Epilogue

And Way Up There, You and I

Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France

Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters

And teach them how to dance…

- "You and I" by Ingrid Michaelson.

"I'm almost done."

"Come on. I want to dance."

"I'm coming," he said through a full mouth, scraping white icing across his mother's gift china. This was his second (and likely his last) piece of cake, and he'd kick himself for forgetting to savor it. This was the taste of today, and he wanted to memorize it. He wanted to memorize everything.

A hand inched around his arm with a light tug in her direction. Last bite stowed in mouth, he dropped his fork with a satisfactory clack. He looked up to sass her at how long that took…

But Holly kept knocking the wind out of him.

Her hair was pulled back in the way he loved, knotted low behind her head, making way for cheekbones that hadn't paled once today. Lantern light shone rays around her bare shoulders, off-sleeves drooping lower as she leaned on the table; candlelight cast flickering shadows over the curves and bumps of white lace. She waited as patiently as she could pretend, pink lip caught between her teeth.

When he remembered how to breathe through the unbearable smile, he took her hand. Her eyes lit up, and as she drew him out of his seat, more light flooded her skin until she was glowing. He stared unblinking, drinking her in.

She pulled him from their table and into the room, looking back just in time to catch his awe. Her laughter pierced the dense fog of noise throughout the room — the rumble of conversation, the clink of dishes, the resonant strum of easy guitar — and heads turned their way as they journeyed between tables. His eyes bounced between the bride and the band and the guests, all a flurry of distraction, tripping him over a few chairs on the way. No one laughed at him, though.

Soon enough, the flood of fifty different sounds began to dull, watering down to excited whispers as the bride and groom approached the dance floor. All around, tables of people turned toward the sight. Holly looked back at him again; he knew it was easier for her to keep trained on him.

At the edge of the dance floor stood the band, consisting of Andy, Darryl, and Kevin — the last of whom spotted Michael and Holly, and promptly poked Darryl with his drumstick. Their music quieted to only guitar as each musician frantically flipped to a new music sheet.

They stopped in the center of the room, and both of them took a moment to look around themselves.

One small cabin managed to house twenty-something tables, clothed in white and dressed with hundreds of small candles. Strings of lights adorned the high ceiling, twinkling down on the dwindling dinner of their friends and family — their bridesmaids and groomsmen at attention and beaming — their parents clustered at a table of their own, already holding their breath.

A reverent hush, a sudden rush of chilly mountain air tickled their skin. He turned back to Holly, drawing a sharp breath.

"One, two, three…"

Plucky guitar pierced the silence, and all the pressure of observation washed away. Holly extended her hand, shaking a little; he took it in his, and then the other, and brought them up to a kiss. Her eyes smiled.

From somewhere in outer space, Andy's voice joined the song.

"Don't you worry there, my honey; we might not have any money…"

Her hands slid from his grasp and up over his shoulders, arms hooking around him loosely. Michael's hands blindly caught the silk band at her waist, drawing her in closer…

"But we've got our love to pay the bills…"

A few chairs turned to see them, but it was all blurs around them now. His eyes were set on her, all heat in his face and in his chest and nothing existing beyond that except the brush of her skirt over his shoes. Holly's forehead rested against his, stare intense and yet soft on his as their steps began to sway.

"Maybe I think you're cute and funny — maybe I wanna do what bunnies do, with you, if you know what I mean…"

Michael split into a wide smile, and she chuckled. He kissed her nose the way she hated to love, and her eyes scrunched up with a blush.

"Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France," Andy sang. "Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters, and teach them how to dance…"

"And you said this would be awkward," Holly muttered, humor in her eyes as she refused to acknowledge everyone around them.

"All first dances are awkward," he tossed off, and brushed a kiss over her lips. She sighed, and it filled him with warmth in the middle of winter.

"Let's get rich and build a house on a mountain, making everybody look like ants. And way up there, you and I — you and I…"

"You're floating," Michael whispered, glancing down between them. "You're like a human angel."

"Stop it," Holly said halfheartedly, smile ever-present. She snuggled closer into his embrace, fingers tickling at the back of his neck. "My mouth hurts so bad."

"I can help with that…"

And it was strange, the first dance — the way that everyone watched them in such an intimate moment — watched them kiss and whisper and kiss some more, the same way they'd watched them fall in love all this time. It would freak him out if it weren't so distant, and if the two of them weren't so high in the clouds right now that only the scent of firewood and calla lilies and Holly's perfume could ground them.

"Everybody! Oh-"

All at once, thunderous wedding shoes were stomping rhythmically, and the two of them jumped out of their trance. Looking around them, a phenomenon occurred, beginning with the wedding party and spreading through the room: stomp-stomp-clap, stomp-stomp-clap-

"Let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France! Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters, and teach them how to dance!"

