Two Drabbles (Dwight/Angela, Andy) PG
He tipped his head back - an uncomfortable position in the old straight-backed chair, but necessary. For what she was about to do - what he was about to let her do - she needed access to his throat.
She dipped the badger-hair brush into the steaming mug and swirled it over the white cake of soap. He closed his eyes as she smoothed the lather over his stubble, sighing a little as the heat seeped into his skin. At the first touch of the razor, he went utterly still. The world around him seemed to hold its breath, suspended in amazement that he would expose himself in this way.
The Gebruder straight razor with the horn handle had been in his family for generations. He knew it as well as any tool he owned. It was she that was new, standing over him now, smelling of talcum powder, holding his death in her exquisite little hands. She had watched him hone the blade on the leather strop and her eyes had gleamed and he had known then that he would allow her to do whatever she wanted.
He shaves with the Norelco now. He doesn't even have to look in the mirror.
Title: What I Don't Get
Author: 9thmonkey
Characters: Dwight, Andy
"What I don't get," Andy said, "is why you didn't say something. I mean, I had no idea that you ever had feelings for her, let alone that you still did. Not even when I asked you."
They sat side by side on the retaining wall. Dwight squinted into the bright indifferent glare of the parking lot, but he sensed Andy look at him intently, not with the cagey watchfulness he had trained on Dwight like a radar gun when they first met, but an attentiveness that was more receptive, puzzled, almost wistful.
"She made it clear that things were over between us," he said stiffly. "She had the right to see whomever she chose, and I had no choice but to…try not to care."
Andy was silent for a long moment, and Dwight grimly doubted his ability to comprehend an endurance so stalwart and starkly dignified. But finally he said, "Well, that must have been awful."
Dwight looked down at his own hands, the fingers tightly entwined. He couldn't speak. To his utter shame, he felt a dry sob surge up and escape from his lips. To his stunned and wounded bewilderment, he felt a hand pat his shoulder.
She dipped the badger-hair brush into the steaming mug and swirled it over the white cake of soap. He closed his eyes as she smoothed the lather over his stubble, sighing a little as the heat seeped into his skin. At the first touch of the razor, he went utterly still. The world around him seemed to hold its breath, suspended in amazement that he would expose himself in this way.
The Gebruder straight razor with the horn handle had been in his family for generations. He knew it as well as any tool he owned. It was she that was new, standing over him now, smelling of talcum powder, holding his death in her exquisite little hands. She had watched him hone the blade on the leather strop and her eyes had gleamed and he had known then that he would allow her to do whatever she wanted.
He shaves with the Norelco now. He doesn't even have to look in the mirror.
Title: What I Don't Get
Author: 9thmonkey
Characters: Dwight, Andy
"What I don't get," Andy said, "is why you didn't say something. I mean, I had no idea that you ever had feelings for her, let alone that you still did. Not even when I asked you."
They sat side by side on the retaining wall. Dwight squinted into the bright indifferent glare of the parking lot, but he sensed Andy look at him intently, not with the cagey watchfulness he had trained on Dwight like a radar gun when they first met, but an attentiveness that was more receptive, puzzled, almost wistful.
"She made it clear that things were over between us," he said stiffly. "She had the right to see whomever she chose, and I had no choice but to…try not to care."
Andy was silent for a long moment, and Dwight grimly doubted his ability to comprehend an endurance so stalwart and starkly dignified. But finally he said, "Well, that must have been awful."
Dwight looked down at his own hands, the fingers tightly entwined. He couldn't speak. To his utter shame, he felt a dry sob surge up and escape from his lips. To his stunned and wounded bewilderment, he felt a hand pat his shoulder.