Jack Frost Nipping at Your Heels by carbondalien
Summary: The NEPA weather has inspired me once again: 10 inches of snow, 10 ways that 10 characters are dealing with it.
Categories: Jim and Pam, Other, Present Characters: Angela, Creed, Dwight, Jan, Jim/Pam, Katy, Kelly, Meredith, Michael, Toby
Genres: Angst, Fluff, Inner Monologue, Oneshot
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 10 Completed: Yes Word count: 4505 Read: 21364 Published: January 10, 2009 Updated: January 16, 2009

1. winter night snowball fight under the streetlight by carbondalien

2. one-upsmanship by carbondalien

3. junk mail and memories by carbondalien

4. still of morning, motion of thought by carbondalien

5. some places leave the light on for you by carbondalien

6. neighborhood watch by carbondalien

7. kelly kapoor revenge hour by carbondalien

8. tomorrow by carbondalien

9. say cheese by carbondalien

10. a good samaritan's work is never done by carbondalien

winter night snowball fight under the streetlight by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Toby and his daughter have a snowball fight.
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.



For a man who’s kept a picture of a beach in his wallet for six years, Toby Flenderson isn’t out of place in the snow. Normally he’d be inside on a cold, snowy night like this, but he’s got Sasha for the weekend and she had begged (“Snow, Dad! Snow!”), and since he can’t say no to that face (how could anyone?), he’s standing under the dull glow of the street lamp with his hands jammed in his pockets.

Sasha squeals with delight as she hurls herself into a pile of snow, the flaps and strings on her hat flying wildly in the air as she does.

He reaches down and helps pull her out of the snow. He rubs his nose against hers and says, “You better not get a cold.”

You better not get a cold,” is her reply. She punctuates her sentence by sticking her tongue out at him.

He laughs and sets her carefully on the ground. She bends down and begins packing snow together for what he assumes will be a snowball (and he assumes he’ll be the target).

Toby glances up at the stars and blinks when wayward snowflakes drift onto his eyelashes. As he watches the snowflakes float through the gleam of the streetlight, he’s never felt so far from Costa Rica. Things hadn’t gone as planned, but by now he’s used to that. Mishaps and disappointment are really the only constants in his life. When he got back from the trip, his ex had asked why he was going back to Dunder-Mifflin instead of finding himself a new job and he honestly didn’t know the answer. He supposes he’s a man who enjoys the familiar things in life, even if they are mostly unpleasant.

He feels something hit his abdomen and looks down to find Sasha grinning devilishly up at him.

“Got you!” she exclaims.

“Oh, yeah?” he says and bends down to make a snowball. “Well, that’s it, kid. You’re in for it now!”

“No!” she squeals with delight and takes a few steps back. When she sees her father pick up the snowball, she laughs and throws her hands up to protect her face.

Toby laughs and gently lobs the snowball at her. It hits the shoulder of her snowsuit and most of it falls back to the ground.

Sasha lets out another peal of laughter then runs forward and throws herself into her father’s arms.

“Want to go inside and have some hot chocolate before bed?” Toby asks.

Sasha nods and wraps her arms around his neck.

Toby hugs her close and wonders why he ever left in the first place.

End Notes:
I had meant to start with Jim/Pam, but I've learned not to push inspiration away when it rears its beautiful head. They've got nine chances to show up - and they will!

Oh, Northeastern Pennsylvania weather, stop your ridiculous behavior. Not cool. (But, really, it is. Zing?)

I was going to include Karen, but I don't want to think about Utica until I have to go back to school at the end of the month. From my experience, she's also probably having a dreadful time in Central New York and her car probably got stuck in driveway/the middle of the road while she was trying to get out to go to a final exam on Television Production and spent twenty minutes digging it out. Or maybe that happened to me last month. Well, in any case, I'm off to write the next chapter.

one-upsmanship by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Jim and Pam argue about cereal etiquette.
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.



Jim and Pam don’t consider themselves as the “crazy storm hoarder” types, but they still decide to take a trip to the store to grab the essentials (bread, milk, macaroni & cheese, and Lucky Charms cereal) before the weather gets bad.

When they get back to Jim’s apartment, they settle on the couch and prepare for a day in front of the television.

“I’ve got Best Week Ever Tivoed,” Jim says as he picks up the remote.

