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Lift You From My Mind

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Will opens his apartment door and beams at Frankie.

“Hey, I was beginning to get worried. What took you so long?”

“Ugh. Don't ask. The pizza took forever.” She deposits the large pizza box into his awaiting hands while he stands aside to let her in. Will walks over towards the kitchen island while Frankie takes off her coat and throws it over a chair.

“You didn't order pineapple again, did you?” He lifts the lid only to close it again a heartbeat later and shoot her a dark look.

Frankie shrugs. “Relax, it's only on my half.”

“You know the taste spreads over the whole pizza.”

“Well, next time you can go get it and freeze your ass off in the process.”

“Fine.” Will can see her rubbing her hands together. “Do you want me to start a fire?”

“No, it's fine. Can I borrow one of your sweaters?”

“Are you going to keep it again?”


“Then no.”

Frankie walks backwards into the direction of his bedroom. “What?” She holds a hand up to her ear, pretending not to hear him.

Will rolls his eyes and starts to get plates out of the cupboard.

“Hey! Where’s my sweatshirt?” Frankie calls from the bedroom.

Will can’t help but smile to himself. “Which one of my sweatshirts is your sweatshirt?” He calls back.

“The blue one with the hole in the right cuff!”

He rolls his eyes. “First drawer!”

“Found it!”

Will shakes his head and sets the pizza down on the coffee table. Next, he walks over into the kitchen and choses a red wine from the shelve. He’s just opening the bottle when Frankie comes back into the living area.

“This smells differently.” She holds the collar of his sweater up to her nose and takes a deep breath.

“It’s my new fabric softener. It got a really great review in -”

“Ugh, stop.” She holds up her hands and starts to roll back the sleeves. “I don’t care about what you read in Housewives Weekly.”

Will can see her roll her eyes but by now he’s 90% sure that she does so with affection.

“What are we watching?” She asks as she walks towards him.


“No. No way.”

He looks up at her sharp tone and sees her shaking her head. And opposed to a moment ago, when she was teasing him about fabric softener, she is serious.

“Hey, you lost your veto, remember?! I won the bet. My choice.” He reminds her.

Frankie groans and Will tilts his head. This wasn't her usual level of contempt for whatever movie he chose. That usually involved a lengthy and rather entertaining rant before she reluctantly settled onto his couch. But the way she lost her teasing half smile, his second favourite of her smiles, and moves around his apartment with a frown on her face makes him wonder if watching Casablanca is a mistake.

She doesn’t say anything though as she wordlessly gets two wine glasses out of the cabinet and puts them down next to him on the counter.

“Thanks. Can you get the-“

Frankie already has the drawer next to the fridge open and holds up the paper napkins. “Got them.”

Will smiles and pours the wine. “I think we're good to go.”




Frankie sinks further and further into the couch cushions as the movie goes on. With Will in one corner she uses the rest of the space to make herself comfortable until she is settled against his shoulder.

Still, she wriggles around uncomfortably.

“What are you doing?”

“There's something digging into my back...,” She trails off and instead reaches for the small of her back. After a little manoeuvring she pulls a knife from under her belt and triumphantly holds it up for him to see. She lets it fall onto the coffee table and leans back against him with a relaxed sigh.

“That's better.”

Will is still eyeing the knife. “What's that for?”

“You know... In case I need to defend myself.”

“You mean your charming demeanour isn't enough?”

Frankie gently punches his ribs beneath her head.

“Ow, fine, I take it back.” Will catches her fist in his hand before she can do any real damage. He strokes over her knuckles before he lets go. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t pull away either.




The combination of pizza, wine, warmth, and a really old and slow-going movie makes Frankie drowsy to the point where she drifts off. Will tries his best to stay still, but after ten minutes his arm is falling asleep. He gently pulls it out from under Frankie, careful not to jostle her, but she wakes up anyway.

“What are you doing?” She sleepily lifts her head.

“It's okay. My arm fell asleep.” He turns his upper body in her direction and pulls on her shoulders so that her head rests more against his chest instead of his arm. When she actually stays that way, Will puts his tingling arm up on the back of the couch.

Frankie sighs.

Will casts an alternating look between the screen and the top of her head. He can’t see her face, but from her breathing he gathers that she’s awake.

“This was my Mom’s favourite movie. We used to watch this whenever my Dad was away on a trip.” Her voice is so faint, Will almost misses it.

“Have you watched it since then?” He kept his voice equally calm.

“No. This is the first time.”

Will lowers his arm down from the back of the couch, letting it rest along her own and over her abdomen.

On the screen Ilsa is just explaining to Rick why she had to leave him behind in Paris.

Will's thumb moves back and forth over her stomach where his hand has come to rest. If Frankie notices, she doesn’t say anything.

She doesn’t break his hand either so Will counts it as a win.




He startles awake at the sound of his bedroom door opening. He sits up instantly, drawing his weapon with one hand and turning on his bedside lamp with the other. But instead of the hostile force he instinctively tried to fend off, he sees Frankie shuffling into his bedroom, shielding her eyes from the sudden light.

Will falls back into his sheets. “Fuck. Frankie. I could have shot you.”

Her eyes are barely open.

“No, you couldn't. And put that out, will you.”

Will does as he is told. He puts his gun back onto his bedside table and turns off the light. Frankie meanwhile closes the door behind her and stumbles over towards the bed.

“What are you doing?”

“Your couch is not made for sleeping.”

She expectantly stands in front of him.

“Move.” She pokes his side.

“What?” He blinks at her on confusion.

“You're on my side.”

“This is my side.”

“Not, it's not.”

“This is my bed. Every side is my side.” Will grumbles but shuffles over.

Frankie sits down on the edge of the mattress and slips under the covers.

“This side is cold.” Will complains.

“Want me to keep you warm?” He knows there’s a teasing smile on her face just from the tone of voice.

“Not if you’re being mean about it.”

Frankie chuckles. Her hand bridges the gap between them and pulls on his arm. “C’mere,” she murmurs.

Will shuffles back over in her direction and lifts his arm so Frankie can nestle down against him.

“Better?” She murmurs against his neck.

Will loves that they instinctively found the same position to sleep in as they have on a number of missions now. He likes that he can smell her hair which somehow always smells faintly of lavender. And he likes the way her hand sneaks beneath his shirt at his back and her fingers gently stroke over his spine. As if she wasn’t even aware of it. He also knows that he probably shouldn’t mention that to Frankie. Definitely not.

“Meh. It’s okay.” He breathes into her hair.

Frankie smiles into his neck while her fingers beneath his shirt pinch his skin.


“Want me to leave?”

“No.” His arm tightens around her.




Will wakes with a start. He lifts his head to check out the bedroom and listens intently for any noises coming from the bathroom or kitchen. He doesn’t need to. He lets himself fall back into the pillows and sighs.


Frankie is gone.