Something Borrowed, Something Blue
by Steph
Summary: He needed all the human interaction he could get. But he really wanted to get back to his book. (Kelly/Toby). Future-fic. This is the companion fic to Something Old, Something New in Toby's POV.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Current season, including DM getting bought by another company. And slight mention of Manager and Salesman.
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.
Thanks to Holly for everything. Not sure if anyone's even reading these kinds of fics anymore, but on the off-chance someone is... thank you. And here you go.
--
Toby hated weekends. It hadn’t always been that way. When he worked at Dunder Mifflin and was so depressed that it was difficult for him to breathe, those two days gave him a brief respite, a chance to recharge his batteries just a bit before it was Monday and the whole miserable cycle started again.
Things were different now. He didn’t exactly love his job, but it was a far cry from Dunder Mifflin. He didn’t need the weekends to recover from the previous week’s atrocities anymore so now he spent the weekends, those lonely, alternating Sasha-less weekends, just wishing for Monday so he wouldn’t have to think about how he should be spending his time.
Having fun. Socializing. Meeting people. Dating. Things other people did on their weekends.
But those things were difficult for him so instead he did errands. He cooked. He went on runs. He watched movies. He read. He practically lived at the library these days. There were times he worried that someday he would read every single book in the library and there’d be nothing left.
This Saturday was shaping up to be like every other lonely, alternating Sasha-less Saturday. He woke up early to do laundry, did some errands including early birthday shopping for his daughter, jogged to the library, perused all the new books before settling on a few new mysteries and then jogged home. He made himself a light lunch and flipped channels until he found an old movie and settled in on his faded couch with one of his new books.
He had been reading for about twenty minutes, completely engrossed in the whodunit, when his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.”
“Hi Toby,” a woman’s voice said before she started sobbing.
It was Kelly and he jumped off the couch, faster than he usually ever moved, panicked, as he pictured several horrible possibilities that were causing her to sound so upset, and he didn’t relax right away, not even after she confessed that the reason she was wailing was because she was at a wedding without a date. Then she asked him how he was.
It was a good question. He could lie, tell her about job satisfaction and a rewarding social life and while he was at it describe an imaginary woman in his life, beautiful and kind and then Kelly could tell all his ex-coworkers on Monday morning and some might even be happy for him. Then again he could be completely, brutally honest and tell her about the weekly appointments with a new therapist, the medication he took or the feeling that he got every time he drove his daughter back to his ex’s house.
Yeah. That would go over very well. And he would bet that she would have no qualms sharing that kind of information Monday morning.
So he gave a noncommittal mumble of an answer and was so sure that it would be enough for her to get off the phone and go back to the wedding and let him go back to his book even though he needed all the human interaction he could get. He could almost imagine his limited social skills gradually atrophying until he became completely agoraphobic.
No. That wasn’t the right word. Agoraphobic meant you didn’t want to leave the house. He wasn’t like that; he certainly had his issues but being outside wasn’t one of them. He loved being outside, running or at a park or whatever. He just preferred being outside by himself. There had to be a word for that, right?
He didn’t want to be like that though. He really didn’t. So he put his book down and agreed to meet Kelly at some little cafe not too far away. He took a shower and put on a clean shirt and told himself that he would have a good time. Kelly could be fun. As coworkers went, he liked her. And it wasn’t like he was meeting Michael or anything.
It wasn’t like he was meeting Jim.
No, he was meeting Kelly who right now sat in the corner of his favorite cafe, wearing a fancy dress that billowed all around her. She looked a little out of place, surrounded by people in jeans and tee shirts slurping cups of coffee. Not that she seemed to care; she was too busy with her cell phone, furiously texting. He walked up to her, feeling uncomfortable, and said hello.
“Toby!” she screamed. She stood up and wrapped her arms around him. He didn’t move, letting her hug him without really hugging back. It was almost as if he had forgotten how to hug.
He almost laughed. It sounded like a really dark children’s book. The Man Who Had Forgotten How to Hug. His mind sure went to some strange places sometimes.
Kelly continued talking. She talked all about Andy and Erin and he nodded along in what seemed to be the right places. Good for them, he thought to himself because deep down, underneath everything else that seemed to be all that people saw when they looked at him, he was a very nice guy.
Kelly took a breath from chattering to order and once the waitress left, Kelly focused on him, wanting dirt. He could tell by her expression that she was hoping for a juicy reason for his departure: stealing from the company, punching Michael or perhaps some secret, scandalous affair that was outed to the wrong person which had led to his firing, being forced out by security, as he pleaded for forgiveness.
