Disclaimer: The Office belongs to NBC.

Author's Note: A special thanks again to Cursive Obsession for being awesome and giving me lovely ideas! And thanks to the rest of you who have reviewed – reviews make my day! I'd especially like to know what you think about this chapter, because I think it's a bit different from the others. If you have any ideas or directions in which you want this story to go (because there isn't tons of plot as of yet…), give a shout.

Chapter 5: Never Ever Have I Ever…

"What's for dinner?" Kevin asked eagerly.

"Squirrels!" Michael chirped gleefully.

There was an instant uproar.

"We're having squirrels for dinner!?" Angela demanded, repulsed.

"Yes!" Dwight cheered. "Think of all the vitamins!"

"EW!" Kelly squealed.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Stanley roared.

Michael sniggered. "Yeah, Stanley, I am so freaking kidding you!" Everyone stopped complaining, and just looked mad. (Except for Dwight, who looked disappointed.)

"Well, that was dramatic," Jim muttered to Pam, who nodded an agreement.

"What's really for dinner?" Kevin wondered as his stomach emitted another rumbling growl.

"Hot dogs," Michael said.

"Hot dogs?" Angela repeated, still looking disgusted, while Michael distributed skewers and franks to the employees. "Is there a vegetarian option?"

"Grass," Michael replied promptly.

Angela sighed. "I'll just have a bun." She snatched a roll from one of Michael's grocery bags and picked at it angrily while the others stuck their dinners in the fire.

"I think we should play a game while we eat!" Michael suggested.

"No," Stanley said, but Michael continued on as if he hadn't heard Stanley's refusal – or the groans of most of the others.

"How about we play 10 Fingers?!" Michael proposed to the crowd.

"Like…that game ten year old girls play at summer camp?" Phyllis wondered, looking quite apprehensive.

Michael nodded vigorously. "Yeah, it's where you start by holding up all ten of your fingers. Then you say 'never ever have I ever' and followed by something that you've never done before. And if anyone has done the thing you haven't, then they have to put a finger down. The last person to have fingers up wins!"

"I don't think that sounds fun, Michael," Oscar said tentatively.

"Me neither," Kevin agreed.

"Well, you're wrong," Michael spat, his fragile feelings obviously in need of a Band-Aid. "It's the best game ever. Right, Dwight?"

"ABSOLUTELY!" Dwight beamed.

"I think it sounds fun, too, Michael!" Andy said hastily.

Dwight coughed. "Suck up!" he hissed, and coughed again.

"Yeah, well, you suck," Andy retorted.

"Your mom sucks," Dwight came back, unaware of how lame he sounded.

"Your mom's face sucks!" Andy cried.

Michael rolled his eyes and interrupted this little exchange with an, "Okay, everybody! Fingers up!" Dwight and Andy glared daggers at each other, but they shut up. Reluctantly, the Dunder-Mifflinites all stuck out their hands, awkwardly attempting to display their fingers and grip skewered hot dogs at the same time.

While struggling to hold his dinner and participate in his game, Michael neglected his hot dog, which proceeded to catch fire. Michael eventually noticed the flaming frankfurter, swore creatively, and dropped the hot dog on his foot. His shoe laces promptly burst into flame.

Several people flew into action at once. Dwight jumped up and down on Michael's foot, so hard that Michael began to yelp in pain, in order to put out the tiny fire. Kevin rushed to rescue the fallen, charred hot dog from the dirt, and cradled it in his hands, mourning the loss of something that once had been edible. Jim yanked a massive jug of wood glue from his bag, and deftly slathered Dwight's place on the log with thick, yellowish paste.

Like Jim, the camera crew also took advantage of the chaos, pulling a few people aside for quick interviews before the camp fire festivities really got going.

"This isn't as bad as the time that Michael Forman-grilled his foot," Oscar said reasonably. "Michael wasn't burned at all – although Dwight probably crushed his foot – and at least we won't have bits of foot in our hot dogs…those steaks were just nasty."

"Maybe squirrels would have made less of a mess than hot dogs…" Meredith ventured.

