@missnatzooie made a post talking about Ragatha telling Pomni that she's been doing well and been good, And Pomni needing that after what she's been through. Which I haven't really seen much of, it's usually Pomni offering Ragatha that praise (who also really needs it.) But it gave me this sweet little idea for the ship.
Reader: helpful, emotional, sunshine. No pronouns or descriptors used
Warnings: death of a wild animal
Summary: Last night had been Dunder Mifflin’s annual Christmas Party, which turned out to be quite a bit more wild than some people would’ve expected- including you. You and a few others decided to stay sober through the party as designated drivers, and while you still had fun at the party with your friends, it still ended up pretty late by the time you got home. But what could go wrong with getting up early to go help clean up the office before work starts? Or… What could go right?
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You were kinda lost?
There wasn’t really any other way you could describe it if you were being honest. You’d been on the way to work early- you had volunteered to take down all of the Christmas decorations after the party everyone had last night, though you hadn’t had the time. Mainly because you had also insisted on being one of the designated drivers that night, so you had taken a good majority of your coworkers home, then headed home to sleep off the party yourself. So you decided you’d just head in early and get it all done before anyone showed up for work, and maybe even begin hanging the stars and silver decorations that would consist of the New Year’s party embellishments.
Except, it had been really rather foggy out when you’d left your apartment to get into your car. You’d been surprised at how little you could see of Scranton around you, though you figured it wasn’t so bad as to warrant waiting for the day to get brighter and burn some of the fog away. So you turned on your low lights on the car and drove off in the direction of Dunder Mifflin, planning out your order of operations as you drove. You could make yourself a pot of coffee and have a few cups as you took everything down. You could even take your time, play some nice music as you did so- you had left rather early enough, after all. Perhaps, even-
WHACK
You slammed on the brakes, your eyes wide and panicking. Throwing the car into park and pressing the button for your hazards, you immediately begin to rush trying to take your seat belt off- struggling and taking much too long to do so in your panicked state. You finally throw it off, jumping out of your car and leaving the door open to circle around to the front. Your headlights highlighted the object- the animal- that you had hit and made apparent the dent in your car that you weren’t exactly worried over right then.
You’d hit a deer! Sure, you’d heard of it happening often enough. People coming in to work annoyed and complaining of another dent in their car, throwing their bags onto their desks with force. You’d always jump up immediately, feeling this instant instinct to help and soothe and uplift the person who’d been upset. Honestly, you did that rather often despite the reasoning of their mood, but that wasn’t the point right now. They’d only been annoyed, perhaps peeved about their car being damaged? They weren’t- they hadn’t-
You were devastated.
Sure, you didn’t know the deer. You hadn’t even thought about a deer actually dying when all of your coworkers had complained before, but you were looking at it now. It was there, its eyes wide and unseeing, laying flat across the road, directly in the middle of the lane you had been driving down. How were you going to move it out of the way? Was there anything you could’ve done to help, were you too distracted while driving? How were you going to get through your day knowing that you’ve killed a living being?
You don’t really know how long you stood there, hand covering your mouth in shock, unshed tears brimming in your eyes. You come to from a honk behind you, spinning around only to squint through the fog to notice some dim headlights parked behind you. You watch the faded image of the car door opening, someone stepping out and standing behind their open door. Their tone was gruff and didn’t sound very friendly, putting you even more on edge.
“Hey, what’s the hold-up? I’m tryin’ to get ta’ work here!”
“I-” You try to call out, clearing your throat and hoping the emotions weren’t as clear in your voice as it sounded. “I hit- there’s a-” You realize rather suddenly you couldn’t finish your sentence, you couldn’t say aloud what you’d done.
“What are ya’ on about- oh, fuck it.” The man circles his door, approaching you and becoming more clear the closer he gets. He was an older fellow with a long black scraggly beard, streaks of white through both it and his hair that was tucked under a dark baseball cap. He was wearing some rather comfortable-looking working-class clothes- he wasn’t grubby by any means, just a bit gruff around the edges. “What did ya’-” His words stop as he peeks around the front of your car, beginning a slow nod as if in understanding. “Ah. Well, that happens often enough.” The man moves toward the dead animal, pulling gloves from his back pocket and sliding them on as he glances back at you. “You seem pretty upset, this your first time something like this has happened?”
