A Thin Line
Rating: PG
Fandom: West Wing
Pairing: Will/Donna
Word Count: 689
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: Written for the LiveJournal First Lines1000 Challenge #17
“I hate you, you know.”
Will keeps his eyes on the road, doesn’t look off to the side, deliberately ignoring the words. He’s not in the least bit surprised when Donna repeats herself, the words carrying a little more venom second time around.
“I said, I hate you.”
This time, he does glance over at her, only for a moment, enough to see her eyes narrowed, sending a laser-like glare in his direction. While he’s pretty sure that it’s not supposed to make him smile, nonetheless, that’s just what it does.
“You mentioned that once or twice,” he reminds her, and her glare intensifies.
“Well, I mean it this time,” she says, and he chuckles, a sound that he bites off when he hears it echo through the car, realising that giving her any ammunition in her current frame of mind is not a good idea. Being perceived to be laughing at her would certainly be that, and he hopes she was too preoccupied to hear him.
Still, the words, “Sure you do,” slip out anyway, and there’s a long pause before she speaks again, a pause where he chances a couple of quick glances at her, worried about her. “We’re nearly there,” he tells her, but there’s no direct response to that, and when she speaks again, her words are even more clipped.
“This is all your fault you know.”
Will bites the inside of his cheek, whether to keep from laughing or giving her a smart retort he can’t say, because he knows damn well that their current predicament is in no way shape or form his fault. Or at least not entirely, and when he looks over at her, sees a faint smile on her lips, he tells her so. “I don’t seem to remember you doing much complaining at the time.”
“Yes, well…” She shifts uncomfortably. “You lead me into disrepute.”
The phrase is so absurd that he can’t help but laugh out loud. “I thought you met me halfway there,” he counters, and she lifts one eyebrow.
“No,” she says. “It was all you…”
He’s pretty sure she was about to say something else, but she clamps her mouth shut with some force, snapping off the end of the sentence, and he looks her, then at the road and continues looking back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match until her eyes meet his again. “It’s ok,” he tells her as he pulls into their destination, finding a parking space easily, reaching over to take her hand in his, squeezing it tightly. “We’re here.”
He expects her to be happy about it, but her face shows even more worry, and she leans her head against the headrest, worry plain in her eyes. “I’m scared Will,” she admits quietly.
He smiles, because he knew that, knew that that was the cause of her words in the car. Just like he knows that it’s going to get worse before it gets better, knows that she knows that too. “It’s going to be ok,” he says. “I’ll be right here the whole time…”
“Damn right you will be,” she replies, in that sassy tone that stole his heart. “Since this is all your fault…”
He chuckles again, squeezes her hand again, the pressure making his wedding ring bite into his skin. The pressure increases suddenly as she gasps, and he swallows a yelp of his own with some difficulty. Something tells him his lady wife won’t be too sympathetic.
It seems like a long time before she lets a breath out, her free hand going to her swollen abdomen. “That was the worst one yet,” she tells him, and he nods.
“I know… but we’re at the hospital now… it’s gonna be fine…”
She nods, breathing deeply. “I really do hate you, you know,” she tells him, and despite the words, he smiles, tightening his fingers in hers, reaching out his free hand to her cheek, brushing his fingers across the softness of her skin, letting his hand linger there.
“Yeah,” he replies, leaning over to press his lips against hers. “I hate you too.”