Title: Storms
Author: Mi Mariposita / notquiteandrea
Warning(s): Adorable?
Details: Mose doesn't like storms. A little slice of domestic bliss. Set sometime during Dwight and Angela's secret relationship.
Word Count: 2127
Disclaimer: All characters, events, objects, etc. that were the property of The Office and NBC before this fanfiction are still the property of The Office and NBC. I just took some… creative liberties. Dotted some i's and crossed some t's, if you will.
Author's Note: In honor of Veridissima's birthday. You're great, and you can't stop me from posting fanfiction telling you that.
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Storms
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The rain pounded hard on the roof of the farmhouse, sounding like a thousand tiny bullets hitting in staggered intervals that bled so close together they might as well have been one single, continuous noise. The thunder rolled in and out, rumbling in the distance one second and then seemingly right overhead the next. Even the air appeared to shake in its wake.
Angela stared up at the ceiling and sighed. She had never been able to sleep during storms: not as little girl hiding beneath her sister's bed, not as a college freshman clinging a pillow tightly to her chest, and not now.
Dwight's arm was wrapped around her snugly, and even with the heavy thudding of raindrops, she could hear his steady breathing just behind her ear. He had been sleeping peacefully for the last hour, not the least bit bothered by the storm. She tapped his arm gently and shrugged it off of her. "I'm going to get some water," she whispered, sliding out of the small bed.
"Water's good for you…" he mumbled, shifting slightly under the blanket. "Hydro-dration… in the ocean…"
"Yes," she whispered, smiling slightly at his nonsensical ramblings. Even in the total darkness of his room, she could picture his face perfectly: his cheek smushed against his pillow, his mouth just barely open. his hair strewn all about. "It is."
"Mmm… look out… bears…"
"Yes, I'll watch out for bears," she said, biting her lip lightly to keep from laughing as she grabbed his robe from the back of his desk chair. Dwight didn't know that he talked in his sleep, and she never planned on telling him. She liked their little moments, when his thoughts were so pure and so completely Dwight. If he knew, he'd probably try to find some way to stop it - or at least control it - and she didn't want that. She liked knowing a little thing about him that he didn't know about himself.
She slipped the robe on over her nightgown, fastened the belt around her waist, and quietly slipped out of the bedroom. The floor creaked as she made her way down the hall and around the banister; it might have been creepy if it wasn't so reassuring. She knew which steps would groan and which would keep silent; the creakings and squeakings were quite comforting in their reliability.
Another burst of thunder cracked overhead as she made her way to the kitchen. She flipped on the lights, startled to find Mose beneath the kitchen table, shaking uncontrollably.
"God, Mose!" she yelled, completely caught off guard by his presence. Mose hadn't even looked up when the lights had come on; he'd simply whimpered and buried his face into his knees, which he held firmly to his chest. "What are you doing in here?"
He rocked back and forth, clinging even tighter to his legs. "Dwight says I can't go in his room when you're here." An eruption of thunder shot off, and lightning struck somewhere in the distance, illuminating the cold, wet darkness through the kitchen window. Mose tensed up and started rocking faster, a soft whine emanating from the back of his throat.
"Oh," she said softly. She didn't necessarily feel guilty, but something of the sort was tugging at her. He just looked so… pathetic. Helpless, really. She took a few steps closer and bent down to talk to him. "Are you ok?"
Eyes still screwed shut, he shook his head forcefully.
"Ok, um…" Angela racked her mind for something to say. She wasn't very good at dealing with children, and Mose could, at best, be described as a child. She normally looked to Dwight to manage him, but unfortunately for both of them, Dwight was sound asleep. "Would you like to watch some television?"
"Dwight says I can't watch the TV after nine."
Angela nodded and pushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. "I know. But Dwight's asleep. I don't think he'll mind."
For the first time, Mose looked up at her. His eyes were fearful and nervous, and Angela couldn't help but feel a small pang of empathy. Storms were loud and rude and unforgiving, and she remembered all the times she'd gone to her sister's room looking for comfort only to be made fun of for her fears. In time, she'd learned to manage it, but Mose wasn't there yet. She wasn't sure he'd ever get there. So she offered him her hand and a small smile, both of which Mose accepted. He took her hand and climbed out from beneath the table, clinging closely to her side as she walked him into the living room.
Thunder clapped again, and Mose jumped, grabbing her arm tightly with both hands and squeezing his eyes shut again as he buried his face into her shoulder.
"It's ok," Angela assured him, gently rubbing his arm as she led him to the couch. She felt uncomfortable with him clinging to her so tightly, but hopefully he'd be alright once she got him all set up. She sat him down on the couch, and she grabbed the wool throw blanket that she had insisted Dwight get because her feet always got cold when they were sitting around in the living room. She wrapped the blanket snugly around Mose's shoulders. "Here. I'm going to turn on the TV, and then I'm going to get you some water."
Mose nodded as Angela picked the remote up from the coffee table and turned the TV on. Dwight had a parental lock on it to prevent Mose from watching unsavory things at unsavory hours (after seeing some of Mose's drawings and whittling, she completely understood Dwight's motivations). After instructing Mose to close his eyes, Angela input the password and quickly flipped through the channels. Reruns of Friends were on. She didn't particularly care for the show, but everybody knew it, and Dwight had told her once before that Mose found Phoebe Buffay to be a very comforting presence.
