Fic: Some Like It Cold (Andy/Oscar)
I know, I'm bad at titles, and this one is cornier than creamed corn.
Title: Some Like It Cold
Pairing(s): Andy/Oscar, Oscar/Gil
Rating: PG-13 for drug use, language, and kissy-kissy
Fandom: The Office
Word Count: 4300+
Beta'd: by werkelijkheid90
Summary: Oscar gets a cat. Andy thinks about fate. They get cozy together.
Disclaimer: I own no characters in this story, from the Office or otherwise, with the exception of Tyler and Sally. All Office characters belong to the writers and NBC. If I did own these characters, you would know it.
The day that Jim and Pam were outed as a couple, Angela had surprised Oscar with a rare moment of intimacy. She told him all about Sprinkles, and in between sobs confessed who had killed her. Oscar couldn't help it; he really did feel bad for her.
Waiting for the elevators after work that day, Oscar heard a tiny 'mew.' He looked around, baffled, and then saw a striped cat peek its head around the corner and stare intently at him. Oscar sighed. What was the name Dwight gave him? Garbage? He wasn't really sure what to do in a situation like this. Would Dwight bring him back to the farm?
While he was contemplating what to do, he felt Garbage rub up against his leg and purr loudly. Oscar shook his head. He took pity on the poor animal, being dragged to and then abandoned in an office building far from home. Besides, he kind of wanted to see the look on Gil's face when he brought him home. Gil was a dog person. A clean-dog person. And this was a mangy cat with sharp claws. Oscar smiled and picked the cat up, shocked that he didn't struggle in Oscar's arms.
Oscar was right. The look on Gil's face as Oscar closed the apartment door behind him and let Garbage explore was priceless.
“What is wrong with you, Martinez?” He only ever called him Martinez when he was angry.
“Isn't he a darling, Gil?” Oscar said with a smirk.
“Why the hell would you bring a dirty thing like that in this apartment?”
“Cats are very clean animals you know.” Oscar's smile was beginning to fade. He was starting to feel bad for not telling Gil.
“Well, I am not touching it. You can have him as long as he stays away from my things. And you're going to have to find a pretty remote spot for his shit box.”
Oscar knew Gil was pretentious and condescending, but his blood always started to boil when he told him what to do. Giving him permission to keep the cat. Like Oscar wasn't the one paying rent. Like he wasn't the one on the lease. He had a good mind to kick him out right then and there, but he didn't. He was lonely. And really, he didn't know how long he would keep Garbage. He did seem to take a liking to Oscar, though.
Later, after making up in the bedroom, Oscar and Gil sat on the couch watching Nova. The cat was curled up next to Oscar, occasionally twitching his tail in his sleep. He was probably chasing squirrels and farm mice in his dreams, Oscar thought.
“So, what do you call him?” asked Gil.
“You can call him...Mr. Tibbs.”
After the trip to Canada, Oscar and Andy would hang out once in a while outside of work. It was nice, Oscar thought, to have someone to talk to. Not that he couldn't talk to Gil, but...he felt he could say anything to Andy. He wondered if Andy felt the same way. Then he realized that Andy probably felt he could say anything to anyone.
He had gotten back together with Gil. It was all right. It was someone to share things with, to sleep with. Sometimes Gil would leave on Friday evenings and go to his parents'. Or so he said. Oscar wasn't stupid. Who goes to their parents' house on a Friday night? Every Friday night. And he happened to know Gil hated driving, so it wasn't likely he'd take the 2 hours it took to get to Ithaca. But Oscar was lonely. And he hated himself for being used but instead of saying anything he sat at home and watched movies by himself. At least he had Mr. Tibbs.
One night after Gil had left, he popped Amélie in the DVD player when he could have sworn he heard the cat talk. It wasn't like the cat was really talking but he would hear something in his head. It was quiet enough to be mistaken as a thought but loud enough to make him worry. Maybe he'd been reading too much Murakami. This particular night, he could have sworn the cat told him to call Andy. And he would have passed it off as his own idea if Mr. Tibbs hadn't knocked his address book off the counter and it hadn't opened to Andy's number.
So, he called him. Reluctantly. Because he didn't want to have to tell him that he was lonely because his boyfriend was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. When Andy answered the phone he cringed a little at how innocently happy he sounded.
“Hi, Andy, it's Oscar.”
“Oscarino! What's up, my friend?”
“I was just wondering...if you wanted to maybe, do something tonight?”
“You don't have the old Gil around?” Oscar really did not want to hear his name. “Sure, just let me put on my blue suede shoes and I'll swing by!” Oscar wondered if he actually had a pair of blue suede shoes.
“All right, you know where I live.”
“Cool. I'll pick you up in zehn minuten. That means 10 minutes. German.”
“Sure, Andy.”
“It's a date!” Oscar heard a click before he had time to respond. A date?
Sally was Andy's first best friend. He met her in fourth grade on the playground and from the first time they spoke to each other they were inseparable. She never called him a girl for riding a bike with a basket on it like the other kids did, and at lunch she would share half of her cake. She saved it just for him.
One day, she didn't show up for school. A couple boys pushed him and called him names, asking where his girlfriend was.
“She's not my girlfwiend!” he cried.
They called him a Mary and other names and he ran home crying, tripping and skinning his knee on the way. His mom was at home, reading the newspaper at the table.
“What's wrong, carrot cake?” His mom had a habit of calling him names that really didn't make sense. He didn't even have red hair.
