"I hung in there as long as I could, but you long passed the point when I stopped caring." (The West Wing)
Angry was something they enjoyed being. Karen Walker makes him angry. Will Truman makes her angry. It first started as a game. Who could make the other person turn an unattractive shade of red? Who could make the other come into whatever room they were in and slam the door the loudest. It was a game they played. A game neither of them could win.
The anger, like other feelings they couldn't admit to, slowly turned into pain. Whether it was the sudden pain that jolted through the nerves in the back as one of them were put up against a wall or a door. Then there was the pain that made them crave more. She craved him and all of him. It made her angry when he said no. But it made her smile when she ended up thrown under him with an angry low growl. It made him angry that he would say no and still end up tangled in sheets with her.
It wasn't that he didn't enjoy it. She was addicting. She was his drug. He wouldn't dare to admit that the power and softness of her kisses, the softness and lightness of her hands, and the thought of her coming undone underneath him, forced him to politely excuse himself from the meeting he was in, and to hurry to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face. The clock in the hallway that he took a glance at coming out of the bathroom, reminded him that he only had four more hours. Four more hours until he saw her. Every second that he was in the office, was every second he became angrier. His addiction was border lining on containable and constant need.
"You're late," Karen said, walking out of the bathroom. Her hair was wet as if she had just finished a shower. The silk rob added to the theory. "I'm getting ready to leave,"
"Where are you going?" He asked, placing his coat on the arms of a chair. She was toweling her hair. She was gorgeous without any makeup. It made him wonder sometimes whether or not she really needed to wear it. She looked just as flawless without it as she did with, and that was another thing that made him angry. He saw her in a different light from what Grace and Jack saw.
"Home," She said, dropping her robe to the floor. There she was standing in front of him completely naked and he could feel his anger begin to rise. He couldn't do anything to her at the moment. Not when she was in control like this. She had a habit of dressing in front of him, full well knowing what it did to him and in the end to her.
"This is your home," He pointed out. She looked up from the spot on the floor she had been focusing on as she slowly continued to dress. She gave him a warm smile.
"No honey, this is your home. Mine is some damn mansion that's too big." She was at arm's length, which he took advantage of; pulling her into his lap.
"You're always here. Grace goes to bed at ten; you just stay and tell her we have to talk." He decided and offered to Karen. She shook her head and removed herself from his lap. She bent over and picked up her skirt.
"I can't Will." She said softly. "I can't do it anymore."
"Can't do what?" He asked coming up behind her. She was standing in front of his mirror. He placed a kiss to her cheek, and felt her ease against him. "Can't tell me you actually enjoy sneaking around? Can't tell me that you'd rather be here with me than anywhere else?"
"Don't you care?" She asked, locking her eyes with his in the mirror. "I mean don't you care what Grace would say if she found out that you're sleeping me with? Or that Jack isn't going to be completely saddened by the fact that I've blatantly lied to him, telling him that the person I'm sleeping with isn't important? He still thinks I'm sleeping with Stan."
"But Stan died three years ago." He said wrapping his arms around her waist. By the way her arms tensed, he could tell she was getting angry. "And you needed, how should we put this, a way to grieve," She turned in his arms and smacked him in the chest.
"You're an arrogant son of a bitch you know that?" She said getting out of his grip. "I thought you would care about what you're friends would think. I've been in your life for how long, and don't you think the question why now and not then, won't enter their minds?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets, fully aware now that he wasn't going to get any. "Why don't you care Will?"
"I do care. I did," He corrected himself. "I stopped caring a long time ago. I stopped caring when I saw that you weren't giving up. I stopped caring when I wasn't going to give up. I tried to come up with solutions in my head, but nothing and none of them seemed plausible. So go ahead, walk out that door and out of my apartment. Walk out and remind yourself that you're still coming back the next day. And the day after that. You have friends who live here. You have people who care about you that live here. You come here because it's your escape."
She had left. She had finished buttoning up her blouse, put on her coat and walked out of his apartment, just like he said. And she did come back, the next morning with Jack in tow. They were laughing and giggling like school girls, about somebody they tricked, before coming up. Karen went on to say that Stan wasn't home the night before and she had the whole place to herself. It was only Will that caught the sadness in her statement, but he didn't dare say a word. She seemed happy about it, only adding to her façade.
The thing about Karen Walker that made him crazy was the two different people she was. With the group, she was a pill popping, alcoholic, who couldn't and didn't care about anyone's issues. She'd claim that she slept until noon because she was so hung over. She'd laugh at other people's misfortunes and people's mistakes, when hours after, she'd lay in bed with Will by her side, and be completely opposite.
She'd talk about their misfortunes, wondering if there was any way she'd be able to help. When they'd have dinner, she'd never have more than one glass of anything alcoholic that was put down in front of her. She'd never take pills, only if she had a headache, which was hardly ever. She couldn't bring herself to fire anyone, which was why she had him to do it. She couldn't fire Driver, despite the fact that he tended to hit people more regularly now than before, forcing her to walk places instead of drive.
He'd get her riled up, forcing her to the edge, before she felt like she needed to jump, and then ease her back down. They sat at dinner, in a quiet restaurant, just the four of them. Jack sat next to Karen, as usual, and Grace next to Will. Over the years the seating arrangement had changed, Karen and Will sat across from each other leaving Jack across from Grace. They didn't dare do anything early on in the relationship, until the arrangements changed. He'd brush her arm as he made his way to the bathroom. Or grab her hand, to force her to let go of the water glass that sat in front of her, reminding her that it wasn't Vodka.
It was at that precise dinner, when he decided to trace circles into her calf with his shoe. He watched her tense. If the tightened grip wasn't anything to go by, it was the dark shade that her eyes got. He continued to do it, until she jerked her knee to hit the table, causing the silver ware to rattle. "Will, can I talk to you?" She asked, standing up and making her way into a small hallway that she noticed coming in.
He approached her from behind and was immediately assaulted with her lips against his. He pulled away with a full smile. "Was I irritating you?"
"You were making me angry." She said as a group of people passed by them, causing him to push her against the wall. She looked up with a smile. "And you're just needy?" He looked at her with confusion as she walked away. It was when they sat down that he felt the comfort in his pants go away. He looked up at her and she had a wicked grin plastered on her face.
Yes the game between them was to see who could make each other angry. A game that neither of them could win. A game that was impossible for them to win, yet always fun to play.