Work Text:
The thing with office romances is that everybody knows about it eventually.
Gibson calls her into his office in the middle of the afternoon. It's not really an office and it's not really his. It used to be a supply closet but he put all his things in a box one day and moved in to get away from Joe, who according to him, "smelled too much like garlic."
"Close the door and sit down," Gibson says but it's impossible: when A.J. sits down, her chair gets in the way of the door.
"Fine then, just sit down."
A.J. sits, wondering if she should feel nervous. Gibson's head of HR, and even though there's barely any fire left in him -- there's barely any will to live left in him --- he still has the power to fire her or transfer her to the Albuquerque office, which everyone believes is just the front for a meth lab.
"So." Gibson leans back in his chair, stopping short of hitting his head against the wall, and starts squeezing one of his 7000 stress balls. "You and Brewster are dating."
That comes as a surprise to A.J.
Not that she and Paget are dating --- she's been sufficiently informed about that, and there are currently several filthy messages in her voicemail to remind her if she ever forgot --- but that her co-workers know.
"We've seen you two being close," Gibson explains.
Her co-workers are also mind-readers, apparently. This is some freaky shit.
"We discourage these things," he continues. If he's noticed A.J.'s complete mortification, he doesn't show it. "Office romances. Building strategic alliances amongst each other. It's bad for business."
"Okay," says A.J., because what the hell else is she supposed to say?
"I'm not telling you to break it off, just . . . proceed carefully. We've seen things get ugly. Especially with the crazy. We all remember the incident with Lola."
"Paget's not crazy," A.J. says defensively, even though the last four weeks have pretty much proved that yes, Paget is practically certifiable.
But in a harmless, amiable way.
Gibson puts up his hand. "I'm not judging. And neither is the company. The company wants me to be very specific about that. We do not discriminate against the mentally ill. You are young, you clearly have a type --- again, Lola ---"
"Does everything come back to Lola?"
"I'm just saying, you are free to date whoever you want, including people who are crazy. But it is the company's position that dating your co-worker is a cause for concern. We would still frown on your relationship with Brewster even if she were sane."
"So I would be able to date my crazy co-worker if she weren't my co-worker?"
Gibson frowns. "The company doesn't disallow you to date your co-worker ---"
"You just frown upon it."
"I think that's what it says in the handbook, yes."
"Then I quit."
The surprise on Gibson's face is something A.J. has never seen before. All this time she's been convinced that he's only physically capable of looking tired.
"Really?" he asks, after sizing her up for a long minute.
"Yeah," A.J. says. "I'm going to date whoever the hell I want, jackass."
"We don't tolerate this kind of language in this office," he says, going back to tired. "It's antagonistic and entirely inappropriate."
"Well, I just quit, so you can't fire me."
Gibson gives his stress ball another few squeezes. "I wouldn't anyway," he sighs. "Too much paperwork."
*
These are the thoughts that cross A.J.'s mind as she walks out of Gibson's closet, around the giant bust of Bernero's head that Bernero has placed in the middle of the office to remind everyone of his greatness, past accounting (where Shemar is working on his line-up for his fantasy football league), and towards her cubicle:
1. Did I just quit my job?
2. I just quit my job.
3. I just quit my job for someone I've dated for four weeks.
4. I just quit my job for someone I've dated for four weeks because this insane company won't let me date a crazy person who's a co-worker because she's my co-worker and not because she's crazy.
5. Do I really have a type?
6. I do have a type.
7. Tall, brunette, and crazy.
8. Holy shit I just quit my job and I know it's kind of a shitty job and a dead end career-wise but they pay for dental and I haven't had a job interview in eight years and god they're going to deport me back to Canada and this girl, this gorgeous, funny girl I am impossibly attracted to is, let's not kid ourselves, completely crazy and who knows if she'll turn out to be another Lola?
9. Paget's wearing a really tight shirt today.
*
"I quit my job," A.J. says to Paget.
Paget is watering her Venus fly traps. She has two of them: one's named Sally and the other George Foreman. She told A.J. once that she'd toyed with the idea of conducting a science experiment where she would feed tofu to George Foreman and encourage him (it?) to be vegetarian, but Matthew said George Foreman would simply wilt and die, which Paget decided was too cruel.
"Good," Paget says, setting down the spray bottle. "You don't like your job."
"Nobody likes their job."
"I like my job."
A.J. stares at her incredulously. "What is your job?"
"Being awesome. It's on my business card."
"It's not on your business card. I've seen your business card. I ordered your business cards."
"Not those business cards. The cool ones Kirsten made for me through her Etsy shop."
"I didn't know she had an Etsy shop," A.J. says.
"It's pretty cool, you should check it out," Paget says. "She sells some of her knitting on there. She made me a customized vibrator-cozy."
A.J. shakes her head and laughs, because she just quit her fucking job for somebody who owns two Venus fly traps and a custom-made vibrator cozy, but she doesn't regret it, because Paget may be crazy but she's also gorgeous and hot and kind-hearted and a really good kisser.
Crazy people are in general great kissers --- there's a reason why A.J. has a type --- but Paget, Paget should put that on her business card right beside where it says "being awesome."
The cubicle is too small and their kiss too long, too deep, too many limbs trying to grab onto each other at once and not enough room for that to happen, and Matthew is complaining on the other side of the cubicle wall that they're knocking over the Star Trek memorabilia he's pinned up.
"You shouldn't quit your job because of me," Paget says after. "You should quit your job because it sucks."
"They said you were crazy," A.J. tells her.
"They don't let you date crazy people here?"
"No, they don't let you date co-workers here."
"Frown upon!" Gibson corrects with a shout from his closet.
A.J. rolls her eyes. "They frown upon co-workers dating here."
"What would they have done to you?" Paget asks, sounding genuinely curious and perhaps a little concerned, which makes A.J. start to feel a little bit sheepish. Really, what could they have done to her?
"I don't know, sent me to Albuquerque?"
"To the meth lab?"
"Not a meth lab!" Gibson yells again from his closet.
"I would've followed you to Albequerque," Paget says.
"That wouldn't have helped," A.J. says, "because then you'd still be my co-worker."
"Oh, honey," Paget says, putting both hands around A.J.'s, holding them delicately, "we would've opened our own meth lab."
*
A.J. un-quits her job two days later.
Or rather, Gibson goes to her apartment and offers her her job back.
"You figured out that I'm the only person in the office who actually does work," she deadpans.
"And I really don't want to do the paperwork for your resignation," he adds.
"What about the company policy about office romances?"
"Stays," he answers. "But I'll look the other way, and the upper levels have their heads so far up their own asses they probably won't notice ---"
"Language, Thomas."
"We're not in the office. Besides ---" Gibson stops and stares at A.J., like he's trying to decide whether or not to trust her. "I dated a co-worker once. Before my wife, long before my wife."
"Crazy co-worker?" A.J. asks.
"Total nutjob," he says, almost fondly. "Mandy was a total nutjob."