“The boys at school called me a Mary and called Sally my girlfwiend and I hut mysewlf!” He started sobbing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.
Andy's mom hugged him and kissed him on the forehead.
“Don't you listen to them, honey. Everyone is special in their own way. They're just jealous that you have such a wonderful friend like Sally.”
Andy looked up at her and wiped the rest of his tears away. His eyes were brighter and he began smiling.
“Thanks mommy!” And he felt a whole lot better, just like that. He knew he had the best mom in the whole world.
But the next day, as he threw his backpack on the couch and opened his mouth to ask his mom for a snack, she turned to him very seriously.
“Sit down, honey.”
He sat down and his mom put her arm around him. She got the news this morning. Sally died. Andy hated her parents for letting her die. He ran to his room and stayed in bed until the next evening.
Andy thought about all of this after he broke up with Angela. He knew if Sally was still alive, he'd be married to her. The memory of her left him sadder than Angela had. He wondered if people only got one chance at love, and his was gone. He wondered if Michael felt the same way about Holly, if she was the only one he would love. There was only one person Andy could think of that made him feel special, like Sally or his mom. He had to try. He never felt so awesome as when he was with him, like he had a purpose, like there was someone who could need him. He also knew that if this didn't work, he'd be hurt worse than he ever had.
He had to try, for the sake of love!
Andy tried not to feel too giddy about going on a date with Oscar. I mean, it wasn't official or anything, and Andy had called it a date, not Oscar, and Oscar was still with Gil, but...
He picked him up at 8. He was right on time and wore a beautiful gray sweater vest over a white button-down, sleeves rolled up, and a pair of faded jeans that he looked... just hot in. He knew Oscar wouldn't be able to resist him in those. He didn't actually have blue suede shoes. But he had his favorite brown boots that he wore with pride. And he brought over a little cat toy for Mr. Tibbs. Maybe he was used to treating Angela's cats, but he kind of liked getting cute little things for them.
His heart raced as Oscar opened his apartment door to meet him. How could Gil leave him here? What a moron.
“Hey, Osc” he said a little shakily. “I brought this for your cat.”
He handed him a little mouse filled with catnip. He felt Mr. Tibbs rub against his leg and immediately start purring.
“Wow, he really likes you, Andy. He never goes up to Gil.”
Andy, 1, Gil 0.
“Shall we go? I made reservations at a most spectacular Italian restaurant, Mambo Italiano.”
“Wow, really? That place is pretty...fancy, Andy.”
“Anything for my wingman!”
“Wait, I thought you were my wingman.”
“....well, anything for Oscar!”
Andy saw him smile and maybe blush a little. Seriously, what is Oscar thinking dating Gil, Andy thought. Andy would never hurt Oscar, not ever.
After a good couple of hours, Andy brought Oscar home and they plopped together on the couch, both stuffed. They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before Oscar told him that Gil would probably be home soon.
Gil, Andy thought. Lousy Gil.
But he was a good sport and bid Oscar farewell and tipped his imaginary hat before leaving.
Oscar smiled and stretched out on the couch. He fell asleep quickly, drowsy from the meal and wine, and dreamed that he had met Andy long before Dunder-Mifflin.
A few days after their “date,” it started snowing heavily. So of course, the heat in Oscar's car died. At least it drove. He couldn't bear asking Gil to use his car again.
He was driving to work the next week, John Coltrane softly playing, when he passed a man speed-walking along the sidewalk, huddled in his jacket. Oh God, Oscar thought. It's Andy.
Oscar stopped a few yards ahead of him and put his car in reverse.
“Why are you walking to work, Andy?” Oscar asked with a sigh. Oscar thought he caught a grin when Andy saw him.
“Oscar! My car is in the mechanical shop, and I would've asked you, but I didn't want to, you know, impose, and--”
“Just get in the car, Andy.”
“Okey-dokey, my numero uno.” Andy climbed in the passenger's seat, rubbing his hands together. He wasn't wearing any gloves. Oscar shook his head. And stopped the thoughts in his head that he should warm him up.
“Jesus, Oscar, it's freezing in here. Why isn't the heat on?”
“It just broke.”
“Right before the winter? Bad luck, dude. When my car gets fixed, do not hesitate to call me for rides.”
Oscar smiled in appreciation.
“Thanks, Andy.”
They sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, and Oscar tried to ignore the feeling of Andy's shoulder bumping against his in his tiny car.
Andy swore he would be eternally grateful for the chivalry Oscar showed him this morning. But he couldn't ask for a ride home. He was totally out of the way, and he didn't want to impose again...but if he offered...
Andy strolled up to Oscar's desk at 5:00, hands in pockets and rocking on his heels.
“So, I guess I'm going to be heading home, then,” started Andy. “Thanks again, for this morning.”
“Andy, you don't need to walk. I'll give you a ride home, okay?”
Andy smiled broadly, which made Oscar smile, and Andy noticed how cute Oscar looked, and how his canine that showed when he smiled made him look more endearing than he thought possible.
“You're the best, man. High five!”
Oscar hesitated, then raised his hand, somewhat embarrassed that there were grown men that still gave high fives. They walked out together a few minutes later, Andy gallantly opening each door for Oscar.
He's really not such a bad guy, Oscar thought.
“God dammit!” Oscar cursed. His car started making sputtering noises on the way to Andy's and smoke pillowed from under the hood. 30 seconds later, he was stuck on the side of the road with Andy, hoping in vain that Andy knew anything about fixing cars. Of course, he wasn't sure he trusted him to touch anything in his car that was vital to it driving.
