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The Lucky Ones
by Steph

Summary: Five tales of winning and losing at the Crime Aid auction.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

----

Meredith had plenty of ideas for things she could auction off. Creative ones that she was proud of. But that skinny bitch had gotten wind of her brilliant ideas and wasn’t having any of it.

“I don’t think you can auction off anything related to alcohol,” Holly said to her. “And some of your ideas... well I think a few of them may be illegal.”

Bitch.

“Maybe,” Holly said, wringing her hands just a little bit, “you can do something else. Do you want to bake something?”

Meredith laughed, a hearty, wipe tears from your eyes kind of laugh. “Please. I don’t even bake for my kids.”

“Hmm,” Holly said. “But there’s got to be something you’re good at. Something people would appreciate.”

“Of course there is,” Meredith said. “But you just told me it was illegal.”

At the auction Meredith sat next to Creed and fumed as Darryl auctioned off a night of drinking with him and his friends. How was that any different from what she had wanted to offer? Meredith was so pissed at this blatant unfairness that she was too slow and Jim and Darryl and his friends walked out ready to drink themselves into oblivion before she even had a chance to bid.

Meredith had a stupid school conference tomorrow morning with Jake’s teacher and the principal.

So she could have really used a night of drinking and debauchery.

From her seat Meredith glared at that prissy little bitch (and it was just now hitting her how much Holly reminded her of the snotty know-it-all PTA mothers at Jake’s school). Wasn’t it bad enough that Holly had recently tried to get her fired? Now she wasn’t even letting her auction off what she wanted. It wasn’t Meredith’s fault that Holly felt so threatened by her.

Meredith wished that Holly had never come here. She liked it so much better when their HR rep was a man so depressed and passive that he was practically catatonic.

Well she had had enough. She stood up, waved her arms and called out, “Hey! Hey! I have something to auction.”

Everyone turned to look at her. Holly, still holding her marker, watched her, mouth slightly open, eyes darting back and forth from her to Michael.

Poor little thing seemed nervous.

Meredith grinned, just a little bit wider.

This was going to be fun.

---

The day of the auction Kelly wanted to talk to Darryl. She had tons of things she needed to tell him.

She wanted to tell him that even though he was hot and fun, he was kind of a crappy boyfriend because he never wanted to watch the movies she loved or go to the mall with her. He never cooked for her or gave her presents just because or whisked her away for an impromptu romantic getaway. He never called just to say he loved her.

In fact, he had never said he loved her. Which sucked because they had been together for a long time and were totally in love and would someday get married and have beautiful, stylish children. They would live happily ever after.

Except Darryl was not being the awesome boyfriend Kelly knew she deserved. She had had a miserable summer of starvation and worm-ingestion and she still wasn’t 100% back to normal. She still felt tired and weak and kept getting sick. Darryl had told her to keep eating and get lots of rest, but he wasn’t exactly a doting boyfriend or anything which was weird because when his daughter had a stupid ear infection a few weeks ago suddenly he became super caring and concerned.

Kelly was conflicted.

She wore her adorable new hat to the auction and didn’t say anything when Darryl told her beforehand that he was thinking of auctioning off a night out drinking with the guys and she shouldn’t bid on it because she wouldn’t enjoy herself which was just a way of saying he didn’t want her to come.

And no she didn’t want to come because his warehouse friends were loud and stupid, but she still wanted him to want her to come.

She wanted to tell him this (among other things) as she watched Jim place the winning bid and Darryl didn’t even kiss her goodbye or hug her or tell her he hoped she’d feel better. No he just walked by with only a nod like he would have given to anyone and not his future wife.

She wanted to shriek his name and tell him that if he didn’t get back here and at least make out with her just a little bit (with Ryan conveniently watching of course) she would tell everyone there all sorts of embarrassing stories or maybe just to get back at him she would auction herself off.

Ew. Not like that. Unlike some people around here, Kelly was not a trashy ho.

She wanted to yell at him but she didn’t. Instead she concentrated on looking cute and smiling and pretending like she was having a great time at this stupid auction raising money to replace their stolen goods even though Michael was probably just going to take all their money and spend it on magic tricks or presents for Holly.

Ryan caught her eye once and made a face. She wanted to laugh flirtatiously, loudly so everyone could see how much fun she was having at this auction with Ryan and word would somehow get to Darryl, but she didn’t and really she wasn’t even sure anymore who she was supposed to be making jealous and her head started to hurt even more than it had been before and she opened her purse for an aspirin and another throat lozenge.

She kept the smile on her face and thought about her hat and fudge brownie ice cream (because eating was fun again) and whether Lauren had really hooked up with Audrina’s boyfriend and then she thought about all the things she would say to Darryl when she finally could.

She prayed that tomorrow, when she woke up, she would be over this stupid laryngitis and have her voice back.

Darryl wouldn’t know what hit him.

--

Andy tried not to be too disappointed that no one had bid on his item which was a serenade which would have been rocking. At one point in his life he would have been upset, livid even. But not now. How could be in a bad mood when he was in the car with his lovely Angela beside him?

“I don’t even care,” he told her. “I’ll just serenade you.” He cleared his throat and began, in a rather impressive falsetto, “Ang-ell, ma belle. These are words that go together well.”

“Don’t,” she snapped at him.

He stopped. “Whatever you say, my sweet.” He whistled a few notes of the song before looking over at her. Her fine features were arranged in a familiar, beautiful scowl. “I’m not upset about the auction,” he told her. “After all, I’m going home with the best prize of all.”

“You’re not going home with me.”

