The Office: What They Say (Jim/Kelly)
Written for office_romances.
Title: What They Say
Author: voleuse
Fandom: The Office (US)
Ship: Jim/Kelly
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: You'll soon get strong enough.
Notes: No spoilers
Kelly brings Ryan coffee on Tuesday morning. It's just the way he likes it, three containers of half and half and no sugar. She even goes to the doughnut place she knows he likes, even though there's a Starbucks between her place and the office.
He's already at work when she gets there, so she slides the styrofoam cup across his desk with a smile. He says, "Thanks." He smiles, too, and she feels better about the way he didn't call her back last night.
That is, she feels better until she takes a break at 11:25. She goes to the break room to get a soda, and leans over the wastebasket to spit out her bubblemint gum.
At the bottom of the wastebasket is Ryan's cup, lying on its side in a pool of coffee and three creams.
She can't help it, she starts sniffing in the middle of the break room. She feels stupid, patting at her eyes with a paper towel, the gross brown cheap kind that gets all grainy after a couple of minutes. Her nose is getting clogged, her mascara is ruined, and Ryan didn't even drink the coffee.
"Kelly?" She huffs into the paper towel, then turns. Jim's standing in the door, shoulders hunched, the way he does sometimes when he's the tallest person in the room. "You okay?"
He wants to run, she can tell. He's looking over his shoulder, but instead of running back out to where Dwight is measuring the height of all the desks, he steps farther into the break room.
"There's coffee," she explains, wiping at her nose one last time. "In the trash. I'm never going to get married, am I?"
Jim clears his throat, but he reaches out, pats her shoulder. "It's not that bad," he says. "It's just coffee."
Kelly gulps another mouthful of air, and Ryan walks past the door. "I can't be here," she tells Jim, and grabs his hand. "Will you go out to lunch with me?"
"Um," Jim says.
"Please, Jim?" Ryan's facing away from the door, towards Toby's desk. "I can't go to lunch alone. I feel too pathetic. Please?"
"I..." Jim looks at the clock, then over towards his desk.
"Please?"
"Yeah," Jim says, and he scrubs a hand through his hair. "Sure, Kelly."
She hooks her arm through one of his and grabs her purse.
Ryan doesn't even look over when they walk past him.
*
It's only a block and a half to the deli, the one with the pasta salad with the fancy cheese and red peppers. Kelly orders a large bowl, because her life sucks, and a cola in a fancy glass bottle.
Jim has a sandwich and bottle of water. She tries to explain why carbs are mood-lifters, but she only remembers half of the magazine article from last month. She pokes a piece of diced olive and frowns.
"I'm going to die alone. And round."
"Kelly." Jim looks away from the window again. "You are not. And you won't."
She swigs from her bottle and feels the opposite of sophisticated. "Whatever."
He raises his eyebrows, grins. "Come on."
Suddenly, she feels a little better. She spears the olive and sets her fork down. "You're a great guy, Jim. Like, the best."
And he totally blushes.
###
A/N: Title and summary taken from Nelly Furtado's "Afraid."
Title: What They Say
Author: voleuse
Fandom: The Office (US)
Ship: Jim/Kelly
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: You'll soon get strong enough.
Notes: No spoilers
Kelly brings Ryan coffee on Tuesday morning. It's just the way he likes it, three containers of half and half and no sugar. She even goes to the doughnut place she knows he likes, even though there's a Starbucks between her place and the office.
He's already at work when she gets there, so she slides the styrofoam cup across his desk with a smile. He says, "Thanks." He smiles, too, and she feels better about the way he didn't call her back last night.
That is, she feels better until she takes a break at 11:25. She goes to the break room to get a soda, and leans over the wastebasket to spit out her bubblemint gum.
At the bottom of the wastebasket is Ryan's cup, lying on its side in a pool of coffee and three creams.
She can't help it, she starts sniffing in the middle of the break room. She feels stupid, patting at her eyes with a paper towel, the gross brown cheap kind that gets all grainy after a couple of minutes. Her nose is getting clogged, her mascara is ruined, and Ryan didn't even drink the coffee.
"Kelly?" She huffs into the paper towel, then turns. Jim's standing in the door, shoulders hunched, the way he does sometimes when he's the tallest person in the room. "You okay?"
He wants to run, she can tell. He's looking over his shoulder, but instead of running back out to where Dwight is measuring the height of all the desks, he steps farther into the break room.
"There's coffee," she explains, wiping at her nose one last time. "In the trash. I'm never going to get married, am I?"
Jim clears his throat, but he reaches out, pats her shoulder. "It's not that bad," he says. "It's just coffee."
Kelly gulps another mouthful of air, and Ryan walks past the door. "I can't be here," she tells Jim, and grabs his hand. "Will you go out to lunch with me?"
"Um," Jim says.
"Please, Jim?" Ryan's facing away from the door, towards Toby's desk. "I can't go to lunch alone. I feel too pathetic. Please?"
"I..." Jim looks at the clock, then over towards his desk.
"Please?"
"Yeah," Jim says, and he scrubs a hand through his hair. "Sure, Kelly."
She hooks her arm through one of his and grabs her purse.
Ryan doesn't even look over when they walk past him.
*
It's only a block and a half to the deli, the one with the pasta salad with the fancy cheese and red peppers. Kelly orders a large bowl, because her life sucks, and a cola in a fancy glass bottle.
Jim has a sandwich and bottle of water. She tries to explain why carbs are mood-lifters, but she only remembers half of the magazine article from last month. She pokes a piece of diced olive and frowns.
"I'm going to die alone. And round."
"Kelly." Jim looks away from the window again. "You are not. And you won't."
She swigs from her bottle and feels the opposite of sophisticated. "Whatever."
He raises his eyebrows, grins. "Come on."
Suddenly, she feels a little better. She spears the olive and sets her fork down. "You're a great guy, Jim. Like, the best."
And he totally blushes.
###
A/N: Title and summary taken from Nelly Furtado's "Afraid."