“Wow, man, you really do have crappy luck.”
“Thanks, Andy, I really needed that.”
Andy was silent a moment before he said, “Sorry.” He really was. Sometimes he just said things and he didn't have control over what came out of his mouth. He began contemplating his social skills while Oscar called AAA.
“They said it should be about twenty minutes,” said Oscar as he snapped his phone shut. “I guess it doesn't really matter that there's no heat in the car since it's broken down.” Oscar lay his head against the driver's seat and closed his eyes.
They sat there in relative silence for fifteen minutes, Andy humming quietly, switching songs every minute or two.
“Well, they should be here soon. I'm sorry about this, Andy, I hope you don't have plans or anything.”
“Don't worry about it, bro-migo, it's better than walking in this wind. I think it's like, -5 windchill. Plus I have the one and only Oscar Martinez for company. You can't beat that.”
Oscar pretended he wasn't flattered and patted Andy on the shoulder.
Twenty more minutes went by. Oscar called AAA again and was informed of a fatal pile-up three miles away, blocking the route. They said it would be another half hour. At least.
They were both beginning to shiver and constantly shifting, trying to find the warmest way to sit. Without warning, Andy flipped up the console in between them and scooted next to Oscar.
“I hope you don't mind, I'm just starting to get really cold,” Andy said. Oscar turned to him and felt guilty. His lips looked blue and his teeth were chattering violently. So he took his gloves off and handed them to Andy. As their hands brushed against each other., Oscar told himself that the feeling in the pit of his stomach was guilt. Guilt because his hands were so cold, not delight that he was touching Andy.
Andy looked at him with bright eyes and mouthed a thank you. And wrapped his arm tightly around Oscar's chest in an attempt to warm both of them up, laying his head against Oscar's shoulder and releasing a small sigh of content.
Oscar put his arm around Andy's shoulder. Really, it was the only place to put it that was comfortable.
Several silent, blissful moments passed and Andy couldn't move. He felt Oscar's warm breath, and his cheeks against his...He anticipated Oscar turning his head and whispering something charming in Spanish and--
“Andy. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I'm fine, dude. Just thinking about stuff.” Andy waited a beat. “I really like you Oscar.”
“I like you too, Andy.”
“No, I mean...like like.”
They heard a knock on the driver's side window. AAA. Just perfect timing, Oscar thought. The drive home isn't going to be awkward at all.
The driver, a 50-something who looked like Geoffrey Rush, escorted the two to the truck while he attached the tow rope. Andy sat in the front which made the silence a little less thick.
“Do you want--” Andy started, but the car door slammed and the driver was back. He stuck his hand out to Andy and Oscar, respectively.
“Hiya! My name's Tyler. Where are we going?”
When they reached Andy's apartment, he got out, biding his time, carefully checking to see if anything fell out of his pockets onto the seat. He looked at Oscar briefly and started to open his mouth, but stopped. He looked at Tyler who was grinning at him absurdly.
“Well, see you later, bro.”
“Bye, Andy. I--I'll talk to you later...”
Tyler patted the front seat, motioning Oscar up there. He complied reluctantly. Tyler offered him a cigarette.
“No...thanks.”
Silence. Oscar glanced over and noticed he was wearing a suit, dark and very expensive-looking. What kind of tow driver wears a suit?
Silence.
“You know, Oscar, you can't let the grass grow around your feet. And you can't lock the stable door after the horse has bolted.”
Oscar sighed. Here he was, in a tow truck, listening to a truck driver who could seemingly only speak in archaic idioms, instead of at home where it was warm and...normal. Predictable.
As if reading his thoughts, Tyler added, “You know, sometimes you need to explore uncharted waters.”
Oscar wondered how anyone could stand to be around this guy longer than ten minutes. Maybe he just does this on the job to make it interesting. They reached Oscar's house and Tyler put the car in park. He turned to face Oscar and looked at him intensely, hands gripping the wheel.
“Time and tide wait for no man.” He tipped his hat and didn't turn to the road again until Oscar had gotten out of the truck. He stood there as Tyler drove away, watching his poor car get dragged along the road. The tires blew snow into Oscar's face as they squealed, and the truck was gone.
Many, many, many nights go by/I sit alone at home and cry over you/what can I do?/Don't want nobody, nobody/Baby, it's you
Andy sat reclined on his bed in his tiny studio apartment. The tea kettle whistled and he rose to pour himself a cup. Music played in the background but he didn't sing along.
Andy changed into some gray sweatpants and one of his many Cornell t-shirts, and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his heads. He remembered the joint that he had stored in one of his plants. He didn't really smoke much; well, ever. This would be exactly his third time. But for some reason, it sounded really good to him at that moment.
Thirty minutes later there was a timid knock on the door. Andy pulled the covers off lazily, sleepy from the weed, and stumbled to the door. He opened it and saw a rosy-cheeked, likely frostbitten Oscar. Andy ushered him inside and hugged him tightly.
“Did you walk here?!”
So Gil was cheating on Oscar. And he apparently Oscar knew, or at least suspected, but he wasn't expecting to walk in on Gil and some guy in a goatee, mid-coitus in his bed.
Oscar had come to him. Andy was totally starting to believe in fate.
“Is that weed I smell, Andy?”
Andy sheepishly looked at the floor.
“Uh, yeah? Maybe...Woouuld that be something you'd be interested in?” Andy lifted his eyes to Oscar. Oscar smiled.