“Uh,” You shake your head minutely, trying to bring yourself back into reality, “Yeah, yeah, this is- uh,” You nod, bringing a hand up to your mouth to chew on a fingernail nervously. “I just, I couldn’t see it, y’know? It’s so foggy out, I swear I was watching-”
“Hey, don’t worry about it,” The man calls out, his gruff voice exacerbated by the effort of lifting the deer enough to begin pulling it to the side of the road. “What you doin’ out so early anyway? You don’t look like a factory worker.”
“Oh, no,” You drop your hand, shrugging as you walk over into the doorway of your vehicle, wanting to bring yourself some comfort. “I was on the way to work, though. I was going in early, I’d volunteered to take down the Christmas decorations.”
“Oh, yeah?” The man grunts, heaving once last time to finalize his little mission. He turns back to you, clapping his hands together as if to brush them off before beginning to remove his gloves. “What is it you do, then?”
“Oh, uh, paper.”
“Paper?”
“Dunder Mifflin paper company, we sell different sizes and thicknesses and-” You stop, huffing out a sarcastic laugh, “I’m sorry, this isn’t interesting. We just supply the paper that businesses need.” The man grunts with a nod, glancing to his car behind yours before looking back to you over the hood of your car.
“I need paper.”
“Oh, we mostly work with businesses-”
“I have a business.”
“Oh! Well, let me just-”
You end up digging through your belongings until you find your business card, handing one over to him. You learn his name is Grant Russel, and promise to call him later that day after lunch to set him up with what he needs. You do this all in a sort of daze, but you realize once you’re in your car and driving down the road again that he might’ve just been doing it to get your mind off of things. It’d worked, briefly, though now that you were alone again you couldn’t stop thinking about it. The mental image of that animal lying on the ground was haunting you, even as you pulled into the empty lot.
You made your way inside slowly, staring into space and moving methodically. You set your things down on your desk and turn slowly, blinking at the office around you. You immediately grab a trash bag and throw yourself into your work, forgetting about any plans of coffee or music. The sound of the car hitting the animal repeats in your head, the frantic seatbelt fight followed by the sight once again- it all kept replaying in your head as you picked up lose styrofoam cups littering the ground and desks, papers strewn around everywhere from a surprisingly wild office party.
The light above you flickers on and you flinch, looking up at them first as if they would provide an answer. Then, thinking better of that, you turn your attention toward the light switch. There he stood, your best friend and partner in prank, Jim Halpert. He had on a goofy smile, the Santa cap from last night sitting sideways on his head, holding his briefcase and jacket in the hand not resting on the light switch.
“Do you do everything in the dark?”
You want to answer him. You open your mouth to say something, but the words don’t come out. His smile slowly falls along with his hand, and his eyebrows furrow as if he’s trying to figure something out. You look down at the trashbag in your hand, clearing your throat and shaking your head. You could hear his light footsteps in the silence around you as he approached slowly, the ‘clonck’ of his briefcase hitting the desk finally shocking your mouth into action.
“Sorry, I just- I hadn’t noticed.” You turn, beginning to look around the room you’ve been cleaning. You hadn’t realized you’d already picked up everything off of the floor, the bag in your hand now full. When had that happened? “I was just- I was lost in thought, apparently.”
“Hey,” Jim’s voice is soft, gentle, and his hand touches your arm just as gently. You turn your attention up to him, blinking and feeling tears begin to fall down your cheek. When had that happened? You weren’t aware you had been almost crying until it happened, silently and lightly, barely anything really. But Jim noticed, his eyes tracking the movement of the tear before he raised a hand to brush it away from your cheek, pain in his eyes. “What happened?”
You blink, the image of that scene replaying in your head as you stare through Jim. He lowers his head slightly as if trying to catch your eyes even though you’re looking straight at him, and it brings you back to reality, back to the present time. You start to shake your head, ready to lower your gaze, but Jim uses the hand that’s still sitting on your cheek to pull you back up to look at him. “It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid if it matters to you.”
