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Hung Up - Or, The Mysterious Absence of The Dundies in Season Three (Michael/Jan)

So, um, I have an essay due tomorrow that I haven't even brainstormed yet. But a random line from this popped into my head, and littledivinity fully encouraged me to write. If I flunk out of college, I'm so blamin' her.

Anyway, this is my ode to Michael and Jan's glorious, glorious telephone conversations. Therefore, I'm lazy, and it's dialogue only. Just imagine Michael sitting at his desk and those fandamntastic zoom-ins to the telephone when Jan speaks. Oh, those never fail to crack me up. Also, when you let Michael start to talk, it is damn near impossible to get him to stop. I have now learned this the hard way.


Title: Hung Up (Or - The Mysterious Absence of The Dundies in Season Three)
Pairing: Michael/Jan
Spoilers: General season 3
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,337
Summary: Michael tries to cope with a traumatic loss. Jan gets to deal with it.


“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”

“. . . Really?”

“Yeah, really! Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Well, it’s just that – Michael, surely you saw this coming.”

“Saw this comi – you know what I saw, Jan? You know what I saw? I saw – an uplifting event for this company. A time honored event. It’s a tradition, Jan. A morale boosting tradition that embodies all that is right, and good, and – dare I say it? – mighty about our fine company. And you’re just . . . God, you’re just crushing these peoples’ dreams. How do you live with that? How do you sleep at night? How—”

“Michael?”

“What?”

“Stop talking.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now, about Monday—”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“You know what? No. I won’t stop talking. If I stop talking and just let you walk all over me with those spiky heels of corporate oppression, I’ll be letting my people down, Jan. And as much as I like the spiky heels, we both know I can’t do that. I’m not that guy.”

“I’m sorry – what guy?”

“You know. The guy who bails on his posse just so he can score with the ladies.”

“Michael—”

“Bros before hos.”

Michael--”

“If you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends, Jan. That’s just how it is. That’s just . . . how it is.”

“. . . Michael.”

“P. Diddy . . . said that, I think.”

“No.”

“Maybe it was Kanye. But anyway – smart guys, Jan. They know what they’re talking about. They’ve seen it firsthand on the streets. And I just don’t think that either of us are in a position to argue with that.”

“. . . It’s the Spice Girls, Michael.”

“What?”

“The Spice Girls . . . said that.”

“What? No way.”

“I’m pretty sure.”

“Nooo—“

“I’m positive, Michael.”

“Well, how would you know? Do you like the Spice Girls, Jan?”

“Everyone knows that, Michael. I’m surprised that you . . .”

“Although I guess I can see it – oh, yeah, I’m definitely seeing it now. You could be like . . . Hot Boss Lady Spice.”

“. . .”

“I know what you’re thinking – pretty clever, huh? That was pretty good.”

“I’m thinking that this conversation is finished, Michael.”

“What? No way.”

“I really have to get back to work—”

“But wait. Wait. We haven’t resolved the issue.”

“The issue is resolved, Michael.”

“What? So that’s it, then? It’s that simple?”

“I don’t see any point in complicating it any further.”

“So . . . no Dundies.”

“No Dundies.”

“. . . well, I’m sorry, Jan, but I just can’t accept that. As a leader and a gentleman, I cannot accept that.”

“Well, you’re going to have to, Michael, because it’s simply out of the question this year. Even last year was—”

“You know, fine. Go ahead. Forbid the Dundies. But you know, you’re going to get a reputation around here.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

“They’re going to start thinking up mean nicknames for you, Jan. I’m not even kidding. How the Grinch Stole the Dundies. The Wicked Witch of the . . . Not Dundies.”

“Is that supposed to be discouraging?”

“What?”

“Well, it’s just – the idea of Dwight referring to me as the Grinch really isn’t enough to change my position on this.”

“What about Kevin?”

“What?”

“What if Kevin called you that? Or maybe the Wicked Witch thing? Because Kevin loves the Dundies. And Meredith. It’s a special time for them. God, Jan, I can’t believe you’re being so insensitive—”

“I think you might be overestimating how much they—”

“And Ryan. Jesus, Jan! It’s his first year as a permanent employee, and you’re just going to deprive him of this?”

