Three Strikes, You're Out
Title: Three Strikes, You're Out
Characters: Andy, Oscar, brief mention of Jim, Pam, Kevin, Phyllis. Oscar/Andy.
Rating: PG-13 for teh swearz
Spoilers: For episode 6x01, Gossip
Beta'd: By the sis smarmyelf and the fab neonnchrome1123
Summary: Andy has an attack of masculine insecurity and recovers. Oscar thinks the whole situation is ridiculous.
A/N: Sequel to Getting All Your Bases Covered, so you should probably read that first. Otherwise none of this is gonna make any sense. And since I feel that these two stories are probably going to explode into MORE, against my better judgment, we'll name this 'verse The Mudville 'Verse, as per the punny baseball-reference titles. Don't know how that happened. I don't even LIKE baseball. Honestly.
Excerpt:
"Yessirree, Andy Bernard is moving forward," Andy says to the camera. "I've got not only a new understanding of myself, but a whole new pool of fishing to explore. And let me tell you, despite a few jitters that come with dangling a new kind of bait, Andy Bernard is an angler who is more than capable of capturing even the most elusive rainbow trout, even if he has to drag it into the boat and whack it several times in the head with his dad's baseball bat."
"That makes one great mystery of the world solved," Andy says to the camera, chin tucked into his chest and a look of smug satisfaction on his face. "Turns out it's not half as terrifying or emasculating as one might suppo~oose." He pauses and lets out a short chuckle. "I mean, I'm still the same old Nard Dog..."
Andy stares into the middle distance for a moment, eyes going glassy, grin slowly fading. He snaps his gaze back to the camera.
"Right?"
_____________________
On Monday, Oscar notices that Andy's acting weird around him; well, more weird than usual. He hopes Andy will just get over it on his own, but the tingling sensation on the back of his neck throughout the day doesn't let up. The few times he manages to catch Andy giving him a scarily intent stare, Andy whips his head around to face the opposite corner of the room and starts whistling obnoxiously.
By Wednesday, other people are starting to notice the tension. Oscar is... distracted... on his way to the bathroom because he's trying to avoid Andy's avoidance of him from where Andy is standing next to the water cooler, and Phyllis nearly opens the door in his face coming from the other direction. Oscar stumbles back and his shoulder brushes Andy's, which makes Andy jump as if he's been scalded and excuse himself to take a call on a phone that is most definitely not ringing. As Andy picks up the silent receiver and says, "Hello?" in a strangled squeak, Jim gives one of his looks at the camera, and Oscar realizes this has to stop.
Oscar manages to corner Andy in the parking lot on Thursday night.
"Hey, Andy."
"Oscar," Andy says, and Oscar can see his throat work around a nervous swallow. "I was, uh, just on my way out."
"I can see that," Oscar says. "Look, I think we need to talk."
"Talk?" Andy asks, voice shifting up into the 'panicked' range.
"Yeah," Oscar says. Andy's trying not to meet his gaze and his eyes are shooting around erratically. "Look, would you stop that?"
"Stop what?" Andy asks, taking a step back.
"That. Stop acting like I'm about to throw you down and have my way with you against the fax machine. Trust me, I don't want to."
Andy meets his gaze then, if only to glare and puff up like a wounded chicken.
"Why not? I'll have you know, I'm perfectly, er, jumpable material, my friend. The quintessence of manhoo-" Andy says, before realizing what he's saying, cutting himself off, and holding his briefcase up in front of his chest defensively.
Oscar sighs.
"Look, it's understandable that you're freaking out, but you have to get it together," he says. "We were drunk. It was one kiss."
"Two," Andy corrects miserably, the briefcase lowering slowly.
"Fine, two," Oscar says. "It doesn't mean anything."
"But what if it does?" Andy asks. "I mean, not that it's wrong or anything, but it's pra-hooty weird to suddenly be thinking about myself that way, and now it seems like I have to think about other people differently, too, and I think about you-"
"And I'm sorry if I've made it more confusing for you," Oscar cuts Andy off because they are so not going there. "This is exactly why I told you just hauling off and kissing a guy would be a bad idea."
"Well, it's too late now," Andy says. "I don't even know who I am anymore! I thought I was a bull dog and now it turns out I might be a poodle!"
"That's... a disturbing analogy. And also vaguely insulting."
"Oscar, what am I supposed to do?"
"I don't know. I would guess whatever feels right to you."
"Yeah, but what if it turns out what feels right is boning other dudes?" Andy asks.
Oscar manfully represses the urge to give up on Andy as the hopeless cause he is and walk away. Like it or not, this is partially Oscar's responsibility now that he's gone and... and... Ay Dios. Mierda.
"Then you're going to have to come to terms with that," Oscar says. "Look, Andy, there's got to be someone you can talk to about this."
Andy opens his mouth.
"Someone who isn't me," Oscar hastens to add.
Andy's mouth snaps shut.
"In the meantime, we have to be able to work together," Oscar continues. "Other people are starting to notice, and unless you want to have to explain to them what's going on when it seems like you're not even sure yourself..."
"No. Yeah, you're right."
"Okay. Are we good?"
"Yeah... yeah, we're good. Sorry, Oscar," Andy says. "You have been nothing, if not a gentlemen-"
"That's okay, Andy-"
"-and I have just... grossly disrespected you-"
"Really, that's not necessary-"
"-time and time again with my, you know, emotional RERRR-" and surprisingly, the exaggerated grimace/growl aptly describes Andy's inability to deal with the current situation, "-and I've been a real-"
"Really, Andy. Don't worry about it," Oscar finally manages to cut off the rambling awkwardness.
"Okay," Andy says.
They fall silent. After a couple of seconds, Andy starts looking at him, and Oscar suddenly realizes that the rambling was preferable to this, because this-
"Well, I'll, uh, see you tomorrow, then," Oscar says.
Andy nods and gives a little half-wave, but Oscar's already turned and headed towards his car.
_______________________________
"Oscar," Andy stage-whispers after abruptly rolling over on his chair. Oscar jumps slightly.
"Yes, Andy?"
"Guess who took the initiative and did some bro-assisted soul-searching last night?" Andy asks.
"You, Andy?"
From the way Andy looks more like his old self (which is to say, unaccountably excited and insipidly smug), Oscar supposes Andy was just waiting for Angela to leave for the meeting with corporate before unloading the big news. Kevin's decided to take his usual long lunch today, so Andy and Oscar have the corner of the room to themselves. Well, to themselves and the cameras.
"Righty-o! Broccoli Rob and Gay Mike were very understanding," Andy says brightly before suddenly sobering, voice going hushed and conspiratorial. "There may have been tears."
"Yes, okay, why do I need to know any of this?"
"Well, since you're the rake that turned over my new leaf, I just thought you'd be interested," Andy grumbles.
