"Thanks, Jim," she said appreciatively, beaming up at him. He had briefly showed her how to aim, how to shoot, how to reload. To aim slightly high, since the darts would quickly lose height. To lead a moving target. And to stuff a few extra darts into the tiny, otherwise-useless pockets of her jeans. "So what's our strategy?"

"Try to kill them before they kill us," he said confidently.

"That's it?" she asked, astonished.

He shrugged. "It's always served me well in the past."

She tugged the scrunchie off her wrist and started putting her hair into a ponytail. "You make up all these rules and then don't even consider the need for proper strategy? Come on, we can do better than that, Agent Scarn. What are our… starting positions? What about… the strengths and weaknesses of our common enemy? "

"Alright, Catherine Zeta-Jones," he said with a silly grin.

"Zeta," she corrected him.

"Alright, Zeta." God, she's the cutest, he mused. "We'll start on opposite sides of the yard. There's plenty of cover in the middle. Just hide behind trees and bushes as you make your way to the center. Avoid the rosebushes, they hurt." He pointed them out. "They're both fairly fast runners. Or used to be. But they were never as quick as me. I'm in better shape now than either of them, so…" He just realized he'd never seen her run. "How fast are you, Beesly?"

"Zeta," she reminded him. "Speed is not my strong suit, Scarn," she admitted. "I can sprint short distances, but my legs are short and my endurance is mediocre at best. My biggest advantage is that I'm shorter than everyone else by at least six inches. And I'm new, so they won't treat me as a serious target. They'll go after you first. Also, they might be reluctant to take me out, since it's my first game and they want me to have a good time."

He loved how seriously she was taking this. "All very good points," he agreed, impressed.

"What if," she suggested, "I pretend to get hurt and draw them in? Then you could shoot them both? I didn't hear any rules against emotional manipulation."

"Ehh." He shook his head. "‘Riss tried faking injuries all the time when she was a kid. We're immune. Even though you're new, they'd probably see right through it. Plus, it's kind of a bad faith move. Toes the line of the honor system."

She nodded. "Alright, I'll avoid it. Is there any value in staying at the starting point and letting them come to us?"

He smiled proudly at her. "You might think so, but that leads to what's called a 'turtle.' If one side hangs back, so does the other. It's really boring, trust me. All the best nerf wars are 5 minutes or less, unless you're covering a lot more ground than this. We always just started up a new game after the first one ended."

Maybe she could team up with ‘Riss for their next game, she thought with a smile. "Those were all the ideas I had. What about you?"

He thought hard for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Piggyback. Keep your head down. It'll let us discuss strategy on the fly without them overhearing. Try to shoot while I'm moving and call out incomings. As long as they don't hit your head or your shooting hand, you can keep going. They won't be able to land a chest shot on you, and it doesn't matter if you get paralyzed. If I die, use me as a human shield. And don't forget to check my pockets for spare ammo."

"Scarn, you're a genius!" she exclaimed, pulling his mouth down to hers.

He kissed her briefly. "Mmm… save some of that energy, Zeta."

"I don't run with my lips," she murmured, tugging his mouth back to hers. She looped her arms around his neck. This, he realized, was the first measure of privacy they'd been afforded since walking through his parents' front door. With a quiet moan, he indulged her. His hands slid around her waist, up her back.

A few minutes later, Larissa called from the other side of the shed. "We're ready. You guys?"

Jim gently lifted his head, shaking his head as he gazed into her eyes. "In a minute," Pam called back, proud of the way she kept her voice steady. "Just wrapping up our strategy." He nodded with a hazy, delighted smile as he dipped back down to recapture her lips. Her hands slid back into his hair, right where they belonged.

After a minute, Tom sighed. "Lunch will be ready soon. What are they doing?"

"I haven't heard a peep in 5 minutes," she replied, rolling her eyes. "What do you think?"

Momentarily, they came around the corner of the shed. "So Pam, how'd you make out?" Larissa asked innocently, refraining from pointing out the flush on her cheeks or Jim's slightly-rumpled hair.

"He taught me everything he knows," Pam replied with a straight face. Lifting her gun, she continued, "Hope you're prepared to die. Not that it matters how much you prepare. You'll be dead either way."