“Right,” he said. He had the urge to touch her hair or to do something scandalous like put his hand on her knee, but Angela said that only shameless hussies like Pam or Kelly would engage in physical contact in a car. “Right-o.”

Her expression softened the slightest bit and she said, as explanation, “You know how the cats react around you.”

Yes. He did. He had the faint scratches on his arms to prove it. Once at work he had rolled up the sleeve of his dress shirt and showed Tuna and Kevin, smirking as he told tales about his own little wildcat and how it was always the buttoned up ones who really were wild in the bedroom.

Kevin had giggled. Tuna made a disgusted face to the cameras.

“I know,” Andy said now to his Angela. “But that’s no problem. You know why it’s no problem? Because we’re getting hitched. Every problem we have will be solved when we enter into holy matrimony.”

If Andy had been paying more attention, or if he were even remotely perceptive, he might have noticed the slightest sad sigh escape from his beloved passenger, or perhaps the pained look on her face, more pained than usual, before she finally turned away from him to face the window.

Andy started whistling again. He couldn’t stay unhappy. They had sent out their Save-the-Dates. And everyone knew that once the Save-the-Dates were out, the marriage, the wedding, was a done deal.

It was going to be such a great wedding too.

So much better than whatever two-bit celebration Tuna was planning.

--

After talking a little bit to David Wallace (Oscar would never call it schmoozing, but being friendly to one of the more normal bosses of Dunder Mifflin couldn’t hurt), Oscar found Kevin still sitting on one of the chairs, hunched over and frowning.

Oscar thought about leaving him alone but instead sat down next to him. Kevin, without looking at him, said, “No one wanted me to do their taxes.”

“No.”

“Would you want me to do your taxes?”

How could he say this nicely? “Well,” Oscar said. “I’m an accountant. So I do my own taxes.”

“Yeah.” Kevin kicked the chair in front of him a few times. When he spoke again, it was not what Oscar was expecting. “Holly’s banging Michael.”

Oscar looked away, wincing a little bit at the crudeness. “I know.”

“I thought I was going to bang her, but she was only being nice to me because she thought I was retarded.”

Oscar didn’t answer. He could see Holly and Michael talking, standing closely, in their own little world. Even though Oscar didn’t know her that well, he couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed in Holly’s taste in men.

Kevin kicked the chair again. “I miss Stacy. I would pay a thousand dollars for a hug from her. She was a good hugger, Oscar.”

Oscar nodded. “I’m sorry, Kevin.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “It sucks being by yourself sometimes.”

Oscar, newly separated from Gil, agreed. “Yeah. It does.” Neither of them said anything, only watched Michael and Holly, Phyllis and Bob Vance.

“Want to go to the bar?” Kevin asked.

Oscar stood up. “Okay.”

The two of them walked out into the cold. Kevin looked over at him and asked, “Are you sad you aren’t going to go to David Wallace’s vacation house?”

“Not really,” Oscar said. “The bidding went too high and I just can’t justify spending that much right now. The economy is horrible and it would just be foolish.”

“Yeah,” Kevin said. “But it would have been good for you to win. You’ve been working hard lately.”

That surprised Oscar. He wasn’t used to any kind of sensitivity from Kevin. Oscar smiled, feeling an odd affection towards him. “Thanks.”

“Yeah.” Then Kevin snickered. “You could have used another gay-cation.” Under the streetlights, Oscar could see Kevin holding out his fist.

Kevin had had a difficult night, Oscar told himself. So instead of telling him how childish and unfunny that joke was, Oscar gamely bumped his fist against Kevin’s, and they continued walking.

--

Phyllis beamed with pride as her husband, who had just bid a thousand dollars for a hug from her, opened his checkbook.

“Who am I supposed to be making this out to?” Bob Vance asked Michael.

Michael pointed proudly to the banner. “Crime Reduces Innocence Makes...”

“Got it,” Bob said. He smiled at her, his eyes twinkling.

While Phyllis waited for Bob to finish up so they could go home and she could give him the hugging of his life, she looked around at the few people left. Standing in a corner, head down slightly was Dwight.

He looked miserable.

Her heart went out to him and she was so tempted to hug him. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t won the auction; he just looked like he needed a hug. She thought about wrapping her arms around him tightly, whispering, in an almost maternal way, that things would be okay.

Dwight must have felt her eyes on him because he looked up suddenly, accusingly, until he caught her staring. He stared back and she flushed a little bit at the silliness of her idea.

She didn’t really want to hug Dwight. Even if they had some almost nice moments recently, he was just so weird and he was often downright cruel to her.

And, more importantly, she really had no idea if things would be okay for him at all.

Maybe uptight, judgmental Angela was it for him. Maybe Angela would find wedded bliss with Andy and Dwight would never find anyone else. Maybe he would end up alone and be one of the unlucky ones.

Dwight nodded at her. She nodded back.

Bob came up to her then asking her if she ever guessed she would be the big ticket item. Did she ever guess that her hug would raise a thousand dollars and that people, including David Wallace, would be bidding?

She laughed and said no, of course not. She had no idea. She did not tell him that when she had come up with the idea for hugging there was the smallest part of her that hoped Jim would bid and win.

She imagined that she would like hugging Jim. He was a cutie, that one.

As they headed toward the exit, her husband’s beefy, familiar arm around her shoulders, she gave one last glance in Dwight’s direction.

“Come on, honey,” Bob said to her, murmuring something about getting that hug he had paid for and she looked away from Dwight and back at her husband.

And as sad as she felt for Dwight, she couldn’t help but smile back at Bob, feeling a twinge of relief as she thought about her own life.

Somehow she had ended up one of the lucky ones.

The End


Steph is the author of 37 other stories.
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