Title: Father, Brother, Lover (Dance Instructor)
Characters: Jim/Pam, Michael/Holly
Rating: PG, at the very most.
Spoilers: up to Business Ethics
Summary: Michael navigates his way though the day and tries not to fall in love or set himself on fire.
Author's Notes: Written for Tesserae. My assignment was the episode Business Ethics. I have to give truck loads of thanks to Morning Angel and Blanca for their unbelieveably helpful last minute and amazingly quick betas. The kind that saved my hide. Any remaining tinkering faults are completely my own. I also want to acknowledge xoxoxo and Callisto for their infinte patience regarding my panic about... well. They know. And finally, the SPC for being so gracious as to invite me, even though I haven't written any Office fic in a billion years.


Michael's day does not start off that great. The shock from the toaster, well, he's used to that. Could happen to anyone. The sour milk in his coffee was gross, but it was his dead hot water heater that really screwed everything up. By the time he has put out the small fire in his toaster (the fireman showed him how he should unplug it first to avoid a second jolt) and made a fresh cup of (black) coffee, there's no time left to boil some hot water, so he takes his chances with an icy shower.

He figures it will only be cold for a minute. In, out. You can do it, he coaches himself with a chuckle. That's what she said. Except the cold water is a lot colder than he thought it would be and he almost pulls the shower curtain off its rod trying to scramble out of the tub after the first blast. He will just have to use plenty of Night Swept.

His stomach still feels a bit weird after the curdled milk, so he skips the McDonald's and heads straight into the office. On the elevator ride up he rehearses the morning in his head to make it sure he hasn't forgotten anything. Although he is a master improvisationer, he likes to practice what he is going to say in front of the camera several times so his interviews go as smoothly as possible. It makes him look more intelligent.

The anecdote about feeling like he was showering in a thousand tiny razor blades is nearly perfect when he walks into the office to find everyone standing around. "What's going on?"

Pam is on the speaker phone. "No! Nothing! Nothing, Michael. Just saying hi."

He lifts his hand in a wave, even though he has that sensation he gets sometimes when he arrives at a party and it seems like everyone has only just stopped talking.

Creed is the one to finally share the good news. "The tall guy got engaged."

"To be married?" Michael drops his briefcase on the floor and throws his arms around Jim. Maybe a little too hard, because Jim tips right over. It's not Michael's fault that Jim can't take a tackle, but it does explain why Dwight had to use pepper spray to defend Pam. Michael sobs into Jim's elbow: "I am so happy right now! This is the best day ever."

Jim groans melodramatically. "Great. Please let me up."

Michael stands and offers his hand to Jim, who uses the edge of Andy's desk instead because it's much closer. "I can be your best man!"

"Actually, my brother is going to do that." Jim dusts off the knee of his pants and winces a little. The big baby.

"I will throw a better bachelor party. And a boss who is a close and personal friend is the same thing as a brother."

Pam speaks up from Jim's desk. "I don't know, Jim. I think Michael should be in charge of your engagement party instead. Hey, you know what, Michael? Jim and I agreed the man should be in charge of making decisions about all the parties. So if you can just persuade him... I mean, pull out all the stops. Don't take no for an answer. I bet you really know how to throw a rockin' engagement party."

Michael spins to face Jim. "Really? I just have to be persistent? It's going to be so off the hizzouse, you won't even know what happened to you."

Jim leans past him and breathes into the speaker. "Beesly, you are so dead." Pam's laugh is cut off as Jim picks up the handset and slams it back down again.

Michael claps his hands together. "I think I have a lot of work to do. Jim Beam, you are going to have the best engagement party in the history of the universe." Seriously, he has so much to plan. His first duty is going to be to find Elizabeth. He will hire her as a sort of Dear Abby/Stripper type. Naked, but maybe with some kind of peep show type confessional booth. "What do you think about a Truth or Dare theme? Madonna Style."

Jim glances at the camera, then pushes his way into the break room. Michael shrugs. "I guess he wants to be surprised."


*

The cameras jostle in through the door of Michael's office and he looks up, pleased to see them. As usual, the producers are extremely interested in the slightest thing he does. He figures that he's going to be a huge celebrity one day. One of the cameramen told him the show would be airing next year and Michael checks the internet for news every few days. Nothing really comes up when he searches his name, except for the newspaper article from when he was a kid, about the accident at the circus. Which they won't take down even though it totally wasn't his fault. Anyway, he's tried lots of combinations: The Michael Scott Show, The Michael Gary Scott Show, Michael Scott's Office. They probably have some artsy title that he hasn't thought of yet. Just in case, he quickly Googles "The Talented Mr. Scott". Still nothing.

The lens points at a scrap of paper on Michael's desk. Always ready to take a cue, Michael explains. "That is a New York phone number. One that I am not supposed to have. But right and wrong do not stand in the way of conversing to someone that you really need to talk to about her upcoming wedding." He dials the number and at the urging of the producer hits the speaker phone button.

"Hello?"

"Pam! It's Michael. I wish to congratulate you on your upcoming matrimonial union. Even though you didn't tell me directly, I feel very included in this big event because I have been your boss during all your engagements. I hope this one is as long and happy as your first. I will just change the name on that Dundie."

There is a long pause. "Michael, how did you get this number?"

"I cannot reveal my source. A friend at the Bureau."

"Michael."

He snorts. "I have a strict don't ask, don't tell policy."

"Please don't use that phrase again."

He has no idea what she means by that. Probably some kind of female thing. "Actually, I stole Jim's phone when he was in the bathroom. I also know the number of his dentist and his mother. Oh, and uh, now for some reason it plays the salsa when he has an incoming call." He chuckles. "I haven't seen him that annoyed in a while. For such a funny guy, he has no sense of humour."

