Fic: The Office - Oscar/Andy - When Bros Move On
Title: When Bros Move On
Fandom: The Office
Pairing: Oscar/Andy
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2362
Prompt: Introduction to Philosophy
Summary: Oscar and Andy discover the philosophy to moving on.
Author's Note: This was originally written for the ipod_ovenmitt gift exchange about a month ago, therefore this does not follow season 6 canon at all. Also, many thank yous to la_faerie for the beta (most especially the cologne suggestion)
The second that Andy sidled up next to him in the parking lot on the way to their cars, Oscar knew that it would only bring trouble. He didn’t say anything, but Oscar could feel Andy’s eyes on him, probably filled with eager anticipation for some ludicrous reason. Against his better judgment, Oscar said, “Hey, Andy.”
“Hey there, Big Blueberry Muffin!”
Oscar’s steps faltered and he muttered, “It was a boysenberry muffin.” He knew that he should have been more annoyed with the whole childishness of nickname-giving and how horrible Andy was at it than the fact that Andy kept insinuating that he liked blueberry muffins, but really. Blueberry?
Andy put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder and continued with, “Listen, I was thinking, you really need to get over this Gil guy, and I’m going to help you.”
Oscar stopped in his tracks and finally turned to Andy, seeing his well-meaning smile and feeling his irritation dissipate a little. “That’s… that’s sweet, Andy. Really. But Gil and I broke up six months ago. I’m pretty sure I’m over him.”
Andy raised an eyebrow and his expression turned skeptical, and Oscar tried to ignore that niggling thought at the back of his mind that said he found it kind of rakish. “Bro, come on, don’t be a hero. We both know you’re hurting. Right here,” he finished softly, patting Oscar on the chest.
“O…kay. Andy, is this about Angela?”
Andy scoffed and said, “What? Of course not! This about you. And me. Moving on. Together. One bro helping out another bro to get over his boy… bro.”
“…Right. Andy? I’m going to go now.” Oscar gave him a brief parting smile and turned to continue on his way to his car, but of course Andy shouted “Wait!” and of course Oscar’s treacherous feet stopped long enough for Andy to catch up with him. Again.
“Maybe it’s a little bit about Angela,” Andy admitted as he came into stride alongside Oscar. “But I was reading this book about The Philosophy of Moving On, and-“
“That’s not a book,” Oscar immediately interrupted.
“Uh… Yeah it is.”
“No. It’s not. That was an article in the latest issue of Cosmo. ‘The Philosophy of Moving On.’”
“No, I… Okay! Fine! Yes, I like to read Cosmo when I take a bath. That doesn’t make me any less of a man. Does it?”
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“Really?” Andy asked, smiling at Oscar gratefully.
Oscar nodded and patted Andy on the back as he said, “You’re as manly as they come, Andrew Bernard.”
Andy laughed like he was flattered and punched him on the shoulder, and Oscar realized that he had just flirted with Andy Bernard. And Andy had enjoyed it. “Anyway,” Andy continued, “You. Me. Bar. Beers. Hot wings. And we ignore every single guy that hits on us.”
Oscar laughed, and to his complete surprise, he found himself saying, “Okay.”
“We-wait, what?” Apparently it surprised Andy, too.
“Let’s do it. Come on, I’ll drive.”
------------------------------------------------------------
When they got to the bar, Oscar found them a table while Andy came back with four mimosas claiming that they had to drink double to equal a real alcoholic beverage. In actuality, they were hammered after a glass and a half. Oscar had no idea why he ever trusted Andy when it came to alcohol. Throughout the night, three guys hit on Andy. Oscar wasn’t sure if he was jealous because no one had hit on him, or if it was because he didn’t like the idea of other men hitting on Andy. Not other men, just men in general, because Oscar had yet to hit on Andy. Not that he had any plans of doing so. Still, it was simply wrong that Andy got all the attention from every gay guy in the bar while Oscar got none. Andy wasn’t even gay.
-----------------------------------------------------------
“Did you see the way that tattoo guy was looking at you? He totally wanted a piece of that Martinez ass.”
Oscar giggled, and snorted, and he was hugging Andy’s arm more than was completely necessary to keep his balance. “I totally should have asked him out!” He giggled again.
“Totally!” Andy slurred.
“He may have been tramp-stamp material.”
Andy half-laughed, then stopped and asked, “What?”
