Jim Halpert x Dwight Schrute *smut warning*

Chapter 2

I walk into the office, casually draping my coat over my chair, while Toby saunters back to the Annex. Turning my attention to the conference room, I notice the sign Dwight was crafting earlier taped to the closed door. Suppressing a groan, I push open the door and come face to face with Dwight standing on a step ladder, diligently securing streamers to the ceiling.

"Are you kidding me?" I ask, unable to hide my disbelief. The floor is scattered with half-filled balloons, all sporting shades of brown, black, and silver.

"Well, I'm not finished yet," Dwight replies matter-of-factly.

"Dwight, these," I say, picking up a deflated balloon from the floor, "fit in the palm of my hand. You haven't blown them up enough. And why on earth did you choose brown and gray balloons?"

"They match the carpet." He says defensively.

"What is that?" I ask, pointing to a bland white sign with black text on it, "It is your birthday, period."

"It's a statement of fact." He shrugs.

"Not even an exclamation point?" I question, "Why did you make a plain text banner for the party when you spent all that time making a girly one for the door?"

"This is more professional. It's not like she discovered a cure for cancer," he retorts.

"I can't believe how terrible this looks," I say, my irritation mounting.

"Are you trying to hurt my feelings? Because if so, you are succeeding." he responds, his tone tinged with hurt.

For a brief moment, my gaze softens, and my defenses come down. I feel a pang of genuine guilt creeping up my spine.

"Fortunately, my feelings regenerate at twice the speed of a normal man's." Dwight interjects quickly, his anger resurfacing.

"Uh, okay, good to know," I respond, still somewhat puzzled by my own emotions.

Leaving the conference room momentarily, I grab a pencil and paper from my desk. Returning to the room, I drag the table to the center and begin jotting down a list of party activities.

"What are you doing?" Dwight asks, curious.

"I'm making a list of party activities because we can't seem to agree on a theme, and I didn't know what to get at the store," I explain, waving off his question.

Dwight hesitates for a moment before grabbing a chair and positioning himself opposite me. "When did you go to the store? You don't have a car."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, I reply, "I asked Toby for a ride since you refused to help. I managed to get the cake and drinks, but that's about it."

"Alright then," Dwight concedes, his tone softening slightly. "Start writing."

Dwight sits on the opposite side of the table in the conference room, pathetically struggling to blow up a balloon while I sit across from him, holding a notepad.

"You have to write my suggestions down too," he insists.

"I'm not writing 'Horse Hunt.' I don't even know what that means," I snap, growing increasingly irritated.

"It's in the name," he retorts, as if I'm the ignorant one.

I rub my hands across my temples in frustration. "Okay, so far our ideal party consists of beer, fights to the death, cupcakes, blood pudding, blood, touch football, mating, charades, and yes, horse hunting."

Dwight pauses, deep in thought. "You're right, forget horse hunting. It's stupid."

"Look, is there a birthday celebration you remember that you actually loved?" I ask, hoping to steer the conversation in a more reasonable direction.