Chapter Text
It was a Friday and 5:45pm on the dot. You should’ve been home, snuggled in bed with a movie and a pizza in the oven half an hour ago.
Unfortunately, however, Michael had lamented to the office that corporate insisted on overtime for reasons he believed too grand to explain.
So, here you were with everyone else, stuck behind your computer. Your desk-mate, Dwight, didn’t seem to mind the conditions as he filed sales reports. He almost looked gleeful, you could snap his neck.
“Dwight, stop smiling. This is nothing to smile about.” You sighed irritatedly, straightening some papers on your desk. Jim, your little brother who sat adjacent to you both, looked up to watch the conversation.
“Hush, woman. It’s prime time that we collectively put in more effort after-hours. I’ve been emailing corporate for months, and finally they’ve listened.” Dwight said.
You rolled your eyes at him when Michael came by.
“Nobody likes to work late. Least of all me.” Your boss said. You looked into the camera with a dead-pan stare. He sidled up to Jim who was bored out of his mind. “You have any plans tonight?”
“No, I don’t. You told us not to make plans ‘cause we were working.” Jim supplied, not taking his eyes off his paperwork.
“(Y/N)? My precious (Y/N), you busy at all?” Michael asked, sucking his teeth.
“Uh, nope. Corporate sounded very strict, so, nope.” You shrugged, stating the obvious.
“Mmm, this is BS. This is BS.” Micheal groaned, “Why are we here? I am gonna call corporate.” He stormed to his office, “Enough is enough. I’m— god, I’m so mad!”
He picked up the phone, “This is Michael Scott, Scranton. Well, we don’t wanna work. No, we don’t! It’s not fair to these people. These people are my friends, and I care about them!” He yelled, making you turn in your chair to see the fuss. “We’re not gonna do it!”
He came back in slinging his World’s Best Boss mug, “Everybody, I just got off the horn with corporate.” As if you were deaf. “And, uh, basically told them where they could stick their little overtime assignment. Go enjoy your Friday.”
Dwight deflated as you leapt up, handbag swooped from the floor.
“Thank you, Michael.” Phyllis beamed.
“All right. Happy Friday.” A small applause broke out. “Well,” he approached your tall little brother again, “I think we dodged a bullet there.”
“I think you did.” Jim smiled,
“I think we should celebrate. How about you, Pam, (Y/N), mi casa, a little dinner, dancing, drinks?” You froze, the camera zooming in on your wide, frightened eyes.
“Oh, I—“
“No, I have—“ You and Jim spoke at the same time,
“You said you didn’t have plans.” You were both dumbstruck. “That’s what you said.”
*
“Michael has asked Pam and me to dinner at least nine times.” Jim explained to the camera as you sat beside him, arms folded with an angry look on your face. “And every time, we’ve been able to get out of it. But I’ve got to give him credit. He got me.” Jim leaned over to look at you.
“He got us good. The one time I didn’t think ahead with an excuse.” You looked so upset with yourself. “I don’t think there even was an assignment from corporate.”
*
“Michael, what time should I be arriving?” Dwight asked as everyone was leaving.
Michael turned with a sigh.
“Dwight, it’s couples only. And besides, I only have seven wine glasses, one broke in the box.” He supplied, “So it will be me and Jan, Pam, Jim and (Y/N).”
“But, (Y/N)’s not in a couple—“
“And Angela and Andy.” Michael interrupted, ignoring him.
“Hey-yo!” Andy finger-gunned the two men as Angela stood with a smug grin.
*
“Does it bother me that I wasn’t invited to Michael’s dinner party?” Dwight scoffed toward the camera, his unbotheredness suddenly morphing into broken, blubbering sobs.
*
You were wishing Jim and Pam luck as they got in their car, them wishing you the same. They drove off as you waved, Pam’s arm out the window to wave back.
In the parking lot, you sensed someone approaching you so jumbled for your keys. Dwight was right there behind you. You jumped as he stared at you with a look in his eyes. The eyes of a proposition, you’d seen it on his face enough during a sales call.
“God, Dwight! You scared me.” You took your car keys out of their knuckle-defence position. “What do you want?”
“I want you to accompany me to Michael’s dinner soiree.” He said, still looking down at you. His eyes were red, and a lump formed in your throat. Had he been crying?
“But you weren’t invited—“
“And yet you, couple-less, were. It is unfair, and to stick to the party’s guidelines you must be in a couple.”
You furrowed your brows as he smirked, “Plus, Angela will be there.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s made me even more excited to go. Bye, Dwight.” You opened your car door only to have it forcefully shut on you. “Hey—“
“Halpert, please.” Him saying that word made you lose your breath. He never said that in all your years of knowing him. So, you turned again as his hand remained upon the handle, almost caging you in, chest to chest. Yet you didn’t push him away.
“Alright, state your case. And tell me my benefits.” His face lit up as you were actually listening to him.
“I like it when you don’t argue, Halpert—“
“Shut up or I’m driving over your foot.”
“Alright.” He huffed, “Angela will be there accompanied by Andy. When she sees me with you, a fairly attractive woman whom I am almost always in close proximity with, her female hormones will pent up with longing. It will be like two lionesses circling one another.” He said, “Well, a house-cat and a lioness.”
“You want to make her jealous?” You scoffed, “I am not as petty as you and honestly don’t care enough—“
“(Y/N), please.” You refused to look at him, until his hand slipped from the door and grasped yours. It was large and encompassing. You stared at the ground and his stupid, polished shoes.
“You never told me what I’d get out of this, Dwight. I’m already going to Michael and Jan’s house, isn’t that suffering enough?”
“You get my company—“
“And Angela burning holes into me? Like she doesn’t do that enough—“
“And I will protect you.” You looked up, “From Jan and Angela. I know those two women despise you.”
Behind his glasses, you saw how his blue eyes were still rimmed red. He was obviously upset that he hadn’t been invited to his boss’s dinner and he was hurting inside. And you knew he was only using you to get back at his ex-flame.
But still, your painfully hard to ignore fondness for Dwight presided over rationality. You didn’t like to see him so sad about being rejected.
“Okay.” You mumbled.
“Beg your pardon?” He leaned forward, breath brushing your face, finally too close for you to handle. You could feel your face burning up.
“I said, Okay.” You lightly pushed him off of you. “Let go of my hand.” He did so immediately, standing to attention.
“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at,” he glanced at his watch, “18:40.”
“Fine.” You sighed, rubbing the side of your head. Why was he still stood so close? “Well, see you later then. What, you wanna kiss good-bye? Go!” You shooed him away irritatedly, hitting him with your handbag.
“Okay! Ouch!” Dwight scampered away.
As you watched him drive off, you noticed the big grin on his face, probably thinking about how angry Angela would be.
Really, it was because you said yes and had looked so cute under the streetlights, pressed up against your car. But you didn’t need to know that.