"Is this ok?" she asked, putting the show on. Mose nodded, continuing to hold the blanket tightly to himself. "Good. I'm going to get you some water. I'll be right back."
Mose nodded again, and Angela made her way back to the kitchen. She kept a BRITA filter in the fridge because she didn't trust whatever grimy, bacteria-infested water Dwight probably had hooked up to the sink. She poured a cool glass for herself and another one for Mose.
She walked back into the living room and set Mose's glass in front of him on the coffee table. Once again, those coasters she'd bought were coming in handy. Mose's eyes were transfixed on the television. Angela moved to go upstairs and back to bed, but then the thunder violently exploded again, and the rain started falling even harder, and she heard Mose start to whimper again. Angela looked back at the couch, and the poor boy was shaking. She took a few steps towards him. "Would you like me to sit with you?" she asked gently.
For a moment, he showed no indication of having heard her. And then, without looking up from the television, he nodded softly.
Angela took in a deep breath and made her way back to the couch. She sat on the opposite end from Mose and set her glass down on the side table. She pulled the footrest closer and propped her feet up. She was examining her toes and thinking about how she could go for a pedicure when she felt Mose's head land squarely in her lap.
She looked at him as he curled up on the couch, and she was ready to shove him off of her and go back upstairs, but then the thunder roared once more, and Mose resumed shaking and whining, so she closed her mouth and simply patted his arm as soothingly as she knew how.
In that moment, Angela couldn't help but wonder if God was intentionally timing each surge of thunder, because it seemed that every burst had been placed rather precisely. Maybe, for some reason unbeknownst to her, she needed to stay and sit with Mose because he was scared and frightened, and she couldn't fall asleep anyway.
So she sat with him, and he tensed up every time the thunder rumbled until he had fallen asleep. Not wanting to wake him, she mindlessly watched through a few episodes of Friends until her eyelids felt as heavy as the rain.
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Early the next morning, Dwight woke up a bit confused. Angela never woke up before him, and even if she had, she surely would have said something before leaving.
The robe on the back of his desk chair was missing, and he thought that she might have gone to use the restroom. He stretched for a moment before pulling himself out of bed. He grabbed an old pair of sweatpants and pulled them on before he made his way into the hallway and down the stairs.
A soft noise caught his attention. He peered into the living room, curious as to the source of the sound. The television was playing some miscellaneous show that Dwight had never seen before, and familiar blonde hair hung over the back of the couch.
Dwight frowned and walked into and across the living room.
Angela sat with her head lolled back on the couch, sleeping peacefully with Mose's head resting in her lap. Mose was fast asleep, too, curled up in a little ball on the couch.
Dwight didn't quite know how to explain the feeling building up inside of him. All he knew was that he was absolutely and completely in love with this woman with every ounce of his being; sometimes, it just hit him so suddenly and with such force that he couldn't possibly ignore it.
She and Mose hadn't ever really gotten along… or not gotten along. They'd been rather indifferent towards each other for the most part, although Mose liked it when she baked, and whenever he and Mose would spend all day working in the beet fields, Angela always brought Mose a lemonade, too.
It was moments like this, though, when the future in his dreams really seemed within reach. One day, she wouldn't just be stopping by or staying the night; she'd be coming home. To him and Mose and the horses and the cows and the chickens. Probably to a bunch of cats, too, but he could handle that. And maybe, hopefully, a child or two or three or four.
He smiled and placed a soft kiss to Angela's forehead. She stirred for a moment, and then she blinked a few times, looking up at him tiredly.
"Good morning," he said softly.
"Good morning," she said, covering her mouth as she yawned. "What time is it?"
"A little after six," he said, a dopey, boyish smile still sitting on his lips.
She nodded slowly, taking a moment to process her surroundings. She looked down at Mose and then back up at Dwight. "There was a storm," she explained, much colder than she had been just a moment before. "He doesn't like storms."
"No," Dwight said. "He doesn't. He likes you, though."
"You think so?" she asked, looking back down at Mose.
"Of course, he does. Look at him," he said, gesturing to his peacefully sleeping cousin.
"Well," she said, a wisp of a smile adorning her lips, "he's not too bad."
Dwight smiled. "Come on," he said, extending his hand towards her. "I'll make us breakfast."
"I don't want to wake him up."
"You won't. He sleeps like a hibernating bear," Dwight said. "Watch." He lifted Mose's head off of Angela's lap, and Mose didn't budge an inch. Angela quickly slid off the couch, and Dwight dropped Mose's head back onto the cushion. "See? Sound asleep."
Angela smiled as she looped her arm through Dwight's. She gently rested her head against his arm as they made their way into the kitchen.
By the time the bacon - and faux bacon - had been prepared, Mose was awake and hungry. As per usual, he barely looked at Angela throughout breakfast. After breakfast, he and Dwight silently did the dishes as Angela got ready for church. She gave Dwight a quick kiss on the cheek before she left, promising she'd be back for dinner.
Shortly after, Dwight and Mose stood on the porch, waving goodbye as Angela left. Mose turned to his cousin.
"She's coming back, right?"
"Yes, Mose. She'll be here for dinner."
Mose nodded slowly. "I like it when she's here."
The corner of Dwight's lips twitched up. He thought about the little golden ring locked away in his desk upstairs. "I do, too."
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