Oscar drops his pencil and rubs his hands over his face. Andy's giving him a wounded look. Oscar caves.
"Fine. How did it go?"
"Spec-tickle-acular, actually. I was thinking about it all the wrong way. Like, I don't think of Gay Mike or Broccoli Rob like they aren't just dudes, and I mean, you're just a dude, but I was thinking that something about me liking the occasional dude would make me into less of a dude."
Oscar's forehead wrinkles.
"So, you're saying you were feeling like your... your manhood was threatened?"
Andy's eyes get big over an open-mouthed smile. He nods solemnly.
"Subconsciously, yeah. Or that I had changed somehow when I hadn't; I just realized something about myself that was there all along. I'm still me. Actually, now that I've learned something about myself I didn't know before, I'm even more like me. I mean, right?"
The ridiculous look of complete confidence on Andy's face has the strange effect of making Oscar feel old. The ten-ish year gap between him and Andy is oddly tangible for a split second, because after a mere few weeks of freaking out, Andy seems to have seamlessly integrated a revelation into his life that should have been world-destroying, especially given his age and high-strung disposition. Oscar's personal lifelong struggles with the inherent societal and cultural expectations placed upon him seem laughable in the face of Andy's easy acceptance.
"That sounds like a pretty healthy conclusion to make," Oscar says.
"Yeah. Broccoli Rob said I should just go with it. Stop thinking about it so much, you know? He said when you over-analyze it, you just create a lot of 'unnecessary anxiety.' Man," Andy exclaims, "I wish I could take Psych 101 again. I would to-hooootally ace it this time around."
In spite of himself, Oscar laughs.
"I really don't think that the technique involved in the assimilation of latent sexuality is a big section in Psych 101."
"Aww, c'mon! There's all that stuff about the dream-penises with... with... Froyg!"
"Freud."
"Yeah, him."
Andy smiles at him, and Oscar realizes he's smiling too, and now Andy's smile is starting to go soppy. Kevin chooses this opportune moment to come back from lunch and dig noisily into his jar of M&M's.
"So, I should get back to this," Oscar says, mindlessly tapping his finger on the expense reports lying on his desk.
"Okie-dokie... that's, um, good. I'll talk to you later then," Andy says.
He spins around in his chair and pushes off to roll back towards his desk. Oscar smirks and shakes his head.
"Uhh... what was that about?" Kevin asks.
"What was what about?" Oscar asks without lifting his eyes from his work.
"That."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Kevin shrugs and begins crunching noisily on what is no doubt an entire handful of M&Ms.
_________________________________________
"What? No, I do not think he's cute," Oscar says to the camera, expression pinched. "I mean, sure, he's okay. If you like that kind of immature exuberance and guileless way he stupidly tries to please everyone... and I suppose in an objective sense he has nice eyes-"
Oscar's mouth snaps shut and he looks suddenly terrified.
__________________________________________
Since shortly after coming to work for Dunder Mifflin, Oscar realized that if he expected to survive with his sanity intact he should keep his head down and mind his own damn business. For the most part he's been successful (except for That Day, which wasn't so much Oscar's fault as it was the fault of an ignorant, well-meaning boss with no understanding of the need for personal space) at keeping his private life private and his professional life professional. He staunchly believes people should keep their noses out of other people's business. As a result, Oscar does not like the cameras, and he does not like intrigue when he's on the clock.
The brightly wrapped box on his desk is doing a good job of creating the latter and attracting the attention of the former.
"Did you open it yet?" Andy asks suddenly from behind him, and that answers the Where the hell did this come from? if not the What the fuck is this?
"Obviously not," Oscar says.
Since Andy couldn't wait more than the ten seconds it took for Oscar to hang his coat and walk to his desk to ask, that means that Andy is excited about whatever it is that's in the box. The fact that Andy's excited makes Oscar more than a bit hesitant.
He opens the box slowly.
"Andy, what's this?"
"It's a package of, might I say, muy delicioso-" Oscar winces at the pronunciation "-pistachio baklava from the world-famous Theo's Metro restaurant of Kingston, along with a generous gift certificate to said establishment, all for the non-existent fee of Andy Bernard's classily-applied good will and generosity," Andy says with a flourish. "It may have been mentioned that you took a shine to baklava when it was provided during a discussion of excerpts from One Thousand and One Nights."
And if there's a slightly wounded tone to Andy's voice when he refers to the Finer Things Club, Oscar ignores it. He glances over at Pam, who suddenly looks far more interested in her computer screen than must be intellectually possible. Especially since she's playing solitaire.
"I can see that," Oscar says. "I mean, why are you giving this to me?"
"Well, in my quest to 'know thyself' I may have been a leetle...uh... insensitive in regards to interrogating you on all matters homosexual." Kevin giggles, but Andy does an admirable job of ignoring him. "Soooooo, this is just my way of making it up to you."
Andy has a history of brown-nosing to the point of embarrassment (for all involved parties), but Oscar can't think of any professionally strategic win to be had in currying Oscar's favor. Maybe it really is just a nice gesture, and Andy looks so damn earnest, but still-
"Thanks for the sentiment. Really," Oscar says. "But I can't take this."
Andy looks alarmed.
"Why not?"
"Andy, this gift certificate is for a hundred dollars."
"...So?"
"So...so..." How do you explain to someone with absolutely no sense of what is socially acceptable that being nice to such a monetary extreme is really kind of awkward? "It's too much."
"It won't be too much," Andy says. "I don't know about you, but I can put away a good amount of mou-ssa-ka, and they have a particularly fine selection of wines-"
"Wait. So, you mean to say that you want to come to dinner with me?"
"Well, duhr. I have never once bought a gift card that I haven't had a hand in spending. What would be the point?"
"Um, to give it as a gift, maybe?"
"Huh," Andy says, as if that's never occurred to him.
And well, it's not unheard of for him and Andy to spend time together outside of work (though this will be the first time they've hung out since the last Poor Richard's pub night), and it would be cruel of Oscar to turn Andy away in front of the cameras and everyone like this, and it's not like Andy ever really goes out of his way to be particularly kind all that often, and it would be better than spending yet another evening alone eating cold take-out, so...
"Okay."
"Really?" Andy asks, face lighting up obscenely.
"Sure."
"Friday night work for you?"
"Yeah."
"Alrighty, my friend," Andy says. "Then I will see you Friday."
Oscar could point out that Andy will see him on Friday anyway, but Andy's already bouncing back to his desk after shooting Oscar a disarming grin. Oscar looks away from Andy's retreating figure at the shuffling sound that is ten co-workers doing a horrible job at pretending they weren't avidly watching the entire interchange.
Oscar represses a sigh and sits down before stashing the baklava in a drawer.