Larissa grinned. She really liked this girl. "I hope your aim is better than your trash talk, nerf virgin." All four of them began walking. "Three second countdown, Jim?"

"On my mark," he replied easily. They each went to their respective sides. Jim cupped his hands over his mouth and called out loudly. "Hup?"

"Hup!" came Tom's reply.

"Hop on," he muttered to Pam. He bent down as she launched herself onto his back. "Three! Two! One! War!"

He sprinted, moving so quickly it made her dizzy. "Nothing yet," she muttered in his ear, scanning the foliage. "Damn you're quick. Keep moving."

He stopped behind a tree, two-thirds of the way down, only slightly winded. "Stay here," she whispered, holding her gun over his shoulder. "There's no way they had time to get behind us. So whichever direction they come from, we can ambush."

He held his gun in the other direction. "Wrap your legs around my waist when we turret. I'll get better accuracy with both hands." She obeyed, assuming that whatever the hell a turret was, he must be referring to this. "Awesome, Zeta."

"My side. Tom," she hissed in his ear.

Silently, he turned and aimed with her. He saw Tom's legs stalking along the ground, but a dense bush formed an impenetrable wall between them. He noticed her finger was on the trigger, shaking slightly. He pointed at it, then pointed his thumb away in a "get out" gesture.

She nodded and moved her finger. One misfire now could very well cost them the game.

Tom came slowly into view, crouching, both hands on his gun, leading with his arms. Jim took careful aim at his right hand, but waited for a better shot. If he missed with his first, he'd need time for a second.

Pam, wanting to try for a headshot, tapped Jim on the forehead with her left hand. Suddenly, a dart angled from above hit the back of her hand. "I'm hit! Left hand," she hissed, hanging onto him with her elbow, dangling her hand limply. She held on tight with her right as Jim ducked in the other direction, behind the tree. Fortunately, it was wide enough to hide them both from this angle.

"From?" he whispered urgently, holding his gun out in the direction that Tom would surely be coming.

Suddenly, Larissa shouted, "T, 3! Fall back. PJ piggyback. P offhand hit."

"Up!" Pam insisted. "Tree above Tom."

"Got it," he said grimly.

"I see you," Larissa's voice floated down from above. "What an adorable turret you make."

Tom followed instructions and retreated. Jim groaned, "'Riss is a fucking monkey. And a surgeon."

She nodded against his neck. "That would have been a headshot if my hand hadn't been there."

"I know. Thanks. A left hand was a worthwhile sacrifice to find out her position. Get down." As Pam slid off his back, he tried to trace which tree ‘Riss might be in, based on where her voice came from. Unfortunately, she had chosen well. There were a few possible candidates. "Wave your dead hand on that side. If she takes the bait, I'll try to analyze the trajectory from the other side."

His plan worked. One dart bounced off Pam's limp wrist, followed quickly by another. The second dart allowed Jim to trace the source. "Back," he hissed. "I have a shot, but she'll kill me if I take it."

Pam had a flash of inspiration. "Catch me," she warned him. She jumped into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. She wound her arms over his head, allowing her left hand to flop limply. "Worthwhile sacrifice."

He grinned. He wasn't sure whether it was so crazy it just might work, or just plain crazy. "Love you Zeta."

She kissed his cheek as he stepped out. "Kill her, grab my gun, go." The first dart bounced off the back of her head, followed by 4 more in the span of a few seconds. But none hit Jim, and his aim was true. After hitting the tree three times, he squeezed off 2 sequential headshots. ‘Riss had been too busy shooting to try to block.

"Yesss!" he whispered excitedly. He had not expected that to work. "Great plan, Beesly. Godspeed." He kissed her sweetly as he gently settled her onto the ground. She grinned up at him for a moment, then closed her eyes. She stuck her tongue out in a parody of a corpse. Larissa, likewise, quickly climbed down from the tree and sprawled on the ground, playing dead.

