puts his arm around her shoulders and steers her toward the bathroom instead.
Alicia stands barefoot on the cold tile, her eyes closed in half-sleep, as Will unbuttons her blouse and unzips her skirt. She steps out of the puddle of clothing on the floor and into the shower, where the hot water sinks into her muscles.
Will steps into the shower behind her and places his hands on her head, gently tilting it back to wet her hair. He reaches for her shampoo and squeezes some into his hand before he massages it into her scalp.
When they've both rinsed off, he steps out of the shower first and grabs her towel, gently rubbing it over her skin to absorb the droplets of water.
Alicia smiles faintly as he does this, not just because it feels good, but because it's sweet and tender and loving and she so very appreciates the way Will is taking care of her when she doesn't have the energy to take care of herself.
Alicia breezes into his apartment with two bags of Chinese takeout and another bag from the pharmacy. Will shoves a stack of textbooks and study guides aside and begins to unpack the food as she removes a box of toothpaste from the pharmacy bag.
"What's that?" he asks, already having shoved half an egg roll into his mouth.
She takes the half-eaten egg roll from his mouth and puts it in her own, chewing and swallowing before she replies. "Toothpaste. For you. I noticed when I was here on Wednesday that you were low, so I picked it up. They had your favorite."
"Cinnamon," he muses, and smiles. "That was really thoughtful of you. Thank you."
"You're welcome," she says, kissing him on the cheek before she takes the toothpaste and puts it in its rightful spot in the medicine cabinet.
Will is chewing on the end of a pencil when Alicia enters his office, his eyes never leaving the documents in front of him. She notices that the pen holder on his desk is empty, meaning he's resorted to his least favorite writing utensil. Alicia gently removes the pencil from his grasp and replaces it with the pen she's holding.
He doesn't say anything as she takes a seat next to him on the couch, but a few moments later, he looks to her and smiles.
"Thank you," he adds, and Alicia smiles back.
She sits in the first row on the first base side, which puts her directly in Will's line of sight. Eight months ago, she knew nothing about baseball, at least nothing more than the fact that the Cubs were a team and her father had really loved to root for them.
But now, she's a self-proclaimed expert, at least as much of an expert as one should be when you're the girlfriend of the star pitcher on the Georgetown Club Baseball team.
Her dark hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail, a well-loved Orioles cap—his lucky one—perched on her head. The afternoon has grown cloudy, and she starts to wish she'd brought a jacket.
After he pitches a 3-2-1 first inning, he runs into the dugout, smiling at her the entire way. Moments later, he exits the dugout holding a hoodie, which he tosses to her. "You looked cold," he calls out.
"Thank you!" she calls back. "Great inning!"
Will tips his cap to her and disappears back into the dugout. Alicia holds the hoodie close to her face, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne.
When she puts it on, she feels its warmth all the way to her bones, almost as if his love for her is intertwined with the fibers of the sweatshirt.