"After all the excitement, there's no way Dwight will notice the glue on his log." Pam sighed. "Jim's so smart…."

"I want to go home," Stanley fumed.

Pam was right; after several minutes of stomping on Michael's most definitely bruised foot, Dwight slumped onto his log, right in the puddle of glue. Jim and Pam exchanged triumphant grins while Dwight reclined on his log, too tired from vigorous hopping to stand any longer.

"Seeing as I'm crippled," Michael began, glaring pointedly at Dwight, "I get to start the game." He stuck out his hands again and splayed all his fingers, thinking for a moment. "Oh, I have a great one!" he bragged. "Never ever have I ever done my own laundry."

Every single person put down a finger, slack-jawed and astonished. "How can you have never done your own laundry?" Karen wondered.

"Well, my mom did it for me until I moved out a couple of years ago…and then Ryan did it, and then Dwight."

"You lived with your mom until you bought your condo?" Jim asked, even though he'd already figured out the answer.

"I…well…no, not exactly…I mean…okay, Dwight, your turn!" Michael stuttered.

Jim tilted his head slightly and threw the camera one of his patented smirks.

Dwight, sitting to Michael's right, said pensively, "Never ever have I ever…flossed my teeth!"

Again, everyone put down a finger, but didn't press the matter. They were all too grossed out to discuss Dwight's inadequate dental hygiene. Angela, looking alarmed, touched a finger to her lips, and then studied Dwight's rather yellow smile. She grimaced.

"Jim's turn," Dwight said, looking to his right. Jim sat next to Pam on a log adjacent to his boss's.

Jim didn't even have to think about his statement, but quickly said, "Never ever have I ever eaten a squirrel."

Dwight put one of his fingers down, but defended himself immediately. "Fact: Squirrels are nutritious, Jim! You told me that yourself, on our first day of work! You said you ate them all the time, and that I should try them!"

"Yeah, Dwight, um…sarcasm, buddy." Jim gave him an impish grin.

Dwight looked crushed.

The game continued on like this for a while. Eventually, it was down to Michael, Pam, Angela, and Phyllis, all of whom had never mowed the lawn, played hopscotch, or been streaking.

"I think Phyllis will dominate," Andy said. "She plays to win. Seriously. 'Never ever have I been to Cornell?' I wonder who she was targeting with that one!" He was silent for a second, and then looked positively shocked at something the camera man had said to him. "What do you mean, you have no idea who she was targeting?! Me! She targeted me! I WENT TO CORNELL, YOU IDIOT!"

"I don't think Angela will win, because she may be a Christian, but…" — Dwight waggled his eyebrows and looked at the camera coyly – "…she's done some interesting stuff."

"I got out because I've toilet papered a house before, and Michael hadn't. I seriously doubt whether Michael had friends when he was growing up," Toby said. "I mean, I've TP'd a house. Me. Toby! And Michael hasn't! No wonder he doesn't like me," Toby joked, unusually perky. "He's just jealous!"

Angela skipped back to her tent to find Dwight, uncharacteristically happy after winning 10 Fingers. Fortunately, no one had brought up any weird sexual stuff, and she had scraped by with just one finger left. Dwight had stood up after losing all ten fingers, but the seat of his khakis had stayed stuck to the log. He'd hurried away amid tumultuous laughter to change his pants, hands clasped over his bottom in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his purple, beet-printed boxers from his coworkers. Although Angela had felt bad for him, she had waited out the game (and won!) before going to find him, so as to be inconspicuous.

"D!" she called, mounting the steps to the cabin. "D, guess what! I won!"

She pushed open the door, but Dwight was no where to be found. Instead, she saw Pam on her knees in front of Jim, her head level with his belt. Jim was looking down at her with his hands on his hips.

"Come on, Beesly, just finish it already!" he moaned impatiently.

Angela gasped, and rushed out of the tent before they could say anything. She stood on the other side of the door for a moment, hand over her racing heart, before hurrying off to find Dwight and tell of the unspeakable act that she had just witnessed.

"What was that about?" Jim wondered.

Pam finished tying his shoe for him and stood up. "I've no idea," she replied. "But Angela looked pretty freaked out. Like we were doing something…dirty."

