lying here asleep on a sunbeam
Title: lying here asleep on a sunbeam
Fandom: The Office (US)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Karen/Pam
Short summary: A day on the beach sometime down the road with Karen and Pam.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Office or any related media.
Notes: This was written for the Impromptu Multifandom (im)Promptathon at crickets' journal. The prompt was cream soda. I've never written anything in second person before, so let me know if it works for you.
It's one of those days that is so hot you need to empty the ice box into your soda before you can even take a sip, the kind of day where you look out the window and say to her, We should go to the beach today, but curse yourself two hours later when the hot sand scalds your feet. The sun burns you, an only slightly uncomfortable kind of burn that causes you to shift your body more often than you'd like. You change positions every few minutes, offering different patches of skin and limbs as sacrifices to the flaming heat; now it's your neck and shoulders, but soon you'll roll onto your back and your stomach and knees will take the brunt of the sun's anger.
You'd intended to swim, but there's something about the blinding light that inspires a kind of inertia in you; you, sitting here on the towel and watching her shield her eyes from the sun. You tell yourself that it'll be five more minutes until you drag yourself up to dip your feet in the lake, but that's what you said a half an hour ago, too, and you don't believe yourself now. Still, there's a warm kind of contentedness filling you as you sit here, even though you can barely muster the energy to dig your toes further into the sand. It looks as though she feels the same way; she's been engaged in a staring contest with her cream soda for minutes now, as if willing it to hop into her hand so she doesn't have to move to get it. It would be pathetic if it wasn't her; as it is, you find it endearing.
You wiggle your toes, feeling the prickly grains of sand slide between them. They're a happy bright blue today, and still fresh, too, seeing as they'd only been painted last night. You didn't paint your nails at all before you met her, and when you did, it was always during one of those few-and-far-between mani-pedi outings with one of your few-and-far-between friends. And honestly, when you met her, you didn't peg her as a nail polish kind of gal (and if she did paint her nails, you thought she'd probably use a kind of clear polish or maybe get a French manicure; nothing fancy, just stylishly professional). You're surprised when she turns out to have a bathroom cabinet full of fun, flirty colors; neon pink and deep red and orange and even an odd kind of tie-dye that you don't ask about. When she sees your poor, naked toenails, she insists on painting them and soon enough, it becomes a Sunday night ritual with you two. You find it much more relaxing than it had ever been when you'd gotten your nails done professionally; here, she doesn't care whether you haven't shaved your legs in a couple of days or your feet are a little bit smelly. (And there's always the added bonus of the way these nights usually end up; by the time the clock chimes ten p.m., she's usually abandoned the bottle of polish and is kissing her way up your thighs. Inevitably, she ends up with some shade of green or purple smudged on her clothes afterwards, and you giggle at her every time. She giggles too, her and her sweat-smudged makeup and those nails of hers that are just waiting to be painted. Now it's your turn.)
She says something to you about wanting lunch, her words thick and sluggish. You point out the hot dog stand behind her but she wrinkles her nose and says it's too far away. Then drink your cream soda, you say, and she laughs and says it's too far away, too. Her nose wrinkles and the freckles on her cheeks shine in the sun. Your bones seem to creak with protest but you don't mind as you pull yourself up towards her and kiss her, softly, a fizzy cream soda sunshine kiss.
Thank you for reading! Feedback is love. :)
Fandom: The Office (US)
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance
Pairing: Karen/Pam
Short summary: A day on the beach sometime down the road with Karen and Pam.
Disclaimer: I don't own The Office or any related media.
Notes: This was written for the Impromptu Multifandom (im)Promptathon at crickets' journal. The prompt was cream soda. I've never written anything in second person before, so let me know if it works for you.
It's one of those days that is so hot you need to empty the ice box into your soda before you can even take a sip, the kind of day where you look out the window and say to her, We should go to the beach today, but curse yourself two hours later when the hot sand scalds your feet. The sun burns you, an only slightly uncomfortable kind of burn that causes you to shift your body more often than you'd like. You change positions every few minutes, offering different patches of skin and limbs as sacrifices to the flaming heat; now it's your neck and shoulders, but soon you'll roll onto your back and your stomach and knees will take the brunt of the sun's anger.
You'd intended to swim, but there's something about the blinding light that inspires a kind of inertia in you; you, sitting here on the towel and watching her shield her eyes from the sun. You tell yourself that it'll be five more minutes until you drag yourself up to dip your feet in the lake, but that's what you said a half an hour ago, too, and you don't believe yourself now. Still, there's a warm kind of contentedness filling you as you sit here, even though you can barely muster the energy to dig your toes further into the sand. It looks as though she feels the same way; she's been engaged in a staring contest with her cream soda for minutes now, as if willing it to hop into her hand so she doesn't have to move to get it. It would be pathetic if it wasn't her; as it is, you find it endearing.
You wiggle your toes, feeling the prickly grains of sand slide between them. They're a happy bright blue today, and still fresh, too, seeing as they'd only been painted last night. You didn't paint your nails at all before you met her, and when you did, it was always during one of those few-and-far-between mani-pedi outings with one of your few-and-far-between friends. And honestly, when you met her, you didn't peg her as a nail polish kind of gal (and if she did paint her nails, you thought she'd probably use a kind of clear polish or maybe get a French manicure; nothing fancy, just stylishly professional). You're surprised when she turns out to have a bathroom cabinet full of fun, flirty colors; neon pink and deep red and orange and even an odd kind of tie-dye that you don't ask about. When she sees your poor, naked toenails, she insists on painting them and soon enough, it becomes a Sunday night ritual with you two. You find it much more relaxing than it had ever been when you'd gotten your nails done professionally; here, she doesn't care whether you haven't shaved your legs in a couple of days or your feet are a little bit smelly. (And there's always the added bonus of the way these nights usually end up; by the time the clock chimes ten p.m., she's usually abandoned the bottle of polish and is kissing her way up your thighs. Inevitably, she ends up with some shade of green or purple smudged on her clothes afterwards, and you giggle at her every time. She giggles too, her and her sweat-smudged makeup and those nails of hers that are just waiting to be painted. Now it's your turn.)
She says something to you about wanting lunch, her words thick and sluggish. You point out the hot dog stand behind her but she wrinkles her nose and says it's too far away. Then drink your cream soda, you say, and she laughs and says it's too far away, too. Her nose wrinkles and the freckles on her cheeks shine in the sun. Your bones seem to creak with protest but you don't mind as you pull yourself up towards her and kiss her, softly, a fizzy cream soda sunshine kiss.
Thank you for reading! Feedback is love. :)