That's when Holly broke first, tears springing to her eyes as everyone around them stomped along to the song. Her hand clamped around her mouth, looking all around — and he followed her gaze, until he spotted the mischievous grins of Jim and Pam Halpert. He laughed.

"Let's get rich and build a house on a mountain, making everybody look like ants. And way up there, you and I…"

Michael's hands came up to wipe away Holly's happy tears, and she gave him a weak smile.

"You and I."

Even before the last chord struck, the room erupted in cheers and applause, swarming them in love and support. Michael couldn't take it all in, caught between his friends and his family and his wife, and the overwhelming swell in his chest as he reminded himself that this was real — that he was here, with the love of his life, cheered on by everyone he loved.

He'd made it.

Holly caught him in another kiss as the applause flared and waned, and it could've lasted forever if it weren't for the contagious bubbling laughter that came over them. Swiping at tears, Holly sent a grateful smile Jim and Pam's way. "I can't believe they did that."

"God," Michael huffed, blinking back sneaky tears. Turning back to her, he added, "What now? You wanna- we could do the Electric Slide now. What do you think?"

Holly grinned at the idea, but her sights drifted over his shoulder — and without looking, he knew what she wanted to do next. She bit her lip. "Well, I was thinking…"

His expression softened, and he nodded. All the air drained from her body, either relief or emotion or something else entirely.

So he released his embrace, hand still in hers, as they turned toward their parents' table. There sat Annie Flax, eyes shining and fingers pressed to her mouth — and already up straight, Howard Flax, who was a mess visible from across the room. Holly gestured for him to come up.

"Thank you," she mumbled, squeezing Michael's hand. She pulled him in and kissed his ear. "Don't get too comfortable, okay?"

"I promise." He kissed her hand, once on the back and once on the palm, before letting her go. As Howard approached, Michael reached out to wrap a hug around his shoulder. Howard caught it just in time, squeezing, before turning toward his daughter with a tearful smile.

Michael left the dance floor to them and headed for the nearby table, where Annie furiously swiped at her eyes. Sniffing, he took a seat beside her and gave her a nudge.

"You're crying…"

"So're you," she muttered with no bite.

His jaw dropped. "It's my wedding."

"It's my daughter," she shot back, though her eyes were smiling between wipes. Annie huffed a breath and tossed a hand out toward Holly and Howard, who were already beginning their dance. "They're just fucking with me now."

"Well, that's why the father-daughter dance was invented," Michael mumbled, resting back in his chair. "To fuck with you specifically."

Annie choked a laugh. Her hand moved to his leg, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze. She leaned on her elbow, eyes locked on the bride.

They sat in silence — or as much silence as could be found at an evening-time, open-bar wedding.

Holly and her father had clearly danced together before; they stepped in easy time, her arms looking natural around his neck. Their lips were moving, though Michael couldn't make any of it out. From far enough way, and for probably the first time, Michael noticed how much Holly had inherited from her father. Their eyebrows did the same dance — their smiles started in the same place.

"Keep her smiling like that," Annie said, out of nowhere. When Michael met her eyes, she cleared her throat. "Please. As much as you can."

His nod was instant, reflexive, as though she'd continued a thought he'd begun. He ran a thumb over her hand comfortably.

Holly's chin settled on her father's shoulder. The song broke into chorus.

"You, too."

Michael blinked, then turned toward Annie. "Hm?"

She swallowed. "You smile, too. As much as you can."

He blinked again, a slow smile spreading over his face. He elbowed her arm lightly. "Thanks, Mom."

"Don't push it."

"Right," Michael said, and turned back to the dance floor. "Sorry… Ma."

"Not that either. Just avoid the whole thing."

"What about Mum? Go a little exotic?"

"That's- no, Michael…"

The Rockies had blessed them with a night not too achingly cold, and so they'd opened up the large cabin doors to a beautiful vista view.

Sunset had just passed over during the ceremony, leaving them with a dim near-night illuminated by candles, and one big bonfire under the care of Dwight Schrute. Thanks to the cooperation of many guests, enough blankets and seating had been brought to gather collectively around the flames — just removed from the cabin, but not too far to catch the glow of hanging lanterns adorning its eaves.

Over his shoulder, Michael could hear a few vestigial conversations from inside; and he spotted the wedding cake, half-eaten and slumping to its side. Still, their little figurine survived at the top. He smiled to himself.

But the raucous dance party of a reception had settled into an easy, rumbling conversation throughout the grassy field. A few strays gathered off for a smoke; a few kids played tag nearer to the cabin, in view of their parents. The night smelled of fire and fresh air — resounded with a hundred conversations, sprinkles of laughter, and the fire crackling in their ears…

"Speech! Speech! Speech!"

