Office drabble: we’re the stars of our very own teenage angst variety show
we’re the stars of our very own teenage angst variety show
the office, pam/karen, pg-13, 676 words, spoilers for the return
“I think this is the first time I’ve actually failed at getting drunk.”
But you and me
We'll be different
PJ Harvey, the Letter
“I think this is the first time I’ve actually failed at getting drunk.”
Karen listens to the echo of her voice in Pam’s apartment, grainy and almost still. She can taste cherry-something sticking to the roof of her mouth. Pam swore up and down that shirley temples (that were nowhere near shirley temples) and Vodka were fantastic with a strange kind of meaning that she doesn’t care to understand.
Pam laughs, a little too late, but she can appreciate the effort (although she’s curious about the whole not knowing) and smiles anyway.
“I think I put too much cherry,” Pam murmurs, sitting on the coffee table. “Want the bottle?”
She arches back, stretching her arm and Karen will admit that her eyes do follow the stretch of her blouse against the paleness of her stomach. Christ is a thought and it’s followed by: I need to get laid like a remote theory on passing existentialism.
Karen blinks when she hands it to her, her fingers sliding against the cool glass. She sits up and sighs.
“I’m going to get sick.” There’s determination, there, but she doesn’t care how lame it sounds.
Pam merely shakes her head when she downs a little (yes, to make herself feel better in the morning) and then leans back into the couch. She thinks and then decides that there’s just no way that Pam doesn’t know- Jim’s never been less than obvious, but only slips when he’s not paying attention and god, this is really giving her a headache.
“How about pleasantly buzzed?”
She snorts. “With Vodka?”
The other woman grins. “Good point.”
She sighs. It’s kind of sad that she’s resorting to the twists and turns and wanting to hate Pam for something that she doesn’t even know the full story of. She imagines it’s something sordid because Phyllis knows- but then she stops herself here because that’s a pretty stupid thought.
What she likes about Pam is that she doesn’t press and she really wants (doesn’t) to talk about it. But it’s just one of those things.
She leans forward again, her fingers skimming Pam’s thigh as she reaches for an Oreo next to her.
“You’re not drunk,” Karen points out. “It’s more depressing if I do this alone.”
She thrusts the bottle forward and Pam takes it. Her lips press against the bottle and Karen finds herself watching her tongue brushing against a stray drop away. Pam grins and she’s sort of memorized (almost drunk).
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
She thinks that Pam wouldn’t lie to her, in that silly, girlish secret-keeping way. There’s something about Pam that she likes, genuinely, and (maybe) she’s starting to see why Jim likes her the way Jim does- in that odd way.
Pam’s a big secret and it’s intimidating because she can’t decide between three things: friendship, competition (oh, god, this isn’t high school prom week), and something else, something that can spill.
So maybe that’s why Karen kisses Pam (and Pam kisses back).
She starts to like cherry again- hasn’t since she was little- the mix of vodka and Pam’s moan as she leans forward. There’s a slip of tongue, a shiver, and maybe, she should wait to stop.
But she likes tangibility, the force of the vibration, and the softness against her hands. There’s something necessary about connecting, about touching someone, and it’s right here. Right here.
Karen slides back (breathes) and she can still taste Pam’s tongue in her mouth, her fingers drifting against her bottom lip. Sorry she tries. But it doesn’t come out, it’s not a time for lies.
“We need to get stronger stuff for next time,” she says instead and is surprised that she actually means it. But then again, Pam presents a normal front outside the office and it’s been awhile since she’s had a really good relationship, if anything. (She just hopes this one doesn’t lie.)
Pam reaches for her glass, watching as the light reflects and paints the ceiling. She nods, after awhile, her lips wet and pursing together.
“Next time.”
end.
the office, pam/karen, pg-13, 676 words, spoilers for the return
“I think this is the first time I’ve actually failed at getting drunk.”
But you and me
We'll be different
PJ Harvey, the Letter
“I think this is the first time I’ve actually failed at getting drunk.”
Karen listens to the echo of her voice in Pam’s apartment, grainy and almost still. She can taste cherry-something sticking to the roof of her mouth. Pam swore up and down that shirley temples (that were nowhere near shirley temples) and Vodka were fantastic with a strange kind of meaning that she doesn’t care to understand.
Pam laughs, a little too late, but she can appreciate the effort (although she’s curious about the whole not knowing) and smiles anyway.
“I think I put too much cherry,” Pam murmurs, sitting on the coffee table. “Want the bottle?”
She arches back, stretching her arm and Karen will admit that her eyes do follow the stretch of her blouse against the paleness of her stomach. Christ is a thought and it’s followed by: I need to get laid like a remote theory on passing existentialism.
Karen blinks when she hands it to her, her fingers sliding against the cool glass. She sits up and sighs.
“I’m going to get sick.” There’s determination, there, but she doesn’t care how lame it sounds.
Pam merely shakes her head when she downs a little (yes, to make herself feel better in the morning) and then leans back into the couch. She thinks and then decides that there’s just no way that Pam doesn’t know- Jim’s never been less than obvious, but only slips when he’s not paying attention and god, this is really giving her a headache.
“How about pleasantly buzzed?”
She snorts. “With Vodka?”
The other woman grins. “Good point.”
She sighs. It’s kind of sad that she’s resorting to the twists and turns and wanting to hate Pam for something that she doesn’t even know the full story of. She imagines it’s something sordid because Phyllis knows- but then she stops herself here because that’s a pretty stupid thought.
What she likes about Pam is that she doesn’t press and she really wants (doesn’t) to talk about it. But it’s just one of those things.
She leans forward again, her fingers skimming Pam’s thigh as she reaches for an Oreo next to her.
“You’re not drunk,” Karen points out. “It’s more depressing if I do this alone.”
She thrusts the bottle forward and Pam takes it. Her lips press against the bottle and Karen finds herself watching her tongue brushing against a stray drop away. Pam grins and she’s sort of memorized (almost drunk).
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
She thinks that Pam wouldn’t lie to her, in that silly, girlish secret-keeping way. There’s something about Pam that she likes, genuinely, and (maybe) she’s starting to see why Jim likes her the way Jim does- in that odd way.
Pam’s a big secret and it’s intimidating because she can’t decide between three things: friendship, competition (oh, god, this isn’t high school prom week), and something else, something that can spill.
So maybe that’s why Karen kisses Pam (and Pam kisses back).
She starts to like cherry again- hasn’t since she was little- the mix of vodka and Pam’s moan as she leans forward. There’s a slip of tongue, a shiver, and maybe, she should wait to stop.
But she likes tangibility, the force of the vibration, and the softness against her hands. There’s something necessary about connecting, about touching someone, and it’s right here. Right here.
Karen slides back (breathes) and she can still taste Pam’s tongue in her mouth, her fingers drifting against her bottom lip. Sorry she tries. But it doesn’t come out, it’s not a time for lies.
“We need to get stronger stuff for next time,” she says instead and is surprised that she actually means it. But then again, Pam presents a normal front outside the office and it’s been awhile since she’s had a really good relationship, if anything. (She just hopes this one doesn’t lie.)
Pam reaches for her glass, watching as the light reflects and paints the ceiling. She nods, after awhile, her lips wet and pursing together.
“Next time.”
end.