________________________________
"Yessirree, Andy Bernard is moving forward," Andy says to the camera. "I've got not only a new understanding of myself, but a whole new pool of fishing to explore. And let me tell you, despite a few jitters that come with dangling a new kind of bait, Andy Bernard is an angler who is more than capable of capturing even the most elusive rainbow trout, even if he has to drag it into the boat and whack it several times in the head with his dad's baseball bat."
________________________________
Surprisingly, the dinner goes well. Andy's not such a bad guy, and he has a habit of saying absolutely ridiculous things that make Oscar laugh. The conversation flows fairly easily, which might have something to do with the two bottles of wine they drink over the course of the evening, but it's really only enough to leave Oscar warm and relaxed. It's nice to be distracted from his lonely apartment, and Oscar feels like he and Andy have actually become good friends by the time dinner is over.
In retrospect, Oscar really should have seen it coming. Andy had met him in the restaurant dressed in jeans and a nice black button down (not that Oscar had noticed, or anything), but Oscar had changed too, if only to rid himself of the smell of paper and despair that seemed to cling to him at the end of every work week. Andy had spilled his wine glass twice, but Oscar had put it down to Andy's tendency to gesticulate a bit too boldly rather than any sort of nervousness. Andy had gone out of his way to be attentive, but Oscar thought that was just Andy's naturally comical brand of 'charm' that came with the exaggerated speech and turns-of phrase.
Oscar had seen Andy's rendition of 'Take A Chance On Me' that had teased a grin out of Angela, had overheard the blatantly obvious declarations of intent, the awkwardly stilted compliments, and Oscar was sure that if there was one thing Andy Bernard lacked the ability to be, it was subtle.
So it takes the press of Andy's clammy, shaking palm against Oscar's jaw and the bumbling brush of Andy's lips against the corner of Oscar's mouth for Oscar to realize that this isn't just an apology dinner, this is supposed to be a date.
Oscar's so dumbfounded at the unexpected contact that he mostly reacts on auto-pilot until Andy squeaks out a good night and practically sprints to his car on the other side of the restaurant parking lot, leaving Oscar staring speechless after him, his lips still tingling from the contact.
When Oscar manages to find the ability to move and get into his car, he promptly thumps his head against the steering wheel and curses colorfully.
He is so fucking screwed.
___________________________
Over the weekend, Oscar ignores all of Andy's calls and generally acts like an emotionally-retarded teenager. He feels he's allowed to wallow a bit since Andy already got his allotted freak-out, and Oscar had been too busy dealing with Andy's to have one of his own. Oscar holds the vain hope that maybe Andy will take his silence as rejection and the whole problem will be fixed without Oscar having to actually say anything. Of course, when it comes to Andy Bernard, indirect social cues rarely (if ever) work.
Oscar knows that it'll eventually come down to him to put an end to this completely crazy idea Andy's somehow gotten into his head. It's the rational thing to do. Oscar just wished the thought of it didn't inexplicably make him feel so uncomfortable, reluctant, and just a tiny bit guilty.
Luckily, any conflicted feelings he has on the subject temporarily fly out the window when Andy approaches him while he's eating a solitary snack in the break room on Monday.
"So I told my mom about us," Andy says as he takes a seat across from Oscar.
Oscar blinks. There's no way Andy could have just said what he thinks he just said. A quick mental replay brings him to the conclusion that yes, actually he did.
"Are you completely out of touch with reality?!" Oscar manages after a moment. "Why-why on earth would you do that?"
"Well, sure, she's not exactly what one would call 'liberal'," Andy says. "But I'm terrible at keeping stuff from her. I mean, she always found my diary even when I hid it in places you would never think to look, and it was mortifying. I mean, I wrote stuff in there no 18 year old wants their mom reading, believe-you-me. So she would've found out about us eventually anyway, and I'd rather she heard it from me. She took it pretty well; said she's always 'wondered' about me," Andy huffs out a breath of air indignantly, "which, it's kind of annoying realizing that you were the last one on the clue-train-"
"No, Andy," Oscar says, feeling the migraine setting in. "I mean, why would you tell her when... when- We've only kissed. There is no 'us'!"
Andy's eyes practically bug out of his head.
"Whoa, I mean, I know we haven't consummated the relationship yet or anything," and Andy's managed to completely misinterpret again, "but, seriously, trust me, there is nooo rush on that. Not that I wouldn't want to, I mean, if it were you... but let's, uh, I'm totally cool with going slow."
Oscar bites back a despairing whimper. He briefly ponders the impossibility of tactfully explaining that he's far too old to be holding the hand of some closet-case through his coming out process, and he certainly doesn't want to be there for the fall out of the sexual revelation side of it... not-not that he's even thinking about Andy sexually... at all. And oh yeah, there is absolutely no way that they are in any capacity a couple.
"Andy-" Oscar tries to cut him off but Andy's still rambling.
"If it's gonna be a deal-breaker or something, I can totally work on it, I'd just, uh, need maybe a little tee-many-martooni liquid courage or something-"
"That's not what the deal-breaker is-"
"Oh, good," Andy interrupts, relief written all over his face. "Then I was wondering... doooo yooooou want to go ice-skating tomorrow night? Gil told me you liked to ice-skate-"
"Gil what?!"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, I friended him on Facebook to get some tips," Andy says, completely failing to notice how batshit insane he is, "I was afraid you would be a difficult man to woo, but he was most helpful in offering the deets."
Oscar is going to strangle him, even if he's looking at Oscar with oblivious affection in his eyes. Sort of like a cow being led to a slaughterhouse.
"I don't believe you!" Oscar sputters. "Instead of grossly invading my personal life, did it ever occur to you that if you wanted to know something about me, you should have asked me?"
"Liiiike, over dinner tonight?" Andy asks. "My place? I'll make crepe suzettes."
Oscar can't help the strangled exclamation of frustration that escapes him. At the sound, Andy finally seems to realize that something's amiss. He looks questioningly at Oscar, but remains blessedly silent.
"Look, Andy," Oscar says slowly. "This isn't going to work."
"What do you mean?" Andy asks.
"I mean that I can't date you," Oscar says. Andy's face starts to crumple, understanding dawning in his eyes. Oscar rushes on, "You're a nice guy. And I'm sure that there are tons of guys, or girls, who would be very happy with you. It's just... we're not really compatible..." Oscar trails off when he realizes he's just spouting off platitudes. But Andy looks like he's about to cry, and Oscar suddenly feels his chest go tight because he just doesn't know what he can say to fix this.
In a moment of clarity, Oscar understands why he didn't want to have this conversation. For whatever reason, that look on Andy's face had been what he was trying to avoid.
"Was it- was it something I said?" Andy asks halfheartedly.
Oscar can't find it in himself to twist the knife.
"It's just... too much," he settles on for an explanation.
Andy nods sadly, but doesn't say anything. Oscar thinks of Andy pushing Dwight into a hedge with his car, compares it with the resigned acceptance he's looking at now. Part of him thinks that that proves he's doing the right thing, ending this now.