This just sent Oscar on another giggling fit and he waved his arms as he gasped out “Nothing. Nothing.”
When Oscar started to lose his balance, Andy reached out for him. Unfortunately Andy was just as drunk as he was and they both fell, Oscar hitting the hard concrete of the parking lot, his breath getting knocked out of him as Andy fell on top of him. Their faces were only inches apart, their alcohol laden breath mingling with each other, his heartbeat increasing with anticipation, and if he hadn’t been in so much pain, it would have been a moment stolen right from any number of cheesy rom-coms that he refused to admit to enjoying. But instead of staring longingly into each other’s eyes and slowly closing the gap between their lips, they both broke out into hysterical laughter and Andy rolled off of Oscar with a groan. When their laughter died down, they just laid there in silence staring at the stars, listening to the crickets chirp around them.
“Hey, Oscar?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for tonight.”
Oscar slowly turned his head to Andy, saw his eyes shining even in the dark, and Oscar softly said, “You’re welcome, Andy.”
------------------------------------------------
“Bowling!”
“What?” Oscar looked up at Andy from his desk, trying to discern what the heck was going on in his brain. He got too distracted by Andy’s smile to really think any further.
“’Do an activity that your ex refused to do with you.’ Bowling!”
“Oh… You’re still on that whole Cosmo article kick?” Oscar heard Kevin’s Cookie Monsterish giggling next to him and he couldn’t resist looking over and saying, “Oh please, I’ve seen your makeup kit, Kevin.”
“Hey! I have a very serious skin condition! And it’s just foundation…”
“So anyway. You. Me. Disco bowling. Tonight. What do you say, Big Boysenberry?”
Oscar heard Kevin giggling again, but he was too elated over the fact that Andy got the right berry this time that he didn’t even care. He smiled up at Andy said, “Yes. Let’s go bowling.” His smile faltered a bit as he amended, “Disco bowling.”
“Yes!” Andy did a triumphant fist pump and walked away with a satisfied smile, and Oscar wondered when his will was suddenly determined by what would bring the biggest smile to Andy’s face.
“Heeee… boysenberry.”
Oscar sighed and turned back around to glare at Kevin. “How could you possibly find anything perverted in the word ‘boysenberry’?”
Kevin giggled even harder and his voice was high as he said, “Boys. In. Barry! Hehehehehehehe.”
Oscar held the bridge of his nose and lamented about the fact that disco bowling with Andy would most likely be the highlight of his day.
-------------------------------------------
He had forgotten how competitive Andy was. It was bad enough that Oscar had to suffer through strobe lights and disco balls and smoke and ugly shirts and shoes that reeked of sweat and foot fungus, but he also had to deal with Andy’s temper every time things didn’t go his way. He shouted “DAMN IT!” quite often and fought so hard to control himself that his head looked like it was going to explode. When Oscar started winning, the smile on Andy’s face became so forced that Oscar feared the poor guy would soon suffer an aneurism. Eventually, Andy got a gutter ball and shouted “OH, COME ON!” as he stormed over to some random table and flipped it over, then kicked the chairs down. There happened to be a birthday cake on that table, and the father of the now crying little girl happened to be a very large man with very large muscles. And a nose ring.
“Oh… crap,” was the last thing Andy said before he got punched in the face and knocked unconscious. Oscar supposed he should have been angry at Andy, or at least irritated, but all he had the strength for at that point was a sigh of resignation. Until, while the paramedics were putting Andy on a stretcher, Oscar saw a man in a yellow jumpsuit with an afro wig and platform shoes.
“Oh my god, Gil? Is that you?” He couldn’t keep the laughter of superiority out of his voice. Even though his date had just been knocked unconscious by Mr. Clean. Oh god, did he just call Andy his date?
“Oscar? What are you doing here?”
“Bowling, obviously.”
“Ah, right. Mr. Literal as always.”
“Oh please. What else am I supposed to say?”
Gil sighed and rolled his eyes, and Oscar felt his power in this conversation slipping away. “What’s with the get-up?”
Gil put his hand on his hip and said, “This,” he motioned to his outfit, “is disco bowling done right.”
Now Oscar outright laughed. “Excuse me? Since when did you start dressing up like an idiot and doing such a Neanderthal thing as throwing an oversized sphere at pieces of wood?”
