Fic: Circles, (Jim/Karen) PG, lily_268
Title: Circles
Author: lily_268
Pairing/Character: JIm/Karen
Rating: PG
Summary: Set back in Stamford, before Karen admits to liking Jim, short fluffy vignette of them killing time at work.
Author's Notes: I've already posted this at karenandjim, so some might have read it before, but now it's all spiffed up by my shiny beta, myst56. Thanks, honey!
He saw her drawing circles in the margin of her yellow RCD report. They weren’t perfect, but she didn’t seem to be striving for perfection. There was a certain familiarity with their slightly flawed curves. They looped down and across to fill the page, overlapping into cyclones of cylinders.
She was on hold and had been listening to a three-dollar keyboard’s idea of “The Best of the Seventies” for twenty-three minutes and groaned while stretching her neck. She slowly let the pen drop from her fingers.
Jim went back to his seat from the water cooler and turned his chair towards her. He picked up her pen and drew a hangman’s noose and started writing the alphabet along the top of a piece of paper sticking out of her inbox pile. Halfway through she took the pen from his twisted hand and finished the alphabet in her flowing script.
She circled the letter J and smiled at him.
Jim scrunched up his mouth and shook his head consolingly. He drew a circle for the head. Karen snickered and continued whittling down the choices.
Unfortunately, for the world of stick men, she had to watch three more men die by the gallows before she gave up on the company, put down her phone and started a new game. She hurriedly explained the rules to Jim, adopting his energetic story telling styles and emphatic hand gestures.
“Okay, so you got that? I make a move to save myself and you make a move to kill me. We each get twenty moves.”
Jim said that he would get revenge on her for shooting him in the face by stabbing her in the gut. Karen tapped her pen against her teeth and kept her eyes focused on her circles. “Then I’ll wear a suit of armour.”
Without missing a beat, Jim grabbed her hand, excited that victory was within his grasp so early on. “Then I’ll try to drown you and you’ll sink because you’re so heavy”.
Tearing her hand away, like it’d been scalded, she acted mock-upset. “Did you just break rule number three?”
“You can’t make up rules AFTER you’ve explained the game! That’s cheating.”
“Not rules of the game. The RULES, rules.”
He gave her a quizzical look.
“Y’know!” She emphasised each syllable, exasperated that she had to explain. “The life rules for women”: She ticked off the rules on her fingers as she spoke. “One, don’t mess up her hair; two, don’t go in her purse; three, don’t call her fat!”
He practically snorted. “I meant the armour was heavy, psychopath.”
“Sure, you did.” She rolled her eyes. “Even your excuses suck, Halpert” She’d known what he’d meant and enjoyed watching him squirm. It was all part of their dynamic.
“C’mon, look at you, you’re gorgeous. You can’t possibly believe that you’re fat.” Suddenly they’d both felt an invisible line was crossed. She was sure her cheeks reddened.
An uncomfortable silence settled over them, “I……it was….umm….fine, thanks. Just, y’know, don’t mess up my hair,” she tried to say with a cocky smirk.
“I’m too busy rooting through your purse,” he said with his eyebrow raised.
She smiled again and Jim missed the sigh when he swivelled his chair back around to his desk.
Author: lily_268
Pairing/Character: JIm/Karen
Rating: PG
Summary: Set back in Stamford, before Karen admits to liking Jim, short fluffy vignette of them killing time at work.
Author's Notes: I've already posted this at karenandjim, so some might have read it before, but now it's all spiffed up by my shiny beta, myst56. Thanks, honey!
He saw her drawing circles in the margin of her yellow RCD report. They weren’t perfect, but she didn’t seem to be striving for perfection. There was a certain familiarity with their slightly flawed curves. They looped down and across to fill the page, overlapping into cyclones of cylinders.
She was on hold and had been listening to a three-dollar keyboard’s idea of “The Best of the Seventies” for twenty-three minutes and groaned while stretching her neck. She slowly let the pen drop from her fingers.
Jim went back to his seat from the water cooler and turned his chair towards her. He picked up her pen and drew a hangman’s noose and started writing the alphabet along the top of a piece of paper sticking out of her inbox pile. Halfway through she took the pen from his twisted hand and finished the alphabet in her flowing script.
She circled the letter J and smiled at him.
Jim scrunched up his mouth and shook his head consolingly. He drew a circle for the head. Karen snickered and continued whittling down the choices.
Unfortunately, for the world of stick men, she had to watch three more men die by the gallows before she gave up on the company, put down her phone and started a new game. She hurriedly explained the rules to Jim, adopting his energetic story telling styles and emphatic hand gestures.
“Okay, so you got that? I make a move to save myself and you make a move to kill me. We each get twenty moves.”
Jim said that he would get revenge on her for shooting him in the face by stabbing her in the gut. Karen tapped her pen against her teeth and kept her eyes focused on her circles. “Then I’ll wear a suit of armour.”
Without missing a beat, Jim grabbed her hand, excited that victory was within his grasp so early on. “Then I’ll try to drown you and you’ll sink because you’re so heavy”.
Tearing her hand away, like it’d been scalded, she acted mock-upset. “Did you just break rule number three?”
“You can’t make up rules AFTER you’ve explained the game! That’s cheating.”
“Not rules of the game. The RULES, rules.”
He gave her a quizzical look.
“Y’know!” She emphasised each syllable, exasperated that she had to explain. “The life rules for women”: She ticked off the rules on her fingers as she spoke. “One, don’t mess up her hair; two, don’t go in her purse; three, don’t call her fat!”
He practically snorted. “I meant the armour was heavy, psychopath.”
“Sure, you did.” She rolled her eyes. “Even your excuses suck, Halpert” She’d known what he’d meant and enjoyed watching him squirm. It was all part of their dynamic.
“C’mon, look at you, you’re gorgeous. You can’t possibly believe that you’re fat.” Suddenly they’d both felt an invisible line was crossed. She was sure her cheeks reddened.
An uncomfortable silence settled over them, “I……it was….umm….fine, thanks. Just, y’know, don’t mess up my hair,” she tried to say with a cocky smirk.
“I’m too busy rooting through your purse,” he said with his eyebrow raised.
She smiled again and Jim missed the sigh when he swivelled his chair back around to his desk.