Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Note: Thanks very much to those who have reviewed! So, I was thinking of adding a couple more chapters, but I'm not sure what you want to see before I wrap this puppy up. More Jam? More Dwangela? More pranks? More games? Give a shout if you have an opinion.

Chapter 9: Hopelessly Devoted

Michael narrowed his eyes at his coworkers, who obviously delighted in giving him such a hard time. "We're playing charades," he said with out much feeling.

"WOW! CHARADES?!" Dwight cried. "Cool!"

"I freaking own that game," Andy bragged.

"Yeah?" Michael challenged, suddenly enthusiastic once more. "Well, you better bring your A-game, Bernard, because I am going to kick some ass. I take improv classes, so…I'm awesome," he finished after a very long pause. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, Michael half-smiled in a smug manner that did his Biggie Sized ego justice.

"Is this mandatory?" Stanley grumbled.

"At this point, do you even have to ask?" said Meredith rhetorically. She took an extra big gulp of her drink.

"I get to be up first," Michael said, "because I'm the World's Best Boss!"

Jim murmured to Pam, "Self-proclaimed World's Best Boss."

"Ready?" Michael said.

The general consensus amounted to "Yeah."

Michael beamed at everyone. Sealing his lips tightly, he made a point of "locking" them. After chucking the key over his shoulder, Michael slapped his hands together like he was praying.

"Are you Angela?" Oscar joked. Angela scowled.

Michael smiled, but shook his head. He opened his hands so that they were flat, but his pinky fingers were still touching. He pretended to read his splayed palms, which obviously represented a book.

"Are you saying it's a movie?" Jim said. Catching onto Jim's fake obliviousness, the majority decided to play along.

"A TV show?" asked Pam. Vigorously shaking his head, Michael opened and closed his hinged hands meaningfully.

"A person?" Karen ventured.

Michael stomped up and down impatiently. He continued to flap his hands.

"It's a book!" Michael pointed at Dwight and nodded enthusiastically. "It's a book! I got it right," Dwight bragged. "Who owns charades now, Andy?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know," Andy quipped. "Your mom?"

Jim interrupted the lame exchange. "I can't believe you've read a book before, Michael," he said conversationally. "I thought you stuck to Maxim."

Michael glared at him.

"How many words?" said Meredith.

Michael held out two fingers.

"Okay," said Kelly. "It's a book with two words in the title…so do one of the words!"

Michael shook his head and held up two fingers again.

"Both words at once?" said Creed.

Michael grinned and bobbed his head.

"Act it out, Michael, act it out!" Dwight cried.

Grinning evilly, Michael pointed at Meredith.

"Slutty?" said Creed. He winked at Meredith, who waggled her eyebrows suggestively. Michael shook one of his open hands back and forth gently, as if to say, "Sort of."

Next he pointed at Kelly.

"Annoying?" Stanley drawled.

"Hey!" squealed an offended Kelly.

Again, Michael shook his head. Finished with the discreet hints, he dove right into the plot of his book. Mouth wide in a kind of silent moan, Michael proceeded to mime a wide variety of profane activities. Minutes passed in stunned silence before someone in his repulsed audience spoke up.

"Looks like something nasty out of the Kama Sutra." Pam grimaced as Michael performed unspeakable acts to some water reeds.

Michael released the vegetation and jumped up and down joyously. "You got it, Pam, you got it!"

She blanched. "The book was the Kama Sutra?"

"I knew he didn't really read," Jim informed the camera lightly.

"Of course I've read the Kama Sutra," Dwight said indignantly upon questioning from the camera man. "It's one of Dan Brown's better stories, if you ask me."

A degree of disgust still evident in her voice and expression, Pam said, "Never again in my life will I look at a water reed without thinking of Michael doing…nasty things. Meaning: all my future beach experiences will be tainted from here on out. Ugh…."

"Ah, yes, the Kama Sutra," said Meredith dreamily. "One of my all time favorite bedtime stories…."

"Now I know why he pointed at me…" Kelly sighed.

Still chuckling at his own imitations of…well…stuff, Michael sat cross-legged on the sand between Dwight and Andy. "Pam's turn!"

"I don't want to," said Pam bluntly.