The other part of him, the part that he's resolutely not listening to, tells him that maybe he just broke Andy in a way that Angela never could.
"I'm sorry," Oscar says.
"Hey, it's okay," Andy says, even though his posture and tone scream It's not okay. "You win some, you lose some."
When Andy doesn't start humming the Robbie Williams song, Oscar's guts twist a little bit more.
He reaches over and grips Andy's shoulder briefly before leaving the room.
______________________________
Oscar stares blankly past the camera when they ask him. Finally, he turns to look into the lens.
"It's just... it never would have worked," Oscar says. "He's crazy. He doesn't recognize personal boundaries at all. Plus, he's obviously confused. I mean, he can be thoughtful on occasion, but..."
Oscar doesn't finish the sentence.
______________________________
Andy remains somewhat lackluster at work for the better part of a week. When he does address Oscar, the conversation is always work-related with a frisson of awkwardness beneath it. When Andy finally rallies and starts acting more like himself, there's always a bit of a forced air about it. Oscar gets used to the sensation of his stomach tying itself in knots. It's just that he feels sympathetic towards Andy, and maybe he feels the tiniest bit responsible.
At least, that's what he tells himself.
When a knock sounds on Oscar's door at eight pm on a Saturday night, he's not expecting anyone. His eyebrows climb to meet his hairline when he finds Andy standing there wearing the same outfit he wore to their dinner, a huge bouquet of red roses clenched white-knuckled in his left had, and an expression on his face that's determined and terrified all at once.
"Hear me out," Andy says in a breaking voice before clearing his throat and launching into an obviously-rehearsed speech. "It has been pointed out to me that I can go a teensy bit overboard when I'm enthusiastic about something. I shouldn't have assumed anything from you, and I shouldn't have invaded your privacy. I maybe should have been more clear about what I wanted, but I'm still new to this whole 'dating guys' thing, and when I'm out of my depth in something, I tend to overcompensate and make a huuuuuge ass of myself. Uh, not that that's an excuse. So for all of that, I'm sorry."
"I just wanted to let you know," Andy continues after a moment, "that I really like you a lot. I think I started liking you a long time ago, even as far back as the Winnipeg trip, but I didn't recognize it for what it was. I...I don't like you because you're a conveniently placed gay guy and I've just recently realized I like dudes. And I don't like you because I'm looking for a replacement for Angela, or because I'm just lonely and looking for someone to fix me. It's just..." Andy looks away as if he's unable to meet Oscar's eyes.
"It's just that, I feel like you're the type of person who expects to be disappointed by things. Not that that's a criticism or anything, but it means that...like, every time you smile, I'm always surprised at how I've never seen a smile like that before, because you always look like you're surprised to be smiling in the first place. And every time I see you smile, it just makes me want to see you smile more, I guess." Andy halts himself for a moment, and looks back at Oscar.
"And-and maybe that sounds lame, but it always makes me want to know you more than I knew you before, and it makes me want to be the one making you smile."
Oscar has absolutely no idea what to say.
"Welll-p, I just wanted to say that," Andy says awkwardly into the silence, "and give you these," he thrusts the roses in Oscar's direction before looking nervously over Oscar's shoulder, "and tell you that I will listen to you if I'm doing stuff that makes you uncomfortable, and that I still want to try, but if you don't want to, I'll leave you alone, and I won't, um... bother you about this again."
Numbly, Oscar takes the roses. The gesture is completely sappy, and corny, and stupidly romantic. It's insane, and Oscar has always prided himself on being a practical person, someone who always makes the logical decision, because facts and numbers are what he's good at. And of course, Andy would have no respect for any of those things, or for anything as silly as common sense or decorum, and he would nobly make a fool of himself for what he thinks is Oscar's sake.
Oscar can't help the slow grin that stretches across his face.
"Did you come up with that all by yourself?" Oscar asks.
Andy looks back at Oscar, and some of the mortification seems to melt off of him. He smirks sheepishly.
"Uh, Tuna helped a lot, actually."
The thought of what Jim's face must have looked like when Andy confided in him startles a laugh out of Oscar.
"Well, it's big of you to admit it," he says.
"I sh'pose it is," Andy agrees. "Does... um, are we okay?"
"We're fine."
"Okaaayy," Andy says. "And are we... are we, um..."
Oscar takes pity on him when he continues to stutter.
"Come on inside, and I'll put these in some water."
Andy looks apprehensively hopeful as he follows Oscar in, and Oscar busies himself trying to find a vase and forcing himself to stop beaming like a 13 year old girl. Once the flowers are situated, Oscar turns to look at Andy.
The man is completely ridiculous, and Oscar would have to be out of his mind to even think about it. Andy is absolutely the worst choice to make in a partner for any number of reasons. Oscar's always been pretty careful about making safe choices.
Then again, Gil was a safe choice and look how that turned out.
Oh, what the hell.
"You have to listen to me when I tell you it's too much," Oscar says.
Andy's face very clearly expresses his disbelief, but he takes a tentative step closer.
"We will be talking about decisions that affect the both of us before making them, and we will be keeping it mostly professional when we're at work."
"No problemo," Andy says, continuing to move forward.
"We are not, currently, a couple. We are at the very first stages of seeing each other, and we will see how it goes. For the time being, how it goes is very slowly."
"Trust me, after Angela, I am more than capable of doing slow," Andy says. He stops about a foot away from Oscar, managing to look emboldened and hesitant at the same time.
"Okay, then. If you can abide by these ground rules, I suppose things might work out," Oscar says.
"Can I make any ground rules?" Andy asks.
Oscar pretends to consider.
"I suppose we could open that up to discussion," Oscar says jokingly.
The amazed delight that creeps up on Andy's face, like he can't believe he got this lucky, all but forces Oscar to kiss him. This is all surprisingly stupid and the most idiotic thing Oscar's probably ever done, but then again, no one's worthy of idiocy quite like Andy is, and no one's ever surprised Oscar quite so often.
Andy's hands flail around awkwardly before he settles them on Oscar's shoulders. Oscar smirks into the kiss, rolling his eyes even though they're closed. Andy makes a little half-whimper, half-groan of frustration as he pushes into Oscar a bit too suddenly and they stumble back against the counter. Oscar figures he'll let it go for a while longer before he puts the breaks on, but it's nice to see evidence that Andy's got no apparent problem with the application of homosexuality so far.
After a few long moments of trial and error, Andy moves his hands from Oscar's shoulders to his waist and they finally click, slotting into place against one another, pressed flush from shoulder to thigh. Actually, Oscar thinks as a burst of shivering heat rushes through him, I could get used to this.
Oscar calmly waves the last of his sanity goodbye.