“Honey, I’ve started doing all kinds of things since we broke up.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.” That was when Gil’s new Ricky Martin wannabe boyfriend appeared at his side. “This is Biff,” he said, petting Biff’s chest.
Great. Just great. Gil looked like a Ronald McDonald blast from the past and somehow Oscar was the one that was looking foolish. He glanced over at Andy on the stretcher. His nose was bleeding profusely and his eye was already starting to blacken, but he was all Oscar had to work with. He turned back to Gil and pointed at Andy and said, “That’s my boyfriend. The one who flipped the table over.”
“You mean the one with the bleeding nose?” he asked with the same superior laugh that Oscar had used.
“Yeah… that’s the one.” Gil was looking at Andy with disdain, but Oscar could sense that he was jealous. Why, Oscar would never know, but perhaps a bleeding Andy was more appealing than Oscar realized.
“Well… you sure can pick the winners, can’t you, Oscar?”
“You do realize you’re my ex, right?”
Gil huffed and walked away with Ricky Martin 2.0 chasing after him. Somehow, some way, Oscar had won.
Oscar walked over to Andy and grabbed his hand as the EMTs started wheeling him out to the ambulance. Andy’s not-swollen eye slowly opened and he tiredly said, “Hey, Boysenberry.”
Oscar smiled down at him with an inexplicable surge of fondness, and he brushed the hair off of Andy’s forehead as he said, “Thanks for tonight, Andy.”
Andy half grimaced and half smiled as he groaned out, “No problemo. I’d get punched in the face for you any night.”
Oscar laughed and said, “That… that wasn’t what I was talking about, but thank you just the same.”
Andy squeezed his hand, and Oscar leaned down to kiss him on the forehead just before the paramedics slipped him into the truck.
--------------------------------------------------------
A few weeks after the bowling incident, Andy insisted on having a movie night. Oscar wasn’t quite sure where that fit on Cosmo’s “Moving On” philosophy, but he agreed to it anyway. They argued for an hour over whether they should watch To Kill a Mockingbird (Oscar’s choice) or Rush Hour (Oscar would never be caught dead watching that). They ended up watching all three Rush Hours that night. Oscar didn’t even put up a semblance of a protest when Andy inserted the third one into the DVD player. He should have been ashamed, but there was just something so right about watching a movie simply to enjoy it rather than to analyze the social implications that the film was trying to make. Besides, he found Andy’s fascination with Jackie Chan kind of charming.
When the last movie was finished, Oscar realized that he really didn’t want the night to be over, and he sensed that Andy felt the same way. They sat on the couch together in awkward silence for awhile, until Oscar said, “So… what’s next on your ‘Moving On’ list?”
Andy smiled and pulled the list out of his pocket. Of course he carried it with him. “Commiserate with a close friend about how awful your ex is.”
Oscar got a little too excited and giggled as he said, “Oh god, this one’s going to be so fun.”
“Let’s see. 1) She wouldn’t let me sing at the dinner table.”
“Really?”
“She said it was disrespectful to God or something.”
“Wow. Okay, my turn. 2) She likes creepy posters of babies playing musical instruments.”
“Hey, wait. I actually like those posters.”
“Seriously, Andy?”
“Yeah! I’ve got one in my bedroom!”
“Okay, that’s even creepier than the poster itself.”
“Psh, whatever. That poster is awesome. Okay, the real number 2) She doesn’t own a TV.”
“Yikes. That’s just… weird.”
“I know, right? It’s insane!”
“Okay, okay. Number 3) She has an unnatural attachment to her cats.”
“Damn right, she does! They got to third base with her more than I ever did.”
“That is so wrong.”
“But it’s true. Okay, number 4) She clips her toenails in the car.”
“What?”
“Seriously! I’d be driving her somewhere and all of a sudden she just whips out the nail clippers and I’ve got stray nails hitting me in the head. I mean, who does that?”
“That’s just sick.”
“I know.”
A silence fell over them then, and Oscar realized that they had unconsciously been leaning closer and closer together throughout their disparaging of Angela. As he looked into Andy’s eyes, Oscar became all too aware of Andy’s hand on his forearm. In fact, Andy was so close to him that his Ralph Lauren Polo Blue cologne was actually making Oscar a little lightheaded. He wasn’t sure who had made the first move, but he didn’t really care at that point. His lips were on Andy’s, and that was all that really mattered. Somewhere in the back of his mind Oscar remembered that the last step in the Moving On philosophy was to fall in love again.
