Slipping

by Caroline

She feels herself slipping and she can't help it. He's there, just always there and always has been for the past several years, warming her frozen heart with his kindness and breaking down her expensively-built walls with his understanding eyes. Silently supporting her when she falls apart inside but doesn't want to show it on the outside, laughing with her when her friends fail, complimenting her on her most frustrating day to lift her spirits.

It was the typical "fag/hag" relationship in the beginning. Lots of fun cattiness and shopping and gossiping. But in that first year, after that brush with pregnancy, when he hugged her and told her he loved her, it opened some kind of door within her. And try as she might, that damned door wouldn't shut when he was around. It was easy to slam it closed with Grace or Will. But not Jack. Never Jack.

The first time he was going to kiss her she balked, particularly at the mention of James Van Der Beek, because what was he - twelve? But then Jack's lips touched hers and she felt something -- a spark, as ridiculous as that seemed. There was a worldliness about Jack when he kissed her and it caught her flat-footed and off-guard. It was a faint-worthy first kiss.

It meant nothing to Jack, of course. Just another plus (minus?) of being friends with a gay guy. Trouble was, the more they kissed, the more it meant to Karen, though she would never in a million years admit this to anyone. No way in hell. On the outside, she had fun with it -- she'd stick her tongue out at him and wait for him to take it in his mouth for the two of them to battle. She'd giggle girlishly when he'd tell her randomly that he wanted to French kiss her or make out with her.

But the thing was, the French kisses... the make out sessions... they really did happen. They weren't just all talk. And Stan never cared whether she cheated or not as long as she didn't try to siphon away all of his money. It's not as if a gay guy would've posed a threat anyway.

So this time, they had been in her closet looking for an outfit for her to wear to a ridiculous charity ball (why did kids in Ethiopia need money anyway? There were no Saks or Tiffany stores there, for cryin' out loud!) when Jack just had to ask: "Hey Kare, can I kiss you?"

She'd turned around smiling, trying not to let it show just how furiously the butterflies were flapping in her stomach. "Sure, honey!"

So Jack kissed her. Once. And then again, lingering a little.

And now here they are, on one of her silk chaise lounges in the middle of her closet making out. Her butt is on the cushion and her legs are thrown sideways over Jack's lap. Jack's arm is around her, cradling her against his side while his other hand is alternately on her cheek and in her hair.

Her hands are on his button-down shirt, toying with the buttons. A few minutes in, his shirt is somehow mostly unbuttoned and her hands are on his chest, nails gently raking against him. He reminds her not to go too hard -- his explanation is that "the whole 'bear attack' look is so last year," when in truth he probably doesn't want his current boyfriend(s) knowing that he makes out with girls.

Well. Her, not 'girls.' If he makes out with other girls she will kick his ass. And take away all his platinum card and Barney's card privileges. But somehow, she doesn't see him doing this with Grace. Or any other woman for that matter. He worships her and only her. So it's their special thing. She smiles, just barely, at the thought and kisses him a little harder. Jack smiles back against her lips, even though he has no idea what she's smiling about. Doesn't matter.

Karen both loves and hates moments like these. She loves them because nobody's ever kissed her as well as Jack does, not to mention she loves kissing someone that's actually appealing to look at. Someone that doesn't always smell like a deli, like Stan.

But she hates moments like these because this'll end the same way all of their other "accidental" makeout sessions will end -- he'll suddenly realize he has a date with Juan (or Eduardo or Miguel or whatever Spanish hussy he's dating any particular day) and Karen will be left alone, hurt and unsatisfied.

"God I love your hair, Kare," he murmurs into her neck while his fingers continue to stream through her hair. He looks up to smile. "So silky and shiny and just... gorgeous! I wish I had hair like yours."

Karen smiles back. "Aww, thanks honey!" she chirps back quickly, before ordering, "Now put those lips back to work!"

So he does. And she closes her eyes when his lips hit a particularly sensitive spot between her neck and shoulder. She arches into him with a tiny gasp and his arm winds a little tighter around her. She hopes the insincerity of her gratitude can fool him into thinking she doesn't sincerely appreciate any compliment he gives her.

She's never been worshipped before. Stan just lets her have her platinum cards and gold cards and any kind of card she wants; he throws money at her in exchange for some "wifely duties." Jack actually worships her, cares about her, knows her better than she knows herself. If she didn't know better, she might think he's the love of her life.

And she's not sure whether that thought makes her choke back a laugh or a sob.

FIN