Disclaimer: The Office and its characters belong to NBC and Universal and all those other bigwigs. Not me. Rub it in why don't ya?
A/N: I told all of you. What did I say? I said I wouldn't be able to stay away and I'd be writing a oneshot soon enough. I didn't think it would be so soon, but what can I say? That episode was just inspiring. I've been thinking about writing a fic in this style for a while, and I thought this would be a good chance to experiment. This is basically the conversations each of our lovely couples had before the fiasco that was the dinner party. Special thanks to MrsBigTuna for the beta. Enjoy!
"Hey—"
"Hey. Oh, I like that dress."
"Thanks. Come on in."
"Thanks… Celebrity Apprentice?"
"Yeah… I got hooked. But I can't wait until real TV comes back…"
"I agree… Is this on your TiVo?"
"Yeah. Notice it has sound now—"
"Very impressive... So, I got them a bottle of wine…"
"Oh, great! How much was it?"
"Ah, don't worry about it."
"Really?"
"Yeah. You can pay me back later."
"Okay… Well I just need to finish fixing my hair and we can leave—"
"Are you eager or something?"
"Hah! Hardly. But I feel like Michael will feel abandoned if we don't show up right away…"
"Yeah… I can't believe he did all that just to get us to come to dinner—"
"I know!"
"Heh."
"He's certainly asked us enough…"
"Yeah… How awkward do you think it's going to be?"
"Uhh… awkward on a level I can't even imagine right now…"
"More awkward than seeing him without his pants on?"
"Ugh, I think I'm going to be sick."
"Haha—"
"Don't laugh! That was emotionally scarring."
"I'm sure it was."
"And then having Jan ask me about it—"
"Yeah, talk about awkward… Do you think they're okay? Michael and Jan? He hasn't talked about her much since he blew her wrongful termination lawsuit… And by 'talk about her', I mean make remarks about how much sex he's having…"
"Okay, now I know I'm going to be sick—"
"Ah, get over it Beesly. Like or not, he's probably having se—"
"To answer your question, he's looked pretty depressed lately, so my guess is they're not okay."
"That'll make for a fun evening…"
"Yeah… What are you doing?"
"What?"
"You're like, staring at me."
"I'm observing."
"It's creepy."
"Yeah well, get used to that, okay? Cause I just can't help myself."
"Hehe—"
"You're smiling. You like it."
"Okay, but—"
"You do. You can't hide it—"
"It's just—"
"Yes?"
"I'm still getting used to all the attention from you... I don't know if that makes sense."
"Don't worry, in a couple years you'll be used to it."
"Yeah… Do you want to drive?"
"Sure… Hey, I'll make a bet with you—"
"Okay."
"I bet you Dwight will show up uninvited—"
"Jim, I'm not betting against that. That's a sure thing."
"True. Here's your coat."
"Thanks."
xxx
"Hello my Angel. You are looking lovely tonight."
"You're late."
"Ah, don't worry about it. You know what they say about being late to a party…"
"…No."
"…You're 'fashionably' late?"
"Ugh. I don't want to go at all. I feel bloated—"
"Come on! This is dinner—whoa, cat on my leg!—This is dinner at the boss' house—get off, cat! Ugh!... Ange, this is like, the highest honor an employee could ever get."
"Andy, have you forgotten our boss is incompetent? And is living in sin with a harlot—"
"Who? Jan?"
"Yes… And Jim and Pam will be there, who are just gooey lovebirds. It makes me sick—"
"I thought you liked that mushy stuff—"
"It has to be in good taste, and not at work. It took everything in my power not to call them out on their PDA a few weeks ago. I mean, she just asks him about dinner and he's all over her! Goodness."
"What about when I sang to you?"
"That took talent. And I respect talent, however embarrassing and inappropriate it may be…"
"Ohh, I see…. Well, you wanna sing a little duet right now?"
"No! Hands off me please! Ugh. Listen, can't we just skip this dinner? I just don't feel very good—"
"You do seem a little more pissy—uh, peeved than normal… Is it, that time of the month?"
"Andy!"
"I'm just asking!... Is it?"
"Well, I can't quite say—"
"It so is."
"I'm not saying anything—"
"Hey, listen, The 'Nard Dog doesn't care either way. But I want you to know that I am on your side in this."
"…What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means that you can be as big of a biii—witch, as you wanna be to me during this delicate time in your cycle, and I will not get mad…"
"That's stupid."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yes."
"Well then I swear, no matter what you do, I won't get mad—"
"…I wouldn't make that promise if I were you."
"Well I am going to make it anyway… Your coat, milady."
"Thank you."
"Hey, maybe you can just be a bitch to the women, eh?"
"Andy!"
"Sorry! A 'witch'…"
"…That's an interesting concept. We'll see how the night plays itself out, won't we?"
"We shall indeed… Hey, how about we pick up a gift for them on the way? Flowers, perhaps?"
"Flowers sound fine... I'm sure Michael will think it's thoughtful…"
"Yes! Brownie points! Let's go, Angie."
xxx
"Okay, so I have made up all the names for our game of Celebrity—"
"Good—"
"Uh, babe, what are you doing?"
"What?"
"Those are my Dundies!"
"Yes. I'm just making room on the coffee table…"
"And, where'd my St. Pauli Girl sign go?"
"Michael, that thing buzzes so loud I constantly think there are flies in the house. And by the way, there are because of that stupid blue tarp—"
"Hey, I'm paying to have that fixed, okay?"
"I'm just saying—"
"I know, I know… So, where did you put the sign?"
"…Where are the rest of your things, babe?"
"The garage?"
"Gosh, you're smart."
"Jan—"
"You're the smartest man I've ever met—"
"You don't have to patronize me, okay?"
"Fine. Oh gosh, I need to start dinner—"
"You're just starting dinner now?"
"Well, I didn't think that little scheme of yours to get them over here was actually going to work. And I wasn't about to go through all the trouble of making osso buco for six people just to freeze two thirds of it…"
"Well—"
"But don't worry, I have appetizers on hand."
"Fine. Hey, uh, wait a second… Can we leave the Dundies out?"
"…Well, that depends. Did you clean up our bedroom like I asked you to?"
"…Yesh."
"All the pillows are on the bed?"
"Every last one."
"Then you can put your Dundies… Oh—down here."
"Wha—they'll—people will barely be able to see them down there!"
"Well, it's either there or the garage, babe. It's your choice."
"Fine. Down here is good I guess…"
"Good. Now, I'm just going to light some candles, and set the table…"
"…Oh, Jan—babe—"
"What?"
"Not that song again. Please? It gets stuck in my head, and then I think of your hot ex-assistant, and it makes me uncomfortable."
"Yeah? Well having your ex-lover over for dinner makes me uncomfortable."
"That's—fair. Just, no music right now, okay?"
"…Fine. But I'm leaving it in the CD player."
"Fine."
"…Oh, babe?"
"Yes, babe?"
"At some point, I want you to ask Jim and Andy about investing in 'Serenity by Jan'… Particularly Andy. I'm pretty sure his father has a lot of money—"
"Oh, I don't know about that—"
"Just—do it. Okay? No arguments tonight."
"…Whatever you say, babe… Oh! They're here! Ready for the best night of your life?"
"You bet, babe!"
And now you know the rest of the story. How was it for you?
