Another hasty one-shot, I know. I just couldn't get it out of my head and typed it down, then realized it was pretty good. I really hope you guys think the same.
Dsiclaimer: I don't own the office...
"Hold on, I'll transfer you." She's pressing the buttons, telling Michael that Jan's on the line. Her eyes roam up, carefully picking apart his messy brown hair and the smile he now has, returning the smile she has. She looks down, taking a swig of her tea. Hoping to drown the butterflies that fly through her stomach and behind her belly button every time he smiles like that.
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He's closing another sale, the third one in the past three hours. He owns this job, really. Dwight would get his ass handed to him if he actually cared about selling paper. When he hangs up the phone, he feels her soft gaze on him, and he smiles, hardly even denying the way his heart thump-thumps when she smiles like that.
XXXX
After work, he's standing in the elevator when she stands up quickly.
"Hold it!" She grabs her coat and hurries over, tripping on the black duffle bag that Dwight had set on the floor in front of the elevator. His arms are a second too quick, they catch her.
His hand is against her breast, but he isn't grabbing or groping, so she doesn't necessarily notice until she feels her heart, pounding, and she feels his hand tremble at the feeling.
His breath hitches, he can feel her heart. It softly pounds against his knuckles, but she's there. Suspended, if he let go now she would fall. But he wouldn't ever let go, because she's looking at him so intently that he wants to die.
The door begins to shut, his other arm flashes out and holds it open, but other than that, they are both just looking. Like they aren't hypnotized or trapped in each others gazes, they are just looking.
It feels casual, like everything else in their relationship, because that's what they do. They make everything casual an funny and a prank, so they don't have to deal with the fact that his hand lingered too long, or the way that she always smiles around him.
He can hear her breath, it's not faster or slower, it's just. It's as methodic as her heart, but he finds himself concentrating on it anyways.
She doesn't know what to do, because she won't stand up and get in, she's just there, in his grasp. Her legs will work and she's not hypnotized, she just won't. She can't hear his breath, it's disappeared, along with the excuse. The excuse that she fell and so he caught her, it's gone. Instead she's been in his grasp too long and they can't deny what they see in the other's eyes.
But they'll have to, for the sake of everything. Of the way its always been, her with Roy and him with his flavor of the week, only because that's how it was when he came here. It's always been this way, so it can't change.
Neither of them want to admit that a 9 to 5 office job has changed so much, so it's just a friendship. She ignores his secret glances and he ignores her merciless flirting. It's what they do.
When the door flashes out again, she stands this time, and his arm doesn't flash out to block it. They're standing now, only she's facing him and they haven't said anything. His arm is still touching her, against her breast, the way it was when he caught her.
It was a fall, because of Dwight, but they'll have to ignore it and avoid it and forget about the stares and breathing and hearts pounding. It's what they do.
So when she blinks, and he's forced to do the same, the staring contest is over. There is no winner, because neither of them were even thinking of that anyways.
She doesn't say anything, and it's still silent, but at least he's breathing again. It's slow and even, like her heartbeat. She could listen to it all day, but won't ever admit it to herself. She won't ever let herself think differently, because Roy is her fiancé and it won't change, because a 9 to 5 office job can't decide your destiny, can it?
But they're still staring, and the butterflies are thrown into oblivion when the elevator goes down, she always gets that funny feeling, even though she does it every day.
He won't talk, the silence is dead because the elevator makes that squeaking sound, ruining any silence.
They prefer it that way, because if it was silent, then it would officially be awkward and neither of them would be able to stand it. These moments they can stay in, but awkward silences need to be fixed, every time.
When he opens his mouth, finds his voice, it's the same. The voice he's always used, because if it was different than they would have to acknowledge it. It's the happy joker voice.
"Let's go see what was in that duffle bag. Maybe we could use it against Dwight."
And then it's the same. She's smiling and he's returning it, his head whirring with the possibilities of what they could do to Dwight. She's just wondering what he has up his sleeve this time, and the silence isn't unbearable or awkward, it just is.
When they reach the top again, he walks down and take the black duffle to his desk, waiting for her to catch up so they can open it together. She reaches for the zipper and meets his hand, which is half a second ahead of hers.
It's the elevator all over again, their hands are touching and his breath hitches, she's looking at him and they aren't hypnotized, but they're just looking. The moments isn't frozen, they are all to aware of the ticking clock behind them, but they're just looking.
When he clears his throat involuntarily, she moves her hand and stares at the floor, but breaks into giggles when he talks again.
"A spud gun! Holy shh-Pam, do you have any idea how powerful this is? I think it shoots potatoes at sixty pounds per square inch!" He's using that voice, the one that makes everyone laugh, and she's giggling so much that it makes his ears smile. The moment is over and she'll forget, because a 9 to 5 office job can't change who her fiancé is.
They devise a plan to use the gun against Dwight tomorrow, because avoidance is what she does, what he'll do.
Review, I say!