“Project Runway!” Pam exclaims and reaches for the remote.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” he replies. He holds the remote high over his head so Pam can’t reach it and grins. “What’s the matter, Beesly? Can’t reach?”

“My height is average and appropriate,” Pam replies. “You’re the one people should be paying a quarter to look at.”

Jim laughs. “When was the last time you went to a circus? 1942?”

Pam waves off his comment and opens the box of Lucky Charms. She looks into the box, obviously searching for the marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Jim asks.

“Looking for clovers and blue moons.”

“Lucky Charms foul!” Jim exclaims. “You can’t just pick out the marshmallows, Pam. You just reach into the box and whatever you get is what you get. It’s part of the magic and mystery of Lucky Charms.”

“False,” Pam says. “You eat the marshmallows and leave the inferior cereal pieces for the guy who wasn’t smart enough to open the box before his girlfriend.”

“Maybe I was being a gentleman,” he replies. “Chivalry was very much alive when I let you open the cereal box, but then I come to find out you don’t eat Lucky Charms like a lady.”

Pam plucks a few marshmallows from the box and places them in her palm. “A lady only eats the marshmallows. They’re more feminine.”

“Touché,” Jim says and leans back.

“You know what would make these taste so much better?” Pam asks and settles herself against Jim.

“Honesty?”

Pam smirks and playfully slaps his chest. “No. Jerk. What would make these marshmallows taste great would be something that just makes everything in life better. And that something… is Tim Gunn.”

“Aw,” Jim replies. He kisses the top of her head and continues, “Yeah... no. You’ll just have to make it work without him.”

Pam sighs and says, “Touché.”

They watch Best Week Ever until Jim goes to the kitchen to get a drink - when he returns, he finds Project Runway on and the remote has mysteriously gone missing.

Pam only smiles innocently and offers him the box of Lucky Charms.

junk mail and memories by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Katy receives a letter from the documentary producers.
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.



She hasn’t thought about Jim Halpert in at least two years. Truthfully, this doesn’t bother her much. Although he ranks pretty high on her Worst Break-ups Ever list, the rest of the time they spent together was nice. It wasn’t like she was in love with the guy or anything. There was really nothing about Jim that would make her remember him after all this time (he’s just a guy she used to date, whatever), so the last place Katy expects to be reminded of him is her mailbox.

After shoveling the sidewalk, she checks for mail. Tucked in with the usual junk and bills is a manila envelope. The return address is a production company in Philadelphia, but that does nothing to spark her memory.

She walks into the house and leaves her Ugg boots by the door. She drops the rest of the mail on the small table in the hall but carries the manila envelope into the living room. She drops onto the couch and tears open the envelope.

The first thing she pulls out of the envelope is a letter explaining that the producers of a documentary need her to sign additional release forms, and it also states that promotional materials and information are included in the envelope. The mention of the documentary is what brings Katy’s mind back to Jim.

The thing she remembers most about their relationship is the awkward break-up, and that really doesn’t lend itself to a trip down memory lane.

She spreads the rest of the contents of the envelope out on the couch before her. There isn’t much, but there are a few snippets of descriptions of “episodes” and “characters” and other bizarre things like that. She finds herself reading her “bio” and cringing.

“Katy stops by Dunder-Mifflin to sell purses, but ends up picking up something for herself: Jim Halpert. She begins dating the paper salesman and proves to be a source of jealousy for Pam.”

Katy can’t remember who “Pam” is or why this other woman would be so jealous that she was dating Jim. She also has to wonder if that’s all that will go into her “bio” once the whole thing is packaged and put together. She hates to think that she’ll be portrayed as just a footnote in someone else’s life, but knows there’s nothing she can do about it.

She signs the release forms because she knows she never did anything terrible or embarrassing in front of the cameras (except for getting dumped, but she figures Jim comes off worse in that one). After signing the papers, she gathers them together and sets them on the floor.

She turns on the television, eager to catch up on the episodes of “Gossip Girl” on her DVR, and puts thoughts of Jim Halpert and the documentary out of her mind.

End Notes:
When I thought of this story and made a list of characters to help decide who the 10 would be, did I think Katy was going to make the cut?

No.