And the riotous chanting of their friends and family.

"Okay, I'm working on it…"

"Speech! Speech!" Dwight led the charge, very close to Jim's ear. Jim kept scrolling through his phone, his focus mostly unshaken by the tipsy multitudes cheering him on. "Where's the speech, Jim? You're supposed to be the best man."

"Give him a break, Dwight," Michael said in good humor — settled under the weight of Holly's head on his shoulder, bundled up to him under a blanket that said Ass Daddy, brought by Heather. He was ridiculously relaxed — at maximum relaximum. If he were a monk or a yogi or something, he'd be floating out of his seat right now.

Holly seemed to have reached peak comfort, out of her shoes and curled up under her full skirt. Her arms were locked around him under his jacket, and her cold nose would warn him every time she went in to kiss his neck. Holly, usually the more physically reserved, could not keep her hands off him tonight — and he didn't mind it at all.

"Got it," Jim announced, over the impatient chatter in every direction. "All right… Can I have everyone's attention? Again?"

They were only a few drinks in so far, yet wrangling these people out of their individual conversations was nigh on impossible. Even once Jim had caught the general attention, a few stray whispers and hushed giggles pierced the silence.

Jim looked around, clearing his throat a good bit, before pulling his phone up to read:

"So, first of all: congratulations, Michael and Holly," Jim said, to the response of cheers and applause. He nodded to the two of them. "Obviously. We're all so happy for you two. It's been a long time coming."

"Amen," Michael muttered. He laid his head on Holly's and sighed.

Now settling into the attention, Jim turned his eyes on his audience. "So I'm Jim Halpert, for anyone who doesn't know. I worked under Michael back in Scranton for about ten years. So I've gotten to know him a bit."

A few chuckles crossed over the fire.

"And in that time, I've seen… quite a few of Michael's personal endeavors." Gesturing toward Michael, he elaborated, "I watched him start the Michael Scott Paper Company — a short-lived but successful business move on his part. I bore witness to the finished film, Threat Level Midnight, which was an indisputable hit."

Again, there was laughter, more from the Scranton folks and Michael himself. Holly's chuckle vibrated against his side.

Jim grinned as he continued. "And that was just one of several high-brow productions, by the way. The yearly Dundies awards, hosted by Michael himself — which, I think, changed the landscape of awards shows for years to come."

Beaming, Michael sat up a little straighter. He did catch the looks of confusion across the circle, mainly from their family, but he paid them no mind.

"But there was one thing that I noticed, throughout that time," Jim said, looking up from his notes, directly to Michael. "And it was that no matter what you accomplished, you just… didn't seem happy. And I didn't get it."

Off in the distance, a kid squealed, punctuating the lull in conversation. Michael's eyes drifted toward the bonfire as he listened.

"Then Holly showed up at the office," he continued, and that was all it took to get Michael's attention again. Jim grinned as he added, "And Michael just… came to life. And it was instant — I mean, the day she arrived, Michael straight up told me he loved her, and I was like-"

The tension burst into laughter before Jim had even finished the sentence — and even Michael laughed, due to both the objective absurdity and the horrified expression on Jim's face. Michael had meant what he'd said at the time, but looking back, it had been a bit too early to be accurate.

"-yeah, so I tried to kinda reel that in a bit." Jim chuckled, and peeked down at his phone. "But every time Michael was around her, I just saw this… thing light up inside him. And I recognized that thing, because it had happened to me, with Pam."

Behind him, Pam smiled, and he smiled back.

"And I just knew that this wasn't some project, or some fling," he said, with certainty. "It was something to watch. And I think we all did."

Michael, grinning ear to ear, craned his neck to catch Holly's expression — and she was deep pink, either from the heat of the fire or from the story being told. She noticed his gaze and leaned up for a brief kiss, which he obliged.

"And if there's any advice that Pam and I can give you," Jim concluded, drawing their attention again, "it's to hold onto this. Not to this day, or to these feelings — but to that thing that makes you light up, because that's gonna carry you through life. You are gonna carry each other through life. And that's not a responsibility; it's a privilege."

And somewhere during this statement, moisture pricked at Michael's eyes, but he didn't bother blinking it away. He locked eyes with Jim for a moment, then over to Pam, who nodded with him as though they'd planned the message together. She winked at him, and he winked back.

"So congratulations!" Jim said this with a huff of breath, as his nerves fell off his shoulders. He clicked his phone off. "Good luck. We love you guys… End speech."

