To: pam.beesly@dunder.mifflin.net
From: jim.halpert@dunder.mifflin.net
Date: 17 October 2005 8:13 a.m.
Re: Today’s agenda
So I’m bored already but not feeling very inspired.
Care to lure Dwight away from his desk so I can plant some jelly beans in various areas on and surrounding his work space?
_____________________________________________________________________
She’d sent him an IM in response: Seriously? That’s the best you can do? And BTW, Halpert, get with it – emailing is so last year. Just ask Kelly.
He’d snorted a little before sending his response: “BTW”? Okay, you’ve got no room to be making fun of me. And yes, it’s the best I can come up with. You got something better? She’d responded: Whatever. Mission accepted.
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“Hey, Dwight…?” She paused, standing next to his desk, fighting the urge to smile. In her peripheral vision, she could see that Jim was leaning close to his monitor, presumably focused on the spreadsheet before him.
“Yes?” Dwight glared up at her suspiciously.
She shifted on her feet, feigning hesitation. “Um, there’s something weird going on with my computer, and I was just wondering if you’d check it out for me.”
He searched her face for a second, turning to cast a sideways glance at Jim – who pretended to be oblivious, squinting as he grabbed a pen, ostensibly to take notes on the spreadsheet.
Satisfied, Dwight stood, following Pam back to her desk, where he sat down in her chair and reached for her mouse, eyes on her monitor.
“It’s that paper clip thing in the corner of the screen.” She pointed at it helpfully. “I can’t get it to go away, and it keeps tapping at me.”
She sighed, then added, “It’s just really distracting.”
Jim had to fight not to chuckle out loud at how earnest she sounded – and at how fully Dwight appeared to be falling for it. Keeping his eyes on Dwight, he leaned down to reach into the stash of jellybeans in his top drawer. Pam glanced over at him from behind Dwight’s head and gave him a sly wink.
She’s so amazing…
Somewhere in there was a pang he’d long since learned to ignore.
She’d fully expected Dwight to mock her for being daft, but to her astonishment, he seemed not to know immediately what to do. But he’d figured it out within a few minutes, and after two clicks of the mouse, the paper clip helper disappeared.
Pam gave an exaggerated gasp. “How did you do that?”
She almost felt guilty when he smiled warmly at her – a smile that disappeared quickly when he saw Angela’s head appear over the partition, her eyebrow cocked.
“It’s complicated, Pam.” He turned away then, going back to his desk.
Within seconds, she got an IM from Jim: Okay, nice effort, Beesly, but you’ve got to give me more to work with here. Your computer faces his desk – hello? And I had all of two seconds – so now there’s a jellybean in his pencil cup. We showed him!
She rolled her eyes, sending an immediate response: Oh shut up.
He chuckled, smiling over at her as he IM’d back: It sucks when I’m right, doesn’t it?
Michael stuck his head out of his office then, summoning Dwight, who followed him dutifully inside, closing the door behind them. Jim and Pam looked at one another, grinning widely, all the things left unsaid buried nicely beneath a veneer of easy camaraderie.
She watched gleefully as Jim strategically placed the jellybeans – in Dwight’s coffee, inside the clear plastic container housing his paperclips, one taped just beneath the teeth of his stapler. She was watching him glue them onto Dwight’s phone cord – in between each curl, naturally - when she suddenly heard the clanging of metal against the glass doors to their suite; it sounded almost like the clatter of silverware falling to the floor. A few seconds later, a man stumbled through the door, pitching forward slightly before straightening, then tossing an indignant glance back toward the glass, as if it were somehow responsible for his less than graceful entrance.
Jim stopped what he was doing, watching in astonishment as the man staggered into the office. He stared for a second, his mouth quite literally hanging open, then he’d flicked his eyes toward the camera, nodding his head toward the stranger as if to ask, Are you getting that guy? Rick was, of course, on it – or more succinctly, on him - zooming in.
Pam’s eyes widened as the man swaggered toward her, pausing to lean heavily against her desk before giving her a smile that was unbelievably charming, in spite of (or maybe because of…?) the gold teeth.
“ ‘Allo love.”
All she could do was stare at him for a second, blinking as she took him in – dark hair falling down his shoulders, heavy eyeliner rimming his eyes, his clothes full-on pirate regalia: tight pants, black boots reaching just below his knees, billowy white shirt with loose sleeves, cut low enough to reveal the slight definition of his pectoral muscles, just a hint of dark hair leaving her oddly disconcerted. He even had a sword attached mysteriously to his belt, and as she looked closer at it, she could’ve sworn it was real.
When she raised her eyes back to his, he waggled his eyebrows at her almost suggestively.
She didn’t smile. “You’re a joke, right?”
As soon as she asked the question, she felt stupid, her eyes resting again on his eyeliner, the rings on his fingers, the sword…! Of course he was a joke.
But he only looked slightly confused, lurching forward a bit. “Beg pardon?”
Before she could respond, he grimaced, then re-adjusted his sword, which had pressed against his thigh awkwardly. She took a step back.
Her eyes met Jim’s over the guy’s head, and she almost let out a bark of laughter at the expression on Jim’s face: His eyebrows were closer to his hairline than his eyes, his elbow on his desk, one finger pressing into his cheek.
“This is a joke.” She repeated, looking again at the man in front of her. “You’re a joke, obviously.”
He gave her a naughty grin, lowering his voice as he leaned again toward her: “Oh believe me, love – I’m no joke.”
She felt a blush stain her cheeks, catching the faint hint of rum on his breath and finding it indescribably sexy.
Jim leaned back in his chair then, head tilted as he watched the interaction with amusement. The jellybeans could wait; this was damned good entertainment.
A realization washed over Pam then. “Oh wait – are you friends with Dwight?”
“Who?”
“Dwight.” She repeated.
He made a face, then shook his head. “Sorry, love, but no. …Should I be?”
From the slur in his voice, Pam thought for a second that he’d be better off friends with Meredith; the notion made her smile to herself, and when she looked back up at him, he was watching her intently as if enjoying that smile very much.
She blushed again.
Just then Ryan came out of the break room with a cup of coffee, his steps slowing a little when he spotted the pirate guy – eyes big as he took in the hair, the tight black pants, the boots, the sword - then he simply shook his head and sat down at his desk. Phyllis and Meredith were staring almost slack-jawed; Oscar, too, was watching, while Kevin snickered, one hand covering his mouth. Stanley simply snorted derisively, turning back to his crossword puzzle as Angela stood up, crossing her arms defiantly. Creed was nowhere to be seen.
The man seemed to notice both the sudden silence, as well as the fact that most of the people in the room were staring at him. He shifted uncomfortably, giving a forced smile and a half-salute, half-wave.
Before he could say anything, Michael’s office door opened.
“Just – shut it.” Michael shook his head in frustration, waving a hand at Dwight, who was right behind him. Then his eyes rested on the pirate; he stopped walking so abruptly that Dwight bumped into him.
Jim turned in his chair, grinning at the camera as he crossed his arms. This scene just got even better.
Michael’s eyes were enormous as he spotted the man. “Who – can I help you?”
Dwight shoved past Michael, announcing, “Michael, I’ll handle this.”
He strode purposefully up to the pirate. Jim’s chair squeaked slightly as he twisted to follow the action.
Dwight paused just a few steps in front of the man, eyeing him from head to foot. The man, in turn, gave him a smile so obviously forced that Pam snorted out loud. The man heard her and turned, giving her a sly wink.
She blushed. Again.
“Identify yourself.” Dwight spat.
The man didn’t seem taken aback at all by the awkward, antiquated greeting; he simply took off his hat, offering Dwight a sweeping bow as he answered, “Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“Oh great.” Michael muttered. “Another Captain Jack.”
Looking down at Jim, he added in a low voice, “Let’s just hope this guy’s not a fart face.”
Jim cast a quick look toward the camera, then answered with a sincere sigh, “We can only hope, Michael.”
“I know.” Michael didn’t catch the sarcasm. “That guy was such a tool.”
Jim gave another look toward the camera, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows.
“Why are you here?” Dwight demanded, again surveying Captain Jack.
“Why are you here?” Captain Jack retorted, stepping back – well, Pam thought as she watched, more like stumbling back, squinting then widening his eyes at Dwight, who drew away slightly. Pam laughed, covering her mouth with one hand.
“I’m here because I’m the Assistant Regional Manager.” Dwight glared at him, then raised his chin slightly. “And I’m a volunteer sheriff’s deputy, I’ll have you know.”
“Really?” Captain Jack took another step back, sword clanking against his belt buckle, eyebrows raised mockingly as he nodded, lips pulled down as if he were impressed – which he clearly was not.
“Yes.” Dwight didn’t crack a smile. “And I could haul you in right now, mister – “
“Captain.” He corrected with a polite smile.
Dwight snarled in frustration, then continued. “…for public intoxication. You reek of rum.”
Captain Jack grinned proudly, paused, then: “You flatter me.”
Dwight didn’t budge, only glared harder. “I’m very serious. Do you want me to execute a citizen’s arrest?”
Captain Jack leaned toward Dwight, giving a slight gesture with his head, indicating that Dwight should lean down slightly.
When he did, Captain Jack whispered loudly, “I’m secretly terrified, mate.”
He seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself, watching with a self-satisfied grin as Dwight’s face went red.
Jim decided at that moment that this guy was actually cooler than Darryl.
Dwight was furious. “This – this will not stand. Michael, make him leave!”
Michael shook his head, shoving Dwight out of the way as he stepped forward, extending his hand to Captain Jack. “Hello. I’m Michael Scott.”
“Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“Well, I’m… captain of this office.” Michael told him.
“I see.” Captain Jack nodded approvingly.
“Where’d you get that hat?” Michael asked, reaching out to touch it, much like a child would.
“This ol’ thing?” Captain Jack took it off, revealing a brilliant purple scarf that was tied around his head, holding his hair away from his face.
Pam wondered why in the hell she found this guy so freaking attractive – and how she could figure out a way to stave off the blushing. He seemed to have an exaggerated sexuality that just oozed from him.
Maybe it’s the swagger…
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Michael had disappeared into his office with Captain Jack, closing the door behind them. Dwight paced back and forth just outside the door.
“Dwight…why don’t you sit down?” Jim asked, leaning against Pam’s desk.
“Why don’t you mind your own business, Jim?” Dwight glared at him.
“Wow.”
“Telling me to sit down - you have no idea what you’re talking about.” Dwight paused, pressing his face close to the window of Michael’s office as he strained to see between the slats of the blinds. “That man could be dangerous.”
“You think so?” Jim grinned at Pam.
When Dwight spun to give him another withering stare, Pam spoke up. “You know, Jim, they say that charisma is a deadly weapon.”
“So I’ve heard.” Jim gave her a pointed look.
So she finds him charismatic, eh? Maybe that’s what I need to do to get her to drop the whole ‘just friends’ thing – get some tight pants, a sword, and some eyeliner.
“Are you jealous?” The words came out before she could even stop them.
Damn it, what is wrong with me today? It’s got to be hormonal. Seriously.
He visibly started, and their eyes met for a long moment. The flush that stained her cheeks and collarbone was altogether different from the blushes Captain Jack had elicited from her.
Those warmed her; this burned.
“Should I be?” He finally asked, bracing himself for the inevitable denial he’d get from her – or worse yet, awkward indignation.
But she held his gaze steadily, catching the subtext in what he’d said.
Because she was feeling brave – for god’s sake, there was a pirate loose in their office – she answered smoothly, “Maybe.”
…Only if the charming Captain Jack is brave enough to say something, do something. Why haven’t you?
Jim drew back in surprise, his eyes drifting to her lips before he said in a gruff voice, “Okay then.”
He turned to head back to his desk, then twisted back quickly to add under his breath, “Because I am.”
She felt her stomach slide to the floor, her breath catching as she watched him walk away.
Michael’s door opened then, and when he came out, he was wearing Captain Jack’s hat. Dwight rushed toward him, asking, “Michael, are you all right?”
“Dwight – just…sit down.” Michael cast an embarrassed glance back at Captain Jack, who gave him a charming grin.
”Everyone!” Michael called, clapping his hands. “This is Captain Jack Sparrow. He’s from the Caribbean – “
He enunciated the word exaggeratedly. “And he’s going to be spending the day with us.”
Kelly and Toby appeared just in time to hear the tail end of Michael’s announcement. Kelly’s eyes widened, her hands clasped beneath her chin as she took in Captain Jack’s attire, his face, his hair. Toby looked mildly alarmed, his eyes resting on the sword at Captain Jack’s waist.
“Michael, could I…talk to you for a second?” Toby’s voice was low, calm as always.
Michael raised his chin defiantly, giving Toby an icy stare before he muttered to Captain Jack, “Stay away from that guy. He’s like a…a…scallywag.”
“Really?” Captain Jack took a step back, turning to survey Toby, then murmuring back to Michael, words slightly slurred, “Well he certainly looks like one.”
Michael snorted, exclaiming, “D – he does!”
Then he reluctantly followed Toby to the kitchen, leaving Captain Jack to linger beside Jim and Dwight’s desks.
“Michael…seriously, do you know that man?” Toby asked.
“Toby – were you not listening to me? I said he’s Captain Jack Spa—“
“I heard you say that.” Toby tried in vain for the thousandth time to calm Michael by mirroring the behavior he wanted him to emulate. “What I’m asking you is if you’ve ever…met him before.”
Michael glared at him. “What does that matter?”
“Well, it’s…he’s dressed like a pirate, Michael.” Toby tilted his head in supplication.
Michael continued to glower at him, lips twisted to one side before he suddenly raised his chin. “You know what, Toby? You are racist!”
Toby sighed almost inaudibly. “How…why do you say I’m racist?”
“Just because he’s a pirate, you’re prejudice..mental toward him.” Michael looked smug as he added, “And that, Toby, is against the law.”
Toby hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before; his patience was worn thin already.
“So is bringing a weapon into an office space.” He answered tiredly.
“What? I – what are you talking about!? That’s obscene.” Michael shook his head, then stopped to declare, “You, sir, are gross.”
“Michael, that sword on his belt is real.” Toby watched Michael’s face, wondering why the hell he even bothered to speak rationally to him anymore. He was almost certain that he should handle Michael the same way he’d managed Sasha when she’d been in the midst of her terrible twos.
He suspected that putting Michael in time out or making him sit on a naughty stool for fifteen minutes might work wonders.
“Of course it’s real, Toby; he’s a freaking pirate, okay?” Michael shook his head in exasperation.
“He also looks like he’s drunk.”
“Jesus – you – “ Michael ran a hand through his hair, then paced in a circle dramatically. “On what…base do you make that accusation?”
“Well he’s slurring his words, for one thing.” Toby answered. “And he…doesn’t walk so much as stumble, from what I’ve witnessed.”
Michael stopped pacing, leaning against the counter, his lips pursed in disgust before he said bitterly, “Toby…just because your own family rejected you doesn’t mean that you have to reject ours.”
Toby simply stared at him for a few seconds, then asked quietly, “What does that even mean, Michael?”
Michael threw up his hands dramatically, then stormed out.
-----------------
Michael shook his head, eyes wide as he looked at the camera.
“Toby’s just…well, Toby doesn’t understand what it’s like to be captain – of anything.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I mean, he couldn’t even…lead his own family, so of course he’s scared of Captain Jack.”
He leaned to the side, looking out the window of his office. Kelly was circling Captain Jack, lifting the locks of his hair and exclaiming over them. Captain Jack winced, putting a finger in one ear, his smile more reminiscent of a grimace than a grin.
Michael murmured, “Everyone else is welcoming him. Toby just ruins everything.”
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“I will not welcome him.” Dwight blinked at the camera lens. “Pirates are not to be trusted.”
Then he tilted his head, eyes on the ceiling, deep in thought.
“I wonder if he would show me how to fight with a sword.”
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“Oh my god! He is so sexy!” Kelly giggled, shrugging her shoulders slightly. “Did you see his eyeliner?”
She sighed then. “But his fingernails look a little dirty.”
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“What do I think about the pirate?” Ryan repeated blankly, then shook his head very slowly.
“I don’t…” He pursed his lips, eyes widening.
After a long pause, he conceded, “He puts Dwight into perspective, I guess.”
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Pam’s cheeks were a little flushed.
“I know he’s probably a nut, but he’s really kind of cool.” She couldn’t suppress her smile. “He saw one of my sketches and asked if I’d draw him during lunch.”
She grinned again. “So…yeah, having to stare at him for a while won’t be bad at all. I don’t know; he’s just….”
She paused, listening to the next question, her flush deepening, eyes avoiding the lens.
“Oh, Jim was just kidding. He’s not really jealous.” She nodded, as if trying to convince herself. “I mean, why would he be?”
---------
Jim watched as Captain Jack leaned against Pam’s desk – in his place – just oozing a drunken charm that seemed to put her under some sort of weird spell; it was almost as if she had gotten drunk just from the fumes he exuded.
…Which, Jim realized, could well be entirely possible. The guy was obviously sloshed.
Michael called Pam into his office then, and she cast Captain Jack a shy smile, tucking her bangs behind her ear as she said, “I’ll be right back.”
“And I’ll be right here, love.” He replied smoothly. Jim almost groaned out loud at the way she smiled, cheeks pink.
Again with the blushing…?
He waited until Pam was safely inside Michael’s office, then stood hesitantly, pausing before he took in a breath and went to stand next to Captain Jack at her desk.
He extended his hand. “Hi – Jim Halpert.”
Captain Jack stared at his hand as if confused, then took it, raising it to his chest as if he might kiss it, then dropping it quickly as he gave a tight smile. “Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“Nice to meet you.” Jim’s smile, too, was forced, tight.
They stood side by side for a few long, tense moments before Jim said, “So, you’re a pirate…?”
“That I am.” He answered, his eyes on the poster behind Pam’s desk, ringed fingers drumming her desktop.
“That’s…cool.” Jim replied, for lack of anything better to say.
They both nodded, an awkward silence falling – Jim toying absently with the messages on Pam’s desk, Captain Jack rocking back and forth on his heels restlessly.
Dwight watched them both suspiciously, occasionally scribbling notes on a legal pad. The thought that occurred to Jim reverberated through his mind like a mantra: I’ll look back and laugh; I’ll look back and laugh.