Fandom: The Office
Pairing: Oscar/Andy
Rating: PG-13
Words: 2362
Prompt: Introduction to Philosophy
Summary: Oscar and Andy discover the philosophy to moving on.
Author's Note: This was originally written for the ipod_ovenmitt gift exchange about a month ago, therefore this does not follow season 6 canon at all. Also, many thank yous to la_faerie for the beta (most especially the cologne suggestion)
The second that Andy sidled up next to him in the parking lot on the way to their cars, Oscar knew that it would only bring trouble. He didn’t say anything, but Oscar could feel Andy’s eyes on him, probably filled with eager anticipation for some ludicrous reason. Against his better judgment, Oscar said, “Hey, Andy.”
“Hey there, Big Blueberry Muffin!”
Oscar’s steps faltered and he muttered, “It was a boysenberry muffin.” He knew that he should have been more annoyed with the whole childishness of nickname-giving and how horrible Andy was at it than the fact that Andy kept insinuating that he liked blueberry muffins, but really. Blueberry?
Andy put his hand on Oscar’s shoulder and continued with, “Listen, I was thinking, you really need to get over this Gil guy, and I’m going to help you.”
Oscar stopped in his tracks and finally turned to Andy, seeing his well-meaning smile and feeling his irritation dissipate a little. “That’s… that’s sweet, Andy. Really. But Gil and I broke up six months ago. I’m pretty sure I’m over him.”
Andy raised an eyebrow and his expression turned skeptical, and Oscar tried to ignore that niggling thought at the back of his mind that said he found it kind of rakish. “Bro, come on, don’t be a hero. We both know you’re hurting. Right here,” he finished softly, patting Oscar on the chest.
“O…kay. Andy, is this about Angela?”
Andy scoffed and said, “What? Of course not! This about you. And me. Moving on. Together. One bro helping out another bro to get over his boy… bro.”
“…Right. Andy? I’m going to go now.” Oscar gave him a brief parting smile and turned to continue on his way to his car, but of course Andy shouted “Wait!” and of course Oscar’s treacherous feet stopped long enough for Andy to catch up with him. Again.
“Maybe it’s a little bit about Angela,” Andy admitted as he came into stride alongside Oscar. “But I was reading this book about The Philosophy of Moving On, and-“
“That’s not a book,” Oscar immediately interrupted.
“Uh… Yeah it is.”
“No. It’s not. That was an article in the latest issue of Cosmo. ‘The Philosophy of Moving On.’”
“No, I… Okay! Fine! Yes, I like to read Cosmo when I take a bath. That doesn’t make me any less of a man. Does it?”
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“Really?” Andy asked, smiling at Oscar gratefully.
Oscar nodded and patted Andy on the back as he said, “You’re as manly as they come, Andrew Bernard.”
Andy laughed like he was flattered and punched him on the shoulder, and Oscar realized that he had just flirted with Andy Bernard. And Andy had enjoyed it. “Anyway,” Andy continued, “You. Me. Bar. Beers. Hot wings. And we ignore every single guy that hits on us.”
Oscar laughed, and to his complete surprise, he found himself saying, “Okay.”
“We-wait, what?” Apparently it surprised Andy, too.
“Let’s do it. Come on, I’ll drive.”
------------------------------------------------------------
When they got to the bar, Oscar found them a table while Andy came back with four mimosas claiming that they had to drink double to equal a real alcoholic beverage. In actuality, they were hammered after a glass and a half. Oscar had no idea why he ever trusted Andy when it came to alcohol. Throughout the night, three guys hit on Andy. Oscar wasn’t sure if he was jealous because no one had hit on him, or if it was because he didn’t like the idea of other men hitting on Andy. Not other men, just men in general, because Oscar had yet to hit on Andy. Not that he had any plans of doing so. Still, it was simply wrong that Andy got all the attention from every gay guy in the bar while Oscar got none. Andy wasn’t even gay.
-----------------------------------------------------------
“Did you see the way that tattoo guy was looking at you? He totally wanted a piece of that Martinez ass.”
Oscar giggled, and snorted, and he was hugging Andy’s arm more than was completely necessary to keep his balance. “I totally should have asked him out!” He giggled again.
“Totally!” Andy slurred.
“He may have been tramp-stamp material.”
Andy half-laughed, then stopped and asked, “What?”