Nope. Not even close. Sabre didn’t need him; they had their own HR department. They had given him a chance though to prove his love for his job, to prove how willing he was to fight for it. People from Sabre had taken him out to lunch and asked him a simple question, one that he found he couldn’t answer. They had asked him what he liked best about working at Dunder Mifflin and he couldn’t think of one thing to tell them. He racked his brain trying to think of just one pleasant memory, but it was all overshadowed by the last few years of working there where he was so depressed that he wasn’t even really doing his job, making misstep after misstep as he struggled. He tried to think of something, anything, even a credible sounding lie but his mind was mush and he just stared dumbly, blinking, and he wasn’t even surprised when they, not unkindly, changed the topic of conversation to severance.
He didn’t find a job right away and he was stressed about child support and medical bills and food and then he got something: an HR job with a salary better suited for someone just out of college than someone with 20 years of work experience. It was better though. There was no one at his new place who attacked him and demeaned him the way Michael did; there was no one there who made him feel unloved and alone the way Jim and Pam, through no fault of their own, did.
“So are you happy now?” Kelly asked.
No. No way in hell. Not with the way he avoided people, not with the way he holed up in his apartment on those lonely, alternating Sasha-less weekends, with only a library book for company. Not with the weekly appointments with the therapist, the medication in his bathroom.
That being said at least he wasn’t still at Dunder Mifflin.
“I’m...less unhappy.”
Kelly asked him about girlfriends and she seemed so hopeful that he considered lying again just to cheer her up which didn’t even make sense because he was the one who was depressed so he answered her honestly. He was honest answering her next question too, telling her no, he didn’t socialize with his coworkers. And his answers just sounded so pathetic that he couldn’t even look at her, sure he would see pity in her expression.
It was easier to let her talk. He was much more comfortable being the listener even if he had no interest in her favorite topics of conversation. She told him everything about Dunder Mifflin and he felt so numb when she talked about his ex-coworkers and all their antics and love affairs and marriages and babies and he pretended to be interested and even remembered to smile a few times at her because it was nice of her to want to hang out with him, whatever her motives were.
And he had always liked Kelly. Sure she was talkative and wasn’t always the easiest person to work next to when he needed to concentrate, but she was never really mean to him or anything. And that was saying something when it came to his ex-coworkers.
It had been a nice diversion, getting together like this. Maybe they would do it again some time. But now he was ready to go home. He was tired and antisocial and was really looking forward to his book. Plus he was sure Kelly had more exciting plans when she was done with him. Dancing and clubbing until the next morning he would bet. He didn’t want to keep her so he told her that it had been nice seeing her and to tell everyone hello.
He was not expecting her to ask him to hang out. It caught him off guard and he knew she was just trying to be nice so he said no. She protested before concluding that he was saying no because he was poor.
Which he wasn’t. Not really. Sure money was tight and he wasn’t buying himself new clothes (not that he had anyone to dress for) or going out to fancy restaurants (not that had anyone to go with) or planning vacations to faraway beaches (not that that had worked out well for him in the past), but all he had to do was watch the news to see people who were so much less fortunate than he was.
Still, claiming poverty was better than admitting antisocial tendencies so he mumbled something or other thinking that would be enough to deter her. It wasn’t. She pushed harder, inviting him to her apartment to watch movies and this time when he politely said no, she did something he wasn’t prepared for (although perhaps he should have been). She burst into tears and he hated seeing her cry and it made him feel even lower than before so he apologized and said okay. He would hang out with her for a little bit.
She continued crying, hiccuping and he wasn’t sure why she was crying, because it couldn’t have been about him,. He apologized some more and she launched herself at him.
It took him a second but this time he remembered. This time he hugged her properly, holding her as she composed herself.
He realized that there was something else he had forgotten. It felt really good to be hugged. It felt really good to have a young woman in your arms, one who smelled like flowers and smiled sweetly at you as she stepped away. When was the last time anyone had smiled at him like that?
For that matter, when was the last time anyone had hugged him?
He was still a little worried, wondering if she was okay after crying like that, but she wasn’t crying anymore. She wasn’t crying, but smiling at him and suggesting movies for them, some he had heard of and many he hadn’t, but it didn’t really matter. She had hugged him and had smiled and at this point he thought he would have said yes to anything.
