Fic: The Easy Way (Chapter 6)
Title: The Easy Way
Author: stevsie87
Rating: PG-ish
Spoilers: Through "Cocktails"
Pairing: Michael/Jan
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Office" or it's characters.
AN: Okay this is the last chapter of the story. So sorry it took forever to get it up here, I struggled with it some. Enjoy!
It’s Friday evening and you’re in your Manhattan apartment with Lucy, waiting for Michael to arrive, hopefully with some news about his possible job. His interview was yesterday morning, and he was supposed to hear something by this afternoon. He was supposed to leave work early and be here more than hour ago. Why hasn’t he called you?
Not calling could mean bad news. Or it could mean something else was wrong, like an accident. ‘No! Don’t go there,’ you tell yourself mentally. Just because he’s late doesn’t mean you should go to that place in your mind where everything is a worst-case scenario. Just because he hasn’t called yet doesn’t mean you need to get all emotionally worked up. It could just mean that Michael has gotten too caught up in his latest office shenanigans to call. With him, there is no telling.
He said the interview went well. (Actually he said that he impressed Donald with his “mad awesome sales experience and interviewee skills”. But you’re hoping that translates to “the interview went well.)
“Lucy, sit down all the way in your chair please” You’re momentarily distracted from your current train of thought by your daughter awkwardly squatting in her chair over her coloring book, leaving her teetering at an uncertain angle. The two of you are sitting at the kitchen table, she with her coloring, you with your financial reports, waiting for Michael to come home.
“Thank you,” you smile at her when she sits down. She’s already ready for bed, but you haven’t made her go just yet. You know she’s just as restless as you are, waiting for Michael. Waiting to know what comes next. You’re trying not to let her see how anxious you are about Michael not being here yet. No need to worry her about things you shouldn’t even let yourself worry about.
When Jim and Pam dropped her off on Sunday evening, you had to wait until well after dinner to tell her the good news.
She wouldn’t stop talking about all of the things that she did that weekend, and how cool it was to have a sleepover at someone else’s house.
She talked your ear off about how “silly and funny” Jim was and how “nice and pretty” Pam was all through her bath. Then after she had her pajamas on, she had to show you the collages and painted macaroni necklaces she and Pam had made.
By the time she had finally told every story and shared every clever anecdote, the three of you were sitting in the living room, with Mary Poppins playing on the TV in the background. Lucy sat on your lap as you brushed through her just-dried hair and Michael sat beside you, where he responded enthusiastically to the details Lucy gave about her weekend.
Then you proceeded to tell her that you had an exciting weekend of your own. Michael explained what getting married would mean to her in that innocent childlike way that only he could. You showed her the ring that Michael had so impulsively but sweetly splurged on once he found out your were pregnant, and tried to explain what that ring meant. She understood that you’d all be living in the same house now and she’d get to see him more often. She was excited to say the least.
It would have been nearly impossible to get her to go to sleep if it she hadn’t been so tired out from her afternoon excursion to the playground with Pam and Jim.
Monday she had spoken of nothing but the engagement. Or as she put it “when we get married”. You tried to explain that you and Michael were the ones actually getting married, but you’re not quite sure if you got through to her. In her mind, it would be her wedding too, and she was kind of right.
So you spent Monday, the last day of your (once dreaded) long weekend, answering a myriad of questions about flower girl’s dresses and new houses, and having what Lucy liked to call a “together day”. You spent such days as a family, or for lack of a better word: together. There was an intense round of Go Fish, and you watched The Sound of Music for the first time with Lucy.
That night it was unbearably difficult to leave Michael behind in Scranton. You made yourself feel better by thinking about how you’d be seeing him in three days and that this might be one of the last times you’d have to do so. So, you left reluctantly, but still feeling pretty content about the way things were turning out.
Now however, you feel less content. You’re feeling a little on-edge and more than a little impatient waiting for Michael to arrive or even call. It’s not like him to not call. Or not answer his phone. This makes you think something serious might have happened. You push those thoughts away quickly, trying to focus what the news might be.