His response was so fast like there was no thought or any other possibility that could matter. You bite your lip, face crumpling into sorrow once again. “I-” You try to say it, to convince yourself that if you say it then you’ll feel better. You have a sinking feeling that if you say it, it’ll just make it even more real. “I hit a deer on the way to work.” The tears come back, pooling in your eyes as you look up to Jim, pleading, “I didn’t see it. I swear- it’s just so foggy out, and-”
Jim shushes you gently, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you gently into an embrace. You fall into his chest, dropping the trash bag next to you to wrap your arms around his waist, burying your face into his shoulder as the sobs finally begin. He holds you as your chest heaves, rubbing your back and humming lightly in your ear. You weren’t sure if he wanted to say something but couldn’t think of the words, or if he was just humming on purpose, but for some reason it helped to soothe you a lot sooner than you would’ve anticipated. By the time you’re calming down, he finally speaks gently.
“There we are. Now that we got that out, how about we move a few steps into the break room and start up a pot of coffee? Or would you like hot cocoa?” You pull back, knowing you must look a mess, and look up toward Jim with a wide, and confused, expression. “Something hot to drink will do you some good, c’mon.”
He pulls you by your arm- not enough that you couldn’t resist if you wanted to, but you liked the feeling of his hand on you, guiding you. He opened the door, holding it and ushering you in before letting it swing closed behind him. He gestures for you to take a seat, taking the coffee pot and beginning to wash it out, cleaning the whole thing. “Thank you,” You mumble, sitting down on the cold plastic chair next to the table and turning it so you can still face him. He glances up at you with his silly little half-smile, pulling his face to the side. He looks back to what he’s doing without an answer, turning off the water and shaking the components he held to fling the droplets off.
“Did you decide on coffee or cocoa?”
“Coffee,” You mumble again, and he nods. He seems lost in thought as he goes through the process of putting together a pot to brew, and then he’s finished and the sound of the coffee pot coming to life begins to fill the air. His hands, idle now, rest on the counter in front of him, and he leans forward against them, staring at the pot of coffee beginning to lightly drip. You’re beginning to desperately want to know what he’s thinking- which then shocks you to realize that he had efficiently distracted you enough from the event that had happened that you managed to not think about it for a full minute. Well, until now.
He pushes himself off of the counter, clapping his hands together and turning toward you with a grin. “I think we should play a game.” You furrow your brows, your shoulders falling slightly in disappointment.
“I’m sorry, Jim,” You shake your head, sighing and running your hand over your face. “I just don’t think I’m quite in the mood for a game, for once.” You expected him to be shocked, of course. You were always the happy-go-lucky person of the office, bustling around to help everyone, willing to play any game or prank if it meant making someone happy or laugh. You don’t remember saying no to one of Jim’s games- ever.
“Hey,” Jim says, taking the few steps toward you so he can grab your hand from your face. “It’ll be fun, I promise. It’ll take your mind off of things, which is what you need.” As you continue to stare at him, unconvinced, he finally sighs and pulls out the seat next to you, taking a seat while still holding your hand. “Look, I’d offer to help you out at any moment of any time. I honestly, genuinely mean that.” He lets that sink in for a moment with a small smile, before finally opening his mouth, hesitating for but a moment before continuing, “However, this isn’t exactly something I can help with. So you’ve hit your first deer, and you’re very distraught about it. But I can’t go back and make you not hit that deer. I can’t go and perform CPR-” He stops, raising his eyes and tilting his head, “Well, I could try-”
“No,” You interrupt, a laugh bursting from your chest out of nowhere. You shake your head, raising your free hand to wave back and forth quickly, then pulling it up to wipe a tear from your eye with yet another chuckle. “No, it’s dead. The guy made sure of it.” Jim was grinning, obviously having just told a joke and happy that it worked, but you watch his expression falter as you mention ‘the guy.’
“There was a guy?” Jim asks nonchalantly, beginning to fidget and play with your fingers. You shrug, glancing over to spy how full the coffee pot has gotten.
