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Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of anything related to "The Office" or John Mayer.

I'm a JAMer at heart, but I just wanted to write something different.
Inspired by "City Love" by John Mayer

She keeps a toothbrush at my place
As if I had the extra space
She steals my clothes to wear to work
I know - her hairs are on my shirts
             --John Mayer: "City Love"



Jim wakes up slowly to the sounds of rustling around in the bedroom followed by clanking in the bathroom. His whole body is splayed under the burgundy colored sheets, morning sun slanting through the window onto his chest, warming him, waking him gently.

"Oh babe, you're not up yet?" she asks, breezing into the room. He sits up an moans just as she retreats back to the bathroom, and he takes a few moments to stare out his window. Beyond the buildings on the other side of the road lies the Long Island sound, blue and sparkling. He realizes it's one of his favorite things to wake up to in the morning, now. Finally, after almost a year living here, he has something he can say is his favorite.

"Hey, Halpert! get up, we're going to be late!" she says, standing at the foot of the bed, putting an earring on.

He feels himself grin as he looks at her. "Are you wearing my shirt again?" he asks, and his voice cracks from lingering sleepiness.

"Come on, this shirt is so metro it's almost a chick's shirt."

"What?" he rubs his hands over his face, through his hair before focusing his attention back on her.

"I'm sorry, but this shirt is all tapered and fitted, and it's some girly blue color. It goes perfectly with my suit."

He shakes his head and stumbles out of bed. "Isn't it a little big on you?" he asks.

"A little, but the suit jacket hides that."

He lets out an amused puff of air as he gathers clean socks and boxers from the top drawer. "You're something else, Filipelli."

Jim shuffles to the bathroom to get cleaned up, and as he showers, he thinks about how far he's come in the past year. Under the steady thrum of the water, he can think clearly, and he realizes that he's happy now; no longer lonely in a new city. He whistles as he washes his hair, imagines what it would be like if he and Karen got an apartment together in New York City someday.

------

As he reaches for his toothbrush, he notices a purple one hanging next to his in the holder, and he knows it could only be hers.

"Um, what's up with taking up all my space with your toothbrush?" he asks, walking out of the bathroom, still shirtless, holding the toothbrush towards her in his fist.

"Eh, I thought I'd cramp this place up by moving half my stuff in. I didn't tell you?" she smiles.

"Well, I know you didn't tell me that my toothbrush would have someone to talk to all day. This could be dangerous. They might start plotting against us; an overtake of the apartment." He gives Karen's toothbrush an intimidating glare, and she chuckles and walks toward him.

"It's okay, though, right?" she asks, running her hands up the front of his chest. "That I keep a toothbrush here? I can't keep brushing with your toothbrush every day. I mean I love you, but that's just gross."

He sucks in a breath, and looks into her eyes, sees the shadow of fear in them, the change in her expression. He knows it had been the first time she's ever told him she loves him, and he loves that it happened during a conversation about toothbrushes. He leans down and kisses her tenderly. "I love you too, you know," he says. And after she gives him a relieved smile, he adds, "You and your toothbrush."

She laughs, low and throaty, and grabs her toothbrush from him, returns it to the bathroom. "C'mon, Halpert. we have to get to work."

------

After work, Karen comes back to his place. Chinese take-out and cheesy movies are on deck for the night, so she changes into a sweatshirt and pajama pants that she keeps at his place for such nights. And when Jim goes into the bedroom to change, he sees his shirt laid out on his bed; the one she'd worn to work that day, and he notices one of her hairs clinging to the sleeve. He goes to pull it off, and notices that it's almost woven into the fabric of it. The way it had gotten caught underneath her jacket must have pushed it through the fibers in just the right way.

"Hey, Filipelli, you got your hairs in my shirt," he says, holding a strand of hair up to her when he returns to the living room.

"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" She smiles from the nest of pillows ands afghans she'd made for herself on the couch.

"Nah, It's kinda cool. I was actually thinking we could move in together. Then your hairs will be all over everything I own-- it'd be too much to complain about." He says it lightly, but means every word.

She pauses and stares for a second, swallows hard and then he eyes sparkle. "What am I, a cat? I don't shed all over your furniture."

"Karen..."

"Wait, are you serious?"

"Yes, I am. Your hairs will be everywhere." He smiles.

"No! I mean about-- about moving in together."

"Yeah. We practically live together already. Why not?"

"Yeah, why not?" she says, and disentangles herself from the piles of blankets, rushes toward him and embraces him in a hug.

He squeezes her tight and has no doubts that he's happy.



PuffingNoise is the author of 41 other stories.
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