“Why not. If nothing else, I'll be able to see what Andy Bernard is like stoned.”
The conference in which it was revealed that Michael was dating Pam's mom made Oscar think more than work meetings usually did. Michael was ignorant, obnoxious, and completely inappropriate. But he had good intentions, and if he learned one thing about Michael from his relationship with Jan, it was that he was kind of a pushover, but a really sweet pushover that wouldn't hurt any woman he was with; even if she basically used him to fill her sexual hunger and most likely phsyically abused him. And while Michael would do a lot of things to please his staff, he wasn't going to leave someone he loved just because Pam didn't like it. Oscar was actually proud of him for standing up for himself. After all, he had a good point. They were both adults and they had their own lives. And why couldn't they be together? You can't change who you're attracted to. The power of love is stronger than Pam's self-righteous ideals.
After getting thoroughly stoned, they lay on Andy's bed watching Three's Company.
“God, this show is so stupid. I mean...God.”
“I don't think I've ever seen you at a loss for words, Oscar. You are as high as a kite! Or a plane.” Andy giggled.
“Yeah, well...there are a lot of things that would leave me speechless. Oh yeah...” Oscar trailed off and began staring into space.
“Uh...you all right, dude?” Andy waved his hand in front of Oscar's face.
“Yeah, I just...Andy? Do you ever...think about...fate? Oscar's eyes were wide.
“Um, yeah, all the time. Did I ever tell you that I only had one best friend, ever? She was freaking awesome. And then she died and I never thought I'd meet anyone else, and then I met you, man and it's like...it was meant to be, you know?
“Wow. Andy, I don't know what to say.”
“Hey I made you speechless again! Awesome. Not that I don't like hearing you talk, but...”
Oscar laughed. And they watched more Three's Company. Oscar told Andy about Gil, about how they weren't right for each other anyway, and how Gil was a pretentious know-it-all who Oscar's cat didn't even like. Andy listened and commented at the appropriate times and Oscar began to think it was a good idea to come over.
“I love you, man.” Andy punctuated this by punching Oscar's arm. “Please, don't go back to Gil. He's an asshole.”
“No worries, Andy. I love you too. By the way, why the hell is it so cold in here?”
“Got the window open. Keeps the fresh air circulating.”
“It's the middle of winter, Andy! And we nearly froze to death tonight!”
“But..sorry. I'll close it.”
“No...don't worry about it.”
“You know,” Andy started somewhat huskily, “there's blankets right here you can use.”
Oscar began to sweat. It was a very tempting offer, but he wasn't sure he could keep from doing something inappropriate and breaking Andy's trust if Andy decided to climb under the covers as well. Then again, why else would he do that if he didn't want...what the hell. Oscar took his jacket off and pulled the covers up to his chest.
It was becoming very intimate all of a sudden. The only lights in the room came from the TV screen and the only sounds were the all too predictable jokes of Jack Tripper and the laugh track that followed. And now Oscar's increasingly heavy breathing. The weed was starting to wear off, but Oscar was buzzed enough to feel very cozy and a little drowsy.
Andy suddenly moved closer to Oscar's side and tentatively lay his arm across his chest. Oscar froze and Andy took the opportunity to lay his head in the crook of Oscar's arm. Oscar couldn't control the arm that decided it would lay itself around Andy's shoulder for the second time that night. It felt right this time. He heard Andy sigh and suddenly get up and rush to the other room.
“Gotta use the toily.”
Oscar was utterly confused. What did he do? Maybe he should just go. Fuck. He began to put his jacket on when Andy came back in.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought...maybe...”
“Oscar.” Andy stepped towards him. “Please. Stay with me a little longer, at least?”
“Andy?”
Andy looked at him with complete sincerity. “Please?”
Where would he go if he left, anyway? Back to Gil's?
So Oscar crawled back into Andy's bed. And Andy joined him, this time underneath the blankets next to Oscar, Andy on his side facing Oscar, who lay on his back, not sure what to do. He'd never been this timid with another man. Andy touched his chest gently. Oscar felt a sudden wave of heat burst through his spine and travel through him, pooling in his stomach.
“Oscar,” he whispered. “C'mere.”
Oscar rolled over to face Andy and bumped his knee against Andy's. Neither moved away. All Oscar could look at was the swimming blue of Andy's eyes, all he could feel was Andy's body heat. Oscar lay his hand, unsure, on Andy's chest, felt Andy's heartbeat through his thin T-shirt.
Andy closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled weakly, and the next thing Oscar knew his eyes were closed too, and then he felt a warm hand rest on his hip and he tasted Andy's lips on his.
Andy's kiss was strong and sure, tender, dizzying, and the closest thing Oscar had ever felt to ecstasy. Including that time he did Ecstasy (it was college and he had a hard time saying no).
When they finally broke away, there was nothing to do but smile. Andy looked angelic with his flushed face and bright eyes. Tears started welling up.
“I'm just so happy!” Andy sobbed. Oscar kissed his tears away before cupping his chin and bringing their lips together again. He wasn't unsure anymore. And he didn't care that it was Andy Bernard, of all people, who he had fallen in love with. He felt safe and right with him. He smiled as Andy pulled him closer.
And he was an amazing kisser.
Andy watched Oscar as he slept. He looked way less stressed in his sleep. And pretty cute. Andy put his hand in Oscar's and lay his head on his bare shoulder.
True love is awesome.
