TITLE: Grief To Grace
CHAPTER 4

Jan awoke hours later tangled in the sheets, unable to feel Michael's distinct presence beside her. She opened her eyes and looked around his still-dark bedroom, unable to find him anywhere, though there was evidence of him everywhere. His pants, shoes, and socks were in a heap on the floor on his side of the bed, and his button-down shirt lay wrinkled at the food of the bed. Jan slowly sat up, keeping the sheet tucked under her arms as she reached for the shirt, pulling it on and indulging herself in a brief sniff of the collar.

It smelled like cheap Drakkar Noir knockoff, and pure Michael. Doing up the buttons quickly, she swung her bare, long legs over the side of the bed and got up, padding across the carpet to the doorway. Bracing a hand on each side, she leaned forward and her eyes panned around the hallway, still unable to find him. Then she smelled the unmistakable scent of coffee. "Michael?"

Soft light was coming from the kitchen a ways down the hall, and Jan followed the soft light, now able to hear the sounds of him tinkering around near the stove. She leaned against the doorway. "Michael."

She caught his attention immediately, and enjoyed the way his eyes bulged out of his head for just a second while he took in her attire -- clad in nothing more than his dress shirt. "J-Jan. Holy..." He shook his head as if trying to shake off a trance, and chuckled to himself.

Jan couldn't help but smile, taking in what he was wearing and deciding he looked quite cute -- a white tee shirt and a pair of shorts with tiny microphone prints on them, his dark hair adorably tousled. Jan was half-expecting she'd feel some sort of panic set in after sleeping with him. Oddly enough, she felt none whatsoever. "What?"

"You just look..." Michael set down the spatula he'd been holding and went to her, stopping just a foot away. "Wow."

She arched an eyebrow. "Am I going to get a full sentence out of you anytime soon, Michael?"

He chuckled again, eyes still roving her figure. "I'm sorry, I just... for all the times I've imagined it, I never expected to actually see you... like this. Wearing nothing but one of my shirts." He lifted his eyes to hers. "It's gotta be the sexiest thing I've ever seen."

Jan wasn't quite sure what made her heart actually skip -- him calling her sexy, or admitting that he'd imagined her like this before. Why didn't that panic her, either? "Really," she responded coyly.

He nodded and took a step closer, but still didn't reach out to her. "Really."

Jan watched the tension in his body, watched his eyes still cataloguing her every curve, and she couldn't help but say to him, "Michael, you can look and touch."

His head didn't move, but his eyes flicked up to hers, as if checking to make sure that she was, in fact, lucid at this moment. Then, he tentatively reached out to touch the curve of her hip, watching her eyes to make sure she was okay with the contact.

Jan could've pounced on him in that moment. Michael definitely had his cartoonish moments, his rude and obnoxious moments... but those were all balanced out by moments like these, where he was unbearably sweet and considerate, and respectful. She really could see being in a relationship with him, and -- it almost frightened her to think it, but -- being married to him. She already was married to Michael, in some ways. Always having to check in on him and keep up with him, making sure he stayed in line... or as close to being in line as Michael Scott could possibly get.

She gasped suddenly, pleasantly surprised when Michael pinned her to the wall in the kitchen and kissed her. "What time is it?" she breathed into his mouth, winding her arms around his neck.

"Five-fifteen," he replied between kisses.

She hummed, and gasped again when he gripped the back of her thighs and suddenly lifted her off her feet, depositing her on the countertop. Their lips broke and she pulled back, grinning down at the look she saw in his eyes -- affection, desire, respect, lust, and... oh God, maybe even love. "Michael..."

"I was making you breakfast," he told her, hands affectionately stroking her bare thighs while he tossed a glance toward the stove. "I think I may have done it wrong."

Jan furrowed her brows and followed his gaze, spotting some questionable-looking pancakes on the griddle. "What were you trying to do?"

The smile he directed up to her was boyish and sweet. "I wanted to make you some pancakes."

Her heart swelled, but she chuckled. "Michael, you didn't need to do that."

"I know, but... I wanted to. I've never made breakfast for anyone before." A bit softer, he added, "Nobody's wanted to stay over before."

Jan kissed away the sadness in his tone, holding his face in her hands while he continued to stroke her bare legs. "You don't need to make me breakfast, Michael," she whispered, planting small pecks on his lips. "Although, I do appreciate the gesture."

"Well then, whatever else you need, Jan." He kissed her neck.

Jan's eyes slipped closed as he kissed down the side of her neck, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders again. When his lips touched her collarbone, she drew in a shaky breath, recalling just how surprisingly talented those lips had been just hours before, and told him in a desire-clouded voice, "I can think of something I need."

His eyes bugged out of his head yet again when he pulled back, and he sounded downright incredulous. "Really?"

She arched one perfectly-shaped brow. "You up for it?"

That purely-Michael grin slipped over his face. "That's what she said."

Jan fixed him with a playful glare. "Shut the stove off and get me in the bedroom, Michael."

He mock saluted, "Yes ma'am!" and hurriedly went about turning off the stove and coffee-maker before running back over to her, pressing his lips to hers as he hooked her legs around his waist and carried her back to the bedroom.

When Jan awoke again, her muscles pleasantly sore, it was to find sunlight filtering in through the window. Michael was, yet again, missing. She flipped over on her side and felt his side of the bed, no longer warm. Wherever he went this time, he'd been gone for awhile. "Michael?"

She sat up, the sheet pooling around her waist, and this time found his tee shirt and shorts strewn across the foot of the bed. She grabbed the tee shirt and pulled it on, then climbed out of bed and wandered instinctively toward the kitchen.

She couldn't hear him, though she could smell and hear coffee still brewing. The lights were off in the kitchen though plenty of sunlight were streaming through the windows. She called his name, "Michael?" only to receive silence as an answer.

A note sat waiting for her near the coffee machine, written in Michael's distinctive scrawl:

Some coffee for you, since you are bionic and require no breakfast. I'm taking off as early as I can today. And yes, I miss you. I probably always will from here on out, whether you like it or not, Jan. Enjoy the coffee.

Jan smiled, and glanced up to note that not only was a coffee mug there for her, but two packets of sugar and a single serving of cream, also. She was unable to help beaming as she wondered just how the hell he knew exactly how she liked her coffee.

Then she heard her cell phone faintly ringing from the living room. Running quickly over to the coffee table, she flipped it open and hoped it was him in the other end. "Hello?"

It was her boss, checking to see if she was still planning on taking today off. Jan fed him a rather expertly-worded fib and then disconnected, her eyes still searching for Michael. At the back of her mind, she realized she should feel like a fool for missing him... but she didn't.

She flipped open her phone again and hit the speed dial button for Michael's direct line. Sure enough, within moments, she heard his happy-to-hear-from-her voice...

"Hi there, sleepyhead. You got my note?"

"Yes, I did," she smiled, still hanging onto it. "But Michael... you stranded me here."

"I know, that worked out quite well for me, didn't it?"

Jan chuckled briefly, asking, "How's that?"

"Well since you've got nowhere to go, that means that you'll be there when I get home."

Home. The word rang in her head for some odd reason, and a vision of that three-bedroom suburban house flickered in her mind's eye. "Ah."

He sounded a mix of awed, sad, and elated as he admitted, "I've never had anyone to come home to before."

And it was comments like that, spoken in an uncharacteristically sincere voice for Michael, that left Jan with the realization that there was pretty much no hope for being able to resist him. Ever. So she closed her eyes, inhaled through her nose, and exhaled softly, "I'll see you when you get home, Michael."

TBC