“From what I’ve heard about last year, he wasn’t entirely comfortable with—”

“Last year? Where did you hear about last year?”

“Toby mentioned it. And Michael, it’s one thing to joke around, but Ryan doesn’t sound remotely comfortable with the way you—”

“. . . Toby?"

“. . . why? What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter is when do you talk to Toby, Jan?”

“I think it was at my birthday party last year. Why are you—”

“You had a birthday party?”

“As I recall, so did you.”

“Well, uh, thanks for the invite.”

“. . . Michael, really.”

“You know, I’m good at birthday parties. Cake. Presents. Spankings. Whatever. But I guess if you don’t care—”

“Honestly, Michael? I didn’t feel entirely comfortable with the idea of you being there.”

“Then, Jesus, why did you invite Toby?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“So you’re comfortable around him and not me?”

“He’s a friend.”

“A friend? Oh, Jan. Oh, Jan.”

“What?”

“You’re . . . you’re just so naïve. That’s all.”

“. . . What do you mean by that?”

“It’s just – well, I don’t really want to tell you this, but—”

“What, Michael?”

“—Fine, fine, I’ll say it. Toby just wants to get into your pants. That’s just the kind of guy he is.”

“Michael.”

“He’s divorced, you know.”

“I’m divorced.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“You’re not evil.”

“Toby is not evil.”

“Hah! Naïve.”

“I swear, Michael, I’ll never understand this ridiculous vendetta—”

“Just don’t let him get you drunk, okay? Never consume any alcohol when he’s around. Maybe it’d be best to just stay away from drinking stuff altogether.”

“I’m hanging up now, Michael.”

“Wait!”

“. . .”

“Are you still there?”

“Against my better judgment, yes.”

“Well, can we just talk about this for a second?”

“We have been talking about this, Michael. And this conversation just keeps going in circles and I really don’t think there’s any point in—”

“You know, I was going to invite you this year.”

“What?”

“To the Dundies. I was – I was really hoping you’d be able to make it.”

“. . . Driving for two and a half hours to spend the evening at Chili’s really wouldn’t be practical.”

“I figured you’d say something like that.”

“Then why were you going to invite me?”

“Because I like you, duh.”

“Michael.”

“Professionally, I mean.”

“. . . well, what about Carol?”

“Professionally?”

“No. I just mean – well, certainly she’d be going with you.”

“Oh. Yeah. Um . . . probably, I guess. I didn’t really think of it.”

“You didn’t think of it?”

“Not really, no.”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“Well – yeah – yeah, she totally is. But—“

“. . . but what?”

“I guess I just don’t know how I’d feel about going to Chili’s with her. It seems . . . wrong, you know? That’s our place.”

“. . . We don’t have a place, Michael.”

“It’s where we—”

“Michael, I just don’t think that the Dundies are necessary this year. I think that everyone at your branch will be able to survive just fine without them. And sometimes, no matter how pleasant they might have been at one time, certain things just need to . . . not happen anymore.”

“Like – the Dundies.”

“Yes. Thank you. Like the Dundies.”

“Well – well, fine. I guess maybe we could skip a year.”

“That sounds sufficient for now.”

“But I’m not promising anybody’s going to be happy about it.”

“That’s just fine.”

“They might start calling you the Grinch.”

“I’m willing to risk it.”

“Okay, then. If you’re really sure.”

“I’m sure. And we’re done here, and I guess I will just . . . talk to you on Monday.”

“Right. Monday.”

“Goodbye, Michael.”

“TTFN, Jan.”

“. . . you’re not hanging up.”

“Neither are you.”

“Because you’re not.”

“Are you sure that’s why?”

“Yes.”

“The only reason why?”

“Yes, Michael.”

“Oookay.”

“Michael?”

“What?”

“Why aren’t you hanging up?”

“I dunno.”

“Michael, come on.”

“I don’t know! I just . . . I guess I’m just kind of . . . having trouble of letting go, you know?”

“. . . I understand, Michael.”

“Ryan’s still so goddamn hot.”

Click.

Tags: fanfiction, fic: the office, office: jan levinson, office: michael scott, office: michael/jan, the office
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