Song: Baby, It's You by Smith
Title: Some Like It Cold
Pairing(s): Andy/Oscar, Oscar/Gil
Rating: PG-13 for drug use, language, and kissy-kissy
Fandom: The Office
Word Count: 4300+
Beta'd: by werkelijkheid90
Summary: Oscar gets a cat. Andy thinks about fate. They get cozy together.
Disclaimer: I own no characters in this story, from the Office or otherwise, with the exception of Tyler and Sally. All Office characters belong to the writers and NBC. If I did own these characters, you would know it.
The day that Jim and Pam were outed as a couple, Angela had surprised Oscar with a rare moment of intimacy. She told him all about Sprinkles, and in between sobs confessed who had killed her. Oscar couldn't help it; he really did feel bad for her.
Waiting for the elevators after work that day, Oscar heard a tiny 'mew.' He looked around, baffled, and then saw a striped cat peek its head around the corner and stare intently at him. Oscar sighed. What was the name Dwight gave him? Garbage? He wasn't really sure what to do in a situation like this. Would Dwight bring him back to the farm?
While he was contemplating what to do, he felt Garbage rub up against his leg and purr loudly. Oscar shook his head. He took pity on the poor animal, being dragged to and then abandoned in an office building far from home. Besides, he kind of wanted to see the look on Gil's face when he brought him home. Gil was a dog person. A clean-dog person. And this was a mangy cat with sharp claws. Oscar smiled and picked the cat up, shocked that he didn't struggle in Oscar's arms.
Oscar was right. The look on Gil's face as Oscar closed the apartment door behind him and let Garbage explore was priceless.
“What is wrong with you, Martinez?” He only ever called him Martinez when he was angry.
“Isn't he a darling, Gil?” Oscar said with a smirk.
“Why the hell would you bring a dirty thing like that in this apartment?”
“Cats are very clean animals you know.” Oscar's smile was beginning to fade. He was starting to feel bad for not telling Gil.
“Well, I am not touching it. You can have him as long as he stays away from my things. And you're going to have to find a pretty remote spot for his shit box.”
Oscar knew Gil was pretentious and condescending, but his blood always started to boil when he told him what to do. Giving him permission to keep the cat. Like Oscar wasn't the one paying rent. Like he wasn't the one on the lease. He had a good mind to kick him out right then and there, but he didn't. He was lonely. And really, he didn't know how long he would keep Garbage. He did seem to take a liking to Oscar, though.
Later, after making up in the bedroom, Oscar and Gil sat on the couch watching Nova. The cat was curled up next to Oscar, occasionally twitching his tail in his sleep. He was probably chasing squirrels and farm mice in his dreams, Oscar thought.
“So, what do you call him?” asked Gil.
“You can call him...Mr. Tibbs.”
After the trip to Canada, Oscar and Andy would hang out once in a while outside of work. It was nice, Oscar thought, to have someone to talk to. Not that he couldn't talk to Gil, but...he felt he could say anything to Andy. He wondered if Andy felt the same way. Then he realized that Andy probably felt he could say anything to anyone.
He had gotten back together with Gil. It was all right. It was someone to share things with, to sleep with. Sometimes Gil would leave on Friday evenings and go to his parents'. Or so he said. Oscar wasn't stupid. Who goes to their parents' house on a Friday night? Every Friday night. And he happened to know Gil hated driving, so it wasn't likely he'd take the 2 hours it took to get to Ithaca. But Oscar was lonely. And he hated himself for being used but instead of saying anything he sat at home and watched movies by himself. At least he had Mr. Tibbs.
One night after Gil had left, he popped Amélie in the DVD player when he could have sworn he heard the cat talk. It wasn't like the cat was really talking but he would hear something in his head. It was quiet enough to be mistaken as a thought but loud enough to make him worry. Maybe he'd been reading too much Murakami. This particular night, he could have sworn the cat told him to call Andy. And he would have passed it off as his own idea if Mr. Tibbs hadn't knocked his address book off the counter and it hadn't opened to Andy's number.
So, he called him. Reluctantly. Because he didn't want to have to tell him that he was lonely because his boyfriend was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what. When Andy answered the phone he cringed a little at how innocently happy he sounded.
“Hi, Andy, it's Oscar.”
“Oscarino! What's up, my friend?”
“I was just wondering...if you wanted to maybe, do something tonight?”
“You don't have the old Gil around?” Oscar really did not want to hear his name. “Sure, just let me put on my blue suede shoes and I'll swing by!” Oscar wondered if he actually had a pair of blue suede shoes.
“All right, you know where I live.”
“Cool. I'll pick you up in zehn minuten. That means 10 minutes. German.”
“Sure, Andy.”
“It's a date!” Oscar heard a click before he had time to respond. A date?
Sally was Andy's first best friend. He met her in fourth grade on the playground and from the first time they spoke to each other they were inseparable. She never called him a girl for riding a bike with a basket on it like the other kids did, and at lunch she would share half of her cake. She saved it just for him.
One day, she didn't show up for school. A couple boys pushed him and called him names, asking where his girlfriend was.
“She's not my girlfwiend!” he cried.
They called him a Mary and other names and he ran home crying, tripping and skinning his knee on the way. His mom was at home, reading the newspaper at the table.
“What's wrong, carrot cake?” His mom had a habit of calling him names that really didn't make sense. He didn't even have red hair.
“The boys at school called me a Mary and called Sally my girlfwiend and I hut mysewlf!” He started sobbing and wiping his nose on his sleeve.