“Yeah, I was holding up some guy from getting to work. I didn’t know what to do at all but he got out and helped me. Pulled the-” You feel yourself choked up suddenly, clearing your throat and pushing through it, “He pulled the body off the road so we could continue on.” As you glance back, you watch Jim’s shoulders fall very slightly, as if relaxing.
“Oh, well that’s good. I’m glad you didn’t have to take care of it yourself- but next time you can just call me, I’ll help out.” He nods with a smile, and you laugh, shrugging.
“I dunno’, he seemed pretty suited to the job.” You reach into your pocket, pulling out one of your own business cards and flip it over to the back, revealing the name ‘Grant Russel’ and a phone number under it. You feel Jim stiffen through your joined hands, and you raise your eyes with a start to notice that he’s gotten very still, staring down at the card in your hands.
“And he used your traumatic experience to ask you out?” You blink a few times, then burst out laughing, shaking your head and raising the hand holding the card up to your face again, wiping away fresh tears of laughter as it kept coming out- just wouldn’t stop, honestly. You felt literally insane, with so many emotions swirling and battling to take over. Jim finally breaks his glare with the card, softening his look into confusion as he stares at your laughter.
“You-” You chuckle again, pulling in a deep breath to try and regain a semblance of control. “You think that’s what this is?” You toss the card onto the table without care, seeing it slide to the middle from the corner of your eye. You sigh, shrugging, “No, he was asking me about my work for some odd reason. Mentioned paper, and he said he needed paper.” You glance over at the pot as it starts the sound of spewing, indicating the pot finishing up. “Honestly, I don’t know if I believe he really does or not. But I’m definitely going to call and try to secure that sale.”
You watch Jim sit frozen in place, no longer tense or stiff but just frozen like a deer caught in the headlights (bad analogy to think up, though, whoops). After a moment he shakes himself, pulling his hand away to slap them both down on his knees, pushing himself up to a stand and moving over toward the coffee pot. He throws out a forced laugh, nodding with a large grin. “Absolutely! Get that sale! See, something good can come from a bad thing!” He forces a chuckle again, reaching for the pot and going to pour it- into nothing. He hesitates, then looks up at the cupboard and back down at the pot in his hand. He sets it back down, moving to properly grab the cups this time. You watch all of this, amused, but mostly staring at the blush that seems to be darkening more and more.
“Jim,” You lightly call out, pursing your lips as you watch him take your favourite cup from the cupboard down, setting it down next to his rather plain but slightly chipped favourite cup. They looked good next to each other, you decided, and you hoped that you complimented Jim as well as your cups did together. He turns his head in your direction but keeps his eyes focused on his task, actually pouring the coffee this time. “Why were you worried about him asking me out?” You couldn’t help the feeling of hope beginning to rise in your chest, that perhaps maybe he’d been thinking of asking you out just the same as you had been. He turns now to look at you, eyes wide with an innocent expression.
“What? Oh, no reason,” He laughs, then shakes his head. Then hesitates, amending his statement, “I mean, no, I was- It’s just rude, you know? You just went through something, and you were probably pretty distraught. I mean, you seemed distraught, and asking you out when you’re like that, I mean-” He huffs a defeated laugh this time, shaking his head as he stirs the two cups. “Anyway, so this game-” He taps the metal spoon against the cup, the chinks sounding into the room and interrupting his sentence before he sets it down, picking up both cups and setting them down next to you on the table.
“Jim,” You quickly speak out, reaching a hand up to place on his arm as he reaches across you to get to the table. “So, there’s no other reason?” He pauses in place, having already let go of the cups he has no reason to stay bent over aside from just letting you hold him there. “Just- just because it’s rude?” He’s staring into your eyes, looking as if he’s building himself up to something before licking his lips, opening his mouth to speak softly.
“I-”
A sudden blaring of a ringtone pierces through the air, and you both jump so hard you separate. Jim takes a few steps back, placing a hand on his chest as if to control his heart rate, and you reach quickly into your pocket, pulling out and flipping open your phone. It had been Kelly, actually, asking where Ryan had gone and who had taken him home after the party, if he had gone home with someone else or alone. You attempted to reassure the woman, who seemed to be panicking and believing that Ryan was cheating on her again, but you couldn’t help but keep glancing up at Jim as you were trying to end the phone call. He slowly relaxed the longer the call went on, grabbing his coffee from the table and leaning against the opposite wall, drinking it as he watched you talk to her. He seemed mostly amused, laughing a few times when you had to repeat yourself for Kelly to calm down.