This just sent Oscar on another giggling fit and he waved his arms as he gasped out “Nothing. Nothing.”
When Oscar started to lose his balance, Andy reached out for him. Unfortunately Andy was just as drunk as he was and they both fell, Oscar hitting the hard concrete of the parking lot, his breath getting knocked out of him as Andy fell on top of him. Their faces were only inches apart, their alcohol laden breath mingling with each other, his heartbeat increasing with anticipation, and if he hadn’t been in so much pain, it would have been a moment stolen right from any number of cheesy rom-coms that he refused to admit to enjoying. But instead of staring longingly into each other’s eyes and slowly closing the gap between their lips, they both broke out into hysterical laughter and Andy rolled off of Oscar with a groan. When their laughter died down, they just laid there in silence staring at the stars, listening to the crickets chirp around them.
“Hey, Oscar?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for tonight.”
Oscar slowly turned his head to Andy, saw his eyes shining even in the dark, and Oscar softly said, “You’re welcome, Andy.”
------------------------------------------------
“Bowling!”
“What?” Oscar looked up at Andy from his desk, trying to discern what the heck was going on in his brain. He got too distracted by Andy’s smile to really think any further.
“’Do an activity that your ex refused to do with you.’ Bowling!”
“Oh… You’re still on that whole Cosmo article kick?” Oscar heard Kevin’s Cookie Monsterish giggling next to him and he couldn’t resist looking over and saying, “Oh please, I’ve seen your makeup kit, Kevin.”
“Hey! I have a very serious skin condition! And it’s just foundation…”
“So anyway. You. Me. Disco bowling. Tonight. What do you say, Big Boysenberry?”
Oscar heard Kevin giggling again, but he was too elated over the fact that Andy got the right berry this time that he didn’t even care. He smiled up at Andy said, “Yes. Let’s go bowling.” His smile faltered a bit as he amended, “Disco bowling.”
“Yes!” Andy did a triumphant fist pump and walked away with a satisfied smile, and Oscar wondered when his will was suddenly determined by what would bring the biggest smile to Andy’s face.
“Heeee… boysenberry.”
Oscar sighed and turned back around to glare at Kevin. “How could you possibly find anything perverted in the word ‘boysenberry’?”
Kevin giggled even harder and his voice was high as he said, “Boys. In. Barry! Hehehehehehehe.”
Oscar held the bridge of his nose and lamented about the fact that disco bowling with Andy would most likely be the highlight of his day.
-------------------------------------------
He had forgotten how competitive Andy was. It was bad enough that Oscar had to suffer through strobe lights and disco balls and smoke and ugly shirts and shoes that reeked of sweat and foot fungus, but he also had to deal with Andy’s temper every time things didn’t go his way. He shouted “DAMN IT!” quite often and fought so hard to control himself that his head looked like it was going to explode. When Oscar started winning, the smile on Andy’s face became so forced that Oscar feared the poor guy would soon suffer an aneurism. Eventually, Andy got a gutter ball and shouted “OH, COME ON!” as he stormed over to some random table and flipped it over, then kicked the chairs down. There happened to be a birthday cake on that table, and the father of the now crying little girl happened to be a very large man with very large muscles. And a nose ring.
“Oh… crap,” was the last thing Andy said before he got punched in the face and knocked unconscious. Oscar supposed he should have been angry at Andy, or at least irritated, but all he had the strength for at that point was a sigh of resignation. Until, while the paramedics were putting Andy on a stretcher, Oscar saw a man in a yellow jumpsuit with an afro wig and platform shoes.
“Oh my god, Gil? Is that you?” He couldn’t keep the laughter of superiority out of his voice. Even though his date had just been knocked unconscious by Mr. Clean. Oh god, did he just call Andy his date?
“Oscar? What are you doing here?”
“Bowling, obviously.”
“Ah, right. Mr. Literal as always.”
“Oh please. What else am I supposed to say?”
Gil sighed and rolled his eyes, and Oscar felt his power in this conversation slipping away. “What’s with the get-up?”
Gil put his hand on his hip and said, “This,” he motioned to his outfit, “is disco bowling done right.”
Now Oscar outright laughed. “Excuse me? Since when did you start dressing up like an idiot and doing such a Neanderthal thing as throwing an oversized sphere at pieces of wood?”
“Honey, I’ve started doing all kinds of things since we broke up.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.” That was when Gil’s new Ricky Martin wannabe boyfriend appeared at his side. “This is Biff,” he said, petting Biff’s chest.
