AN: I'm SO sorry it's taken me so long to update! Like, really, really, really sorry. My laptops been on the fritz, and things have just been hectic. Hopefully, I'll be writing regularly again soon.
Jim Halpert was about to die.
"Pam…" Jim whispered, his voice harsh from thirst. "I know that Death is coming for me, and I-I just have to tell you-"
"Oh, suck it up, Halpert," Pam grinned, rolling her eyes.
Jim grew indignant. "Hey!" he said. "Is that any way to treat your dying best friend?"
"The rest of us have been in this van for two hours, too, crybaby."
Jim looked at Pam suspiciously. "Pam, I have a question for you." Pam turned towards him, eyebrows raised. "How are you not disgustingly sweaty?"
Pam simply looked at him. "Girls don't sweat."
Jim laughed out loud. "I hate you," he said, and Pam giggled. He had decided a few years ago that one of his favorite things in the world was making her laugh.
Oscar turned towards the two, his face pained. "Has it really been two hours, Pam?" he asked. Pam nodded as Oscar began to shake his head. "No. No, this is it. I'm at the end of my rope. Dwight, just find a rest stop!"
Dwight turned around to glare at Oscar. "We must not lose momentum! Remain strong!"
"Dwight, I don't care! Would you please just stop the van?" Oscar was nearly yelling, which was uncharacteristic of his otherwise calm personality.
"We really could use a rest stop, Dwight." Pam said, crossing her fingers in hopes that Dwight would listen.
"DWIGHT, LOOK AT THE ROAD!" Jim yelled as the van began drifting towards the guardrail. Dwight jumped in his seat and turned around, jerking the steering wheel back sharply to avoid a collision. Someone behind them honked.
Jim sighed, turning to one of the cameramen. "This is why I always drove on our sales calls…" he said, and the cameraman laughed.
"Dwight, perhaps a rest stop would be in order." a firm voice called from the middle seat.
xxxx
Yes! Thank you, Angela! Pam cheered mentally. She knew that Dwight answered to only two people: Michael, who was driving the other car, and Angela. Pam watched, delighted, as Dwight's eyes flickered from the road to the rear-view mirror in which he could see Angela, sitting with her hands folded. Dwight gritted his teeth, obviously conflicted.
Finally, he reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Using the walkie-talkie feature, he whispered, "Hawkmaster, this is BalrogTamer. Do you copy?"
An exasperated voice emerged from the static. "What is it, Dwight?"
Dwight was stubborn. "Hawkmaster, this is BalrogTamer. Do you copy?"
"Dwight, don't be an idiot."
Dwight was silent for a moment. "Um, they want to go to a rest stop. Is that okay?"
"Yes Dwight. Now shut up."
Jim pumped his fist in the air, grinning as Dwight took the next exit.
xxxx
"We're here, everybody." Dwight announced somewhat bitterly, as the van came to a grinding halt in front of a Country Inn hotel. Jim couldn't keep himself from cheering, while Oscar closed his eyes in pure relief.
They all tumbled out of the van all at once, eager to stretch their legs and get some fresh air. Dwight had limited their rest stop to five minutes, timing them on his calculator/watch/stopwatch. Jim was already plotting on how to get his hands on the watch; he figured he would have to discuss with Pam the best possible route to take for a prank.
Taking in his surroundings, Jim noticed that Michael's van had already unloaded. He wandered up to Michael, who was joking and laughing with Todd Packer. Despite the nearly three hour-long car ride, Michael appeared completely energized. Jim wanted to know how long any group building was going to take, but it was one of his cardinal rules to avoid Todd Packer. Weighing his options in his mind, he just decided to get it over with. Just do it quick, like a band-aid, he thought.
"Hey, Michael," Jim said cautiously, recognizing the wild look in Michael's eyes. Michael had a notorious sweet tooth, and when he had too much sugar he could be worse than a five year old. Apparently, someone had let Michael buy candy at a rest area.
"Heeeeeeeere's Johnny!" Michael cried out, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his head tilted back in laughter.
"Uh, my name's Jim. Not Johnny." Jim made a face at the camera as it focused in on him and Michael.
"What's up, Jim? Whaddaya got for me? Are you as psyched as me to be in Vero Beach?" Michael punched Jim in the arm.
Jim nodded, rubbing his arm. "Okay, ow," he said.
"Oh, did that hurt, queer?!" Todd Packer sneered. "Jeez, Halpert, don't be such a little bitch!"
Jim ignored Packer. "So, Michael, we're in Vero Beach."
"Yup." Michael's eyes were darting back and forth.
"Um, did someone give you sugar, Michael?"
Michael nodded enthusiastically. "And caffeine!" he added. "I am a caffeine fiend!" he said in a creepy, high-pitched voice.
"Hey, Halpert," Packer said in a low whisper. "So, you gotta be hittin' that, right?" Packer nodded his head at someone behind Jim, and Jim turned to see Pam talking to Phyllis and Kelly.
Uncomfortable couldn't even begin to cover what Jim was feeling right then. "She's engaged," he said shortly, looking away from Pam. With her hair up in a bun like that, he could see the small, tightly wound curls that hid shyly at the nape of her neck. He tried to change the subject. "Michael, do you know when the group-"
"So what?" Packer laughed, interrupting Jim. "Man, could you be any more gay?"
Jim felt his face flush from anger. "Apparently not."
Packer wouldn't let it go. "Man, I can't wait to see that piece of ass in a bikini. I bet you twenty dollars that by the end of this trip, I will have nailed that chick into the ground…"
Jim always thought that people were exaggerating when they said that they got so angry they 'saw red'. It seemed so cheesy and Hollywood. But suddenly, Jim literally heard the blood pounding in his ears, and his vision became hazy with crimson. The next thing he knew, his fists were gripping the front of Todd Packer's shirt, and he had somehow backed the much larger man into the wall of Vero Beach's Country Inn.
Jim thought he maybe heard Michael protesting in the background, but he didn't bother to take his eyes from Todd Packer's shocked, furious face. "Don't you ever, ever go near her. You aren't even allowed to talk about her." He was vaguely aware that everyone near them had gone completely silent. He then felt a small hand on his shoulder.
It was her. Of course it was her. "Jim?" Her voice was soft and gentle; it caused his anger to dissolve immediately. His arms dropped to his sides. "C'mon Jim, let's go check in." He turned to look down at her as she linked her arm into his. Her eyes were calm and she smiled. He couldn't help but smile back.
He heard Todd Packer cursing behind him as Michael tried to calm him down. "Halpert, you're gonna fucking pay for that, you little faggot!"
"Oh, dear," Phyllis said faintly.
Jim turned around, despite Pam's best efforts, about to say something, but Michael spoke first. "That's enough, Todd." Jim was surprised at the steel in Michael's voice.
"Are you shittin' me?" Packer said incredulously.
Michael ignored him. "C'mon, everyone, let's get inside. We obviously need some group building!" The tension in the air was still heavy, but for once, everyone listened to Michael. People grabbed their bags, and followed Michael into the Country Inn.
AN: Hey, so I know there was some pretty strong language in this (thank Todd Packer for that!). But I'm sorry if anyone was at all offended. Also, I know some parts might be a little bit unbelievable, but I feel like I've been writing Michael kinda mean so far, and I felt bad. He needed a little redemption, and he does have a way of coming through when it's necessary.
And I still love reviews. Sooooooooo much. They might even convince me to keep writing even though I have to use my house's main computer instead of my laptop. (You know those ugly, huge, horrible vans that the office had to ride in? Imagine them in computer form. That's what I'm working with.)
Also, I don't own Country Inn.