"Everything is dirty to Angela."

"That's true." Pam grabbed the bug spray out of her bag, which was the item they had returned to the tent for in the first place. "How's your shoe?"

"Nice and tight. I'd expect as much, seeing as you took six years to tie it."

"Hey! Maybe next time you should just do it yourself!"

"That's what she said!"

Pam smacked him lightly. "That's not funny! Don't start acting like Michael, or else we'll all be doomed!"

Jim grinned. "Let's get back to the fire. It's finally dark, so Michael will want to toast marshmallows now. If we linger any longer, people will be wondering what we've been up to."

"Just wait two minutes while I put on my bug spray!" Pam said.

OoOoOoOoO

Angela found the sulking Dwight leaning against the edge of their cabin, his pants changed, his arms crossed, and his demeanor sullen. He had drawn another mountain tiger circle around himself in the dirt.

"D!" she gasped, hurrying over to face him. Her mood had changed from happy to panicky. "Dwight, you won't believe what I just saw!"

He suddenly went from being depressed to being concerned. "Monkey, are you okay?! Did you see a Nargle?! Or a mountain tiger?! GET IN MY CIRCLE AND COVER YOUR EYES!"

"No, it's not either of those things! So much worse! I saw…I saw…" and she whispered what she (thought she) had seen in Dwight's ear.

Dwight perked up immediately. "This is fantastic!" Dwight said, but Angela looked dumbfounded. She'd obviously expected him to be grossed out, much like she was. "Pam giving Jim a…well…you know!...in their cabin, that's completely inappropriate! Now we can use this information against them!"

"Like black mail?" Angela said disapprovingly. "Black mail is wrong, Dwight."

"Yeah, well, after all of the pranks Jim has played on me today" – Dwight indicated the seat of his trousers angrily – "I owe him big time. The soap prank? That was nothing. I will get him tonight, and he will cry, and I will laugh, and everything will be right in the world!" he finished fiercely.

Angela sighed, and reached up to entwine her arms around his neck. "I love when you get passionate about things," she breathed, and then she attacked his lips with her own. She'd obviously forgotten her earlier disgust with Dwight's unnatural flossing habits.

Pam and Jim chose this moment to exit the cabin. Rounding the corner to go back to the fire, they stumbled upon Dwight and Angela's intense embrace. Pam gasped, and the two sprang apart with a nasty suctioning noise. Dwight looked embarrassed, but Angela looked downright terrified.

"Don't tell anyone!" she pleaded with Jim and Pam.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "I don't know…" he said. "This is an office relationship, and we all know that these have to be disclosed to HR…I should really tell Toby…."

"No!" Dwight said hastily.

"How about we make a deal?" Angela pleaded frantically. "We won't tell about what you two were just doing in the cabin if you don't tell about Dwight and me!"

"Do you accept?" Dwight demanded.

Out of pure habit, Jim said, "Absolutely I do." Going along with Jim, Pam nodded. Neither had any idea what Angela had caught them doing that was so bad, but were happy to humor the odd couple.

"Thank you! Now we're even!" Angela gushed, and Dwight seemed to sag a bit with relief. Shooting Jim and Pam one last furtive glance each, they scurried off to their respective places around the fire. After sharing one last confused look, Jim and Pam followed.

"Yes, I'm upset that I've lost my chance to black mail Jim," Dwight admitted to the camera, "but keeping our relationship a secret makes my monkey happy, and I'd give up anything to bring her joy. Even black mail. Or my purple belt."

"I have absolutely no idea what Angela thought we were doing in our cabin that was so bad," Pam said. "I mean…I was tying Jim's shoe…does she think it's unsanitary to touch other peoples' feet? I just don't get it…I guess I might was well forget about it, now that we're 'even' or whatever…." Pam shrugged and grabbed another marshmallow. The she shuddered. "Sorry, the image of Angela trying to suck Dwight's face off popped into my head again…ugh, I'm going to have night mares…."

Jim raised his eyebrows at the camera. "Never ever have I ever…seen something…so disgusting."