But then she really got into my head. When it comes down to it, Jim is just "some guy" to Katy, which sets her apart from people like Pam and Karen (and, hey, fans) who have been clearly deeply invested in this Jim Halpert guy. I also wanted to explore a person who has been involved in the documentary without it really being a big part of them or their life.

still of morning, motion of thought by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Dwight goes hunting.
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.



The only thing Dwight has to keep him company on this soft winter morning is Mose’s snoring. Dawn is barely breaking over the woods and the view from the tree stand where they’re perched is perfect. The falling snowflakes blanket the forest like the downy fur of a long gone cat that caused him a lot of trouble.

Dwight is armed with a crossbow while Mose hugs a thermos of hot cocoa close to his chest. They haven’t spotted any deer yet, which is what led to Mose’s boredom and eventual nodding off.

Dwight thinks it’s just as well - the deer won’t be scared away by their voices.

He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the biting winter air. The cold doesn’t bother him much (superior genes), but the silence does. Without Mose’s chatter or the crackling of a fire, he gets lost in his thoughts. He does everything he can not to think of her, but it seems like the nerves in his brain are determined to connect her to every process of his life. Every neuron that fires carries a message of her behind it. Just thinking about it gives him a headache.

He sighs, rests his head against the rough bark of the tree and looks up at the slowly fading moon. He can’t help but wonder if she’s awake yet, puttering around the house in her big fluffy robe and making a to-do list for the day. Sometimes he wonders which one of them is being more selfish, but mostly he just tries not to think about it. He figures she’ll come around. She has to, doesn’t she?

Mose whimpers and kicks his legs in his sleep, disrupting Dwight’s thoughts as well as the bow that’s sitting snugly between them. Dwight pulls the bow into his lap and frowns. He really wouldn’t mind killing something right about now. The thrill of the hunt would no doubt take his mind off things (and the later taxidermy and jerky-making would fill up some of his free time).

He frowns and grasps the bow tightly. He aims at a tree then lets the arrow and his frustrations loose. The arrow zips through the air and slams purposefully into the tree.

He can’t really say he’s satisfied, but he’s got to get ready for work.

He nudges Mose awake and says, “Let’s go home.”

some places leave the light on for you by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Michael goes to a diner.
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.



Michael manages to make it to the office despite the snow, but when he sees that Dwight’s car is the only other one in the parking lot, he grimaces and drives past the building. He loves the office more than some of his family members, but spending the day alone with Dwight? Yuck.

He decides to go to his favorite diner and is excited to find the “Open” sign blinking brightly in the window. He grins as he walks into the building and slides into his usual booth. The only other customers in the place are two old men sitting at the counter; Michael thinks they’re the only people that are in here more than he is. Maybe they don’t know how to cook either.

When the waitress approaches, he smiles at her. “Hello, Anne.”

“Hi, Mike,” she replies brightly. “It’s a pretty bad storm out there. You didn’t go out in it just to come here, I hope.”

“No,” Michael tells her. “I was on my way to work, but, uh, nobody is there. Nobody. Not one person. So, I decided to come here instead.”

“Not even the guy with the glasses?” Anne asks. “I thought he always went to work?”

“Uh, no,” Michael replies. “He’s probably... digging up beets.”

“In this weather?”

“Winter beets,” he mumbles, then clears his throat. “I’ll have my usual, okay?”

Anne smiles and goes to the kitchen.

Michael shrugs off his coat and looks out the window, then turns to the two old men. “It’s really coming down out there.”

“Gives us an excuse not to go home to our wives,” one of the men says and lets out a hoarse laugh.

“Mike, come help us with these word jumbles,” the other man says.

“Sure,” Michael replies. He gets out of his seat and joins the men at the counter. He looks over the word jumble and thinks about it. He points to one of the sections and says, “Macvuu. Must be foreign.”

“I think that’s supposed to be ‘vacuum,’” the first man says.

Michael laughs nervously. He says with shaky confidence, “Duh. I... just wanted to see if you’d get it.”

Anne comes out of the kitchen and places a piece of apple pie and a cup of coffee in front of Michael. When he reaches into his pocket for his wallet, she holds up her hand.

“It’s on the house,” Anne says.

Michael smiles warmly.

neighborhood watch by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Angela gets help taking down Christmas decorations.
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.



This year she has no one to help her take down the Christmas decorations (something that she knows is her own fault). The ornaments, bows, and wreaths are easy to box up and put away, but the lights on the outside of the house pose a problem.

