Author Notes: Ow, my brain.

He stalked his prey like a wildcat, prowling, hunting, following his razor-sharp senses toward her. There she was: blonde, small, unaware... He had chased her this far, and now was his time to strike.

Pounce.

"Aiieeep!"

Andy bounded from behind the cubicle wall with all the grace of a tranquilized elephant, his fingers reaching out for Angela's exposed flanks. He caught her completely unaware as she tried in vain to do her work, elliciting a terrified yelp from Angela and an irritated scowl from Oscar.

"Get off me!" she yelled. Did that mean that she wanted him to stop? Impossible. Everyone loved a good Bernard finger-rippling, almost as much as his patented back rub. So what did he do? Did he take her at her word and stop tickling her? Or did he do what her hungry eyes told him to do and continue? It was nebulose. Then again, the elbow into his gut lead him to believe that it was the former.

So he did stop. Then he went to see if he was peeing blood.

He never would have guessed that he would bleed more with Angela than his ex-roommate.

It's a funny world.

Andy: So Angela and I are taking it slow because sex of any kind is an evil, evil, dirty, nasty, filthy thing... and should be experienced only with the person you love most in the world... because God loves us... or something. To be honest, I'm getting mixed messages on this one.

"Andy, I must speak with you about your inappropriate PDA earlier."

Andy was extremely shocked and worried. "Wait - what's wrong with my Blackberry?" He really needed an explanation or else he'd explode with concern. He loved his Blackberry and if anything was amiss... But Angela just looked at him like he was an idiot or something.

"Break room. Now," she hissed at him, just low enough for him and only him to hear. Not since Big Turkey tried to get rid of all the old geezers had he seen someone so upset about a Blackberry. It was scary, but not unhot.

He followed the petite, furious blonde into the break room, and as soon as the door was closed she let loose with a string of complaints and an interrogation regarding his intelligence and possibly whether his parents were brother and sister (no - second cousins at least). It actually took him half a minute to figure out what she was so angry about.

"So my Blackberry is okay?"

"Yes Andy," she rolled her eyes like a bowling ball, "your Blackberry is okay but your public tickling of me is most certainly not. Office romances are nobody's business except for the persons involved and doing that in front of Dw- Oscar is completely inappropriate. And you almost made me pee."

Also possibly unhot, but Andy probably rightly considered that this would not be the right time to make that statement. "Why do I have to stand facing away from you when we talk in the break room?" he asked instead.

"Andy, I'm trying to tell you to be more inconspicuous."

"Okay, but we probably look more foolish than inconspicuous. It's not like people can't see in and look at our mouths moving. Like HAL in 2001, if any of them can read lips and read that we're plotting to turn him off and then snip!" he flails about for a second and then plays dead. "See, the cameras are pointing at us right now." Andy pointed out into the sales floor where Steve the camera guy was semi-hiding behind the potted plant. Andy waved at him and smiled. Angela scowled.

"Look Pookie, I know this is important to you, but can we hurry this up? I have to get ready for my rehearsal with Scrantonicity 2."

Angela huffed and she puffed... She didn't blow anything down but she left the break room in a state of total exaspiration.

Andy went to get his banjo.

With her mind in overwhelming turmoil, Angela sat on her loveseat cuddling Garbage the cat within her arms, stroking his mangy fur, trying to make some sense of what she was doing. Garbage was a microcosm of her troubles: the forces of D and Andy tearing her apart, both with their redeeming qualities, both with their infuriating faults, righteous vengeance versus actual feelings... The only thing that she knew for sure was that she was never going to explain to Andy how Garbage got his name. She frowned. It had taken her a week of baths to remove the festering smell from his pelt.

There came a knocking on her door. Shave and a hair cut, two bits. Andy.

With a sigh, she set Garbage on the floor and went to let Andy in. His slumping shoulders and strained smile indicated to her that he had had a bad day.

"How did band practice go?" she asked.

"Awful. Some people just don't appreciate good music."

Garbage coughed up a furball.

The poor boy - err... man... ummm... man-child dejectedly stumbled over to the love seat. "They said that a banjo has no place in a The Police cover band and relegated me to backup vocals. Can Kevin hit my high notes? I don't think so!" He buried his head into his hands and nearly sobbed.

The compassion that welled up inside Angela at that moment made her decision for her. "I haven't been entirely fair with you Andy." She awkwardly rubbed his shoulders to comfort him. "Despite your weirdness, you have been really sweet to me, and I've treated you worse than you deserve. And I have been deciding whether or not I want to... give you more of myself... I'm still not comfortable with the idea of knowing you as Abraham's wife knew Abraham, but I'm sure that a mutually enjoyable compromise can be reached."

Andy perked up immediately, though still pouting a bit. "You mean?"

She nodded. "Not sex," she clarified quickly, "but maybe analogous to sex."

Andy: You remember that one Family Guy episode with the ear sex? Yeah, not as dumb an idea as it sounds.

He grins like the Cheshire Cat.

Andy: Next I think we'll try nose sex.