___________________
A/N:
Win Some Lose Some by Robbie Williams
Theo's Metro, an actual Kingston restaurant place, site of the first 'date'
That is all. XD
Characters: Andy, Oscar, brief mention of Jim, Pam, Kevin, Phyllis. Oscar/Andy.
Rating: PG-13 for teh swearz
Spoilers: For episode 6x01, Gossip
Beta'd: By the sis smarmyelf and the fab neonnchrome1123
Summary: Andy has an attack of masculine insecurity and recovers. Oscar thinks the whole situation is ridiculous.
A/N: Sequel to Getting All Your Bases Covered, so you should probably read that first. Otherwise none of this is gonna make any sense. And since I feel that these two stories are probably going to explode into MORE, against my better judgment, we'll name this 'verse The Mudville 'Verse, as per the punny baseball-reference titles. Don't know how that happened. I don't even LIKE baseball. Honestly.
Excerpt:
"Yessirree, Andy Bernard is moving forward," Andy says to the camera. "I've got not only a new understanding of myself, but a whole new pool of fishing to explore. And let me tell you, despite a few jitters that come with dangling a new kind of bait, Andy Bernard is an angler who is more than capable of capturing even the most elusive rainbow trout, even if he has to drag it into the boat and whack it several times in the head with his dad's baseball bat."
"That makes one great mystery of the world solved," Andy says to the camera, chin tucked into his chest and a look of smug satisfaction on his face. "Turns out it's not half as terrifying or emasculating as one might suppo~oose." He pauses and lets out a short chuckle. "I mean, I'm still the same old Nard Dog..."
Andy stares into the middle distance for a moment, eyes going glassy, grin slowly fading. He snaps his gaze back to the camera.
"Right?"
_____________________
On Monday, Oscar notices that Andy's acting weird around him; well, more weird than usual. He hopes Andy will just get over it on his own, but the tingling sensation on the back of his neck throughout the day doesn't let up. The few times he manages to catch Andy giving him a scarily intent stare, Andy whips his head around to face the opposite corner of the room and starts whistling obnoxiously.
By Wednesday, other people are starting to notice the tension. Oscar is... distracted... on his way to the bathroom because he's trying to avoid Andy's avoidance of him from where Andy is standing next to the water cooler, and Phyllis nearly opens the door in his face coming from the other direction. Oscar stumbles back and his shoulder brushes Andy's, which makes Andy jump as if he's been scalded and excuse himself to take a call on a phone that is most definitely not ringing. As Andy picks up the silent receiver and says, "Hello?" in a strangled squeak, Jim gives one of his looks at the camera, and Oscar realizes this has to stop.
Oscar manages to corner Andy in the parking lot on Thursday night.
"Hey, Andy."
"Oscar," Andy says, and Oscar can see his throat work around a nervous swallow. "I was, uh, just on my way out."
"I can see that," Oscar says. "Look, I think we need to talk."
"Talk?" Andy asks, voice shifting up into the 'panicked' range.
"Yeah," Oscar says. Andy's trying not to meet his gaze and his eyes are shooting around erratically. "Look, would you stop that?"
"Stop what?" Andy asks, taking a step back.
"That. Stop acting like I'm about to throw you down and have my way with you against the fax machine. Trust me, I don't want to."
Andy meets his gaze then, if only to glare and puff up like a wounded chicken.
"Why not? I'll have you know, I'm perfectly, er, jumpable material, my friend. The quintessence of manhoo-" Andy says, before realizing what he's saying, cutting himself off, and holding his briefcase up in front of his chest defensively.
Oscar sighs.
"Look, it's understandable that you're freaking out, but you have to get it together," he says. "We were drunk. It was one kiss."
"Two," Andy corrects miserably, the briefcase lowering slowly.
"Fine, two," Oscar says. "It doesn't mean anything."
"But what if it does?" Andy asks. "I mean, not that it's wrong or anything, but it's pra-hooty weird to suddenly be thinking about myself that way, and now it seems like I have to think about other people differently, too, and I think about you-"
"And I'm sorry if I've made it more confusing for you," Oscar cuts Andy off because they are so not going there. "This is exactly why I told you just hauling off and kissing a guy would be a bad idea."
"Well, it's too late now," Andy says. "I don't even know who I am anymore! I thought I was a bull dog and now it turns out I might be a poodle!"
"That's... a disturbing analogy. And also vaguely insulting."
"Oscar, what am I supposed to do?"
"I don't know. I would guess whatever feels right to you."
"Yeah, but what if it turns out what feels right is boning other dudes?" Andy asks.
Oscar manfully represses the urge to give up on Andy as the hopeless cause he is and walk away. Like it or not, this is partially Oscar's responsibility now that he's gone and... and... Ay Dios. Mierda.
"Then you're going to have to come to terms with that," Oscar says. "Look, Andy, there's got to be someone you can talk to about this."
Andy opens his mouth.
"Someone who isn't me," Oscar hastens to add.
Andy's mouth snaps shut.
"In the meantime, we have to be able to work together," Oscar continues. "Other people are starting to notice, and unless you want to have to explain to them what's going on when it seems like you're not even sure yourself..."
"No. Yeah, you're right."
"Okay. Are we good?"
"Yeah... yeah, we're good. Sorry, Oscar," Andy says. "You have been nothing, if not a gentlemen-"
"That's okay, Andy-"
"-and I have just... grossly disrespected you-"
"Really, that's not necessary-"
"-time and time again with my, you know, emotional RERRR-" and surprisingly, the exaggerated grimace/growl aptly describes Andy's inability to deal with the current situation, "-and I've been a real-"
"Really, Andy. Don't worry about it," Oscar finally manages to cut off the rambling awkwardness.
"Okay," Andy says.
They fall silent. After a couple of seconds, Andy starts looking at him, and Oscar suddenly realizes that the rambling was preferable to this, because this-
"Well, I'll, uh, see you tomorrow, then," Oscar says.
Andy nods and gives a little half-wave, but Oscar's already turned and headed towards his car.
_______________________________
"Oscar," Andy stage-whispers after abruptly rolling over on his chair. Oscar jumps slightly.
"Yes, Andy?"
"Guess who took the initiative and did some bro-assisted soul-searching last night?" Andy asks.
"You, Andy?"
From the way Andy looks more like his old self (which is to say, unaccountably excited and insipidly smug), Oscar supposes Andy was just waiting for Angela to leave for the meeting with corporate before unloading the big news. Kevin's decided to take his usual long lunch today, so Andy and Oscar have the corner of the room to themselves. Well, to themselves and the cameras.
"Righty-o! Broccoli Rob and Gay Mike were very understanding," Andy says brightly before suddenly sobering, voice going hushed and conspiratorial. "There may have been tears."
"Yes, okay, why do I need to know any of this?"
"Well, since you're the rake that turned over my new leaf, I just thought you'd be interested," Andy grumbles.
Oscar drops his pencil and rubs his hands over his face. Andy's giving him a wounded look. Oscar caves.
