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Story Notes:
Written for the we_take_five challenge on lj with this prompt.

Travis's Sing does not belong to me. Thanks to Trace & Melly for the read-overs.

Disclaimer: The Office and it's respective characters do not belong to me. This is for fun, not profit.
"Do you play?" she asks, leaning over from where she's perched on the edge of your bed and grabbing the acoustic guitar that's leaning against your wall by the neck.

"What?" You blink at her, as if the sight of her sitting on your bed - in your room - is too much of a distraction or something that you want to keep in your head forever.

"How much have you had to drink?" she teases, lifting an eyebrow in your direction as she gently drops the instrument into her lap.

You tilt your head at her as you twist back and forth in your desk chair. "Not as much as you think," you insist. You lean on the arms of the chair and laugh. "You're totally holding it wrong, Beesly. Aren't you right-handed?"

She looks down at her lap and shrugs. "Am I not holding it right?"

You make some sort of over-exaggerated exasperated noise before pushing yourself out of the chair as if it's a huge effort. You sit on the opposite side of the bed, making sure that when you bring your leg up onto the bed, your knees aren't anywhere near each other, and take the guitar from her.

"So you do know how to play," she murmured with a small excited smile on her face. She shifts a little and watches as you turn the guitar around in your lap.

"Nah, I just keep this around for the indie cred."

She laughs softly, then reaches out to gently shove your shoulder. "You're such a dork, Halpert."

She leans back against your pillows, stretching her legs out in front of her and crossing them at the ankles, then asks you to play something.

"Like what?" you ask, curling your fingers easily around the neck and draping your other arm over the body. You strum a few random chords before she finally answers.

"Anything." Her voice is soft and you wonder just how much she's had to drink, even though she hasn't even been here that long yet. When you finally stop playing chords and start actually playing something real, she goes quiet and all you can hear is her breathing - which suddenly seems so loud over the sound of your guitar. You'd swear she was sitting up right next to you now, but you know she's not because you would've felt the bed move.

After a minute of just repeating the opening of the song, you strum it out once more before breaking into the entire thing. It's a silly habit, but you can't keep yourself from humming like you do when you play alone, eventually starting to singing along nervously. When she doesn't start laughing at you, you get a little braver and sing just loud enough for her to hear you.

Baby, you've been going so crazy
Lately, nothing seems to be going right
Solo, why do you have to get so low
You're so...
You've been waiting in the sun too long


This time you do feel the bed shift and you realize now that this probably wasn't the best song choice. You don't look up at her, just continue to softly work your fingertips over the strings until there isn't even any sound coming from them and you stop. You sit there, waiting, and she finally asks, "Why did you stop?"

You're tempted to tell her that's all you know and, really, you're not good at playing this thing anyway. But, it'd be a complete and total lie and, try as you might, it's really way too hard and way too much trouble to lie to her. Unless you like that guilty feeling that washes over you when you tell her things that aren't true.

Instead, you mumble an apology and start playing from where you left off, still not looking up at her, even though now you can feel her eyes on your face. You could swear she dropped them to your lips when you started singing again, but you didn't look at her, so you're not really sure if you just imagined it or not.

But if you sing, sing, sing, sing, sing, sing
For the love you bring won't mean a thing
Unless you sing, sing, sing, sing


It's at this point that you're glad you closed the door most of the way when you walked in here because that, and the music playing over the stereo downstairs, is covering up your guitar playing and singing attempts and hiding them from the rest of the party. Hiding you, too, and suddenly you're really grateful that she came alone tonight.

Colder, crying on your shoulder
Hold her, and tell her everything's gonna be fine
Surely, you've been going too early
Hurry, cause no one's gonna be stopped


You still really wish you hadn't picked this song to play, but it's her and it's silly, but it's like this is your song and it makes you feel like you're back in high school. You feel this weird connection right now and, even though she'll deny it later just like she denied it when you joked about having a date together, you're almost positive she feels it too, because she's moving again and you think she's sitting up, maybe moving closer, but you don't want to chance a look because you're afraid of messing up your fingering.

But if you sing, sing, sing, sing, sing, sing
For the love you bring won't mean a thing
Unless you sing, sing, sing, sing


This time you know she's right next to you because you can feel her breath ghosting over your neck, her thigh pressing against yours as she softly drops her head onto your shoulder. Then she starts singing with you and now you don't want the song to ever end, because if it does, you know she'll get up and leave, going back downstairs to the party like nothing happened.

Baby, there's something going on today
But I say nothing, nothing, nothing,
Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing
But if you sing, sing, sing, sing, sing, sing
For the love you bring won't mean a thing
Unless you sing, sing, sing, sing


You repeat the ending a few times without the words before stopping completely. For a second you're almost afraid to move, but she moves first.

"Do you think you could teach me to play?" she asks, lifting her head up from your shoulder.. "That song, I mean." And just then, your heart does this weird triple beat thing, like it's trying to tap dance its way out of your chest because she's just so close.

"Um." You clear your throat before answering, surprised at how hoarse you sound, and awkwardly lean around her to tip the guitar back into it's spot leaning against your wall. "Yeah, if you want."

You sit back and smile faintly at her, rubbing your sweaty palms against your thighs. She hasn't moved and you lean forward, about to get up until you feel her hand around your wrist. You're about to say her name as you glance at her, but the look on her face freezes you and your mouth suddenly feel dry. You swallow thickly to maybe try again, but before you can even think about opening your mouth, her lips are pressed against yours.

Then you think that maybe you have had too much to drink, because your head is spinning or the room is spinning or maybe it's just the bed, and you keep trying to figure out just what it is that's making you feel light-headed, until she pulls away and you realize that the entire time her lips were resting against yours, you were holding your breath.

You open your mouth to say something, but it just hangs open when you realize you have no idea what to say. When you finally focus on her again, she looks panicked and you quickly reach out for her, fingers sliding along the soft skin of her cheek as you cup her jaw in your palm. You both shift forward again, but this time it's you kissing her and you actually remember to breathe.

When you break apart for the second time, you still don't know what to say and, even if you did, she beats you to the punch. She says your name softly and you know no one's ever said it that way and probably never will again. She doesn't look panicked anymore, but you still feel like your heart is trying to explode. She offers you a sad smile and reaches up to cover your hand with her own, but only for a moment, because then she's standing up and walking towards the door.

"So, you'll teach me?" she asks and you finally look up from where your hand had dropped onto the bedspread. She's halfway out the door now, hand curled around the doorknob as if she were going to pull it closed after she left.

"Yeah, definitely," you reply, but she's already out the door and down the hall.


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