Andy's mom hugged him and kissed him on the forehead.
“Don't you listen to them, honey. Everyone is special in their own way. They're just jealous that you have such a wonderful friend like Sally.”
Andy looked up at her and wiped the rest of his tears away. His eyes were brighter and he began smiling.
“Thanks mommy!” And he felt a whole lot better, just like that. He knew he had the best mom in the whole world.
But the next day, as he threw his backpack on the couch and opened his mouth to ask his mom for a snack, she turned to him very seriously.
“Sit down, honey.”
He sat down and his mom put her arm around him. She got the news this morning. Sally died. Andy hated her parents for letting her die. He ran to his room and stayed in bed until the next evening.
Andy thought about all of this after he broke up with Angela. He knew if Sally was still alive, he'd be married to her. The memory of her left him sadder than Angela had. He wondered if people only got one chance at love, and his was gone. He wondered if Michael felt the same way about Holly, if she was the only one he would love. There was only one person Andy could think of that made him feel special, like Sally or his mom. He had to try. He never felt so awesome as when he was with him, like he had a purpose, like there was someone who could need him. He also knew that if this didn't work, he'd be hurt worse than he ever had.
He had to try, for the sake of love!
Andy tried not to feel too giddy about going on a date with Oscar. I mean, it wasn't official or anything, and Andy had called it a date, not Oscar, and Oscar was still with Gil, but...
He picked him up at 8. He was right on time and wore a beautiful gray sweater vest over a white button-down, sleeves rolled up, and a pair of faded jeans that he looked... just hot in. He knew Oscar wouldn't be able to resist him in those. He didn't actually have blue suede shoes. But he had his favorite brown boots that he wore with pride. And he brought over a little cat toy for Mr. Tibbs. Maybe he was used to treating Angela's cats, but he kind of liked getting cute little things for them.
His heart raced as Oscar opened his apartment door to meet him. How could Gil leave him here? What a moron.
“Hey, Osc” he said a little shakily. “I brought this for your cat.”
He handed him a little mouse filled with catnip. He felt Mr. Tibbs rub against his leg and immediately start purring.
“Wow, he really likes you, Andy. He never goes up to Gil.”
Andy, 1, Gil 0.
“Shall we go? I made reservations at a most spectacular Italian restaurant, Mambo Italiano.”
“Wow, really? That place is pretty...fancy, Andy.”
“Anything for my wingman!”
“Wait, I thought you were my wingman.”
“....well, anything for Oscar!”
Andy saw him smile and maybe blush a little. Seriously, what is Oscar thinking dating Gil, Andy thought. Andy would never hurt Oscar, not ever.
After a good couple of hours, Andy brought Oscar home and they plopped together on the couch, both stuffed. They sat in awkward silence for a few minutes before Oscar told him that Gil would probably be home soon.
Gil, Andy thought. Lousy Gil.
But he was a good sport and bid Oscar farewell and tipped his imaginary hat before leaving.
Oscar smiled and stretched out on the couch. He fell asleep quickly, drowsy from the meal and wine, and dreamed that he had met Andy long before Dunder-Mifflin.
A few days after their “date,” it started snowing heavily. So of course, the heat in Oscar's car died. At least it drove. He couldn't bear asking Gil to use his car again.
He was driving to work the next week, John Coltrane softly playing, when he passed a man speed-walking along the sidewalk, huddled in his jacket. Oh God, Oscar thought. It's Andy.
Oscar stopped a few yards ahead of him and put his car in reverse.
“Why are you walking to work, Andy?” Oscar asked with a sigh. Oscar thought he caught a grin when Andy saw him.
“Oscar! My car is in the mechanical shop, and I would've asked you, but I didn't want to, you know, impose, and--”
“Just get in the car, Andy.”
“Okey-dokey, my numero uno.” Andy climbed in the passenger's seat, rubbing his hands together. He wasn't wearing any gloves. Oscar shook his head. And stopped the thoughts in his head that he should warm him up.
“Jesus, Oscar, it's freezing in here. Why isn't the heat on?”
“It just broke.”
“Right before the winter? Bad luck, dude. When my car gets fixed, do not hesitate to call me for rides.”
Oscar smiled in appreciation.
“Thanks, Andy.”
They sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the ride, and Oscar tried to ignore the feeling of Andy's shoulder bumping against his in his tiny car.
Andy swore he would be eternally grateful for the chivalry Oscar showed him this morning. But he couldn't ask for a ride home. He was totally out of the way, and he didn't want to impose again...but if he offered...
Andy strolled up to Oscar's desk at 5:00, hands in pockets and rocking on his heels.
“So, I guess I'm going to be heading home, then,” started Andy. “Thanks again, for this morning.”
“Andy, you don't need to walk. I'll give you a ride home, okay?”
Andy smiled broadly, which made Oscar smile, and Andy noticed how cute Oscar looked, and how his canine that showed when he smiled made him look more endearing than he thought possible.
“You're the best, man. High five!”
Oscar hesitated, then raised his hand, somewhat embarrassed that there were grown men that still gave high fives. They walked out together a few minutes later, Andy gallantly opening each door for Oscar.
He's really not such a bad guy, Oscar thought.
“God dammit!” Oscar cursed. His car started making sputtering noises on the way to Andy's and smoke pillowed from under the hood. 30 seconds later, he was stuck on the side of the road with Andy, hoping in vain that Andy knew anything about fixing cars. Of course, he wasn't sure he trusted him to touch anything in his car that was vital to it driving.