"Fine. How did it go?"
"Spec-tickle-acular, actually. I was thinking about it all the wrong way. Like, I don't think of Gay Mike or Broccoli Rob like they aren't just dudes, and I mean, you're just a dude, but I was thinking that something about me liking the occasional dude would make me into less of a dude."
Oscar's forehead wrinkles.
"So, you're saying you were feeling like your... your manhood was threatened?"
Andy's eyes get big over an open-mouthed smile. He nods solemnly.
"Subconsciously, yeah. Or that I had changed somehow when I hadn't; I just realized something about myself that was there all along. I'm still me. Actually, now that I've learned something about myself I didn't know before, I'm even more like me. I mean, right?"
The ridiculous look of complete confidence on Andy's face has the strange effect of making Oscar feel old. The ten-ish year gap between him and Andy is oddly tangible for a split second, because after a mere few weeks of freaking out, Andy seems to have seamlessly integrated a revelation into his life that should have been world-destroying, especially given his age and high-strung disposition. Oscar's personal lifelong struggles with the inherent societal and cultural expectations placed upon him seem laughable in the face of Andy's easy acceptance.
"That sounds like a pretty healthy conclusion to make," Oscar says.
"Yeah. Broccoli Rob said I should just go with it. Stop thinking about it so much, you know? He said when you over-analyze it, you just create a lot of 'unnecessary anxiety.' Man," Andy exclaims, "I wish I could take Psych 101 again. I would to-hooootally ace it this time around."
In spite of himself, Oscar laughs.
"I really don't think that the technique involved in the assimilation of latent sexuality is a big section in Psych 101."
"Aww, c'mon! There's all that stuff about the dream-penises with... with... Froyg!"
"Freud."
"Yeah, him."
Andy smiles at him, and Oscar realizes he's smiling too, and now Andy's smile is starting to go soppy. Kevin chooses this opportune moment to come back from lunch and dig noisily into his jar of M&M's.
"So, I should get back to this," Oscar says, mindlessly tapping his finger on the expense reports lying on his desk.
"Okie-dokie... that's, um, good. I'll talk to you later then," Andy says.
He spins around in his chair and pushes off to roll back towards his desk. Oscar smirks and shakes his head.
"Uhh... what was that about?" Kevin asks.
"What was what about?" Oscar asks without lifting his eyes from his work.
"That."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
Kevin shrugs and begins crunching noisily on what is no doubt an entire handful of M&Ms.
_________________________________________
"What? No, I do not think he's cute," Oscar says to the camera, expression pinched. "I mean, sure, he's okay. If you like that kind of immature exuberance and guileless way he stupidly tries to please everyone... and I suppose in an objective sense he has nice eyes-"
Oscar's mouth snaps shut and he looks suddenly terrified.
__________________________________________
Since shortly after coming to work for Dunder Mifflin, Oscar realized that if he expected to survive with his sanity intact he should keep his head down and mind his own damn business. For the most part he's been successful (except for That Day, which wasn't so much Oscar's fault as it was the fault of an ignorant, well-meaning boss with no understanding of the need for personal space) at keeping his private life private and his professional life professional. He staunchly believes people should keep their noses out of other people's business. As a result, Oscar does not like the cameras, and he does not like intrigue when he's on the clock.
The brightly wrapped box on his desk is doing a good job of creating the latter and attracting the attention of the former.
"Did you open it yet?" Andy asks suddenly from behind him, and that answers the Where the hell did this come from? if not the What the fuck is this?
"Obviously not," Oscar says.
Since Andy couldn't wait more than the ten seconds it took for Oscar to hang his coat and walk to his desk to ask, that means that Andy is excited about whatever it is that's in the box. The fact that Andy's excited makes Oscar more than a bit hesitant.
He opens the box slowly.
"Andy, what's this?"
"It's a package of, might I say, muy delicioso-" Oscar winces at the pronunciation "-pistachio baklava from the world-famous Theo's Metro restaurant of Kingston, along with a generous gift certificate to said establishment, all for the non-existent fee of Andy Bernard's classily-applied good will and generosity," Andy says with a flourish. "It may have been mentioned that you took a shine to baklava when it was provided during a discussion of excerpts from One Thousand and One Nights."
And if there's a slightly wounded tone to Andy's voice when he refers to the Finer Things Club, Oscar ignores it. He glances over at Pam, who suddenly looks far more interested in her computer screen than must be intellectually possible. Especially since she's playing solitaire.
"I can see that," Oscar says. "I mean, why are you giving this to me?"
"Well, in my quest to 'know thyself' I may have been a leetle...uh... insensitive in regards to interrogating you on all matters homosexual." Kevin giggles, but Andy does an admirable job of ignoring him. "Soooooo, this is just my way of making it up to you."
Andy has a history of brown-nosing to the point of embarrassment (for all involved parties), but Oscar can't think of any professionally strategic win to be had in currying Oscar's favor. Maybe it really is just a nice gesture, and Andy looks so damn earnest, but still-
"Thanks for the sentiment. Really," Oscar says. "But I can't take this."
Andy looks alarmed.
"Why not?"
"Andy, this gift certificate is for a hundred dollars."
"...So?"
"So...so..." How do you explain to someone with absolutely no sense of what is socially acceptable that being nice to such a monetary extreme is really kind of awkward? "It's too much."
"It won't be too much," Andy says. "I don't know about you, but I can put away a good amount of mou-ssa-ka, and they have a particularly fine selection of wines-"
"Wait. So, you mean to say that you want to come to dinner with me?"
"Well, duhr. I have never once bought a gift card that I haven't had a hand in spending. What would be the point?"
"Um, to give it as a gift, maybe?"
"Huh," Andy says, as if that's never occurred to him.
And well, it's not unheard of for him and Andy to spend time together outside of work (though this will be the first time they've hung out since the last Poor Richard's pub night), and it would be cruel of Oscar to turn Andy away in front of the cameras and everyone like this, and it's not like Andy ever really goes out of his way to be particularly kind all that often, and it would be better than spending yet another evening alone eating cold take-out, so...
"Okay."
"Really?" Andy asks, face lighting up obscenely.
"Sure."
"Friday night work for you?"
"Yeah."
"Alrighty, my friend," Andy says. "Then I will see you Friday."
Oscar could point out that Andy will see him on Friday anyway, but Andy's already bouncing back to his desk after shooting Oscar a disarming grin. Oscar looks away from Andy's retreating figure at the shuffling sound that is ten co-workers doing a horrible job at pretending they weren't avidly watching the entire interchange.
Oscar represses a sigh and sits down before stashing the baklava in a drawer.
