Two weeks later at the Corporate softball game

The smacking peals of batting practice drifted toward Michael as he approached the softball field. Pausing at the gate, he inhaled the crisp fall air. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and the morning sun reflected off his dazzlingly white baseball uniform.

David found him shortly at the dugout. Squinting, he held up his clipboard to shield the glare from Michael's uniform. "Wow, those are the whitest – and tightest – pants I've ever seen here before."

Michael grinned. "You know what I always say, David: I take my fun very seriously."

"That's great, but you really didn't have to wear a uniform. Everyone pretty much wears sweats and hoodies."

Michael gave an ambivalent shrug. "Too late now. I bleached, blanched, starched and pressed these babies so much, they can stand up on their own! Want to see?"

"No! Ah, no thank you, Michael. Here, you can warm up on the pitcher's mound," David guided him over.

For the next fifteen minutes, hapless corporate employees dodged Michael's practice balls while also enduring his own rendition of baseball's theme song:

"Take me out to the ball game, take me out to be loud, give me some tight pants and slap my ass, I don't care if it gets stained with grass, coz there's lots of slipping and sliding, I might say that's what she saaaid, coz Dav-id-Wal-lace let me pitch just to get ahead!"

Alan's brow was furrowed in consternation when he entered the dugout, where he discovered David trying to disappear into the corner shadows.

"David? Is that you?" he squinted. "I've been looking all over the field for you – no one else can tell me what Michael Scott is doing here. Can you?"

David's eyes darted around uneasily. "I owed him a favor."

"Huh, that explains why he's singing about you, I guess. But did you have to let him play pitcher? He's nearly decapitated half the board of directors!"

"Sorry Alan," sighed David. "I really had no choice."

Alan shook his head. "Only one way to make it up to us: you're up first to bat."

A few innings – and several bruises – later, the corporate staff had reached their limit. The final straw that finally led David to end the onslaught was when the HR director himself stepped up to the plate.

"Paul Kendall! Head of HR, everybody! The one who hired Toby Flenderson and gave him a desk in our office. I have been saving my deadly, blast-a-hole-through-your-cranium fastball just for you buddy!"

Faster than he'd run all morning, David bolted to the mound before Michael could finish his wind-up.

"Michael, it's time to step down now," he hissed.

"But the game's not over."

"I know, but it's time for the… middle of the third inning changeover."

"Is that a real thing?" Michael was skeptical.

"Yes, absolutely it is! We need to let Troy step in or believe me, there's going to be a riot."

"Eh, that sounds dangerous. Possibly even violent."

"It can be," warned David. "Besides, your arm's got to be getting tired by now. You've definitely earned a rest."

"I have, haven't I?" Michael smiled wistfully. "All right. But first, I have one last thing to say to Paul Kendall: 'Take me out to the ball game, let me pitch at your head, HR is evil and has no soul, all you want is to abuse control–'"

Some time later, once Michael was rehydrated and feeling less antagonistic, he conspired in hushed tones with David in the dugout.

"Psst David, not that I'm ungrateful for today, but I want to add another 'thing' to my list of favors," he whispered.

"You can't be serious."

"I'd like to host a baby shower for you and Robin."

"A baby shower?"

"Sure! My office has an incredible party planning committee, and I just know they'd love to-"

"Your office?" interrupted David, shaking his head. "No. Someone from your branch could leak the news to corporate."

Some wheels turned ever so slowly in Michael's mind. "You'll take Alan's position on Christmas Eve, right?"

"Yes…"

"Then we could do the shower on Christmas Eve, right before the gala."

Though David looked quite pained, he offered no rebuttal.

"Great! I'll have them get started on preparations first thing Monday," Michael rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.

"But Michael, they can't know about Robin yet."

"Don't worry, I won't tell them who the party's for."

David huffed. "You'd really expect them to plan an entire baby shower like that?"

"It wouldn't be the wildest request I've ever made."

David just stared at Michael, dumbfounded. "You are an astounding individual."

"If you think so now, just wait until December 24," Michael boasted.

"For the record, I'm extremely uncomfortable with this arrangement."

"David, I'm hurt. When I am entrusted with a secret, I carry it around like a really old, highly volatile stick of TNT. For instance, I've never, ever told anyone about my Aunt Gertrude's extra toe," Michael said proudly. Three seconds later, though, his face fell. "Um… until now."