He had never been to Kelly’s place before and it was cute, if very pink. He sat on one end of a pink couch and drank juice from a pink mug with Kelly’s face on it (which was just a little bit bizarre) and together they watched The Devil Wears Prada which according to Kelly was “like one of the greatest movies ever.” The movie was entertaining, but he didn’t really mind missing movie dialogue because of Kelly loudly giggling or gasping or aahing over certain scenes and lines as if she were watching it for the first time even though she told him she watched it all the time. He found her enjoyment of the movie endearing.
He looked over at her once and registered that she was sitting a little bit closer to him than she had been when the movie started. His attention went back to Anne and Meryl for awhile before glancing back at Kelly. Now she had moved even closer. He focused on the movie again and when he next looked at Kelly a half an hour had passed and she was even closer to him.
That was strange. He smiled to himself for a second and thought that at the rate she was going by the end of the movie she’d be in his lap.
And then the smile faded as he pictured that last thought. It was a visual that was slightly more vivid than he was comfortable with and he felt his face heat up and he shifted slightly on the couch and tried to concentrate on the movie.
That visual and its accompanying thoughts unsettled him so the second the movie credits rolled he jumped off the couch and grabbed his jacket telling her goodbye, that he had had fun and then she was standing right in front of him and leaning in and kissing him.
He should have expected something like that, what with the way she had been inching closer to him on the couch, but he was horrible at reading women and it wasn’t something he had even considered so he didn’t respond at all, just stood frozen in place. And then he did something really stupid. He asked if she was drunk.
“No!” she shouted. She shouted, “Yes!” when he asked if she knew what she was doing and followed that by leaning in again and her lips were so soft and it had been awhile and it felt...it felt wonderful enough to kiss her this time and when she grabbed his hand to lead him into her very pink bedroom it would have been stupid to protest. And even he wasn’t that stupid.
The two of them stood in her bedroom and kissed more even as his mind tried to wrap itself around this. What exactly was happening? That wasn’t the right question; he knew what was happening. He knew that she was pressed against him and clutching at his shirt as he kissed her mouth, her ear, her neck.
The real question was why, wasn’t it? He couldn’t give it much thought because she had turned around and he slowly unzipped her bridesmaid’s dress and whispered her name as she stood in front of him clad only in lace and he may have made some other sound, something not quite a word, and she giggled. She giggled but stopped the second his hands went to her hips pulling her so close, close enough to fully appreciate the lace and then her, completely undressed, beautiful and curvy and all his questions and need for answers disappeared, disappeared into her skin, as he caressed and kissed and tasted.
She reached for him then, reached under his shirt, her hands cool on his heated skin. He sighed, a loud exhale of breath, as she pulled his shirt out of the way, over his head. “Oh my god,” she said. “You’ve totally been working out haven’t you?”
Working out? Well, he walked as much as he could and liked a good run. Sometimes he swam because it was good to be active, good for stress and good for preventing the weight gain that was just one of the many potential side effects of his new medication.
Another potential side effect was sexual dysfunction and yeah...judging by his reaction to everything she was doing, that didn’t seem like it would be a concern tonight.
Thank God.
She was kissing him now, kissing and stroking his chest and his back and it was...heaven. It was water to a man dying of thirst; every gentle (and not so gentle) touch a reminder of how starved for affection he was, how desperate he was for this, a salve for not being touched like this for so long.
She unbuttoned, unzipped his jeans, and he kicked them off. “Your underwear is really boring,” she scolded and he didn’t even have time to answer her properly because she had pushed his boxers down and her hands weren’t cool anymore.
He wasn’t thinking much, not really up to formulating complex thoughts right now, not when she was touching him like that, but even in that pleasurable haze one thought came through loud and clear.
You make this good for her. You make this so damn good for her.
She was on the bed and he went as slowly as he could, kissing her and he moved lower and lower until she was moaning and panting and he looked up once and her eyes were closed and another thought made itself clear.
I wonder who she’s imagining right now. Ryan?
He was fortunately able to push that stray thought out of his mind and go back to more important things. And then he heard her.
“Toe.” Pant, gasp, pant. Moan. “Bee.”
That was his name. He had never heard it said like that. He needed to hear it again. Immediately.
“Kelly,” he said, his voice hoarse and raw. His voice his own, but different and he said her name again and her lips were parted and her eyes unfocused and she said his name again that way and he wanted, no needed her right then and he kissed her and moved with her and for a moment everything was completely bright and beautiful in his world.
She stroked his face with her fingers and smiled sleepily at him. “Awesome.”
He smiled back, feeling shy, as he rolled off of her. He lay next to her and stared at the ceiling. He should say something now. Anything.