“Wow, man, you really do have crappy luck.”
“Thanks, Andy, I really needed that.”
Andy was silent a moment before he said, “Sorry.” He really was. Sometimes he just said things and he didn't have control over what came out of his mouth. He began contemplating his social skills while Oscar called AAA.
“They said it should be about twenty minutes,” said Oscar as he snapped his phone shut. “I guess it doesn't really matter that there's no heat in the car since it's broken down.” Oscar lay his head against the driver's seat and closed his eyes.
They sat there in relative silence for fifteen minutes, Andy humming quietly, switching songs every minute or two.
“Well, they should be here soon. I'm sorry about this, Andy, I hope you don't have plans or anything.”
“Don't worry about it, bro-migo, it's better than walking in this wind. I think it's like, -5 windchill. Plus I have the one and only Oscar Martinez for company. You can't beat that.”
Oscar pretended he wasn't flattered and patted Andy on the shoulder.
Twenty more minutes went by. Oscar called AAA again and was informed of a fatal pile-up three miles away, blocking the route. They said it would be another half hour. At least.
They were both beginning to shiver and constantly shifting, trying to find the warmest way to sit. Without warning, Andy flipped up the console in between them and scooted next to Oscar.
“I hope you don't mind, I'm just starting to get really cold,” Andy said. Oscar turned to him and felt guilty. His lips looked blue and his teeth were chattering violently. So he took his gloves off and handed them to Andy. As their hands brushed against each other., Oscar told himself that the feeling in the pit of his stomach was guilt. Guilt because his hands were so cold, not delight that he was touching Andy.
Andy looked at him with bright eyes and mouthed a thank you. And wrapped his arm tightly around Oscar's chest in an attempt to warm both of them up, laying his head against Oscar's shoulder and releasing a small sigh of content.
Oscar put his arm around Andy's shoulder. Really, it was the only place to put it that was comfortable.
Several silent, blissful moments passed and Andy couldn't move. He felt Oscar's warm breath, and his cheeks against his...He anticipated Oscar turning his head and whispering something charming in Spanish and--
“Andy. Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I'm fine, dude. Just thinking about stuff.” Andy waited a beat. “I really like you Oscar.”
“I like you too, Andy.”
“No, I mean...like like.”
They heard a knock on the driver's side window. AAA. Just perfect timing, Oscar thought. The drive home isn't going to be awkward at all.
The driver, a 50-something who looked like Geoffrey Rush, escorted the two to the truck while he attached the tow rope. Andy sat in the front which made the silence a little less thick.
“Do you want--” Andy started, but the car door slammed and the driver was back. He stuck his hand out to Andy and Oscar, respectively.
“Hiya! My name's Tyler. Where are we going?”
When they reached Andy's apartment, he got out, biding his time, carefully checking to see if anything fell out of his pockets onto the seat. He looked at Oscar briefly and started to open his mouth, but stopped. He looked at Tyler who was grinning at him absurdly.
“Well, see you later, bro.”
“Bye, Andy. I--I'll talk to you later...”
Tyler patted the front seat, motioning Oscar up there. He complied reluctantly. Tyler offered him a cigarette.
“No...thanks.”
Silence. Oscar glanced over and noticed he was wearing a suit, dark and very expensive-looking. What kind of tow driver wears a suit?
Silence.
“You know, Oscar, you can't let the grass grow around your feet. And you can't lock the stable door after the horse has bolted.”
Oscar sighed. Here he was, in a tow truck, listening to a truck driver who could seemingly only speak in archaic idioms, instead of at home where it was warm and...normal. Predictable.
As if reading his thoughts, Tyler added, “You know, sometimes you need to explore uncharted waters.”
Oscar wondered how anyone could stand to be around this guy longer than ten minutes. Maybe he just does this on the job to make it interesting. They reached Oscar's house and Tyler put the car in park. He turned to face Oscar and looked at him intensely, hands gripping the wheel.
“Time and tide wait for no man.” He tipped his hat and didn't turn to the road again until Oscar had gotten out of the truck. He stood there as Tyler drove away, watching his poor car get dragged along the road. The tires blew snow into Oscar's face as they squealed, and the truck was gone.
Many, many, many nights go by/I sit alone at home and cry over you/what can I do?/Don't want nobody, nobody/Baby, it's you
Andy sat reclined on his bed in his tiny studio apartment. The tea kettle whistled and he rose to pour himself a cup. Music played in the background but he didn't sing along.
Andy changed into some gray sweatpants and one of his many Cornell t-shirts, and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over his heads. He remembered the joint that he had stored in one of his plants. He didn't really smoke much; well, ever. This would be exactly his third time. But for some reason, it sounded really good to him at that moment.
Thirty minutes later there was a timid knock on the door. Andy pulled the covers off lazily, sleepy from the weed, and stumbled to the door. He opened it and saw a rosy-cheeked, likely frostbitten Oscar. Andy ushered him inside and hugged him tightly.
“Did you walk here?!”
So Gil was cheating on Oscar. And he apparently Oscar knew, or at least suspected, but he wasn't expecting to walk in on Gil and some guy in a goatee, mid-coitus in his bed.
Oscar had come to him. Andy was totally starting to believe in fate.
“Is that weed I smell, Andy?”
Andy sheepishly looked at the floor.
“Uh, yeah? Maybe...Woouuld that be something you'd be interested in?” Andy lifted his eyes to Oscar. Oscar smiled.