She stands on the front lawn with her arms crossed, snow up to her calves, and stares at the lights. They’re pretty, sure, but now she also sees them as maybe more trouble than they’re worth. She glances at the ladder that’s laying in the snow next to her and hopes for two things: that her health insurance would cover an accident should there be one, and that Mittens remembers how to dial 911 like she taught him. She figures her life is in capable paws and pushes the ladder up against the house.

She’s halfway up the ladder when she feels it jiggle. Convinced that this is going to be the moment she meets her maker, her eyes squeeze shut and she throws her arms around the ladder. When she doesn’t fall, she takes a deep breath and opens her eyes. Pleased to find that she’s still alive, she decides to be brave and looks down.

She finds a local neighborhood boy and his border collie near the ladder; the boy is gripping the ladder tightly, steadying it.

“Joey, what are you doing?” she asks.

“My mom said I should come help you,” he replies. “And aren’t you afraid of heights?”

Angela looks across the street to where Joey lives and sees his mother in the front window. Joey’s mother gives a little wave then disappears from view.

Angela frowns and admits, “Yes. How old are you now, anyway? Are you even old enough to be crossing the street by yourself?”

“I’m fourteen,” Joey tells her.

“Do you promise to be very careful and not break anything?”

“Yeah, I swear,” Joey says and mimes crossing his heart.

“Do you promise that dog isn’t going to chew the lights up?”

“Yes,” Joey says. “He’s a really good dog.”

Angela doubts that any dog has the capacity to be good, but decides it’s nice to have a bit of help. She checks that Joey has a good grip on the ladder then climbs to the top and begins taking down the Christmas lights. As she pulls them down, she carefully begins lowering the strand down to Joey.

“Careful!”

“I am, I am!”

Once all the lights have been taken down, Angela climbs down the ladder and begins helping Joey wind them into neat coils.

“You wrap it around your elbow like this,” she instructs, “then keep wrapping it around.”

Joey wraps the strand of lights around his arm, obviously being very careful not to ruin them. “Do you need help with anything else?”

“No,” Angela tells him. “This was the last of it.”

Joey hands her the strand of lights and puts his hands in his pockets. “What about the ladder? Do you want me to put it in the garage or anything?”

“Well... yes, okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

“No problem!” Joey replies. He carefully grabs the ladder and makes his way to the garage, his dog trailing after him.

Despite herself, Angela smiles softly.

kelly kapoor revenge hour by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Kelly makes a phone call.
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.



After Kelly drops Ryan off at the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre International Airport, she buys herself a bottle of wine and returns home to watch her Netflix movies.

She’s not feeling so great about things right now, and she’s tempted to get drunk and call Darryl and tell him she’s pregnant, but she’s got a plan she has to stay at least semi-sober for.

As she uncorks the wine she wonders just where she went wrong. She was always nice to Ryan, even when he was being a real D-bag. Maybe that was the mistake. Maybe she should have been as big of a jerk as he was. Maybe he would have appreciated her then. Well, if that’s the case, he’s going to fall in love with her all over again soon enough.

She grabs the latest “Cosmo” and her glass of wine then settles herself on the couch. She hits the play button on the DVD player then flips open the magazine to find out what Kate Hudson’s exercise regime is. When she sees the photo accompanying the article, she bets Ryan wouldn’t go to another country to hide from Kate Hudson, so she tosses the magazine to the floor.

When the credits finally roll on Pretty Woman, she glances at the clock. It’s almost time for Ryan’s plane to be landing in Newark.

She grabs her phone and dials a number she memorized that morning.

“Hi, yes, is this Newark Airport security? ... Great. I’d like to report a skinny white man with a gross beard. He’s carrying a bomb in a really tacky suitcase...”

End Notes:
Ohhh, Kelly. :)
tomorrow by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Meredith deals with a day off.
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.



Something about the snow drives her son crazy. It’s not like when he was little and would energetically build snowmen and poorly constructed igloos. Now he goes around throwing snowballs at the neighbors and writing his name in their lawns in a completely inappropriate way. When she glimpses out the window in the morning and sees how fast the snow is falling, she unplugs the phone. She just doesn’t want to hear it right now. When Jake gets home, she’ll punish him without knowing exactly what his crime was (but knowing full well that there has been a crime).

For now she has a quiet house to herself, so she fixes herself a screwdriver and plops on the couch.

