A/N: Hola! I see you clicked on my fanfic. Thanks for the attention.
I'm fairly new to Fanfiction, even though I've been secretly reading lots stories on the site for a long time now. Even as creepy as that sounds, it's true. So here's a story I'm actually contributing for those other people who don't have accounts but enjoy creeping on writers like me.
You know who you are.
I didn't want to spam the Office page full of one-shots, so I decided to throw them all into one story. Yay for spam prevention?
And the thing with these things are, I tried thinking in a British accent so I would write better. It worked.
And this one is set sometime late in the year in Season Four. The rest aren't.
I don't own the Office. I do, however, own a 'Support the Rabid' wristband and a computer on which I watch the Office. Please don't sue me.
Her laughter broke the silence.
He loved her laugh so much. It was indescribable, and he could only say that it was a 'couple thing' – because what man doesn't love his mistress's laugh?
The snow was falling hard now, so the scenery was covered in large white flakes, collecting on streets and sidewalks and all items outdoors. To be honest, they had no idea why they hadn't taken a car to work – but it had, of course, been his idea.
The street had been oddly silent. The local tavern was closed for an unannounced period of time, as the inspector had found rats and the place was being exterminated. Shops were closing up early, people were driving home from work in cars with windows rolled all the way up, and no teenagers that liked hanging out around town had the sense to go out in what may have been turning into a blizzard. But they faced the odds, walking in the near deserted streets, admiring the rare peace that settled over Scranton in silence.
They still considered it bonding. Even if they weren't discussing their most heartfelt memory, how they felt about each other, their future together, or other things couples would consider 'bonding', they were still spending quality time together.
But the peaceful silence that settled over the town had been shattered. Not necessarily in a bad way, but nonetheless, shattered. He had only looked at her-had only looked at her and smiled. She couldn't help but grin back at this, and her grin developed into a laugh. The laugh that he loved so much.
And of course, her laughter was also contagious. He started laughing too, and soon both of them had to stop to gather themselves up and smile breathlessly at each other.
"What's so funny?" he asked, feeling the color rise to his face as a shopkeeper looked out of her window to glare at them for ruining the silence. His mistress beamed, almost glowing.
"Do I need a reason to laugh, dear Jimothy?" she challenged, nudging him in the ribs playfully. He smiled and bowed low, so low it was considered mocking.
"Of course not, my dear Pamela," he replied, putting on an obviously fake British accent. He straightened his back and feigned a cane, holding himself up as straight as he could. She took on his faked accent and curtsied at him, pulling up the edges of an imaginary skirt.
"Well, then I think we don't have a problem, do we, Jim?"
"No Pam, I should think not." He smiled a proper gentleman's smile and offered the crook of his arm to her. "Shall we?"
"We shall," she answered, and hooked her arm in his. They both laughed again, together, still linking arms, as they made their way back to Jim's apartment.
Shattering the silence isn't necessarily a bad thing.