Seven Deadly Sins
by That'sMyFiasco
Disclaimer: No, The Office isn't mine. I do lay claim to a few of the Sins, however. (grin)
A/N: Who knew work could be so... sinful?
(That's what she said.)
ENVY
She's so pretty when she laughs- teeth gleaming, eyes sparkling, a soft blush covering her cheeks. I just wish that Roy wasn't the one that was bringing that out. Every time she does, I have to grip the edge of my desk to keep from spinning around, getting out of my seat, wandering over, demanding to be let in on the joke. I have to mentally slap myself and say that no, you have no right.
And besides, it would be really lame.
Something in me wants terribly to have that right. Not that I'll admit it (again). Make all the jokes about the fragile male ego you want. For now, I'll content myself with dropping by Karen's desk. Even if it doesn't have a jellybean jar. Maybe I'll do something else to Dwight. He really makes it too easy, but... people... seem to think seeing him flip out is funny.
WRATH
Sometimes, I just think to myself that if Michael makes one more so-called joke about how hot Pam is, I might hit him. Hard. Which is a little weird, because I've never really been one to get into fights, but I'm pretty sure most people feel that way around Michael. I'm pretty sure ALL people feel that way about Michael, in fact.
Except maybe Dwight. Which is another reason to stay away from Michael- his loyal henchman would be on him in an instant with his kiddie-level martial arts. I'm not sure which would be worse- the possibility of getting hit by Dwight and living with the shame for the rest of my miserable existence, or actually having to see him perform his moves.
I'm not sure just what it is about Pam that brings out this protective side of me. Yeah, I don't like to see decent people get hurt, but this is different. Nah, I'm sure I'm just overreacting- seeing Michael display that thing he calls his sense of humour would make any person go mad.
GREED
I hate myself when it happens. Trust me, Karen's dragged me to enough chick flicks- she's not really girly, but has a weird affinity for those things- so I know the signs of when a guy's being a great big jackass. It's another trait I never knew I had, being so possessive. Like this one time, we were pairing up for these groups, to do this exercise corporate had suggested, you know? Something about building up our customer service skills. All I know is that Michael was annoyed because Toby was in charge.
Anyway, Karen was in my group, of course, when Pam walked in late. And I could tell she didn't know where to go- it was my group, or Dwight and Angela's. At the last minute, she slipped into their circle, sending an apologetic smile my way. I barely smiled back- I felt bad about it later, but I couldn't help it. I just wanted her to be in my group. I've never been really virtuous, but I just get this sick feeling in my stomach when it comes to sharing the time I have with Pam.
Thing is, I'm not sure I would have minded so much had it been Karen.
LUST
There are days, sometimes, when I can tell that she overslept. Her long curls are still damp, like she didn't have enough time to dry them, brushing just slightly against her rosy, fair skin. She turns her head and picks up the phone, the collar of her shirt scraping against the smooth skin of her neck. Occasionally, when the message is something to cause worry, her teeth close around her small bottom lip, soft and red. God, I sound pathetic, don't I? And it's weird, that I find her so attractive, when most guys would be salivating at the thought of a girl like Karen waiting for them at the end of the day.
Not that I don't think Karen's pretty. Hell, she's gorgeous. But there's something sweet about Pam... I don't know. It confuses me, I'll admit. But let's just say that there are some days that it's a blessing in disguise that my seat forces me to face Dwight, as opposed to the reception desk. Because trust me, nothing bring you back down to earth faster than witnessing a Shrute performing his daily medicated-chapstick application ritual.
SLOTH
You know how it is in cartoons, sometimes, when they're trying to exaggerate how long something's taking? And then the clock starts to move backwards, until the poor little cartoon character going stark raving mad?
I always thought it was a made-for-tv fallacy. Until I started working here. There's just this feeling of lethargy that settles over the office at about 10:20. Lunch helps a little, but it's back again later. Ironically, those seem to be the times when Angela is the most productive. And the most irritable. I wonder if those go hand-in-hand? Anyway. Sometimes I think that our whole office is a joke, made out of cardboard and poster paint, and set up for the express amusement of the denizens at corporate.
We all have our ways of coping- Stanley and his crossword puzzles, me and my experiments, and of course Pam, playing at Sudoku. I like walking around, too- talking to Karen, annoying Ryan. Oh, and I stop to talk to Pam every once in a while, too. After all, jellybeans are my favourite.
PRIDE
It's nothing special, it really isn't. I just think that it's kind of neat how Pam is always willing to help out with my, er, projects. Then afterwards, she always looks up at me and smiles this secretive little smile, a look of awe in her eyes. I think she's impressed with how I plan out all this stuff. Of course, I don't really know, they just kind of come to me, on the spur of the moment. It makes her laugh, though, which I like. So often, she has this solemn look on her face. I'm pretty sure it's because she (and Ryan) get the brunt of Michael's efforts to 'get in touch' with his employees. She doesn't talk about it, which I can respect, but I still prefer it when she's smiling.
Maybe it's lame, but I like knowing that I can bring that smile to her face, that light into her eyes. Weird, huh?
GLUTTONY
When I'm not around her, my heart doesn't beat right. Call me crazy, but I swear that's why. It's as if it's missing half the beat, and can't function unless I can see her face, hear her voice and the clacking of her fingers on the keyboard, smell that hand lotion she likes to use. And then when I AM with her, the stupid thing just starts beating faster, until it seems that one of these days it's just going to pop out of my chest and fly away.
It's like I can't get enough of her.
At home, at work, it's like she's living in my head. If I have to take something she printed out home from work her distinct scent lingers there, taunting me. A part of me doesn't mind, like it's tempting in a good way and a bad way. But the bad way is agony. And it's all I can do not to sweep her into my arms when I see her next. Because... I just want her. I want to be with her. And if you've never experienced that kind of feeling, then I feel sorry for you
Fin