You need to know what the job verdict is. You need to know what you’re going to be dealing with in the immediate future.
Will your dream of that suburban house in Westchester finally come true? (There is a small chance that you’ve already talked to a realtor and seen the perfect one in the short week that it’s been a possibility).
Or will you have to deal with a commuter existence until you both have jobs near each other?
Well either way, you could still have the house in Westchester. Michael would just have to drive two and a half hours to and from work everyday. But that’s not exactly the best option is it? The best option is this dream scenario you’ve been living in the past few days, with Michael working in the same building as you, without the unreasonable commute. You make yourself stop thinking about that. The fact of the matter is that he isn’t here, and you haven’t heard from him. You don’t know what’s going on yet.
Why don’t you know what’s going on yet? Where the hell is Michael?
As if on cue you hear a key in the door and then a “Daddy’s home!” announcing his arrival. Finally.
“Yayyyy!” Lucy yells as she abandons her coloring to hurl herself into Michael’s arms.
“Hey Buttercup!” he exclaims as he carries her into the kitchen. You don’t know what to make of his good mood. It could mean he got the job, or he could just be covering up the bad news with enthusiasm.
“Before you start to ‘buttercup’ me, why didn’t you call?” you decide to give him a little bit of a hard time. After all, he kept you waiting for the past three and a half hours.
“I-“ he starts, but you cut him off.
“Better yet, why didn’t you answer your phone when I called? For all I know you could have been in some sort of accident!” you hear the worry and desperation in your own voice and berate yourself.
You shouldn’t have even let yourself think about that, even just for the moment you did. Ever since you became a mother, you’re a little more emotional than you used to be. It’s a little unnerving that implications of Michael not answering his phone make you get all teary eyed.
“Hey Ladybug, how about you go into your room and pick out a story and I’ll come read to you in a little while,” he says to Lucy as he sets her down. She looks slightly confused but trots off to her room anyway.
“What’s wrong Jan?” he asks, concerned, as he steps towards you and tries to take you in his arms. You shrug him off, despite your desire to feel him close to you.
“What’s wrong is that I had to sit here for hours wondering what’s going on. I didn’t know what happened with the job or if you were even all right! You were supposed to call when you left the office, which should have been at 4:30. But here I was, sitting here at 8:00 and no call. You always call, and you always answer your phone! I had this mental image of you lying in a ditch somewhere dead!” Okay, so letting yourself get even more worked up wasn’t the plan. Now there are definite tears in your eyes as well as your voice.
What happened to the icy Jan Levinson of the past? She certainly wouldn’t cry over an unreturned phone call. (Then again, she didn’t have a daughter and somewhat flighty fiancé to worry about).
“Hey, don’t cry,” he says softly. This time when he moves to you, you let him pull you to him, already tired of being confrontational with him. He takes your face in his hands and thumbs away the tears that escaped. “I’m fine, everything’s fine. I didn’t even see a ditch on the way here, much less fall into one,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.
“Well then why didn’t you answer?” you sniffle, tugging on the lapels of his jacket.
“I’m sorry. My phone died, and my extra charger is here. I didn’t want to go back to the condo before I left. And I didn’t get to leave early because Dwight got all worked up about something Jim may or may not have done and then he was all on my case asking why I was leaving early and by the time I got everything straightened out it was past 5:00. Dwight really needs to learn to let things go. You’d think he’d be used to having his things JELLO-ed after all these years. It’s such an old trick.”
“Uh huh. Well you still should have called from the office,” you gently reprimand.
“I know, and I’m sorry. You know I’m easily distracted. I forgot, but it won’t happen again,” he says before leaning in to kiss you. You sigh and let yourself relax into the kiss. You missed this during the week. It really wasn’t fair to get engaged and then have to spend the following week away from your fiancé (even if that week was technically only four days). It feels like it was longer ago than Monday evening since you’ve felt his lips on yours. You’re more than pleased to find out that you’ve moved on to another phase of not being able to keep your hands off of each other.
