"Once In A Lifetime" Michael-Jan / The Office Fic
Title: Once In A Lifetime
Author: the_satyr_icon
Permission to Archive: You only have to ask
Category: The Office, het_fic, Michael-Jan
Genre: Hetro
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Michael contemplates the past, and looks ahead.
Keywords: Michael-Jan, The Office
Spoilers: Set after “The Job”
Word Count: 831
Disclaimer: Michael Gary Scott and Jan Levinson are property of NBC; I am just writing for fun, and if I owned them, all would be good and clean in the World.
Author's Notes: This is My fourth foray into the lives of those that work for Dunder-Mifflin... My favorite couple! Be kind to review, review kindly. The title comes from the Talking Heads' song of the same name.
Once In A Lifetime
Michael Gary Scott sits on the edge of the mattress in the darkened bedroom of his condo, staring at the shadowy-white colored wall closest to him, wondering just where his life went. He squints in thought, remembering his youth, watching the Pittsburgh Pirates, with their disco song theme of “We Are Family”, win the World Series in 1979. He was enamored with the Pirates' best player, Willie Stargell, and he wore the team's mustard yellow jersey while he sat in front of the television as his team played and won. Micheal loved the game of baseball and planned on being a wily, speedy short-stop for Pirates, of playing Major League ball with millions of adoring fans, with a beautiful wife and handsome kids, living in a mansion, living the Good Life, the whole deal. He used to see that dream so clearly. “God, he whispers, “What happened?”
Now Michael rubs his eyes, and the vision of his future fades away in his mind. Too many years passed by, whipping past him. He's not a kid anymore, no matter how much he lies to himself, but a middle-aged adult. He's not a baseball player, not even close. Michael shakes his head; where did it all go wrong? He remembers that he played on the Little League teams for a while, and tried out for the teams in high school. Coaches liked his spirit, not his ability. He tried....maybe he didn't try hard enough. So he left the game, no longer a participant, just a spectator. Just like his life.
Tilting his head, Michael thinks how, instead of being the starting shortstop of the Pirates, he's just the regional manager of a paper paper distribution company, Dunder-Mifflin. The promotion to that position wasn't as satisfying as he thought being promoted to the Big Leagues, playing in “The Show”, would have been, naturally. The thrill of diving into the hole, fielding a sharply-hit baseball and getting the batter out at first base in a bang bang play is replaced with a big sale, like he made with Lackawanna County, securing the county's paper needs for years. But it's definitely not the same.
So he sits, on his full-size bed, not a king-size bed, in his small condo, not a huge mansion, not in Pittsburgh, but in Scranton, sill. Hell, he barely got the condo back; he sold the place on Ebay, thinking at he would get a job at the corporate office in New York. When that fell through, he canceled the sale and got negative feedback and his account suspended. He wonders if getting his condo back was a good thing; his party pad has never hosted a party and the carpenter ants still march into the kitchen from outside. And the kid next door still plays the tuba too loud. He rubs his temples, a headache is coming on.
No wedding ring. No kids, either. He sighs. Those facts are worse to him than not having millions of fans, of not having millions of dollars in the bank. More than a being a Pirate, Michael wants a wife and kids, wants to be loved. He wonders if it will ever happen for him.
“Michael?” A female's voice pierces the silence in the room. The door opens more, light filters into the darkness. He turns, and looks at the shape in the doorway.
Jan Levinson.
“Michael...Are you okay?” She asks while flicking on the light. Her brow furrows as she looks at him, seeing him hunched over. Then she smiles as she goes over to to the bed, and sits by him.
Of all the women that Michael loved, Jan was the only one that HE was the one that broke up the relationship first. He ended the affair not because she was smarter than him, or that she wasn't beautiful (because she was) or wasn't successful (at least she WAS until she got fired at Dunder-Mifflin's corporate office), but because...well..she was newly-divorced and she scared him with her outrageous sexual desires. At first, for Michael, it was awesome...then she became more frightening. She tried things that weren't normal. So he broke up with her.
But she came back, with a breast job, and Michael, of course, took her back, even taking her into his condo when she lost her job. Some forays into sexual deviancy aside, they live together nicely, being a couple really, more than they had been before the break up. He doesn't mind her seriousness, and she doesn't mind his immaturity; they meet in the middle. They want the same things and don't know it; a happy marriage, kids. That middle ground is an unspoken destination.
“Michael....Whatever it is,” she says, taking his hand into hers, looking into his eyes, “Maybe I can help?”
“Maybe you can, Jan.” Michael gives her a smile, a little smile, hopeful of future once again. “Maybe you can.”
