You're in my veins, and I cannot get you out.

- "In My Veins" by Andrew Belle

"When did I become lame?" Kelly asked as she flopped down on Erin's couch.

"Aww Kelly. You're totally not."

"We just went clubbing and I didn't want to dance with anyone at all."

"Ok, well, yeah…that is unusual for you. What's up?"

"I don't know. I just feel like…so turned off by dating or even dancing with guys recently. I kinda feel like…like I've already had the right one but I lost him, but I have no idea who it is."

"Not Ryan."

"No! Ew, no! He was so weird toward the end and he was such a self-centered ass."

"Darryl?" Erin suggested.

"I don't know…no…I mean, he was cool, but there was just something…missing."

"Someone else, then."

"Yeah," Kelly sighed, "Anyway, it's so awesome that you moved here! We haven't even talked that much recently…that means we totally have a lot to catch up on."

Holly woke up feeling very cozy and rested. Sunlight was streaming through the blinds as she glanced and surveyed the room. She frowned as she realized that she wasn't in her apartment.

Twin bed. Blue checkered bedspread. Black and white framed NHL poster. She smiled slightly as she realized that she was in Michael's guest room

She snuggled back under the blankets as she reflected on that had happened during the prior night.

"We've gotta get ourselves indoors," Michael had commented as they left the park, "My apartment? It's closer."

Holly had nodded, and a few moments later they had entered his building. When they'd reached the elevator, Michael had pressed the button.

Holly had been quiet the entire time.

"Hey," Michael had said as they stepped inside the elevator. He squeezed her hand reassuringly.

She had given him a weak smile, "Hey."

"Alrighty," Michael had said as they'd stepped into his apartment, "Our clothes are both soaked. That won't work. I have a solution, though, I think."

He had gestured for her to follow him.

They had entered into what inevitably was his bedroom: a queen sized bed with a deep blue bedspread along with framed posters for Threat Level Midnight and season four of Entourage.

Michael had made his way to his dresser and had pulled out several items of clothing. He'd handed Holly a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants.

"So these might kind of fit you. I accidentally shrunk the pants awhile back, so they're a bit smaller than the rest of my stuff," he'd said, "And then I'll put our regular clothes in the dryer."

"Sounds like a plan," she had replied.

"You can change here," he had offered, "I'll take the bathroom."

"Ok," Holly had replied. She had slipped out of her wet clothes and into Michael's oversized ones, snagging a rubber band that was on Michael's dresser to help hold the pants up.

She had spotted a framed picture on his dresser. It was the two of them and what she had presumed was the rest of Dunder Mifflin Scranton. They were all standing on a scale – this must have been taken at the weight loss competition he had told her about the other day.

It was just like Michael to keep a memento from Scranton like that. Holly had been able to tell that he had genuinely cared for the majority of his co-workers. It seemed to her that if you made it into Michael's good graces, you had a loyal friend for life. She liked that.

"Hey," Michael had said, emerging into the kitchen from the area with his washer and dryer.

"Whatcha up to?" he'd asked upon seeing Holly bustling about busily.

"I figured I'd make myself useful," she had replied as she handed him a cup, "Hot chocolate?"

"This is the most spectacular hot chocolate I've ever seen in my entire life," Michael had said upon taking the cup. He looked awed. Holly had added whipped cream and red sprinkles, as well as a single white chocolate chip in the center, to the concoction.

"Yeah, well, you've got quite the kitchen full of sweets for me to work with," she'd smiled, "And I thought we could use something warm after being caught in that rain."

Michael had nodded and led her into the living room. They had sat down on the couch, both sipping at their hot chocolate.

"So," Holly had said, "Thanks for not freaking out back there."

He'd nodded sincerely, "Anytime you have anything you wanna get off your chest, I'm here."

"You know," she had reflected, "You're the first person I've ever really told. Everyone else who knows was kind of around in Nashua when this happened so they just sort of knew.

Michael had nodded again.

"I just…I'm glad you know."

"Glad you told me," he had paused momentarily, "So are you ok? I mean, kind of ok? After all of that?"

She had taken a deep breath. He'd tentatively offered her his hand, and she took it.

"I'm getting there," she'd said, "Sometimes it hurts a little less since I moved here. I mean, it's still there, but there's not quite as many reminders here."

"You know one of the first things I thought when I saw you? After the shock of the fact that I was actually seeing you?"


"That you looked so sad."


"I mean, it wasn't an obvious thing," he had continued, "But I had known you so well…your eyes just looked so sad and it was like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. And whoever had done that to you, I wanted to personally punch their face in. So I guess I'll have to go after biology and a drunk driver."

She had smiled slightly.

"I would, too," he had said, "Really, though, I just wanted you to be not sad."

"You…you make it better," she had told him, hesitant at first, and then smiling. His expression mirrored hers. The last thing Holly remembered was the two of them in comfortable silence on the couch, her hand still in his. She must have fallen asleep like that.

She left the guest bedroom and was immediately greeted with the smell of pancakes. She found a pajama clad Michael in the kitchen, working at the stove.

"Good morning, milday," he greeted her cheerfully.

"Hey," she said, giving him a smile, "Need me to do anything?"

"Sit," he gestured to the table, "I'm almost done here. Besides, women staying overnight at the casa de Scott are always treated like royalty."

There was an awkward pause.

"Oh god, that came out wrong! Sheesh, why am I such an idiot?"

"Nah, it's alright," she said good-naturedly.

"For the record, there haven't been a lot…of women. Not since I moved here. I just…haven't been able to find anyone that I clicked with…like that…for a while."

"What, no great ice rink romances?" she teased.

"Nope. Well, not yet, anyway," he smiled at her.

"I've gotta sort through some things, but I wouldn't necessarily be opposed to such a thing," she said, also smiling.

The Threat Level Midnight poster was drawn by Pam and given to Michael on the day DM closed...just for the record. (: