Dwight burst out of Michael's office with his usual air of misplaced authority.
"Listen up people," he began.
Nobody moved.
"I have an announcement," Dwight tried again.
Jim looked up with over-enthusiasm. Pam smirked behind her hand.
Dwight inhaled, chest puffing out pigeon proud, and began, "today..."
"I'm officially declaring today POETS day," Michael interrupted.
This caught the office's attention.
"You've all been beavering away all week," he continued.
Pam glanced guiltily at the solitaire game open on her PC screen.
"... and so at lunch you may all shut down those computers and go outside into the fresh Pennsylvania air. Cease and desist people!"
Jim caught Pam's eye and raised an eyebrow in disbelief. She shrugged her shoulders back and smiled hopefully.
"Instead of worsening that RSI we shall participate in company camaraderie!"
Ah, there had to be a catch. Pam's face sank as thoughts of shopping for that elusive gray sweater dissolved as quickly as they'd arisen.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Michael continued with glee, "marks the first annual Dunder Mifflin... drum roll please..." Dwight obliged "... pppppppaintball tournament!"
Jim stared pointedly at Pam who rolled her eyes. Annual?
Dwight stepped up to the plate. “Yes people, the Schrute beet farm is proud to host the first in what is sure to be a series of wonderful team building exercises. A bus will leave at 1.30 sharp to transport everyone to the designated location.”
“So ferret away a little while longer for paintball time is almost here!” Michael finished with a flourish before returning to his office.
Jim treated the camera to his trademark wide-eyed grin.
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Two hours later Jim shuffled into the seat beside Pam as the coach pulled out of the parking lot. She was staring bleakly out of the window but her face warmed as he settled down next to her.
“So this should be fun, huh?” he asked.
“I suppose it's better than answering the phone,” she begrudgingly agreed, “but it looks as though it's going to rain.”
“Pam I don't think you appreciate the spectacular opportunity we've been given.”
She raised her eyebrows inquiringly.
“We've just been given a free pass to throw paint at Dwight with no repercussions,” he clarified gleefully.
Pam hadn't thought of that. Instantaneously her lips broke into a bright smile.
“Awesome.”
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Before long the staff had arrived at their destination. They piled off the bus and into a large expanse of land surrounded on all sides by beet... lots of beet. Hay bales were scattered randomly about them. Jim perched atop one as Dwight began distributing white overalls.
“Put these on,” he instructed. “This shall be the paintballing arena and only this. Under no circumstance is anyone to step into the beet fields.” Dwight glared pointedly at Jim who shrugged nonchalantly.
“Alrighty people,” piped up Michael, “let's divide into teams.”
The company glanced around.
“Temp you're with me,” Michael said beckoning him forward.
Ryan sighed in resignation and stepped toward Michael.
“You shall be team red,” Dwight declared handing each of them a knapsack filled with red paintballs.
“Phyllis and Angela,” Michael continued as they walked up to Dwight who dubbed them “team green” and dished out their supplies.
Oscar and Kelly subsequently became “team yellow” and Dwight and Kevin donned the name “team orange” which only left...
“Jim and Pam,” finished Michael. Pam smiled shyly up at Jim who grinned mischievously. They quickly became “team blue” and threw their knapsacks over their shoulders.
“Let the games begin!” hollered Michael.
*************************************************************************************************************************************
Five minutes of explanation later and “team blue” were stationed behind one of the larger hay bales waiting for their prey to make itself known.
“I think he's over there,” whispered Pam pointing toward a hay bale in the distance from which Dwight's distinctive mop of hair was peeking over.
“I'm on it,” replied Jim, shuffling off in the direction Pam had indicated. He tiptoed close to the hay and, with a carefully calculated lob, pitched a paintball over the top. A delicate Schrute-sized squeal erupted from the other side of the makeshift wall as Jim sped back to his refuge laughing uncontrollably.
“Score Beasly!” he managed through his giggles as he high-fived her. She beamed back.
*************************************************************************************************************************************
Half an hour later their, once white, overalls were a myriad of hues. Pam's back was a wash of yellow from Kelly's surprise attack whilst her legs shone bright red from Ryan's pummeling after her ambush on Michael. Jim's body kaleidoscoped from green (Phyllis- sneaky that woman) to orange (Kevin- payback from last month's fantasy football massacre) to red (Michael's revenge). Sweat glistened on their brows and both had aching ribs from laughing so hard.
Jim was contemplating his next victim when, seemingly out of nowhere, Oscar emerged and landed him with a yellow paintball square in the chest. Pam fell about at the expression of shock painting his face.
“Oh you think that's funny, do you?” he challenged. “I thought we were supposed to be team mates- you're meant to cover my back.”
“It's only paint. Suck it up Halpert,” she teased devilishly.
“Is that so?” he smirked bringing up his arm around her back and breaking a paintball right over her head.
Her face was picture perfect: just the right mix of astonishment and disbelief brewing with inevitable revenge.
“What?” Jim asked innocently. “I thought you liked paint. Isn't that what all those art classes are about?”
Her eyes smoldered. “You are so dead,” she announced.
Jim broke into a run with Pam in hot pursuit. Blue paint flew in all directions as each tried to cover the other. Jim zigzagged away to the corner of the paintball field with his longer stride favouring him. He turned back to spy Pam several yards away but in doing so misjudged his step and soon found himself falling forward into a soft pile of hay. Seconds later Pam was crashing into him- paint raining down onto his hair, face and chest.
After a few moments the shower stopped.
“I'm all out,” she admitted.
“Too bad,” he replied, “because I'm not.”
And in one swift motion he rolled her over and cracked another paintball into her hair as they both collapsed into giggles. The laughter slowed and their eyes met, sobering them both. Jim reached up and tucked a wet tendril of hair behind Pam's left ear. Her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers fiddled with the lapels of his overalls. The knapsacks lay forgotten. Jim's thumb descended over Pam's cheek to her bottom lip. She instinctively kissed it. And, needing no further encouragement, Jim replaced his thumb with his lips. He moved delicately, tenderly: savouring the moment. His hands ran up into her hair burying deep. Her own fingers moved up and cradled his cheeks pulling him closer as she deepened the kiss.
Her eyes glowed as breathlessly they parted. He smiled sheepishly, smoothing down her hair.
“I take it back,” she breathed.
Jim's eyes clouded over in confusion.
“I like paint.”
“Me too,” he agreed happily before leaning down and kissing her once more. And as Pam lost herself in his embrace she contemplated office bonding events. Perhaps they weren't so bad after all.