"Well, you guessed, so get on up there, Pam-a-lam-a-ding-dong!"

Pam frowned at the use of the annoying nick-name, but grudgingly took the place Michael had recently vacated at the head of the group. She thought for a moment. Abruptly, her face lit up. A bit more enthusiastic than before, she pointed at herself.

"A person," Toby said. "How many words?"

Pam held up two fingers. She then made a closed fist before flashing the same two fingers at the Dunder-Mifflinites once more.

"Two words, and you're going to act out the second word?" Toby clarified.

Pam nodded. Taking a deep breath, she mimed folding clothes and stuffing them into a suitcase.

"Taking off clothes? Stripper!" Michael said promptly. "Ben Franklin?"

Pam looked at him darkly before creasing another pretend shirt.

"Traveling?" Andy asked. "A flight attendant? Erm…I don't know the names of any flight attendants…."

Zipping up her imaginary suitcase, Pam rolled her eyes. She took her suitcase to her invisible car and stuffed it in the trunk.

"Are you packing for a vacation?" said Kevin.

Pam stopped using her shoulder to shove her bag into the car and jabbed her finger at Kevin excitedly.

"Vacation!?" he said, excited about eliciting a clue.

Pam shook her head again, but continued to point at Kevin.

"Packing?" said Dwight.

Beaming, Pam shook her outstretched hand in the "sort of" gesture that Michael had used before. Then, looking expectantly at Jim, jerked two thumbs at her chest.

"BOOBS!" Michael screamed. "Pamela Anderson! Janet Jackson! Jessica Simpson!"

Ignoring him, Pam continued to look at Jim and jab her thumbs at herself.

"Packing…" Jim muttered under his breath. "Packing…OH! OH MY GOD! YOU'RE TODD PACKER!"

"Yep!" Pam chirped.

Jim chuckled. "What has two thumbs and likes to bone your mom?"

A bunch of the employees pointed at themselves with both thumbs. "This guy!" they chorused.

"Of course I knew that she was being Todd Packer. He's only my BFF, best friend forever. I could have told she was imitating him if I had my eyes closed," Michael lied. "I just…didn't want to say it right away. I figured I should…you know…give the others a chance. That's the diplomatic thing to do, when you have an unfair edge. And I'm a regional manager. Which means I'm a professional, and that's, like, the same as a diplomat. So….wait…what was the question again?"

"Andy is totally not the master of charades. I'm the one who guessed 'packing.'" Dwight smirked. "All Andy got was 'flight attendant.' What an idiot!"

"Thanks! I thought it was a good idea, too!" Pam chirped. "I knew Jim would get it. He always mocks Todd Packer, so I figured it'd be easy for him. And I really want him to get up there because he'll probably imitate someone in the office, and he's so good at that. Plus, it's an excuse to look at him…" Pam trailed off, gazing dreamily into space for a second before realizing she was making a bit of a fool of herself. Sje blushed and cleared her throat. "Not that I need one. An excuse, I mean. To look at him. Because we've been dating for two months. So anytime I want…I can…I mean…oh dear."

"Jim's turn!" Michael crowed.

"Hurry up, Big Tuna, because I want a turn before the next game!" Andy pleaded.

Jim carefully uncoiled his length and stood up slowly. He stretched his arms over his head and sighed. Then he twisted from side to side, cracking his back a bit. Arms, quads, and pinky fingers were also painstakingly stretched.

"Gee, Tuna, take your time," he drawled sarcastically

"Okay," Jim said.

Andy scowled as Jim meticulously stretched his ear lobes before meandering to the front. Clearing his throat, Jim pointed at himself.

"Person," said Phyllis.

"How many words?" Kelly asked.

Jim ignored the question. Instead, he lay down on the sand, eyes closed. A few seconds later, his eyes popped open and he sat up. He looked around, leaped to his feet, and tottered a bit, before pin-wheeling his arms and toppling sideways onto his butt.

His engaged audience laughed, immediately aware of who Jim was silently impersonating. "Dwight! You're Dwight!" Andy called.

"Yes!" Jim said, pointing at Andy. He high-fived the annoying man. "Andy, you definitely own this game!"

