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"hey. ...heeeey. HEY."

groggily, oscar stirs, rolls onto his stomach and buries his face in the mattress. "mmmmmwhat."

"turn'att off?"

it takes a moment for all his senses to jolt into life, andy's request finally registering: his phone is ringing.

"hmm? oh, yeah, yeah, sorry."

this is their third night together -- or, judging by the ribbons of light forcing their way through the half-closed slats of andy's venetian blinds, their third morning. not in a row or anything; it's just that they've developed this sort of... thing. he doesn't know what to call it. it sort of feels like they're dating a little but neither of them has given it much of a title. oscar isn't totally sure how he feels about it yet. he's tried not to think about it too much. he's failed because he thinks about everything too much. he's come to a lot of half-baked conclusions about his opinions of his own situation, and he's abandoned all of them in favor of some brand of neutrality where he tries not to mind and just has sex with andy anyway.

without looking, he blindly mashes the power button of his outdated blackberry until the high-pitched tone stops. andy stirs next to him; starts to sit up.

"who the goddamn baby jesus is calling right now?"

one thing oscar's learned about andy that he hadn't seen so much within the confines of dunder-mifflin is his habit of swearing both frequently and creatively.

"no idea."

"this early in the morning..." andy grumbles, attempting to regain whatever comfortable position he'd been sleeping in a minute ago. "well, 's'just disr'spectful."

oscar smiles. andy's still half-asleep.

oscar is just about to get comfortable himself when andy slurs from the pillow next to him, "whassa time righ'now?"

with an exaggerated, laborious sigh, he props himself up on one elbow and uses the other arm to feel around the nightstand again for his phone -- grasping it in one hand, he squints a little, bracing himself for the light of the screen.

"it iiiiiissss..."

cell service logo. loading arrows. home screen. too many icons. upper left-hand corner, there's the time --

"oh, FUCK!"

in an instant, oscar is wide awake, tearing off the sheets and beginning a frantic search for pants.

"christ, what're you doing...?!"

oscar is already out in the hallway, tearing through a pile of clothes he'd brought in anticipation that he'd be spending a while at andy's. in as few words as he can manage, he shouts back, "it's eleven!"

a silence from the other room.

"...what?"

"eleven o'clock!"

another silence. then, suddenly,

"OH FOR THE LOVE OF--"

this is followed by a lot of thumping around and a multitude of colorful language. the message seems to have gotten through.

the pair of them are ready in minutes, all awkwardness staved off in favor of efficiency until they're both in the driveway, oscar with keys in hand and heading towards his car, and andy stops him suddenly in his tracks: "so, we're, um... gonna drive separately?"

- - - - - - - - -

as it turns out, jim's already devised a useful method of explaining tardiness to michael, which he discreetly shares with oscar as soon as angela stops glaring at him long enough to grab a cup of coffee from the breakroom.

"if he even notices," halpert offers, nonchalantly swiping a few m&ms out of kevin's jar, "just tell him you were here the whole time. i absolutely guarantee he'll buy it. i've told him that, like, ten times this year."

oscar gives him a rushed little smile and a "thanks, man" and eagerly gets back to pretending to work. jim's nice enough, but there's something about him that grates on oscar's nerves a little.

before he can get back to his exciting game of count-how-many-times-creed-falls-asleep-at-his-desk, he feels a hand on his shoulder and hears a man clear his throat. shit. michael might (and this is a big might, but still) not be as stupid as jim thinks.

"hey."

instantly, he recognizes the voice as andy's. oscar closes his eyes, huffing out a half-relieved sigh. it's not michael, but that isn't necessarily a good thing.

"meet me in the breakroom in, uhh, t-minus... fifty-two sec--"

"can we just go now?" oscar asks flatly. andy seems as though he hadn't thought of this, and shrugs passively, heading off with oscar in tow.

"so, uh, misssssster martinez," andy begins in a weird new tone he's developed for when he wants to drop hints to angela but is trying to control himself for oscar's sake, "i just wanted to talk to you about that, uhm, meeting? this morning?"

oscar cringes at the awful lie, but plays along nonetheless. "mmhmm?"

