Story Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Betaed by the fantastic GreenFish. (She also wrote my favorite line and no, I’m not telling which.)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Between a Chili’s and a Hard Place
It had to be some cosmic joke that, the week after her divorce was final, she ended up making out with Michael Scott in a hotel room. The universe definitely had a sense of humor, as it had turned him into a caring, sweet listener who’d held her for hours while she cried out all the repressed feelings and emotions. (He wasn’t a half bad kisser either. Who would’ve guessed?)
But, still. It was a mistake. She kept telling herself that in the car ride back to Manhattan. A mistake that could never happen again. She was his boss. He was Michael Scott. She called him when she was halfway home and reiterated the mistake. Very clearly. He didn’t hear her. Michael invited her back to Scranton. Back to the hotel. She tried bluntness, but it still didn’t register. She finally hung up and focused on the road.
The second she got back to New York, she searched her apartment for the business card of the handsome ad executive (no lawyers, please) she’d met the previous week. Sure, she’d been drinking her feelings away alone in some dark bar, but he’d followed her outside and lit her cigarette for her. (And they said chivalry was dead.)
She just needed something—anything, to get her head back on straight.
They went on four dates and had sex twice.
She stopped calling him after Michael’s performance review.
Holidaze
The holidays were difficult, but not as difficult as they could have been. She worked a lot. She sent extravagant gifts to her niece and nephew in Scottsdale, but didn’t visit. She spent Christmas day removing every last trace of Gould from what was now her apartment. Every Hefty bag down the garbage chute left her with an odd feeling of satisfaction and emptiness.
The week between Christmas and New Year’s, the Dunder Mifflin corporate offices looked like a ghost town. She gave her assistant the week off and her corner of the floor was unnervingly quiet.
She rang in the New Year at a party that she attended alone, but left on the arm of an attractive stockbroker who’d kissed her with purpose at midnight. He asked her name after.
It wasn’t the best sex she’d ever had. At least she didn’t start the year alone.
(She did wake up that way, though.)
My Funny Valentine
She set the meeting for Valentine’s Day perhaps unconsciously on purpose. She had no plans; why should they? (When had she become this person?) She didn’t even wear red to celebrate the occasion.
Then there was Michael. She’d successfully avoided him since the performance reviews, save for phone calls, but now he was here at corporate (on Valentine’s Day) looking handsome and ridiculous in the important meeting with the C.F.O.
Never mind that she’d nearly had a stroke when the manager from Albany made the accusation that she’d slept with Michael.
Later in her office, weariness poured out of her as she laid her head in her hands. In a true act of chivalry, (take that, Ad Guy) Michael threw himself on the mercy of the C.F.O. and saved both their jobs. (How could he manage to be so frustrating, yet so competent, and articulate at the same time? Was this even the same person?)
Of course, later, she’d nearly blown it in yet another moment of weakness. It was just supposed to be a simple ‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ but she kissed him—taking him fully by surprise before he turned to face the camera she’d completely forgotten about. The elevator doors slid shut behind her.
She spent the cab ride home with her face buried in her hands. Jan wasn’t sure if she was upset because she kissed him or because she hadn’t followed him.
Girls Like Cars and Money
They bickered like an old married couple the entire time she was in Scranton. It was infuriating and secretly invigorating. She couldn’t quite pinpoint when the arguing turned into something more than aggravating. Something almost…arousing.
She couldn’t do one-night stands anymore. Mostly because she couldn’t wait for them to leave once they were done. No cuddling required, just get out. It was no way to live and she knew it.
The workshop with the women of the office was turning out surprisingly productive, until Angela from accounting brought up her divorce. By the time Kelly mentioned “second base,” she was ready to scream.
Then Michael came in with his shirt unbuttoned to there with the “we have a history,” just—completely inappropriate talk. When the word “union” entered his vocabulary, it was the last straw. She strode down into the warehouse to assert herself and her position. Michael hid behind a cart of cleaning supplies. A very small, tinny voice in the back of her head pointed out that he looked adorable and scared and suitably chastised. She smiled to herself as she headed back up the stairs towards the office.
Luck Be The Other Lady
She’d packed a bag. She’d pulled out that black leather jacket that she only wore when she wanted to feel bad-ass and sexy. She’d driven two and a half hours to Scranton to stand around in a warehouse and play casino games for fake money.
She was there for him. She’d packed a bag.
Months had passed since that night at Chili’s and they had run the gamut of emotions and arguments with each other and he was still there. Yet he still called her and invited her sweetly, knowing—somehow—that she needed a break.
Then she got there and found out he’d invited another woman. Worse, she was nice (in a vaguely passive aggressive sort of way). All of a sudden Jan was a third wheel on her own date. (Not a date.)
After an hour of craps with Michael and two cigarettes with Jim Halpert, she had to get out of there. She pretended her heart didn’t hurt a little when she bid Michael and Carol good night. She waved good-naturedly at the camera crew that caught her leaving. When she threw the overnight bag into the backseat with such force and disgust, she didn’t even notice they were still filming. It wasn’t until she drove away that she caught sight of the camera crew through the rearview mirror.
She was crossing the bridge back into Manhattan when she realized tears were coming down her cheeks. She was crying over Michael Scott.
It was going to be a long summer.
end
Chapter End Notes:
Feedback is good for the soul. (Like chicken soup.)