________________________________
"Yessirree, Andy Bernard is moving forward," Andy says to the camera. "I've got not only a new understanding of myself, but a whole new pool of fishing to explore. And let me tell you, despite a few jitters that come with dangling a new kind of bait, Andy Bernard is an angler who is more than capable of capturing even the most elusive rainbow trout, even if he has to drag it into the boat and whack it several times in the head with his dad's baseball bat."
________________________________
Surprisingly, the dinner goes well. Andy's not such a bad guy, and he has a habit of saying absolutely ridiculous things that make Oscar laugh. The conversation flows fairly easily, which might have something to do with the two bottles of wine they drink over the course of the evening, but it's really only enough to leave Oscar warm and relaxed. It's nice to be distracted from his lonely apartment, and Oscar feels like he and Andy have actually become good friends by the time dinner is over.
In retrospect, Oscar really should have seen it coming. Andy had met him in the restaurant dressed in jeans and a nice black button down (not that Oscar had noticed, or anything), but Oscar had changed too, if only to rid himself of the smell of paper and despair that seemed to cling to him at the end of every work week. Andy had spilled his wine glass twice, but Oscar had put it down to Andy's tendency to gesticulate a bit too boldly rather than any sort of nervousness. Andy had gone out of his way to be attentive, but Oscar thought that was just Andy's naturally comical brand of 'charm' that came with the exaggerated speech and turns-of phrase.
Oscar had seen Andy's rendition of 'Take A Chance On Me' that had teased a grin out of Angela, had overheard the blatantly obvious declarations of intent, the awkwardly stilted compliments, and Oscar was sure that if there was one thing Andy Bernard lacked the ability to be, it was subtle.
So it takes the press of Andy's clammy, shaking palm against Oscar's jaw and the bumbling brush of Andy's lips against the corner of Oscar's mouth for Oscar to realize that this isn't just an apology dinner, this is supposed to be a date.
Oscar's so dumbfounded at the unexpected contact that he mostly reacts on auto-pilot until Andy squeaks out a good night and practically sprints to his car on the other side of the restaurant parking lot, leaving Oscar staring speechless after him, his lips still tingling from the contact.
When Oscar manages to find the ability to move and get into his car, he promptly thumps his head against the steering wheel and curses colorfully.
He is so fucking screwed.
___________________________
Over the weekend, Oscar ignores all of Andy's calls and generally acts like an emotionally-retarded teenager. He feels he's allowed to wallow a bit since Andy already got his allotted freak-out, and Oscar had been too busy dealing with Andy's to have one of his own. Oscar holds the vain hope that maybe Andy will take his silence as rejection and the whole problem will be fixed without Oscar having to actually say anything. Of course, when it comes to Andy Bernard, indirect social cues rarely (if ever) work.
Oscar knows that it'll eventually come down to him to put an end to this completely crazy idea Andy's somehow gotten into his head. It's the rational thing to do. Oscar just wished the thought of it didn't inexplicably make him feel so uncomfortable, reluctant, and just a tiny bit guilty.
Luckily, any conflicted feelings he has on the subject temporarily fly out the window when Andy approaches him while he's eating a solitary snack in the break room on Monday.
"So I told my mom about us," Andy says as he takes a seat across from Oscar.
Oscar blinks. There's no way Andy could have just said what he thinks he just said. A quick mental replay brings him to the conclusion that yes, actually he did.
"Are you completely out of touch with reality?!" Oscar manages after a moment. "Why-why on earth would you do that?"
"Well, sure, she's not exactly what one would call 'liberal'," Andy says. "But I'm terrible at keeping stuff from her. I mean, she always found my diary even when I hid it in places you would never think to look, and it was mortifying. I mean, I wrote stuff in there no 18 year old wants their mom reading, believe-you-me. So she would've found out about us eventually anyway, and I'd rather she heard it from me. She took it pretty well; said she's always 'wondered' about me," Andy huffs out a breath of air indignantly, "which, it's kind of annoying realizing that you were the last one on the clue-train-"
"No, Andy," Oscar says, feeling the migraine setting in. "I mean, why would you tell her when... when- We've only kissed. There is no 'us'!"
Andy's eyes practically bug out of his head.
"Whoa, I mean, I know we haven't consummated the relationship yet or anything," and Andy's managed to completely misinterpret again, "but, seriously, trust me, there is nooo rush on that. Not that I wouldn't want to, I mean, if it were you... but let's, uh, I'm totally cool with going slow."
Oscar bites back a despairing whimper. He briefly ponders the impossibility of tactfully explaining that he's far too old to be holding the hand of some closet-case through his coming out process, and he certainly doesn't want to be there for the fall out of the sexual revelation side of it... not-not that he's even thinking about Andy sexually... at all. And oh yeah, there is absolutely no way that they are in any capacity a couple.
"Andy-" Oscar tries to cut him off but Andy's still rambling.
"If it's gonna be a deal-breaker or something, I can totally work on it, I'd just, uh, need maybe a little tee-many-martooni liquid courage or something-"
"That's not what the deal-breaker is-"
"Oh, good," Andy interrupts, relief written all over his face. "Then I was wondering... doooo yooooou want to go ice-skating tomorrow night? Gil told me you liked to ice-skate-"
"Gil what?!"
"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you, I friended him on Facebook to get some tips," Andy says, completely failing to notice how batshit insane he is, "I was afraid you would be a difficult man to woo, but he was most helpful in offering the deets."
Oscar is going to strangle him, even if he's looking at Oscar with oblivious affection in his eyes. Sort of like a cow being led to a slaughterhouse.
"I don't believe you!" Oscar sputters. "Instead of grossly invading my personal life, did it ever occur to you that if you wanted to know something about me, you should have asked me?"
"Liiiike, over dinner tonight?" Andy asks. "My place? I'll make crepe suzettes."
Oscar can't help the strangled exclamation of frustration that escapes him. At the sound, Andy finally seems to realize that something's amiss. He looks questioningly at Oscar, but remains blessedly silent.
"Look, Andy," Oscar says slowly. "This isn't going to work."
"What do you mean?" Andy asks.
"I mean that I can't date you," Oscar says. Andy's face starts to crumple, understanding dawning in his eyes. Oscar rushes on, "You're a nice guy. And I'm sure that there are tons of guys, or girls, who would be very happy with you. It's just... we're not really compatible..." Oscar trails off when he realizes he's just spouting off platitudes. But Andy looks like he's about to cry, and Oscar suddenly feels his chest go tight because he just doesn't know what he can say to fix this.
In a moment of clarity, Oscar understands why he didn't want to have this conversation. For whatever reason, that look on Andy's face had been what he was trying to avoid.
"Was it- was it something I said?" Andy asks halfheartedly.
Oscar can't find it in himself to twist the knife.
"It's just... too much," he settles on for an explanation.
Andy nods sadly, but doesn't say anything. Oscar thinks of Andy pushing Dwight into a hedge with his car, compares it with the resigned acceptance he's looking at now. Part of him thinks that that proves he's doing the right thing, ending this now.
