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Story Notes:
An Improv!fic with prompts given to me by Morning Angel.  The prompts are listed at the bottom.
Author's Chapter 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.

 

 

It may be because she'd had one too many margaritas, but Jan's not able to hold in her tears for much longer than it takes for her to slide her keycard into the slot of her hotel room door and stumble inside, with Michael right on her tail.

She flops onto the queen-size bed, pressing her fingers into her temples, takes a deep breath, and lets it out in a loud, shaky sob. Her cries echo throughout the room, and she buries her face in her hands, trying to hold it in, but she can't. She just can't.

"Why?" she moans, to no one in particular, even though Michael is the only one around.

He sits next to her on the bed, and he seems strangely careful about staying six inches away from her, which normally she'd be thrilled about. She is thrilled about it.

"Jan?" he whispers. "Are you, um, can I-"

"Michael, I just need a minute. Okay? Can you just give me a minute? I need some privacy." She jumps off of the bed and races to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Once inside, she sits on the edge of the bathtub and cries. Why did he have to do that? Bring up her divorce and insist on talking about it like it was some kind of...of watercooler gossip? It's her business. Hers. He had no right to make mention of it in front of Christian, none whatsoever. "Oh, God," she sighs, wiping her cheeks.

She hears a soft knock at the bathroom door. "Jan?" Michael says, and it sounds like his mouth is pressed up against the crack of the door and all she wants to do is crawl inside the bathtub and close the shower curtain, but she knows that not even that will make him go away. Why should it? She was the one who had wanted him to be there in the first place.

"I'm fine," she answers.

"Well, if you need me, I'll be right here." She hears a thud against the door, and she just knows that he's sitting against it. There's silence for about five seconds, and she waits.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks, and she runs her hand through her hair and pulls it at the roots.

"No. I'm just going to be a minute, and then I'll come out, and then we will discuss everything that happened tonight, in ways that you can understand." She gets up from the tub and goes to the sink, running cold water and splashing it into her cheeks. She looks a mess, she knows it, but for the first time in her life, probably, she just doesn't care. Her reflection in the mirror shows a woman who, just a few hours ago, had everything in order, everything in place, and now she's got a blotchy face and mascara smudged around her eyes. Not to mention Michael Scott sitting outside of the bathroom door.

"Jan, I just wanted to say that...whatever it is that you're so upset about, we'll get through it. Together. I will be strong for you, because even though you are strong, you're a broken woman right now and-"

She opens the bathroom door and it goes thunk against his head. Michael scrambles to stand up, and he presses himself against the wall opposite the bathroom door. He gives her a goofy grin that she just wants to rip off and stomp on.

"I'm fine," she says again, quietly. She walks over to the bed, and perches on the edge. Michael follows her, stands next to the bed and asks, "Do you need anything? The vending machine has Fritos. Or, some tea? I could get you a cup of tea."

"Michael, you know I don't drink tea."

"Yeah." He screws his face up, looking confused. "Well, no, actually. I didn't know that, but-"

"Just sit down, Michael. Please." She pats the comforter next to her, and he sits. She sighs. "I need to set the record straight right now. What happened, or is happening, is a cumulation of a number of things. You have to know that. My divorce was just finalized, I drank way too much tonight, and you and I just pulled off the biggest sale in...in...do you understand what I'm saying to you so far?"

He cocks his head. "Um, I-yeah. I...we made out. In the parking lot of Chili's." He giggles, and she throws her hands up in the air, completely exasperated. Who is she kidding?

"What I'm trying to say to you," she continues slowly, "is that this? Means nothing. Okay? The fact that I'm you're here with me now, and I don't even know why you're here with me now-"

"You wanted me here, Jan."

"I know. I know." She shakes her head, and faces him. "I-do you know that he left me, Michael?"

"Gould?"

"Yes. He left me. I knew that things were bad between us, we never agreed on anything, and I woke up one morning and all of his things were gone. His clothes, his toothbrush, everything except a pair of his running shoes that were under the bed. His house keys were on top of the kitchen table and all I could do was wonder what the hell happened."

Michael raises his eyebrows. "Wow. I'm sorry to hear that. That must have been...just...I'm really, really sorry." He looks at her, and for a split second, he's not Michael anymore. He's someone who's listening to her, sympathizing with her, and honestly, honestly sorry for her.

Jan takes in a deep breath, lunges towards him and presses her lips into his, pushing him down against the bed. He squirms underneath her, laughing into her mouth. "Jan," he says, "we were talking."

"I know, Michael. I just really need to kiss you right now. Don't ask me why. Please, don't ever ask me why."

"Okay."

She kisses him for a few more minutes, slips off her shoes and her jacket, and pulls herself up towards the head of the bed. She grabs him, and he lies next to her. She finds his lips with hers again, and keeps kissing. She wonders for a minute why he doesn't use his tongue, or why he won't let her use her tongue, but then she decides not to think about it.

"Jan," he interrupts. "Why-"

"Shut up," she says, silencing his mouth with hers. "Just, please shut up."

They kiss until she's out of breath and she can't take it anymore. She's never been so attracted to somebody so horribly unattractive in her entire life, but everything he'd done and said had been so strangely right, and none of it had made any sense, but for once it didn't have to.

She closes her eyes and leans against his shoulder. "Thank you," she whispers.

"Thank you," he says back. "Because I haven't been this turned on in-"

"Michael."

"-a really, really-"

"Stop."

"-long time." He grabs her hand and she wrestles it away. She reaches into her purse on the bedside table, pulls out a bottle of hand sanitizer, and rubs some into her palms.

"Why are you doing that?" he asks.

"Because. I feel dirty. Now, please be quiet." She lies down again and rests against him. The clock next to the bed reads midnight, and she knows she'll have a million questions to answer in the morning. It's a mistake, a huge mistake being there with him, but still, he's there with her and he wants to be. She knows that's not a mistake.

 

 

Time:  11:05 pm-1:00 pm

Prompts are:  Jan, hand sanitizer, house keys, a cup of tea, and running shoes.

 



69 cups of noodles is the author of 31 other stories.



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