Naturally, being depicted in a negative way during a game of charades pissed Dwight off. Jim complimenting Andy, however, iced the cake.

Dwight proceeded to overreact.

"Michael!" Dwight cried, standing and pointing contemptuously at Jim. "Make him stop!"

"Stop…what, Dwight?" Jim said. "My turn is over."

Dwight continued to address Michael. "MAKE HIM STOP TORMENTING ME!"
"It's just charades, Dwight," said Phyllis.

"Yeah, Dwight," Michael agreed. "You're supposed to make fun of people during charades. That's what makes it interesting."

"What's interesting," Dwight seethed, "is that Jim NEVER gets blamed for making a mockery of me. Like with my bed this morning! He makes up some ridiculous story and everyone buys it because Jim's so funny and charming and – and – Jim-y! Well, you know what? I don't think Jim is any of those things! I HATE HIM!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Michael cried, as Dwight, fuming, took a step towards Jim. "Hate is a strong word, Dwight."

"You really hate me?" Jim whimpered.

Dwight stared around at all of his colleagues, gaze lingering on Jim's trembling lips and watering hazel eyes.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"Well, Dwight, I love you," Jim declared brazenly. "And any and everything I do to you is an act of love! So, frankly, I'm offended that you are slighting my affections."

"What are you talking about?" Dwight demanded.

"Don't you see?" Jim implored. "Dwight, you're the love of my life! I just…I don't know how to express my feelings in any other way than by teasing you. When I poke fun, it's not out of hate. It's out of love, Dwight. Love! Sweet, pure, innocent love!"

"Aw, see, Dwight?" Michael crooned. "Jim is just trying to be nice! He doesn't hate you at all! He's like a five year old who pulls his crush's hair because he is emotionally stunted!"

Jim dropped to his knees in front of Dwight, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. "Hopelessly devoted to youuu!" he sang in a warbling falsetto.

"Fact!" Dwight bellowed. "Grease is the worst musical EVER! And you're LYING! You do NOT love me! AND NOW I HATE YOU MORE!"

Jim let go of Dwight's shirt and backed up a few paces. He clasped his hands in front of him and twiddled his fingers. He addressed Dwight sadly, without averting his eyes from his fluttering hands.

"So does this mean that I have no chance with you?"

"Correct," Dwight spat.

"Well…at least I can love you from afar," Jim whispered, winking discreetly at the camera.

"This is exactly what I'm talking about," Dwight said darkly. "Jim makes up some B.S. story to cover his butt and everyone buys it. Well, I'm not buying it! I'm 68 percent sure that Jim is not in love with me! And I'm 17 percent sure that Jim put my bed in the water!" He frowned. "Come to think of it…I'm also about 51 percent sure that Jim put those rocks in my back pack yesterday…."

"Poor Jim," said Creed. "It sucks to be in love with a man who doesn't love you back...I would know."

"My bonding trip was a success!" Michael chirped. "Jim doesn't hate Dwight! He's in love with him!" Michael sighed. "Todd was right; Jim is such a queer. Which is fine with me, but still. And it fits, because this explains his love of Dwight's natural moldy aroma. And why he knows the lyrics to a song from a Broadway musical. But…none of this explains his devotion to Pam…." He shrugged.

"Okay, that was one of the best performances I have ever seen!" Karen gushed. "Jim should be an actor!"

Pam giggled at something the camera man said. "Oh yeah, I definitely feel threatened by Jim's undying love for Dwight. I'm going to have to pull a Karen and talk to Jim about his feelings for hours on end every night this week!" Suddenly, she frowned. "Was that mean? I wasn't trying to be mean!"

"When I grow up," said Toby wistfully, "I want to be like Jim."

"Of course I'm desperately in love with Dwight," Jim said. He smiled. "But I'm definitely going to have to keep that one going." He listened to the camera man, and then shook his head. "No, I don't hate him at all! He completes me. Without him to make fun of, I think I would die of boredom every single week day. At least I'd have Pam to revive me. And, to answer the second part of your question, I guess I do feel a bit guilty after I prank him sometimes…until I witness his priceless reactions. And everyone else's. Especially Pam's. As long as pranks make her smile, they're more than worth it."