The phone call doesn’t really last that long, it just feels endless with the amount of words exchanged considering Kelly talks at a million miles an hour. Finally, you’re able to promise a more in-depth explanation of what Ryan was wearing and everything else she might want to know, but later once she’s in the office and you can speak face to face. You say goodbye three times before you’re finally able to hang up the phone, letting out a sigh.
“Do you ever stop helping people?” Jim asks suddenly before you’ve even put your phone back into your pocket, and you look up in surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Jim begins, taking his previous seat and leaning on his elbows toward you, coffee cup held between both hands precariously by the top rim of the cup. “That the whole reason you came in here was to help out Michael clean the office. You drove three different people home last night and even took time out of your day to help their partners bring their cars home so they could get to work today.” As he speaks, you reach forward and take the cup from his hands, not liking how close to falling it looked, and place it on the table next to him. You’re watching what you’re doing, looking at his cup, but he takes your hand and pulls it to his chest, causing your attention to shift back to him. He smiles, as if that was the reaction he wanted, and leaned forward even more. “Even now. You’re upset, you were crying- practically sobbing- not too long ago over an animal everyone else would’ve just moved on from. And you’re still answering a stupid phone call from Kelly and reassuring her about a relationship that she pretty obviously shouldn’t be a part of.” He laughs, shaking his head with disbelief. “I mean, you’re-” He catches himself, swallowing roughly (and you absolutely didn’t watch the way his adam’s apple bobbed, his throat flexing with the action), “You’re always doing this.” You’re pretty sure from his tone that he had been about to say some sort of compliment but changed it up at the last second. You wonder why, but shrug and answer all the same.
“Well, I just like to make people happy.” You smile softly, letting your head fall to the side as you stare into his shimmering hazel eyes, the fluorescents above doing no favours but admiring the shine all the same.
“You deserve someone trying to make you happy,” Jim mumbles, shaking your hand he still holds with his own- both of his own hands, actually, as you just realize he’s taken up holding your hand with both of his, as he had the cup just a bit ago. You raise your gaze from your joined hands back to his eyes, smiling softly and feeling that hope in your chest begin to spark and flutter a bit more.
“Well, that’s what I have you here for, isn’t it?”
So it turns out, the game that Jim had been wanting to play and tell you about involved doing what you came here to do- clean up and take down the Christmas decorations. After spending practically too much time in the break room having a cup of coffee and decompressing, you both refilled your cups and made your way into the office properly. The trash had been mostly cleared away- excluding the spilling trash bag on the floor- but all of the decorations still spun and shined and flashed around the room.
“So, we both have a box,” Jim begins, rushing around the corner to their little storage corner hidden behind a wall, fetching two identical empty paper boxes. He jogs back around, reaching out and placing one against your chest until you raise your hands to take it from him. He looks around again, eyes narrowing as if in planning already. “And whoever fills their box first wins.”
“Well, that’s just patently unfair.” Jim turns quickly, widening his eyes with innocence. False innocence, more like, the little cheater.
“What? What’s unfair about that?”
“I saw where you were looking! You’re just going to run right over there and shove that entire tree into your box, aren’t you!” Jim widens his eyes, then laughs, shaking his head.
“What? No,” He drags the word out, shaking his head as if trying to convince you, but his shit-eating grin suggests he’s just lying.
“How about whoever has the most decorations in their box once we’re finished wins, hm?” Jim narrows his eyes at you, pursing his lips. He’d obviously been thinking he would get away with his little joke, but now things seemed to be getting serious.
“And what does the winner get?” You hesitate, blinking a few times.
“Well, it’s your game.” Jim seems taken aback for a second, glancing around the room before dropping his gaze back down toward you with a smile.
“How’s about, whoever wins gets to ask one question to the loser, and the loser has to answer honestly?” You hesitate at this- it could honestly go very badly. Any number of questions could bring down the mood, or even ruin a friendship. But, this was Jim.