"Is he there?"

"The Groom To Be? No. He said I was absolutely not to call you, especially at this number, so I had to lock the door. And make a small barricade." Michael watches as the camera pans to the door, which is blocked by a heap of two guest chairs and his side table. Jim is rapping on the glass and miming hanging up the phone. Michael gets up and closes the blinds. Jim clearly has no respect for his privacy. "Why didn't you call me, Pam?"

Pam sighs heavily into the phone. "I call all the time. Remember last week when the dry cleaner lost all of your jeans and you texted me "911"? I phoned right away."

"Only because you thought Jim might be dead, which he was not. So...you really shouldn't have been that mad."

"Michael, I have to go to class."

"Wait. I have one more question!" He turns to his computer and opens his internet favourites, scrolling down past howtodotricks.com and all his favourite YouTube videos to the online Universal Church. Pam is gonna love this part, because he has been researching it in detail for one whole hour. "I know you said I can't give you away, but can I officially officiate your wedding? There's this online course..."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Please Pam. Hear me out. I really think of you as a sort of hot, older daughter. And Jim is practically my brother. My bro. In a way, it's like you'll be marrying your uncle. Keep it in the family." He gives the camera a thumbs up.

"No! No."

"What about if there is some kind of natural disaster? And all the priests are killed."

"We'll get a justice of the peace."

"God. Fine, all the judges of the peace are dead, too."

"What kind of natural disaster killed them?"

"A massive earthquake. And giant killer worms." Tremors was on TNT last night and he's pretty sure it could happen. I mean, no one really knows what lives down at the centre of the earth.

"We'll take a cruise ship away from the giant worms and have the captain marry us."

"All the captains are dead, too."

"Okay, Michael. If everyone else that could possibly perform the ceremony is dead, you can do it. I promise."

Yes! His logic in infalliable. "Thank you. And I promise you will not be sorry." Pam mumbles something that he doesn't quite catch. "Pardon?"

"Good-bye, Michael." The call goes dead.

"Okay, it was great talking with you. Don't be a stranger." Michael disconnects the speaker phone. "She must have been cut off. You know, that happens more than you'd think. Jan and Ryan had the same problem when they were at corporate. Ryan always told me the phone lines in New York are really spotty." He glances at his clock. It's almost 11:30. Time for lunch. Michael smiles for the camera and gets up. "I'd say that was a very productive morning."

*

Stanley is the first out the door following the ethics meeting wrap up. "It is 5:20 in the evening. I will be going home early tomorrow and there is not a damn thing you can do about it."

Michael claps him on the shoulder. "Stanley, always the kidder. You have a good night."

Stanley doesn't even look over his shoulder, just keeps heading for the door. "Hmm."

The rest of the staff hand in their signed pages certifying that Holly did read from the corporate binder and that it was awesome. The awesome part may not have been on the handout, but it is still true. Dwight is the last one out, his paper filled with notations. "Here you go. I included several suggestions for next time. For example, I have recommended quite a few traditional parables that would be suitable."

"No one wants hear those creepy stories, Dwight."

Holly accepts Dwight's submission with what Michael considers to be the grace of an angel. A beautiful and brilliant angel. Truly a gift from heaven. With an amazing body. "Thank you, Dwight."

Dwight sniffs. "I had nineteen minutes and forty eight seconds to make up anyway. I'm not a thief."

Michael scratches his thumb across his eyebrow and sighs. "Puffhhh, I don't even know what that means."

Holly touches his arm and displays the stack of papers. "Thank you for this, Michael."

"Oh, don't worry about it. Fuggedaboudit."

"No really, I couldn't have done it without you. The dance moves were great. And the headbands! Genius. I think they really liked it. I even saw Jim smile for a minute."

Michael shuffles his feet across the the carpet, unable to meet her eyes. "Jim is...easily entertained. One time I sat in my office for eight hours straight just watching him move Dwight's desk closer to the copier. Inch by inch. It seriously took all day. If you'd really wanted to impress them, you would have done Thriller like I suggested at the rehearsal."

"Do you really know the choreography for the whole video?" She sounds more impressed than most people he tells.

"Cuuuh. Yeah, of course." Michael draws his fingers up into claws and lifts one leg in a way that causes some kind of weird spasm in his tailbone. "Left, right, left...If you want, I can show you sometime. It's easy."

"I'd like that." Holly mimics the move and it's pretty good. Not as good as he can do, but she'll get there. "Did you take some kind of class to learn the whole thing?"

"There's this guy that teaches at the community centre who used to dance in New York. So, you know he's the real thing. He gives dance workshops on popular songs. Thriller, The Macarena, that Soldier Boy song, just about anything by Shakira or Beyonce. I think he might have been..." Michael lifts one hand in the air and lets it droop at the wrist. "Do you think I should give Oscar his number?"

Holly hugs the papers to her chest and changes the subject. "I also wanted to say that I'm sorry about what I said at lunch."

"The thing about the lobsters?"

"No, the thing about this not being a family. I can see you really care for your employees..."

"Family members."

"Family members..." She nod, as if finally understanding what he had been trying to explain at lunch. "I didn't mean to suggest that you shouldn't care. I think it's sweet. I wish that I could be in a family like yours."

It's times like that that his brain suggests rash actions. Jim's voice is calm and wise like a brother's: You don't love Holly.

The only thing is, he thinks that maybe he does.

*

"Hello?" Jim finally answers his phone after it goes to voice mail four times. "Who is this?"

"Jim Halpert, this is your Party Maaaa-stah!."

"What time is it?"

Michael rolls over in bed to check his clock radio. "Four A.M. How do you feel about mud wrestling?"

There is no reply, only the sullen sound of a dial tone.

He really needs to write a letter to the phone company.