My first Michael/Jan fic. Enjoy. Concrete criticism welcome and encouraged! Flaming is boo!
Nighthawk
"Doctor Perry?"
"Jan, you're here! Sorry, I was busy with paperwork; I didn't realize you were waiting."
"No, I just got here, that's ok."
"Well, sit down, sit down." The brunette woman with horn rimmed glasses gestured to the auburn couch tucked against a corner of the office. Jan walked over slowly, sitting stiffly on the middle cushion and placing her hands in her lap. She was still dressed in her work attire, which consisted of a white, button down blouse, and a grey suit jacket and skirt combo. She gripped her purse between her fists, fiddling with the straps and letting the bag rest on her lap.
Dr. Perry, dressed in a brown blouse and skirt, moved from her disheveled desk, over to a cushioned black chair facing the couch. "Really Jan, I don't know why you insist on acting so tense when you're here. I always tell you to relax when you come to me; it helps us open up and communicate better."
Jan realized that her purse straps were digging into her palms; she was gripping them so tightly. She sighed and released the straps, turning her head as she did and looking out the window for a moment before turning back to face Dr. Perry.
"Sorry, I always forget. It's just hard to relax when the entirety of my day is spent straight laced."
Lace… she'd been wearing her white-laced panties then…
"Yes, well that tends to happen in the job you're in, and especially with the… special circumstances Dunder Mifflin is under."
"You mean the cameras?"
"Yes. We've talked much already about how working under the spotlight affects you."
"I think I've spent enough sessions to last a lifetime on that particular subject."
Dr. Perry gave a slight chuckle. "Of course. Well, what do you want to talk about tonight?"
"Well…" Jan's eyes roved the room for a moment. Did she want to talk about… that?
"Wait fifteen minutes, find an excuse. Meet me at your condo."
"Jan, you complete me."
"Distracted?"
Jan's eyes shot back to her psychologist. "Uh, oh, yes, sorry. Well, I took your advice about indulging in some of my self destructive tendencies."
She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing away loose strands nervously. She has the mirror on the visor open, and as she brushes away another strand, she sees his car pulling into the driveway. He leaves the gas running, and she can see his form through the tinted windows, head moving from side to side. He's looking for me, she realizes.
She opens the driver's side door and steps out, shutting it with a thud and walking towards the driveway. Apparently he's spotted her, because his door swings open, and he swings his legs out, feet hitting the gravel below with a crunch.
"Well good for you Jan. I'm glad you're willing to try things like this out. How did it go?"
The front door opens, letting the two figures into the darkened condo. Michael flicks the switch, turning on the hall light. He moves to the side to let Jan step fully inside. She walks forwards, and he turns back to the door, shutting it with a decisive thud.
Before he can react, he feels hands gripping his arms, swinging him around. She practically slams him against the door, and moves in without a second thought, capturing his lips with her own. After the initial shock wears off, his hands trail their way up to her waist and grip it as she ravishes his mouth in the dim glow of the eighty watt bulb.
"Well, I discussed it with Michael, and we both agreed on mutual feelings towards each other."
"Couch?"
"Bedroom."
Michael pulls back, leaving Jan with the feeling of enveloping cold. "Jan, are you sure?" he asks hesitantly. He reaches a hand up, brushing some loose strands of hair out of her eyes. "You don't think we're going too fast?"
She can see worry on his face...he is genuinely concerned about her emotional stability. In fact, all thoughts of sex seem to have been downplayed by this. After his reaction at the office, she is a little surprised. He came off to her as someone who, having the opportunity, would dive right in without a second thought, and the fact that he wasn't pushing her to do anything endears her even more to him. She smiles and gave him a soft kiss. "I've made up my mind Michael, and I'm not easily dissuaded."
"And what do you plan on doing with the situation now?"
"Well, we both thought it was best to allow ourselves to indulge in these feelings in a healthy way."
She had not realized that the door was not shut completely, and so when he pushes her back against it, it swings open behind her, causing her to fall backwards. She gives a yelp and tips over, toppling towards the floor. In an attempt to catch herself, she grabs onto his arms, but he isn't ready to support her, and they both fall, hitting the floor with a thump. He is sprawled on top of her, elbows resting to the sides of her head. They look at each other for a moment, eyes searching. Michael leans down and kisses her softly. His hands move to her hair now, gripping the roots as the kisses become deeper. Stability in the situation is fading fast. This instability, this fragility, these are the things she needs.
"And is this way working out for you?"
She thought for a moment, hands gripping her purse straps more tightly as she went back in her memory, trying to settle on an answer.
Clothes are discarded. Door shuts, drapes are drawn. The lace panties are hanging over the headboard. She's lying across the bed, bare skin against sheets, looking up at him expectantly. He's off to the side, hopping up and down, attempting to pull off a sock. She watches him hobble around for a minute before the traitorous article releases his foot.
She notes his white boxers with black polka dots, yet to be removed. She's thinking of interesting ways to remove them when she sees his expression. He's got a slight blush, dimly showing in the dusty light creeping through the blinds.
"Last warning Jan, are you sure you're up to the Michael Scott challenge?"
Making jokes is not on her list of foreplay items. But looking at his naïve grin, she understands his hesitation. For all of what Michael Scott shows on camera, once you sit him down in private, you find out that the ego that once seemed so massive really isn't all that large. He has self-esteem issues, hiding under the layers of seemingly arrogant wit. She's not surprised at his hesitation to open up for something so intimate, out of fear of being rejected.
She decides to assuage his fears in as subtle of a way she can think of, flattery. "I'm not sure, but the Michael Scott challenge is certainly up for me." She nods towards his boxers, which have been tenting for quite some time. "Now as your superior, I order you to get over here." She gives him a smile, and it's enough to remove the last barrier.
She gave Dr. Perry a slight smile and nodded. "It seems to be."
Michael…
"We're being more agreeable to each other…"
Oh god, oh god…
"And we've enjoyed some things together that are bringing us…"
OH GOD! MICHAEL!
… a little closer."
"How much closer?"
Ohhhhhhhh, god…
"Close enough."
Sweat glistens in the light that's cracking through the opening in the door. Sheets are sprawled and splayed all over, cascading over the sides of the mattress. Two forms are huddled together in the middle. Michael's arm is draped over Jan's waist, and her head is tucked into the crook of his neck. She looks up at his face, calm and serene. He realizes that her eyes are on him, and he looks down, giving her a smile.
"So do all the managers get this kind of treatment or am I a special case?"
This brings a laugh bubbling up out of her throat, and she punches him gently in the chest before snuggling closer. He gives a satisfied sigh, his breath blowing over the top of her head and shaking wisps of hair.
"And do you think this is helping your work environment in general?"
Twice in the conference room. Once behind the reception desk, late at night. Jan laughs when he says he'll have to get the cleaning crew in early and hope to god they use enough air freshener. When did the situation turn from an HR nightmare to a hilarious joke?
"Definitely. The branch communicates more efficiently with our offices, and I think it's because he's maturing from our interactions and realizing his responsibilities to us."
She breathes sharply, her mouth against his collarbone. They work in tandem, a unified front of sweat and muscle and thrusting. She leans her head back against the wood paneling she's pressed against and moans. There is the release. His head moves downward, lips brushing against the tip of her ear.
"So was Doctor Perry right?" he breathes into the recesses of her eardrum. "Am I the cure for your achy breaky heart?"
"I guess I was correct in encouraging you to follow through?"
"God, yes…"
"Yes. Definitely yes."