Jim x Dwight Oneshots *smut warning*

The Angel and The Demon

The dimly lit bar hums with the low murmur of conversation, the air thick with tobacco smoke and the scent of alcohol. It's a place where leather-clad bikers find solace in the promise of a cold drink. Dwight Schrute occupies a stool at the bar, his presence drawing curious and judgmental glances from the other patrons.

Dwight's attire is strikingly out of place among the sea of denim and leather. He wears a light, cream-colored frock coat that falls to his knees. His two-piece vest suit is a blend of browns and grays, the fabric impeccable despite the surroundings, his bowtie securely fastened around his neck. Despite his apparent eccentricity, Dwight's demeanor is a blend of hesitance and politeness, as he glances around the bar with a hint of uncertainty. He's used to being noticed for his unique style – the outfit that seems to belong to another era, his slightly overweight frame, and his somewhat awkward gait.

The bartender, a burly man with a tattooed forearm and a grizzled beard, approaches Dwight with a raised brow. "What can I get ya, buddy?"

Dwight clears his throat, his voice confident despite the lingering awkwardness. "I heard you have a lovely barbecue bacon burger here. That's what I'd like to order, please."

The bartender's eyes narrow as he studies Dwight, taking in the unusual attire. "Sure thing. One barbecue bacon burger, comin' up," he mutters, turning away to relay the order to the kitchen.

As Dwight waits, the glances from the other patrons remain fixed on him, a mixture of curiosity and mockery. They size him up with smirks and knowing looks, finding amusement in his appearance. Dwight offers a polite smile in return, attempting to make conversation with those around him.

"Nice weather we're having, isn't it?" he offers to a burly man sitting next to him.

The man eyes him skeptically for a moment, then lets out a chuckle that's laced with a touch of condescension. "Yeah, real nice. You new around here, pansy?"

Dwight's smile wavers for a second before he presses on, determined not to let the man's attitude get to him. "I suppose you could say that. Just passing through and thought I'd try the local cuisine."

The man smirks, taking a swig from his beer before glancing at Dwight with a critical eye. "You must be lost or somethin'. Ain't no place for your type."

Dwight's smile falters, and he clears his throat, a touch of pink dusting his cheeks. "I... I understand. I meant no offense."

The man's response is a disdainful snort before he turns away, effectively ending the conversation. Dwight shifts uncomfortably on his stool, his gaze now fixed on the bar in front of him. He takes a deep breath, his mind drifting to his unusual position as an angel among humans. He's spent thousands of years on Earth, but moments like these remind him of the gulf that separates him from those around him.

Finally, the bartender sets a plate before Dwight, the aroma of the barbecue bacon burger filling the air. Dwight's face lights up with genuine delight as he gazes at the beautifully prepared dish. He takes a deep breath, savoring the scent, before picking up his utensils and taking his first bite.

As the flavors explode on his palate, Dwight's eyes close momentarily, his expression one of pure bliss. For him, this simple act of indulging in human pleasures is a cherished experience. The rest of the world fades away as he immerses himself in the taste.

The jingling of the bell above the entrance draws Dwight's attention. His senses tingle with an uneasy anticipation as he senses the presence he's been waiting for. A slow smile creeps onto his lips as he looks over, his blue eyes meeting the figure that's just entered the bar.

Jim walks in with an air of reserved confidence, his all-black attire contrasting starkly with the dingy surroundings. The slim-fit turtleneck, tweed pants, and medium-length leather jacket seem to mark him as distinctly out of place, yet his demeanor exudes a subtle authority that commands attention. His tall, lanky frame moves with calculated grace, and his piercing gaze sweeps across the room before landing on Dwight.