Great. Just great. Gil looked like a Ronald McDonald blast from the past and somehow Oscar was the one that was looking foolish. He glanced over at Andy on the stretcher. His nose was bleeding profusely and his eye was already starting to blacken, but he was all Oscar had to work with. He turned back to Gil and pointed at Andy and said, “That’s my boyfriend. The one who flipped the table over.”
“You mean the one with the bleeding nose?” he asked with the same superior laugh that Oscar had used.
“Yeah… that’s the one.” Gil was looking at Andy with disdain, but Oscar could sense that he was jealous. Why, Oscar would never know, but perhaps a bleeding Andy was more appealing than Oscar realized.
“Well… you sure can pick the winners, can’t you, Oscar?”
“You do realize you’re my ex, right?”
Gil huffed and walked away with Ricky Martin 2.0 chasing after him. Somehow, some way, Oscar had won.
Oscar walked over to Andy and grabbed his hand as the EMTs started wheeling him out to the ambulance. Andy’s not-swollen eye slowly opened and he tiredly said, “Hey, Boysenberry.”
Oscar smiled down at him with an inexplicable surge of fondness, and he brushed the hair off of Andy’s forehead as he said, “Thanks for tonight, Andy.”
Andy half grimaced and half smiled as he groaned out, “No problemo. I’d get punched in the face for you any night.”
Oscar laughed and said, “That… that wasn’t what I was talking about, but thank you just the same.”
Andy squeezed his hand, and Oscar leaned down to kiss him on the forehead just before the paramedics slipped him into the truck.
--------------------------------------------------------
A few weeks after the bowling incident, Andy insisted on having a movie night. Oscar wasn’t quite sure where that fit on Cosmo’s “Moving On” philosophy, but he agreed to it anyway. They argued for an hour over whether they should watch To Kill a Mockingbird (Oscar’s choice) or Rush Hour (Oscar would never be caught dead watching that). They ended up watching all three Rush Hours that night. Oscar didn’t even put up a semblance of a protest when Andy inserted the third one into the DVD player. He should have been ashamed, but there was just something so right about watching a movie simply to enjoy it rather than to analyze the social implications that the film was trying to make. Besides, he found Andy’s fascination with Jackie Chan kind of charming.
When the last movie was finished, Oscar realized that he really didn’t want the night to be over, and he sensed that Andy felt the same way. They sat on the couch together in awkward silence for awhile, until Oscar said, “So… what’s next on your ‘Moving On’ list?”
Andy smiled and pulled the list out of his pocket. Of course he carried it with him. “Commiserate with a close friend about how awful your ex is.”
Oscar got a little too excited and giggled as he said, “Oh god, this one’s going to be so fun.”
“Let’s see. 1) She wouldn’t let me sing at the dinner table.”
“Really?”
“She said it was disrespectful to God or something.”
“Wow. Okay, my turn. 2) She likes creepy posters of babies playing musical instruments.”
“Hey, wait. I actually like those posters.”
“Seriously, Andy?”
“Yeah! I’ve got one in my bedroom!”
“Okay, that’s even creepier than the poster itself.”
“Psh, whatever. That poster is awesome. Okay, the real number 2) She doesn’t own a TV.”
“Yikes. That’s just… weird.”
“I know, right? It’s insane!”
“Okay, okay. Number 3) She has an unnatural attachment to her cats.”
“Damn right, she does! They got to third base with her more than I ever did.”
“That is so wrong.”
“But it’s true. Okay, number 4) She clips her toenails in the car.”
“What?”
“Seriously! I’d be driving her somewhere and all of a sudden she just whips out the nail clippers and I’ve got stray nails hitting me in the head. I mean, who does that?”
“That’s just sick.”
“I know.”
A silence fell over them then, and Oscar realized that they had unconsciously been leaning closer and closer together throughout their disparaging of Angela. As he looked into Andy’s eyes, Oscar became all too aware of Andy’s hand on his forearm. In fact, Andy was so close to him that his Ralph Lauren Polo Blue cologne was actually making Oscar a little lightheaded. He wasn’t sure who had made the first move, but he didn’t really care at that point. His lips were on Andy’s, and that was all that really mattered. Somewhere in the back of his mind Oscar remembered that the last step in the Moving On philosophy was to fall in love again.