“Well don’t let it happen again,” you say when your lips break from his.
“I won’t,” he promises quietly, leaning his forehead against your own, and that’s enough for you to let it go.
“So, do you have any news you’d like to share with me?” you ask.
“I do! Donald called me before I left,” he says, releasing you from his arms.
“And…” you prompt.
“And what?” he asks, feigning ignorance.
“Don’t ‘what’ me Michael. Did you get the job?” you ask.
“Oh, that. Yeah, I got the job,” he says.
“You did?”
“I did!” he says excitedly.
“Michael! That’s fantastic news!” you exclaim as you move to envelop him in a tight hug.
“I knew you’d be happy,” he smiles into your neck.
“I am. I’m very, very happy,” you sigh. Then leaning back to see his face you ask, “Are you happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he beams. “I guess this means we should call the realtor and put in an offer on that house you fell in love with, “ he says, moving his arms down around your waist.
“Yeah, we should, but you need to see it first, “ you smile, feeling like everything is finally falling into place.
“I’m sure if you love it, I’ll love it. So we’ll check it out together, and then buy it up,” he says.
“Sounds good,” you laugh. Then you hear Lucy calling for Michael from her room. “You better get in there and read to her,” you say.
“You’re right. We don’t want a bedtime mutiny on our hands. Want to come with, tell her the news?” he asks.
“You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute,” you say and he kisses you quickly before releasing you and heading to Lucy’s room. You smile as he walks away and start cleaning up your paperwork and Lucy’s coloring.
Later that night, after you’ve tucked Lucy into bed, you find yourself in a familiar position, with your cheek resting against Michael’s chest. You smile as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat and his evened breathing. After a lifetime of making things hard on yourself, you’ve finally found the beauty in doing things the easy way.
Author: stevsie87
Rating: PG-ish
Spoilers: Through "Cocktails"
Pairing: Michael/Jan
Disclaimer: I do not own "The Office" or it's characters.
AN: Okay this is the last chapter of the story. So sorry it took forever to get it up here, I struggled with it some. Enjoy!
It’s Friday evening and you’re in your Manhattan apartment with Lucy, waiting for Michael to arrive, hopefully with some news about his possible job. His interview was yesterday morning, and he was supposed to hear something by this afternoon. He was supposed to leave work early and be here more than hour ago. Why hasn’t he called you?
Not calling could mean bad news. Or it could mean something else was wrong, like an accident. ‘No! Don’t go there,’ you tell yourself mentally. Just because he’s late doesn’t mean you should go to that place in your mind where everything is a worst-case scenario. Just because he hasn’t called yet doesn’t mean you need to get all emotionally worked up. It could just mean that Michael has gotten too caught up in his latest office shenanigans to call. With him, there is no telling.
He said the interview went well. (Actually he said that he impressed Donald with his “mad awesome sales experience and interviewee skills”. But you’re hoping that translates to “the interview went well.)
“Lucy, sit down all the way in your chair please” You’re momentarily distracted from your current train of thought by your daughter awkwardly squatting in her chair over her coloring book, leaving her teetering at an uncertain angle. The two of you are sitting at the kitchen table, she with her coloring, you with your financial reports, waiting for Michael to come home.
“Thank you,” you smile at her when she sits down. She’s already ready for bed, but you haven’t made her go just yet. You know she’s just as restless as you are, waiting for Michael. Waiting to know what comes next. You’re trying not to let her see how anxious you are about Michael not being here yet. No need to worry her about things you shouldn’t even let yourself worry about.
When Jim and Pam dropped her off on Sunday evening, you had to wait until well after dinner to tell her the good news.
She wouldn’t stop talking about all of the things that she did that weekend, and how cool it was to have a sleepover at someone else’s house.
