Just an Ordinary Day - Part One
"Absolutely not!"
Dwight looked at his seething wife. Angela stood defiantly blocking the bedroom door almost as if daring him to get past her. Her clenched hands rested on her hips, her blonde locks spilled over her shoulders as she proudly lifted her chin, sustaining his gaze with a deadly glare.
Dwight thought that, at 5ft1, what Angela lacked in size she surely made up for in intensity and determination. Those were some of her traits he admired the most, but that particular morning he was having a hard time dealing with her disagreeable nature.
"It's a just Swiss Army knife," he debated as if that was an irrefutable argument.
"Exactly!" Angela stared at him as if he was crazy before she took two strides in his direction and snatched the object from his hand, "you're not giving a three-year-old a weapon for his birthday! What do you expect him to do with that, prepare your Sunday meal after you come back from a hunt?" She asked ironically.
"Don't be silly," Dwight scowled, offended by the absurdity of her suggestion, "if that is what I expected, I obviously would have gotten him a butcher's knife instead," he stated matter-of-factly.
Angela rolled her eyes and raised her hands, giving up trying to reason with Dwight. She wasn't going to give him back the knife, and her husband was definitely not giving the object to their son.
"You have to stop treating him like he is a baby-"
"He is about to turn three!" Angela scolded him.
"-all Schrute boys know how to handle a knife by the time they're putting two sentences together," Dwight argued.
"Well, Mose is a Schrute and I don't see you allowing him to walk around with blades," Angela smirked, knowing she had caught him in his logic.
"That's not fair. You know as well I as do that at three, Phillip is already of much superior intelligence than Mose has ever been."
"Which doesn't qualify him to own a knife," Angela made the final decision. She saw the disappointment on her husband's face and tried to make up for it, "yet."
After hearing her last word, Dwight immediately looked up to meet her eyes.
"On Christmas, then?" He suggested, his eyes gleaming with expectation.
"Maybe when he graduates junior high," Angela bargained. "Until then, you can have him join the boy Scouts. That's a sensible compromise," she decided.
Dwight didn't answer her. Instead, he turned his head to the side and whispered profanities in German. After Angela and Phillip had moved in with him, he had gradually stopped swearing, at least in words she could understand. She made too much of a fuss about propriety and he'd learned to avoid having that argument with her.
Angela saw that he had accepted defeat but she knew couldn't consider that discussion finished yet.
"Hand over the compound bow and the sickle too," she demanded unceremoniously. When he looked at her, intrigued and surprised, she explained, "I saw you bring that into the house. Those are off-limits to Phillip too."
Dwight let out a heavy sigh but ultimately conceded.
"They're downstairs in the cabinet above the coffee maker."
She answered him with her signature eye roll and didn't push any further. Of course he had stored them somewhere she couldn't reach. Angela was probably going to need a ladder to get to those, but she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing that.
After fixing an imperceptible wrinkle on her white button-up blouse, Angela finally got out of his way and left the bedroom to get Phillip ready for the day.
.
The accounting department at Dunder Mifflin Scranton was known to be efficient, organized, and productive. Angela took pride in the filing system she had developed over the years. A lot of the old gang was gone, and she didn't really need the job anymore but Angela still enjoyed going to the office, so she'd remained as head of accounting.
That afternoon, she was entering data in one of her programs when her cell phone buzzed. A message from the manager requested her presence in his office immediately.
Angela frowned, disapproving of the interruption but she obliged. The accountant locked the top drawer where she kept the payment checks and put the keys in the pocket of her charcoal dress pants before leaving her workstation.
"You wanted to see me?" She opened the door to Dwight's office after briefly knocking.
"Yes," he replied hastily.
Dwight looked relieved to see her, and that wasn't at all the reaction Angela was expecting.
"I am swamped with work, Dwight, and I want to get everything done before four-thirty so I can pick up Phillip on my way ho-," she stopped talking when she noticed he was holding a small mirror while trying to see the top of his head, "what is going on?" The accountant asked with surprise in her voice.
Dwight looked at her with a smug expression.
"I was right about embezzlement taking place in the warehouse. I hid underneath the desk of the downstairs office as the guys counted the supplier trucks' orders. I saw that new guy snatch four boxes of premium glossy photo paper that should have been placed on the stock."
"Okay," Angela tried not to roll her eyes, "and what does that have to do with your head?" She asked as she took a couple of steps in his direction to inspect what she imagined was an injury.
"I might have accidentally dropped a decoration cactus when I crawled under the desk to leave. It just happened to fall upon my head. And now I have splinters lodged in my scalp."
"Dwight!" Angela reprimanded him, letting out a heavy breath through her nose. She didn't understand why her husband did that kind of stuff, especially now that he was the branch manager. If he suspected someone was stealing, there were several ways to deal with the situation. But being Dwight, of course he hadn't delegated, choosing instead to find out the truth himself.
"I tried taking them out with a pair of tweezers and a mirror but it's hard to reach and look at the same time, and they keep breaking," he went on to add, completely ignoring her rebuke. "I need your help."