The End
Author: the_satyr_icon
Permission to Archive: You only have to ask
Category: The Office, het_fic, Michael-Jan
Genre: Hetro
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Michael contemplates the past, and looks ahead.
Keywords: Michael-Jan, The Office
Spoilers: Set after “The Job”
Word Count: 831
Disclaimer: Michael Gary Scott and Jan Levinson are property of NBC; I am just writing for fun, and if I owned them, all would be good and clean in the World.
Author's Notes: This is My fourth foray into the lives of those that work for Dunder-Mifflin... My favorite couple! Be kind to review, review kindly. The title comes from the Talking Heads' song of the same name.
Once In A Lifetime
Michael Gary Scott sits on the edge of the mattress in the darkened bedroom of his condo, staring at the shadowy-white colored wall closest to him, wondering just where his life went. He squints in thought, remembering his youth, watching the Pittsburgh Pirates, with their disco song theme of “We Are Family”, win the World Series in 1979. He was enamored with the Pirates' best player, Willie Stargell, and he wore the team's mustard yellow jersey while he sat in front of the television as his team played and won. Micheal loved the game of baseball and planned on being a wily, speedy short-stop for Pirates, of playing Major League ball with millions of adoring fans, with a beautiful wife and handsome kids, living in a mansion, living the Good Life, the whole deal. He used to see that dream so clearly. “God, he whispers, “What happened?”
Now Michael rubs his eyes, and the vision of his future fades away in his mind. Too many years passed by, whipping past him. He's not a kid anymore, no matter how much he lies to himself, but a middle-aged adult. He's not a baseball player, not even close. Michael shakes his head; where did it all go wrong? He remembers that he played on the Little League teams for a while, and tried out for the teams in high school. Coaches liked his spirit, not his ability. He tried....maybe he didn't try hard enough. So he left the game, no longer a participant, just a spectator. Just like his life.
Tilting his head, Michael thinks how, instead of being the starting shortstop of the Pirates, he's just the regional manager of a paper paper distribution company, Dunder-Mifflin. The promotion to that position wasn't as satisfying as he thought being promoted to the Big Leagues, playing in “The Show”, would have been, naturally. The thrill of diving into the hole, fielding a sharply-hit baseball and getting the batter out at first base in a bang bang play is replaced with a big sale, like he made with Lackawanna County, securing the county's paper needs for years. But it's definitely not the same.
So he sits, on his full-size bed, not a king-size bed, in his small condo, not a huge mansion, not in Pittsburgh, but in Scranton, sill. Hell, he barely got the condo back; he sold the place on Ebay, thinking at he would get a job at the corporate office in New York. When that fell through, he canceled the sale and got negative feedback and his account suspended. He wonders if getting his condo back was a good thing; his party pad has never hosted a party and the carpenter ants still march into the kitchen from outside. And the kid next door still plays the tuba too loud. He rubs his temples, a headache is coming on.
No wedding ring. No kids, either. He sighs. Those facts are worse to him than not having millions of fans, of not having millions of dollars in the bank. More than a being a Pirate, Michael wants a wife and kids, wants to be loved. He wonders if it will ever happen for him.
“Michael?” A female's voice pierces the silence in the room. The door opens more, light filters into the darkness. He turns, and looks at the shape in the doorway.
Jan Levinson.
“Michael...Are you okay?” She asks while flicking on the light. Her brow furrows as she looks at him, seeing him hunched over. Then she smiles as she goes over to to the bed, and sits by him.
Of all the women that Michael loved, Jan was the only one that HE was the one that broke up the relationship first. He ended the affair not because she was smarter than him, or that she wasn't beautiful (because she was) or wasn't successful (at least she WAS until she got fired at Dunder-Mifflin's corporate office), but because...well..she was newly-divorced and she scared him with her outrageous sexual desires. At first, for Michael, it was awesome...then she became more frightening. She tried things that weren't normal. So he broke up with her.
But she came back, with a breast job, and Michael, of course, took her back, even taking her into his condo when she lost her job. Some forays into sexual deviancy aside, they live together nicely, being a couple really, more than they had been before the break up. He doesn't mind her seriousness, and she doesn't mind his immaturity; they meet in the middle. They want the same things and don't know it; a happy marriage, kids. That middle ground is an unspoken destination.
“Michael....Whatever it is,” she says, taking his hand into hers, looking into his eyes, “Maybe I can help?”
“Maybe you can, Jan.” Michael gives her a smile, a little smile, hopeful of future once again. “Maybe you can.”
The End