She talked your ear off about how “silly and funny” Jim was and how “nice and pretty” Pam was all through her bath. Then after she had her pajamas on, she had to show you the collages and painted macaroni necklaces she and Pam had made.
By the time she had finally told every story and shared every clever anecdote, the three of you were sitting in the living room, with Mary Poppins playing on the TV in the background. Lucy sat on your lap as you brushed through her just-dried hair and Michael sat beside you, where he responded enthusiastically to the details Lucy gave about her weekend.
Then you proceeded to tell her that you had an exciting weekend of your own. Michael explained what getting married would mean to her in that innocent childlike way that only he could. You showed her the ring that Michael had so impulsively but sweetly splurged on once he found out your were pregnant, and tried to explain what that ring meant. She understood that you’d all be living in the same house now and she’d get to see him more often. She was excited to say the least.
It would have been nearly impossible to get her to go to sleep if it she hadn’t been so tired out from her afternoon excursion to the playground with Pam and Jim.
Monday she had spoken of nothing but the engagement. Or as she put it “when we get married”. You tried to explain that you and Michael were the ones actually getting married, but you’re not quite sure if you got through to her. In her mind, it would be her wedding too, and she was kind of right.
So you spent Monday, the last day of your (once dreaded) long weekend, answering a myriad of questions about flower girl’s dresses and new houses, and having what Lucy liked to call a “together day”. You spent such days as a family, or for lack of a better word: together. There was an intense round of Go Fish, and you watched The Sound of Music for the first time with Lucy.
That night it was unbearably difficult to leave Michael behind in Scranton. You made yourself feel better by thinking about how you’d be seeing him in three days and that this might be one of the last times you’d have to do so. So, you left reluctantly, but still feeling pretty content about the way things were turning out.
Now however, you feel less content. You’re feeling a little on-edge and more than a little impatient waiting for Michael to arrive or even call. It’s not like him to not call. Or not answer his phone. This makes you think something serious might have happened. You push those thoughts away quickly, trying to focus what the news might be.
You need to know what the job verdict is. You need to know what you’re going to be dealing with in the immediate future.
Will your dream of that suburban house in Westchester finally come true? (There is a small chance that you’ve already talked to a realtor and seen the perfect one in the short week that it’s been a possibility).
Or will you have to deal with a commuter existence until you both have jobs near each other?
Well either way, you could still have the house in Westchester. Michael would just have to drive two and a half hours to and from work everyday. But that’s not exactly the best option is it? The best option is this dream scenario you’ve been living in the past few days, with Michael working in the same building as you, without the unreasonable commute. You make yourself stop thinking about that. The fact of the matter is that he isn’t here, and you haven’t heard from him. You don’t know what’s going on yet.
Why don’t you know what’s going on yet? Where the hell is Michael?
As if on cue you hear a key in the door and then a “Daddy’s home!” announcing his arrival. Finally.
“Yayyyy!” Lucy yells as she abandons her coloring to hurl herself into Michael’s arms.
“Hey Buttercup!” he exclaims as he carries her into the kitchen. You don’t know what to make of his good mood. It could mean he got the job, or he could just be covering up the bad news with enthusiasm.
“Before you start to ‘buttercup’ me, why didn’t you call?” you decide to give him a little bit of a hard time. After all, he kept you waiting for the past three and a half hours.
“I-“ he starts, but you cut him off.
“Better yet, why didn’t you answer your phone when I called? For all I know you could have been in some sort of accident!” you hear the worry and desperation in your own voice and berate yourself.
You shouldn’t have even let yourself think about that, even just for the moment you did. Ever since you became a mother, you’re a little more emotional than you used to be. It’s a little unnerving that implications of Michael not answering his phone make you get all teary eyed.
“Hey Ladybug, how about you go into your room and pick out a story and I’ll come read to you in a little while,” he says to Lucy as he sets her down. She looks slightly confused but trots off to her room anyway.