"Well, what I need is for you to stop doing things like this and putting yourself in harm's way," she reproached him and shook her head in disapproval but took a step forward nonetheless, accepting the tweezers from his hand. "You're the boss, it's not your job to be crawling under desks to see if a warehouse worker is stealing things."
"That is precisely why I have to do it," he said straightforwardly. "I am the boss."
Angela sighed. It wasn't worth it arguing over that, the damage was already done. With her usual practical approach, she cleaned her hands with sanitizer and applied the liquid on the pair of tweezers that her husband had been using before standing directly in front of him. He was so tall that her head was only a foot or so above his when he was sitting down, which put her in a perfect position to reach his wound.
Dwight relaxed in his chair as he watched Angela position herself between his legs. Despite her irritation, her dainty hands provided a light, soft touch. His injury stung, and it sure wasn't comfortable to feel cactus splinters being pulled out of his scalp, but he had to admit that the brushing of Angela's fingers on his head was surprisingly pleasant.
The short distance between them allowed him to inebriate his senses with her scent. Angela smelled like lemongrass soap, vanilla shampoo, and freshly washed clothes.
Dwight loved it. He loved all of it.
All of her.
He loved how she smelled, how she looked, and how her smooth skin felt to his touch. After so many years of knowing her, he still had no idea how her larger-than-life type of personality could fit in such a small frame.
Angela was judgmental, stubborn, determined, and proud. She had no problem speaking her mind, didn't back down when confronted with whatever it may be and she didn't renounce her values. Dealing with such a strong-willed person could be intimidating for most people, but Dwight reveled in it. He was all in. If anything, the way she challenged him every day made him want to be better in every aspect.
Life with Angela was never boring, he had to admit that.
And there was something about that tiny waist that just looked perfect to accommodate the touch of his hands…
"Are these new pants?" Before Dwight could notice what he was doing, his fingers closed around the back of her knees. His hands started a slow ascend on the back of her thighs until he cupped her buttocks, "they have a nice fit. Really showcase your ass. I love it."
"Dwight!" Angela censored him with a light smack on his shoulder. His hold on her was so firm that she tried to take a step back but failed. "Have you lost your mind?"
"I might have," Dwight ignored her complaint and continued to draw idle patterns on her body with his thumbs. He gave her butt a firm squeeze before looking into her eyes, "as you know, I just had a head injury. Who knows, I might have gotten a concussion. It wouldn't be the first time."
"Don't be ridiculous," Angela breathed out through her nose, trying to contain her reactions. Sometimes, her mind and her body went completely out of sync. While she knew rationally that what was happening was wrong, she just couldn't control that delicious, indecent wave of heat that assaulted her in the most intimate of places.
Dwight didn't bother refuting. He kept her captive with one hand and used the other to untuck her blouse from her pants, exposing a stretch of her deliciously smooth ivory skin.
Angela gasped with surprise when his lips brushed against the spot beneath her belly button. Her eyes closed in an automatic response. The air suddenly felt compressed around her.
That was so wrong, she had to remind herself. They were at work, for Christ's sake. She decided to immediately regain control over what she was doing because the way she had unconsciously held his shoulders to keep her balance was absolutely reprehensible.
"D…" Angela pleaded. She made a huge effort not to moan, but one of his hands was now running up her back under the fabric of her blouse. The contact of his calloused palm against the softness of her skin was setting her on fire, "we can't," she said between panted breaths. "Not here."
Angela shivered when he nuzzled what her clothes were already failing to cover.
Dwight ignored her protests, a cocky smirk creasing the corners of his lips. He absolutely adored seeing her melting in his arms. More determined than ever now, he started a trail of kisses on her flat stomach all the way to her breasts. The next step was going to be unclasping her bra but as he reached out to do so, his elbow accidentally knocked down a pencil cup from the top of his desk.
The noise of metal hitting the floor startled Angela. She immediately took a step back and pulled herself together in a matter of seconds.
Dwight could see on her face that she was mortified. Even though she had gotten less uptight over the past years, Angela was still strict and old-fashioned. She considered what had just happened to be vulgar behavior, and therefore it was condemnable. It wasn't only that they were in the office, but mostly that there were people right outside the door who could walk in on them. He knew she was probably chastising herself at that moment.
"Come back here, Monkey."
"Dwight, no," Angela said with a severe voice.
"I promise I am not going to fire you for engaging in these activities in your work time."
She saw the playful smirk on his lips. Even though that cocky smile often got her excited, right now she really needed to exert some self-control.
"Someone could have walked in. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't," he replied, torn between amusement and frustration. "Those pants you're wearing rob me of any ability to form a coherent thought."
"I can see that you're clearly not thinking" she rolled her eyes and added grumpily before finally leaving his office.
She waited until he couldn't see her anymore to smile at his compliment. In as much as having sex with Dwight at work with everyone just a few feet away on the other side of a wall was indecent and obscene, the accountant had to admit she enjoyed knowing that, on top of loving her, her husband found her attractive and desirable.
But it was a good thing they had stopped. Angela wouldn't want it any other way.
After unlocking her top drawer, Angela spent the rest of the afternoon trying to pretend she didn't wish that pencil cup had never hit the floor.
—
Part 2 is coming right up :)
English isn't my first language so I am sorry if there are any mistakes that compromised your reading!