"i was just... confirming... that the presentation you gave near the end of the meeting... that, uh, wouldn't be... indicative... of... the future of the company... would it?"

angela slowly and judgmentally casts a glance over her shoulder. oscar can't contain his smile.

"uh, no! no, not at all... mr. bernard."

andy gives a sheepish little grin that is absolutely nothing short of adorable. oscar's ever-present wish that angela wasn't around is heightened.

"so i take it that means--"

"--we'll be meeting again soon? definitely. yeah, i still really need to talk to you about lots of, uh, finances."

"yeah! yup. totally. totes! totes on the finances."

angela makes an unnecessarily loud, arrogant little noise as she leaves the breakroom, stopping in the doorway to peer over her shoulder once more like a meddling parent. as soon as the door clicks shut, andy bursts into quiet, giggly laughter, and oscar's smile breaks into a full grin.

calming himself down after a moment, andy confirms, "so... i'll see you tonight? my place?"

oscar nods. "yeah, sounds good."

"awesome."

and suddenly, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, andy grabs oscar by one shoulder, kisses him briefly, and heads back out to his desk.

so. well. well then. they were like this now? they were... a couple? as much as oscar's tried not to think about this, he can't help but admit to himself that he's weighed the pros and cons before; thought about what sort of direction he'd take things if it were up to him alone. as much as he doesn't want to rush anything, it's been a long time since he's felt secure in a relationship, and the least he can say for andy bernard is that he seems, well... promising.

oscar exits the breakroom hurriedly in the hopes that maybe he'll leave his train of thought there with his half-finished, over-steeped green tea.

- - - - - - - - -

they're all gathering their things together, getting ready to leave for the day, when andy comes back.

with absolutely no regard for the public or even for a regular level of volume, he blurts suddenly, "i'm sorry if that was weird. in the breakroom. today. with the possible... weirdness. y'know. the slight... weirdity."

without looking, oscar's positive angela's already glaring.

"uhm, no. it's fine. i'm fine with it."

andy's expression changes; his eyebrows are raised a little.

"...are you?" is all he says, and by now even kevin's caught on; oscar can hear his distinctive, stifled giggle from behind him.

"can we talk later?" oscar urges. andy shrugs.

"yeah, man. totally. we can talk all night if you want." in typical bernard fashion, he follows this up with a burst of song: "lock the cellar door, and baby, talk dirty to m--"

"OHHHHHkay, i need to wrap up some, uhm, reports, i'll meet you in a bit, okay?"

with a smile that reeks deviously of the suggestion that he knows what he's just done, andy looks at oscar, then at angela, then back at oscar, and gives him a little nod, meandering casually back over to his own desk.

- - - - - - - - -

oscar is heading out to his car, avoiding all glances from any of his coworkers, particularly andy -- it's only by unfortunate coincidence that he's parked in between bernard and halpert, both of whom are shooting him quizzical glances any time he happens to look up.

andy only stays for as long as it takes to unlock his car; the moment inside has given him enough of a hint that he quickly gets in and speeds off, presumably to wait at his house. oscar is watching his car peel out of the parking lot, just to make sure, when he hears jim from behind him: "wow."

he turns around. "yeah?"

"just..."

the look oscar gives him is entirely humorless.

"nothing. uhh, nice shirt is all."

jim's already in his car with the door shut before oscar can reply; all he does is roll his eyes and turn around to unlock his own car with a discreet glance down --

"oh my god..." he says in a private moment of mortification, the red capitals of CORNELL glaring back up at him.

- - - - - - - - -

oscar refuses to let andy talk about work when they're back at his house. he figures the other man's already done enough apologizing for his awkwardness within the confines of the office, and frankly, as long as michael's not involved, it only half-bothers him. the only thing mentioned about the day's occurrences is summed up in a pair of sentences: oscar tells andy, "i wore your shirt today," and andy smiles and says, "yeah, i noticed. ...before we left this morning." oscar punches him in the arm and that's the end of it.

andy makes some kind of weird salad that's actually really gross so they end up polishing off an old box of mac and cheese instead. andy also makes them watch footloose, but he falls asleep halfway through so oscar turns it off, all the while heroically managing not to disturb andy's head on his shoulder.

this is their fourth night together -- or, judging by the recent behavior of certain involved parties, the fourth in a series.