“Deal.”
Jim had rushed to the tree immediately while you meandered over toward Pam’s receptionist's desk, turning to glance at Jim before leaning over to operate her computer. You wondered why he still ran in that direction, but the question was answered pretty quickly once you saw him taking ornaments off of the tree one by one and throwing them into his box. He could get a good number that way, sure, but you weren’t really worried about winning or losing. At least you had help, and you were making it fun. And even more fun?
Music.
It started playing over the speakers, your favourite song, and Jim turned to look back at you in surprise. “You’re not gathering things? Did we not start yet?” He drops his hand, turning to look at you with a smile as he nods his head along. You finish clicking a few more things before moving from behind the desk and picking your box back up.
“Oh, it’s fine, we’ve started. It’s just much more fun to work with music on, don’t you think?”
“Absolutely,” Jim agrees, turning to take the ornaments down a bit slower than before. “Nice song, by the way.”
The next half an hour went by rather smoothly, in all honesty. Your mind would flash periodically back to that incident in the morning, but it seemed as if Jim had a radar for your feelings or could perhaps read your mind because he always managed to do something silly and bring you back out of those thoughts. When it looked like you both were getting close to finishing, you decided to have a little fun for yourself. With his back turned, you pick up a fluffy cotton snowman toy and chuck it at his back, turning around and pretending to have done nothing.
You see him turn from the corner of your eye, then you see some fast movement before something small and soft bonks gently against your arm. You turn to him, dropping your mouth open in shock at his obviously victorious grin. “How dare you, Halpert!” You place a hand on your chest as if you are aghast, shaking your head at him. “Attacking an innocent victim, unprovoked!”
“Unprovoked, huh?” Jim chuckles, leaning a hip against the desk he happened to be standing next to. “What are you gonna’ do about it, huh?” You look down into the less-than-half-full box you’re carrying, then look back up to him with a playful glare. He straightens up at the look in your eye, tilting his head slightly with his own narrowed look. “Wait, what are you gonna’ do about-”
He’s interrupted by the pelting of a first toy against his chest, followed by a second and a third as you continue to reach in and toss them out. You’re not aiming to hurt, just to make contact, and Jim scrambles to both get behind some cover while also reaching it and digging around for things he can throw that won’t break- ‘Hah, good luck with all those ornaments!’
Laughter fills the air, both yours and Jim's, along with the prancing tunes of your playlist as Christmas memorabilia flies and arcs through the air, the office now a battleground. You’re not hurt throughout, and you hope the same about Jim, though he never calls out in pain or yells that you need to stop. When you’ve run out of toys, you start grabbing some of the things that Jim had thrown that landed nearby, moving from where you were sitting under a desk. You crouch, ready to peak up and throw when an idea comes to your mind.
You throw a toy, sure, but then also pocket one into your box. You slide your secret plan under the desk, and for every toy thrown you toss one into the box. It doesn’t take too long- longer than expected, honestly, and you believe that perhaps he’s throwing the toys from the floor as well- before finally Jim yells out as your own arm is rearing back to throw.
“Truce!”
“What?” You called out, though you didn’t throw the toy. Instead, ducking down and tossing it into your box as well.
“I- fuck,” You hear a bit of stumbling and laugh to yourself, covering your mouth to muffle the sound. “I said truce! I don’t have any ammo left, you win!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you say I win?” You stand up, proudly placing your hands on your hips as you look in his direction. He’s peaking over the desk he had used for cover, only his eyes and the top of his head showing. He was really rather cute looking like that, though the cuteness turns to hotness the moment he stands up. His hair is fluffy and tossed around, and his clothes look dishevelled and wrinkled, pulling up on one side where it had been tucked in and drooping on the other where he must’ve been using his arm pretty wildly to have untucked it. It also looks like he’d unbuttoned his top button during the scuffle, more skin showing on his chest than you’d ever seen before. You’re struck by his attractiveness, frozen in place as your eyes scan him, properly speechless. Thankfully, it was his turn to speak anyway. He’s raising his hands in surrender, but his grin still lights up his face playfully.