“So...” he said. Then stopped. Neither of them said anything and he wondered what he should do. Did she want him to leave? He didn’t think so, but he should ask.
“Kelly,” he said. “Do you...uh....do you want me to...?”
She grabbed the remote from her nightstand. “Let’s watch TV. Something good’s probably on, okay?”
“That sounds good,” he said and settled in for the night.
--
He woke up slowly. He had slept well last night, once he had gotten used to a different bed, a different room in a different neighborhood with different lights and different noises.
And he was waking up with someone. Which was pretty different.
He woke up slowly, blinking. He rubbed his eyes and turned to face Kelly who was staring at him. She looked unhappy. Her eyes were huge and she continued to stare and didn’t say anything and he felt his heart sink at the expression on her face.
Well what he had been expecting? That this young, gorgeous woman would fall madly in love with him and they’d be repeating last night’s activities over and over again? Did he even want that?
And by that he meant her falling in love with him. Him falling in love with her. Dating. A relationship. Did he want that? No matter how hard he tried to picture it, it didn’t work. He couldn’t see it. They would drive each other crazy. He enjoyed quiet too much and she was so loud and social and what could they even talk about? They had absolutely nothing in common. It was a ridiculous idea.
As to whether he wanted a repeat of last night’s activities...
Yeah. That was pretty much a given.
That wouldn’t be happening ever again though. Not with the way she was staring at him with an expression that he would describe as shocked, dumbfounded. He might even call it disgusted because that’s how a woman like her might look after waking up next to a man like him.
But she had enjoyed herself last night, hadn’t she? He thought about her last night, eyes squeezed shut, panting. “Toe,” she had gasped. “Bee.” His name split up like that was one of the sexiest things he had ever heard. He would be hearing in his head for awhile.
She said his name now, not anything like how she had said it last night, and she didn’t sound disgusted really, more confused and maybe the littlest bit upset, but he cut her off and kissed her.
It wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t understood his own actions or had acted without thinking, especially around a beautiful woman, but he wanted to kiss her again, wanted her to remember that last night hadn’t been bad, that last night she hadn’t been confused or upset at all.
Maybe it would have been better if she pushed him away as he kissed her, but she didn’t. He was kissing her differently than last night, kissing her more forcefully, harder and she was reacting again, kissing him back, grabbing for him, pulling him near. Her fingertips lightly stroked his cheeks, his stubble as he kept kissing her, putting everything he had into it, and he was so ready (proving the known antidepressant side effects wrong again) and he pulled away from her and he didn’t think he had ever wanted someone as much as he wanted her right now.
All she would have to do now was smile at him, to touch him, to say something, anything, and it would be a very good morning for all involved. He would make sure of that.
And then he’d take her out for breakfast. Or maybe make her breakfast. He made a mean French toast. His omelets weren’t too bad either.
But she remained silent. Her fingers went to her lips, swollen and kissable, and she stared at him some more and he realized that he had once again done something unforgivably stupid by kissing her like that.
That kiss wasn’t like him. He was always so passive; what had he been thinking? She didn’t want him. Why would she?
She didn’t want him and he had kissed her like that and he was ashamed, red-faced so he got out of bed, wearing only his very boring underwear, and found his shirt, his jeans, his socks and shoes. She was still watching him so he turned away and dressed quickly, hoping to spare both of them from any further embarrassment.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled in her general direction. “I’m so sorry, Kelly.”
He drove home to his empty apartment. He went into the kitchen and looked through his refrigerator before grabbing an apple that he didn’t really taste. After that he walked into the small bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror for a very long time.
He wondered what it was Kelly had seen when she looked at him. Then he had to look away because he knew exactly what it was that Kelly had seen when she looked at him.
She was used to being with guys like Ryan and Darryl. He must have been a real let down.
When he kissed her this morning like that, kissed her without thinking, had he been acting the way he thought someone like Ryan or Darryl would act? Had he kissed her the way he thought someone like Ryan or Darryl would kiss her? Had he been trying to borrow someone else’s confidence, someone else’s swagger in the hope that it would make him seem more appealing?
He opened the medicine cabinet and took out the pill bottle. He dry swallowed his medication (with all those possible side effects) and went back to the front area of his apartment.
He sat on the faded couch and picked up his library book. He found the chapter he had been on when Kelly called yesterday. He read a few sentences and prayed that the rest of the day of this lonely, alternating Sasha-less weekend would go by quickly and Monday would be here soon.
The End
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