“What’s wrong Jan?” he asks, concerned, as he steps towards you and tries to take you in his arms. You shrug him off, despite your desire to feel him close to you.
“What’s wrong is that I had to sit here for hours wondering what’s going on. I didn’t know what happened with the job or if you were even all right! You were supposed to call when you left the office, which should have been at 4:30. But here I was, sitting here at 8:00 and no call. You always call, and you always answer your phone! I had this mental image of you lying in a ditch somewhere dead!” Okay, so letting yourself get even more worked up wasn’t the plan. Now there are definite tears in your eyes as well as your voice.
What happened to the icy Jan Levinson of the past? She certainly wouldn’t cry over an unreturned phone call. (Then again, she didn’t have a daughter and somewhat flighty fiancé to worry about).
“Hey, don’t cry,” he says softly. This time when he moves to you, you let him pull you to him, already tired of being confrontational with him. He takes your face in his hands and thumbs away the tears that escaped. “I’m fine, everything’s fine. I didn’t even see a ditch on the way here, much less fall into one,” he says, trying to lighten the mood.
“Well then why didn’t you answer?” you sniffle, tugging on the lapels of his jacket.
“I’m sorry. My phone died, and my extra charger is here. I didn’t want to go back to the condo before I left. And I didn’t get to leave early because Dwight got all worked up about something Jim may or may not have done and then he was all on my case asking why I was leaving early and by the time I got everything straightened out it was past 5:00. Dwight really needs to learn to let things go. You’d think he’d be used to having his things JELLO-ed after all these years. It’s such an old trick.”
“Uh huh. Well you still should have called from the office,” you gently reprimand.
“I know, and I’m sorry. You know I’m easily distracted. I forgot, but it won’t happen again,” he says before leaning in to kiss you. You sigh and let yourself relax into the kiss. You missed this during the week. It really wasn’t fair to get engaged and then have to spend the following week away from your fiancé (even if that week was technically only four days). It feels like it was longer ago than Monday evening since you’ve felt his lips on yours. You’re more than pleased to find out that you’ve moved on to another phase of not being able to keep your hands off of each other.
“Well don’t let it happen again,” you say when your lips break from his.
“I won’t,” he promises quietly, leaning his forehead against your own, and that’s enough for you to let it go.
“So, do you have any news you’d like to share with me?” you ask.
“I do! Donald called me before I left,” he says, releasing you from his arms.
“And…” you prompt.
“And what?” he asks, feigning ignorance.
“Don’t ‘what’ me Michael. Did you get the job?” you ask.
“Oh, that. Yeah, I got the job,” he says.
“You did?”
“I did!” he says excitedly.
“Michael! That’s fantastic news!” you exclaim as you move to envelop him in a tight hug.
“I knew you’d be happy,” he smiles into your neck.
“I am. I’m very, very happy,” you sigh. Then leaning back to see his face you ask, “Are you happy?”
“Ecstatic,” he beams. “I guess this means we should call the realtor and put in an offer on that house you fell in love with, “ he says, moving his arms down around your waist.
“Yeah, we should, but you need to see it first, “ you smile, feeling like everything is finally falling into place.
“I’m sure if you love it, I’ll love it. So we’ll check it out together, and then buy it up,” he says.
“Sounds good,” you laugh. Then you hear Lucy calling for Michael from her room. “You better get in there and read to her,” you say.
“You’re right. We don’t want a bedtime mutiny on our hands. Want to come with, tell her the news?” he asks.
“You go ahead, I’ll be there in a minute,” you say and he kisses you quickly before releasing you and heading to Lucy’s room. You smile as he walks away and start cleaning up your paperwork and Lucy’s coloring.
Later that night, after you’ve tucked Lucy into bed, you find yourself in a familiar position, with your cheek resting against Michael’s chest. You smile as you listen to the rhythm of his heartbeat and his evened breathing. After a lifetime of making things hard on yourself, you’ve finally found the beauty in doing things the easy way.