Jim grinned as he took her still fully-loaded gun. Not wanting to waste time to reload, he tossed his own. Crouching down, he looked in the direction he'd last seen Tom. There was no point hiding his own location, Tom already knew where they were. And, for all he knew, Pam was still alive. "Might as well give up, Tom," he called tauntingly. "‘Riss is dead. Me and Pam are still kicking."

"Kicking the bucket," Tom parried from behind him.

Jim spun quickly, firing before he'd even spotted Tom, but too little too late. A dart hit him square in the temple. Gamely, he tumbled onto the ground, resting his head gently against Pam's shoulder. She ruffled his hair affectionately. "Kicking the bucket?" he said with a chuckle. "So lame."

Tom whooped victoriously, then said, "I can only work with what you give me, man."

Larissa jumped up and came over. "A thoroughly unprecedented use of reverse piggyback," she complimented them. "Wow."

Pam flushed with pride. "I think the proper term is piggyfront?"

Jim rose and offered Pam a hand up. "Her idea. Literal body armor. In all my years of nerf war, I've never seen a strategy as crazy as that." Pam's creativity had made her a real force to contend with. Not to mention, the way she'd thrown herself into his arms. Jesus, she was cute as hell.

Larissa put her hand over her heart. "And yet… she died."

Jim fired back, "You died in the ugly tree and hit every ugly branch on your way down."

Pam giggled madly at the playground-worthy insult, still holding his hand. "I still can't believe you climbed a tree," she said admiringly.

"Tom boosted me," she said, patting him on the shoulder. "We knew Jim would be the fastest, so I wanted the high ground. But we did not expect you to find a way to travel together. I just started climbing when I saw you guys arrive. I had a shot, but no free hands. And I couldn't warn Tom without giving away my position. I thought he was a goner for sure."

"Oh ye of little faith," Tom said sardonically. He patted her on the back. "But seriously, great instructions. I had plenty of time to circle back while they were distracted killing you."

"Good game," said Jim. They all echoed him.

"What about a rematch?" Pam asked.

"Ordinarily we would, but lunch has gotta be about ready." Tom started toward the house. "And I am starving."

Bending down, Jim picked up all the darts he could find. He explained to Pam, "Losers pick up. It's good motivation not to die."

"Isn't the thrill of victory good enough on its own?" she giggled, reaching for a couple he'd missed.

"Speaking of thrills," he said with a gleam in his eye.

She pushed against his chest, dodging his lips. "Jim!" she hissed. "I want your family to like me."

He chuckled warmly. "It's not family. Just 'Riss. And trust me, she likes you."

"I didn't actually die back there, you know," Larissa intoned. "Still have ears." She looped her arm through Pam's. "Allow me to rescue you from this vile beast, damsel."

Pam looked over her shoulder, eyes sparkling as they walked away. "My hero," she quipped.

Quickly, Jim grabbed the other gun and the remaining darts and jogged to catch up. "I thought we established that you were on my team."

She shrugged, looking up at him with a coy smile. "I thought we could change it up for round two. The babes versus the buttheads, wasn't it?"

"Hell yeah!" Larissa pumped her fist. "Rematch after lunch."

Jim sighed mournfully. "You're dead to me, Zeta." He aimed his gun at her.

"Thought you couldn't shoot me," she taunted him. "Do it, if you can." She smiled, anticipating the empty click as he pulled the trigger. Nudging him with her elbow, she teased, "You're slipping, Scarn. Forgot to reload… shameful display."

He handed back her fully-loaded gun. "I didn't forget," he whispered into her ear. He really wasn't sure he could shoot her. Maybe if she shot first.

She rubbed his shoulder affectionately. "You're adorable," she whispered back.

Larissa cleared her throat conspicuously. "So uh. You guys came up with actual code names?"

Pam laughed gaily. "What do you know about Michael Scott?"

"Who?"

"It would take all night to even begin to describe him," she began.

"The boss from hell," Jim added.

"He's like a trainwreck you can't look away from."

"The most ridiculous person on planet Earth."

"In the solar system."

"Universe! I win!" she declared.

He shook his head. "I've got one even better. He's like a boss… stuffed into a duck… stuffed into a turkey."

She howled with laughter. "A bossducken! Oh my god."

"Turduckboss," he corrected her with a languid grin.