She takes a sip of her drink and grimaces. “Ugh. Too much OJ.”

She thinks about reading a book or watching television or doing some cleaning or doing anything, but instead she just takes another gulp of her drink and plays with a frayed string on one of the throw pillows.

She spends the rest of the morning like this, and her most strenuous activity is refilling her glass.

When Jake comes home, he slams the front door and she cringes.

“Mom!” he yells. “I’m hungry!”

Meredith sets her glass on the table then lays down on the couch. Just as she’s closing her eyes, Jake walks into the room.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he says. “I’m hungry.”

“There’s lunchmeat in the fridge,” she replies.

“You got bologna,” Jake tells her. “You know I hate bologna.”

“Not now,” she sighs. “I have a headache.”

“You always have a headache,” he mutters and stomps from the room.

She considers going after him, but only has the energy to close her eyes.

As she’s drifting off to sleep, she tells herself she’ll change tomorrow.

say cheese by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Jan and Astrid get their photo taken.
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.



When they get to the photographer’s studio and Jan begins removing the baby’s jacket, mittens, and hat, it’s like she’s unwrapping a present. She smiles while the baby looks blankly up at her, convinced that this show of apathy means her baby is clearly a genius (like all mothers are wont to think).

The photographer approaches and waggles a finger playfully at Astrid. She says, “Aw, isn’t she cute?”

“Yes,” Jan says. “Don’t touch her.”

“Uh... okay,” the photographer says. After a moment, she says, “Okay, Ms. Levinson. What kind of background would you like?”

Jan sits on a stool in front of a white sheet and settles Astrid in her lap. “Something that will stimulate the baby’s imagination when she looks at it.”

“Right,” the photographer says slowly. “How about a rainbow?”

“If that’s the best you can do,” Jan sighs.

The photographer mumbles something under breath then pulls down a rainbow background behind Jan. She reaches into a bright blue box and pulls out a stuffed green hippo.

“What’s that?” Jan asks.

“Oh, I’m just going to hold it so the baby will look at the camera.”

“Yes, I'm not stupid... but a green hippo? That’s the best you can do? You don’t have anything else?”

The photographer sighs and reaches into the box again. Jan rejects the next few choices, but eventually approves of a stuffed pink duck. After a short discussion of what is the baby’s “good side,” the photographer takes a few photos and promises to mail Jan the prints.

As Jan is bundling Astrid back up, the photographer waves and whispers, “Good luck, baby. I think you're gonna need it.”

a good samaritan's work is never done by carbondalien
Author's Notes:
Creed takes a drive.
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.



He’s driving a snow plow and he’s got an ounce of weed in his coat pocket.

So far, this is turning out to be an average winter morning for Creed Bratton.

His neighbor has a sleeping disorder, so whenever he peeks through the guy’s living room window and sees him snoozing on that beat up Lazyboy recliner, he sneaks around to the back of the house and hotwires the truck. It isn’t an industrial size truck like the kind that plows the highway (oh, what he wouldn’t give to give one of those babies a whirl), but it does an alright job. He drives around Scranton, humming songs to himself and plowing random driveways.

This morning is bitter cold and he can still feel the cold of the steering wheel through his gloves. He decides to hum his way through the Rolling Stones discography even though Mick Jagger is overrated. You can’t be a rock star if you’re trying to be a rock star and Mick was always trying hard to be a rock star. Creed’s never liked the guy much - that’s why he doesn’t keep in touch.

It’s easy to fall off the radar if you really want to. You put down your guitar and settle into office work in your hometown, and suddenly nobody cares who you used to be. And it’s good that nobody cares because if somebody did they might figure out that you should actually be in jail, and Creed Bratton doesn’t see himself as a jailbird.

First of all, he doesn’t have that many friends that have access to ovens, so who’s going to bake him a cake with a file inside?

He thinks he’d do great in jail and wouldn’t mind the luxuries, but he knows he’d miss chucking stuff down the quarry with his buddies and taking these relaxing drives.

Creed Bratton is a man who enjoys freedom.

While he’s plowing a driveway, he crushes the mailbox. He rolls down the window to inspect the damage, then decides to drop the bag of marijuana on the lawn as an apology.

After this, he drives away, ready to do more good deeds.

This story archived at http://mtt.just-once.net/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=4268