“Why not. If nothing else, I'll be able to see what Andy Bernard is like stoned.”
The conference in which it was revealed that Michael was dating Pam's mom made Oscar think more than work meetings usually did. Michael was ignorant, obnoxious, and completely inappropriate. But he had good intentions, and if he learned one thing about Michael from his relationship with Jan, it was that he was kind of a pushover, but a really sweet pushover that wouldn't hurt any woman he was with; even if she basically used him to fill her sexual hunger and most likely phsyically abused him. And while Michael would do a lot of things to please his staff, he wasn't going to leave someone he loved just because Pam didn't like it. Oscar was actually proud of him for standing up for himself. After all, he had a good point. They were both adults and they had their own lives. And why couldn't they be together? You can't change who you're attracted to. The power of love is stronger than Pam's self-righteous ideals.
After getting thoroughly stoned, they lay on Andy's bed watching Three's Company.
“God, this show is so stupid. I mean...God.”
“I don't think I've ever seen you at a loss for words, Oscar. You are as high as a kite! Or a plane.” Andy giggled.
“Yeah, well...there are a lot of things that would leave me speechless. Oh yeah...” Oscar trailed off and began staring into space.
“Uh...you all right, dude?” Andy waved his hand in front of Oscar's face.
“Yeah, I just...Andy? Do you ever...think about...fate? Oscar's eyes were wide.
“Um, yeah, all the time. Did I ever tell you that I only had one best friend, ever? She was freaking awesome. And then she died and I never thought I'd meet anyone else, and then I met you, man and it's like...it was meant to be, you know?
“Wow. Andy, I don't know what to say.”
“Hey I made you speechless again! Awesome. Not that I don't like hearing you talk, but...”
Oscar laughed. And they watched more Three's Company. Oscar told Andy about Gil, about how they weren't right for each other anyway, and how Gil was a pretentious know-it-all who Oscar's cat didn't even like. Andy listened and commented at the appropriate times and Oscar began to think it was a good idea to come over.
“I love you, man.” Andy punctuated this by punching Oscar's arm. “Please, don't go back to Gil. He's an asshole.”
“No worries, Andy. I love you too. By the way, why the hell is it so cold in here?”
“Got the window open. Keeps the fresh air circulating.”
“It's the middle of winter, Andy! And we nearly froze to death tonight!”
“But..sorry. I'll close it.”
“No...don't worry about it.”
“You know,” Andy started somewhat huskily, “there's blankets right here you can use.”
Oscar began to sweat. It was a very tempting offer, but he wasn't sure he could keep from doing something inappropriate and breaking Andy's trust if Andy decided to climb under the covers as well. Then again, why else would he do that if he didn't want...what the hell. Oscar took his jacket off and pulled the covers up to his chest.
It was becoming very intimate all of a sudden. The only lights in the room came from the TV screen and the only sounds were the all too predictable jokes of Jack Tripper and the laugh track that followed. And now Oscar's increasingly heavy breathing. The weed was starting to wear off, but Oscar was buzzed enough to feel very cozy and a little drowsy.
Andy suddenly moved closer to Oscar's side and tentatively lay his arm across his chest. Oscar froze and Andy took the opportunity to lay his head in the crook of Oscar's arm. Oscar couldn't control the arm that decided it would lay itself around Andy's shoulder for the second time that night. It felt right this time. He heard Andy sigh and suddenly get up and rush to the other room.
“Gotta use the toily.”
Oscar was utterly confused. What did he do? Maybe he should just go. Fuck. He began to put his jacket on when Andy came back in.
“What are you doing?”
“I thought...maybe...”
“Oscar.” Andy stepped towards him. “Please. Stay with me a little longer, at least?”
“Andy?”
Andy looked at him with complete sincerity. “Please?”
Where would he go if he left, anyway? Back to Gil's?
So Oscar crawled back into Andy's bed. And Andy joined him, this time underneath the blankets next to Oscar, Andy on his side facing Oscar, who lay on his back, not sure what to do. He'd never been this timid with another man. Andy touched his chest gently. Oscar felt a sudden wave of heat burst through his spine and travel through him, pooling in his stomach.
“Oscar,” he whispered. “C'mere.”
Oscar rolled over to face Andy and bumped his knee against Andy's. Neither moved away. All Oscar could look at was the swimming blue of Andy's eyes, all he could feel was Andy's body heat. Oscar lay his hand, unsure, on Andy's chest, felt Andy's heartbeat through his thin T-shirt.
Andy closed his eyes for a moment and exhaled weakly, and the next thing Oscar knew his eyes were closed too, and then he felt a warm hand rest on his hip and he tasted Andy's lips on his.
Andy's kiss was strong and sure, tender, dizzying, and the closest thing Oscar had ever felt to ecstasy. Including that time he did Ecstasy (it was college and he had a hard time saying no).
When they finally broke away, there was nothing to do but smile. Andy looked angelic with his flushed face and bright eyes. Tears started welling up.
“I'm just so happy!” Andy sobbed. Oscar kissed his tears away before cupping his chin and bringing their lips together again. He wasn't unsure anymore. And he didn't care that it was Andy Bernard, of all people, who he had fallen in love with. He felt safe and right with him. He smiled as Andy pulled him closer.
And he was an amazing kisser.
Andy watched Oscar as he slept. He looked way less stressed in his sleep. And pretty cute. Andy put his hand in Oscar's and lay his head on his bare shoulder.
True love is awesome.
Song: Baby, It's You by Smith