“Oh, I’m not sure I said all that. I don’t mean the game we were playing, just the-” He gestures around, “The throwing war you started-”
“I started?” You interrupt, grinning up at him.
“Yes, you started. Don’t act like you didn’t.” He huffs, crossing his arms and making the bulges of his muscles pop through the shirt. You weren’t sure, but from the positions of his hands under his arms, you had a feeling he was pushing them out and posturing for you. You can’t help but snort, then laugh as you shake your head.
“Okay, okay, I started it. But we do have a bet going.” You grin, kneeling down to reach under the desk for your box, plopping it down onto the table. “So let’s get to counting.” Jim looks understandably taken aback, shaking his head.
“What do you mean? We still have to,” His voice falters, trailing off as he begins to scan the floor around them, “Have to… To clean up…” He looks up at you with a knowing look, surprise etched across his face. “You tricked me!”
“I did no such thing,” You lie, picking up your box and moving closer to him so you can compare his box to yours. “I was merely doing what we agreed to be doing, cleaning up.” Jim scoffs but doesn’t seem to actually be upset, merely just reaches down and picks up his own box from the floor, plopping it down onto the desk next to him. You set yours down alongside it, looking between the two of them. It was probably a good thing you’d come up with that idea, because the boxes looked pretty even in terms of fullness. You and Jim catch each other’s eyes, and you raise your eyebrows.
“I say we count each other’s boxes, so we don’t try to lie about our own count.”
“Deal,” Jim agrees, reaching across you for your box, leaning in close and brushing against you as he does so. You take in a deep breath, trying to calm yourself from the proximity, but instead all you smell is his cologne, making you even more lightheaded. You swallow roughly, sliding his box across to you and beginning to count, trying your best not to lose count. A few quiet minutes later, Jim proudly announces, “32!” You grin, picking up the last item and turning to look at him.
“30.”
“What?” Jim exclaims, his grin falling as he reaches for his box, speed counting for himself. You wait patiently, unhurried, but it doesn’t take long before he slumps his shoulders and looks at you in defeat. You hadn’t really planned to win, and he looked rather disappointed. You wondered why, it was all just fun and games after all, wasn’t it? “Well,” Jim throws his hands out, slapping them against his sides, then rubs his palms against his pants. “Looks like you won. What’s your question?”
“What?” You furrow your brows, wondering what he means before it comes back to you- the reward Jim had suggested. “Oh,” You blink, taken aback for a moment. Since you hadn’t believed you would win, you hadn’t thought up a question at all. You slump slightly, leaning your hip against the desk as you stare upward in thought. “Huh.”
“You don’t have one?” Jim asks incredulously, and as you look down at him you can see a mixture of emotions playing across his face. Mainly playfulness, but something serious alongside underneath it all. You bite your lip, then straighten up.
“No, I have one.” You study his face, wondering if you really should ask. Jim waits, then pushes his head forward to indicate he is waiting. When you still don’t answer, he laughs awkwardly, throwing his hands out once again.
“Well, what is it? Don’t leave me in suspense here.”
“What was it you were going to ask me?” Jim blinks, taken aback once again, then forces a laugh as his eyes flutter elsewhere, scanning the room.
“What? No, you won. You get to ask-”
“No, that’s my question.” You watch him freeze, then slowly force his eyes back to you. “You pretty obviously had a question in mind when you stated that reward. And I didn’t.” You waited a moment, shrugging. “So that’s my question, is wondering what you would’ve asked?” Jim stands there, still and quiet. Too quiet, you decide, and begin to worry as you shift on your feet. “I mean, I can come up with something else-”
“No,” Jim says quietly, taking a small step toward you. “That was the rule. The loser has to answer, and has to answer honestly.” He takes another step forward, his expression turning from playful into something serious- but also soft. He takes in a deep breath, looking down to reach out and take your hand, then back up to meet your eyes. They’re shining, and brilliant, and everything you want. “I was going to ask you out.”
