Kate Harper had never been much of a cook. All of her attempts at creating tasteful cuisine were usually thwarted by the serial wanderings of her world-class mind. She considered this particular shortcoming to be one of her foremost flaws, as her mother had been a famous and successful chef at one of New York City's trendiest restaurants. Her inability to so much as fry an egg had been one of many subjects to grace dinner table conversations throughout her adolescence and well into adulthood. Even after she was named Deputy National Security Advisor, the criticisms continued.
But, to Will Bailey, her fruitless efforts were extraordinary achievements and, for that boost in her surprisingly low self-esteem, he was her hero. Now and then, she would wake up early and try, to the best of her limited abilities, to prepare a delectable breakfast for him. While she very rarely succeeded in this, Will never once complained about the chronically burnt bacon or the undercooked, runny french toast.
On this particular morning, she chose to spare him and merely tossed a few English muffins in the toaster oven. They had both been unemployed for a grand total of eighteen hours and though they both valiantly attempted to conceal their discontent with blind quips about the new administration, it was beginning to show. When Will stumbled out of his bedroom, wrapped in a plaid bathrobe, Kate was just setting two buttered English muffins down on the kitchen table. The hours between six and eleven were the one and only times she allowed herself to take a stab at domestication.
"Morning," he greeted her in a barely incoherent mumble as he sat down.
"Morning."
Will glanced down at the English muffin for a few long seconds as he vaguely contemplated its presence. She sat down across from him and watched curiously. Finally, he looked up.
"An English muffin."
Kate shrugged.
"I wasn't in the mood screw up an elaborate meal, and I thought that maybe, this once, you'd prefer eating something less…I don't know, inedible."
He picked up the muffin and took a bite.
"I appreciate that."
"I thought you would."
They ate in silence for a few moments, allowing the bleakness of their current unemployed situation to thoroughly sink in.
"Will?"
"Hmm."
"You know we need to talk."
She had that look of pity and desolation in her eyes, the same look she gave C.J. when she had bad news about Russia and Kazakstan.
"Does it have to be right now?" Will asked, pleadingly.
"The lease is up on my apartment," Kate announced. "I need to know whether to…"
Will put down his English muffin in preparation for the serious and potentially painful discussion he was about to have.
"Yeah."
"You're going to Oregon," she stated, without implying the question she wished it was.
"What else am I gonna do?"
"Stay, work for the D-triple-C."
"What does that do for my career, Kate?" Will asked, almost rhetorically.
"Your career has already accelerated at such a rapid rate, Will. One day you were running a dead Democrat's congressional campaign and the next day you're Deputy Communications Director for the President of the United States. And what happened after that? You moved from the VP's Chief of Staff to Communications Director. You think if you'd never met Sam Seaborn, you'd be where you are right now?"
"That's not the point."
"The point is, you'd still be running random campaigns if not for Sam and you know it," Kate said.
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying, I think maybe you should slow down. There's more than a good chance you're gonna lose in Oregon, Will. You can't guarantee that this is gonna be another Horton Wilde. And what happens after you lose? That position at the D-triple-C will be filled, and then what?"
"That's funny, I thought girlfriends were supposed to be supportive."
"I'm a realist."
"If calling it that helps you sleep at night, then by all means."
"Oh, for God's sake, just say what you want to say!" Kate exclaimed.
He considered seizing that opportunity and shouting back his grievances when an unexpected thought occurred to him. He thought of the thousands of couples who must have had this conversation in the past. Spouses objecting to the loss of their loved ones to the political arena. He thought of Abbey Bartlet, every bit as aggressive as Kate, and her reaction when her husband announced he was thinking of running for Congress some twenty years earlier. Both were incredibly successful women, among the most respected in their individual fields, both worried about their relationships with their significant others. If the former President and First Lady could survive after three congressional campaigns, gubernatorial campagins, and finally, two presidential campaigns, surely he and Kate could make it through one.
"Neither of us are very expressive," Will admitted.
"You're expressive," Kate replied. "In an awkward, confused sort of way."
He cracked a smile.
"Well, you're expressive too. In an emotionless, impervious sort of way."
"Touché. And for the record, it's my job to be emotionless and impervious."
"Not anymore."
She nodded slowly.
"Yeah."
"So what are we gonna do about this?" Will asked.
"This?"
"Us."
Much better, she thought to herself.
"I don't know. Awkward, confused Democrat boy meets emotionless, impervious Republican girl. Doesn't exactly seem like a match made in political heaven."
"Appearances can be deceiving."
"We have next to nothing in common," Kate continued.
For the first time in maybe his whole life, Will was measuring the scope of his existence by using a relationship, not a career.
"We make it work," Will said, firmly. "Let's face it. I'm the butter on your English muffin."
Kate raised a skeptical eyebrow.
"What?"
"I fill in all the nooks and crannies."
Her face broke out into a slow, deliberate smile before she hit him with an inevitably sardonic response.
"What makes you think I'm the one with the nooks and crannies?"
"You're the emotionless, impervious one," Will replied, with a shrug.
"At least I'm not awkward and confused."
"That I'll give you."
She sighed and leaned back in her chair, purposely avoiding his gaze.
"What on earth am I gonna do in Oregon?"
"It's just for a couple years. If I win, we can spend most of our time in Washington and if I lose…"
"Washington it is."
"If I lose, you get location control for the next two years."
"You really think we can do this?" Kate questioned, uncertainly.
"A Democrat and a Republican. What could go wrong?"
THE END.