The other part of him, the part that he's resolutely not listening to, tells him that maybe he just broke Andy in a way that Angela never could.
"I'm sorry," Oscar says.
"Hey, it's okay," Andy says, even though his posture and tone scream It's not okay. "You win some, you lose some."
When Andy doesn't start humming the Robbie Williams song, Oscar's guts twist a little bit more.
He reaches over and grips Andy's shoulder briefly before leaving the room.
______________________________
Oscar stares blankly past the camera when they ask him. Finally, he turns to look into the lens.
"It's just... it never would have worked," Oscar says. "He's crazy. He doesn't recognize personal boundaries at all. Plus, he's obviously confused. I mean, he can be thoughtful on occasion, but..."
Oscar doesn't finish the sentence.
______________________________
Andy remains somewhat lackluster at work for the better part of a week. When he does address Oscar, the conversation is always work-related with a frisson of awkwardness beneath it. When Andy finally rallies and starts acting more like himself, there's always a bit of a forced air about it. Oscar gets used to the sensation of his stomach tying itself in knots. It's just that he feels sympathetic towards Andy, and maybe he feels the tiniest bit responsible.
At least, that's what he tells himself.
When a knock sounds on Oscar's door at eight pm on a Saturday night, he's not expecting anyone. His eyebrows climb to meet his hairline when he finds Andy standing there wearing the same outfit he wore to their dinner, a huge bouquet of red roses clenched white-knuckled in his left had, and an expression on his face that's determined and terrified all at once.
"Hear me out," Andy says in a breaking voice before clearing his throat and launching into an obviously-rehearsed speech. "It has been pointed out to me that I can go a teensy bit overboard when I'm enthusiastic about something. I shouldn't have assumed anything from you, and I shouldn't have invaded your privacy. I maybe should have been more clear about what I wanted, but I'm still new to this whole 'dating guys' thing, and when I'm out of my depth in something, I tend to overcompensate and make a huuuuuge ass of myself. Uh, not that that's an excuse. So for all of that, I'm sorry."
"I just wanted to let you know," Andy continues after a moment, "that I really like you a lot. I think I started liking you a long time ago, even as far back as the Winnipeg trip, but I didn't recognize it for what it was. I...I don't like you because you're a conveniently placed gay guy and I've just recently realized I like dudes. And I don't like you because I'm looking for a replacement for Angela, or because I'm just lonely and looking for someone to fix me. It's just..." Andy looks away as if he's unable to meet Oscar's eyes.
"It's just that, I feel like you're the type of person who expects to be disappointed by things. Not that that's a criticism or anything, but it means that...like, every time you smile, I'm always surprised at how I've never seen a smile like that before, because you always look like you're surprised to be smiling in the first place. And every time I see you smile, it just makes me want to see you smile more, I guess." Andy halts himself for a moment, and looks back at Oscar.
"And-and maybe that sounds lame, but it always makes me want to know you more than I knew you before, and it makes me want to be the one making you smile."
Oscar has absolutely no idea what to say.
"Welll-p, I just wanted to say that," Andy says awkwardly into the silence, "and give you these," he thrusts the roses in Oscar's direction before looking nervously over Oscar's shoulder, "and tell you that I will listen to you if I'm doing stuff that makes you uncomfortable, and that I still want to try, but if you don't want to, I'll leave you alone, and I won't, um... bother you about this again."
Numbly, Oscar takes the roses. The gesture is completely sappy, and corny, and stupidly romantic. It's insane, and Oscar has always prided himself on being a practical person, someone who always makes the logical decision, because facts and numbers are what he's good at. And of course, Andy would have no respect for any of those things, or for anything as silly as common sense or decorum, and he would nobly make a fool of himself for what he thinks is Oscar's sake.
Oscar can't help the slow grin that stretches across his face.
"Did you come up with that all by yourself?" Oscar asks.
Andy looks back at Oscar, and some of the mortification seems to melt off of him. He smirks sheepishly.
"Uh, Tuna helped a lot, actually."
The thought of what Jim's face must have looked like when Andy confided in him startles a laugh out of Oscar.
"Well, it's big of you to admit it," he says.
"I sh'pose it is," Andy agrees. "Does... um, are we okay?"
"We're fine."
"Okaaayy," Andy says. "And are we... are we, um..."
Oscar takes pity on him when he continues to stutter.
"Come on inside, and I'll put these in some water."
Andy looks apprehensively hopeful as he follows Oscar in, and Oscar busies himself trying to find a vase and forcing himself to stop beaming like a 13 year old girl. Once the flowers are situated, Oscar turns to look at Andy.
The man is completely ridiculous, and Oscar would have to be out of his mind to even think about it. Andy is absolutely the worst choice to make in a partner for any number of reasons. Oscar's always been pretty careful about making safe choices.
Then again, Gil was a safe choice and look how that turned out.
Oh, what the hell.
"You have to listen to me when I tell you it's too much," Oscar says.
Andy's face very clearly expresses his disbelief, but he takes a tentative step closer.
"We will be talking about decisions that affect the both of us before making them, and we will be keeping it mostly professional when we're at work."
"No problemo," Andy says, continuing to move forward.
"We are not, currently, a couple. We are at the very first stages of seeing each other, and we will see how it goes. For the time being, how it goes is very slowly."
"Trust me, after Angela, I am more than capable of doing slow," Andy says. He stops about a foot away from Oscar, managing to look emboldened and hesitant at the same time.
"Okay, then. If you can abide by these ground rules, I suppose things might work out," Oscar says.
"Can I make any ground rules?" Andy asks.
Oscar pretends to consider.
"I suppose we could open that up to discussion," Oscar says jokingly.
The amazed delight that creeps up on Andy's face, like he can't believe he got this lucky, all but forces Oscar to kiss him. This is all surprisingly stupid and the most idiotic thing Oscar's probably ever done, but then again, no one's worthy of idiocy quite like Andy is, and no one's ever surprised Oscar quite so often.
Andy's hands flail around awkwardly before he settles them on Oscar's shoulders. Oscar smirks into the kiss, rolling his eyes even though they're closed. Andy makes a little half-whimper, half-groan of frustration as he pushes into Oscar a bit too suddenly and they stumble back against the counter. Oscar figures he'll let it go for a while longer before he puts the breaks on, but it's nice to see evidence that Andy's got no apparent problem with the application of homosexuality so far.
After a few long moments of trial and error, Andy moves his hands from Oscar's shoulders to his waist and they finally click, slotting into place against one another, pressed flush from shoulder to thigh. Actually, Oscar thinks as a burst of shivering heat rushes through him, I could get used to this.
Oscar calmly waves the last of his sanity goodbye.
___________________
A/N:
Win Some Lose Some by Robbie Williams
Theo's Metro, an actual Kingston restaurant place, site of the first 'date'
That is all. XD