“What?” It was your immediate reaction, saying that word. You couldn’t comprehend what he’d just said. You’d been hoping for those words for so long that you’re beginning to think you fooled yourself into hearing them. You shake your head, huffing a small laugh. “I’m sorry, I must’ve-”
“You heard me,” Jim whispers, pulling gently on your hand to get you to take a step even closer, playing with your fingers with his own. “Will you go out with me? On a date, just to test things out- or,” He shakes his head, breathing out a laugh that flutters the butterflies in your stomach. “I don’t know. I don’t need a test to know that I’m in love with you.”
Your mouth falls open in shock, staring up at him with wonder in your eyes. There was no way this was happening, right? This only ever happened in stories, but here he was. After cheering you up from a horrible morning, volunteering to help you clean the office, and now this? You must be dreaming. But that didn’t mean you wouldn’t take advantage of it.
“Yes,” You breathe out the word, then nod quickly, speaking up. “Yes, absolutely. A date, or partners, or whatever you want, yes. I-” You watch the smile grow across Jim’s face as you answer the affirmative, something lighting up in your brain at the sight of his joy. “I’ve been in love with you for-” You shake your head, unsure how to finish that sentence. Thankfully, you didn’t have to.
Jim leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, and you close your eyes and fall into the embrace. He places a hand on your cheek, the other still holding your hand, and you’re drowning in the feelings he invokes. It’s not a bad thing, this drowning- in fact, it’s what you’d been craving for so long. You couldn’t remember the last time that such a powerful yearning had been fulfilled, and craving more of that vindication you raise your arms up, grasping at the sides of his shirt and pulling him in closer.
By the time you finally broke away, both of you were pulling in a much-needed breath, smiling at one another. Jim’s thumbs lightly rubbed back and forth against your cheek, and you swore you could feel his heart beating through his wrist that your fingers lightly encircled. You’ve never known such peace with someone else before, and you couldn’t wait for what was to come from this.
My oshawott/zangoose hybrid pokesona Oliver giving Jibanyan a kiss on his cheek to help cheer him up after the mess that is everything Level-5 has been doing in relation to yokai watch recently
Gotham Characters' Reactions to the Reader Being Stressed Because They Have a Lot to Do Part 1
Reader: gender-neutral (without any pronouns)
Warnings: mentions of illegal ways to get a good grade
Edward Nygma:
He's very intelligent, so if the subject is nothing too niche he will learn about it himself. You might think that he wouldn't find the time, but this man once rearranged an entire room of folders in his free time (much to Kristen's dismay), and he's ready to put in more effort for you. If you had to learn something, he'd love to quiz you by making small little riddles. .... "Almost. Do you need another hint? It ends with an e."...."Nope, silent e."
If all your time was taken up by your task, he'd make you meals or give you some dessert you like. Prepare yourself for a note on it, he'll write a related riddle on it.
If things get too far - that is, if you're too stressed, even if you mutter "I'm fine." - never leave your utensils lying around, because you will come back to find them gone, with him waiting for you, not giving them back before you answer the riddle, "You desperately need it to escape it becoming the verb that will happen to you if you don't take it, what is it?" You're too tired for this, "Please just tell me, Eddie." He puts his hands on your shoulders in a comforting way, and looks into your eyes, saying, "A break. You desperately need a break. You've been working for too long." Let's just say that he's good at hiding stuff.
Jim Gordon:
He's almost too good at giving you time and space. If you throw yourself into work, he'll do the same, and might end up having more work to do than you. However if your work overload was caused by someone, he'll have a word with them if possible. He'll give pretty much anyone hell, from the normal office worker to some rich guy from higher up. The only scenario in which he wouldn't call them out is if your boss was one of the big players...not that he wouldn't yell in Oswald's face.
Oswald Cobblepot:
Speaking of Oswald's pretty face, it would look very displeased if you of all people were being bothered with too much work. He didn't work his way up just to see that the people he cares about are unhappy, or in your case overworked.
He offers to let someone else do your work or bribe someone to change your results, that's just what he thinks of as a solution: the person he loves wouldn't be stressed out, which is the only thing that matters. Regardless of your decision, you'll be showered in supportive hugs and/or gestures, as usual. Your smaller tasks will be taken care of, and if the root of your work problem is someone, they will be intimidated.