He sat down hastily, as though he could escape the reaction. Of course, he didn't — applause thundered throughout the group, along with a few cheers. Michael whistled loudly, and Holly jolted upright. He muttered his apology and kissed her hair, and she settled back onto his shoulder without much convincing.

A few people stepped off to the side then, as conversation sneaked back up to the surface; a few people came to join them, a blur of a child running past the fire and a chorus of nervous parents jumping up at the sight. Michael's eyes closed for just a moment, slumping into the blanket…

A hand found his shoulder and squeezed.

"Hey, Mike?"

Michael knew the voice before he even opened his eyes. Peering over his shoulder, he was met with the lowlit face of Jeff Cooper — who was, oddly enough, not the person he'd most dreaded seeing today. Michael tried not to let that relief show on his face.

"Hey," Michael said, more a question than a greeting. Holly's head lifted lazily.

"Hi, Jeff," she added, a bit softer around the edges.

"Hey," Jeff echoed, and smiled at the both of them. Cautiously, he set a hand on Michael's shoulder, recollecting his attention. "So listen: you can say 'no' to this and I won't be offended-"

"No," Michael said reflexively; but he quickly cracked a smile. "I'm kidding. Go ahead."

Jeff huffed a nervous chuckle. "Yeah. So… I had a little something I wanted to say — just a short toast, but I wanted to check with you, first. Just as your…family member."

He was skirting around the word "father" and Michael knew it, and he held his breath until Jeff finished talking. His gaze inched over Jeff's shoulder, toward where his mother sat — but to his surprise, she was not watching over their encounter. Her back was turned, even.

Holly's hand squeezed his side, a move of solidarity. She did not urge him either way.

To his own surprise, Michael nodded.

Jeff blinked, unsure of the response at first — but as their eyes met, he nodded back. Patting his shoulder, Jeff straightened up and headed back toward his seat. Michael watched cautiously as he went.

Under the blanket, Holly's embrace tightened around him. He smiled, resting his head. "You like that?"

"Mhm," she hummed, kissing his chest.

The two of them turned their attention toward the circle, where Jeff began flicking his beer can loudly. Slowly, the chatter died down to a tentative lull, heads turning toward Michael's parents.

"-everybody, for your attention," Jeff began, voice just audible now. He, of course, had no notes — he just flashed his million-dollar smile around the group and clasped his hands together. "Don't worry — I'll make this quick… That's what she said."

A few people laughed, including Michael, though it was a conflicted laugh. Michael didn't know whether to be honored that straight-laced, religious Jeff made such a joke for his sake — or annoyed that he'd stolen Michael's trademark comedy — but he just decided to laugh. It was his wedding day and nothing could ruin it for him.

"Anyway," he continued, looking down at his hands. "If you don't know me, I'm Jeff Cooper, Michael's stepdad. I married Emily when Mike was pretty young — and that wasn't the smoothest of transitions, to be sure…"

"You can say that again," Michael muttered, but only Holly seemed to hear. She pinched him playfully.

Jeff cleared his throat, and turned to Michael. "But even though things were rough for a while, and even though I entered into his life a little late… I don't know. Mike, I've always thought of you as my kid, even if you weren't mine."

Michael's teasing smile drooped a little. He swallowed.

"And any parent here knows that when you raise a kid, there are a lot of choices you have to make, and a lot to consider. But in the end, all you really want is for them to find happiness." Gesturing toward Michael and Holly, he added, "And I think this is a pretty good start."

Michael did grin at that, tugging Holly closer — and she looked up at him with smiling eyes. She winked, and he melted.

"And if there's any last advice I can give you, as a parent," Jeff said, and reached down for his wife's hand, "it's this: finding the right person, the one who fills your life with joy and security and meaning, is the truest happiness I've ever known. Hold onto her — make it last. It's all you're ever gonna need, I promise."

With that, Jeff nodded, and settled back into his seat. The others clapped for him, Holly included; across the way, Mom gave Jeff a playful nudge, and Jeff kissed her cheek. Michael smiled, just a little bit.

And as the party fell back into chaos, and Andy resumed the low strum of his guitar, and someone tossed something into the fire, and Angela hissed out Dwight's name in a familiar way — as everything relaxed again, Michael found himself fixated on those words, and the look on his mother's face…

Holly must have sensed this, and she brought him back to the moment with a kiss to his neck. His hand fell to her side and drew her in, a possessive movement. She grinned, and kissed his lips, and held him down to earth.

If he were ever to take advice from his parents, this was it: to hold onto her, the greatest of his dreams.

Holly wondered what the stars felt like.

Her outstretched elbow haunted the side of her vision, blurring under the runny twinkles of some eight-hundred blue kisses in the sky. She hadn't been out here this late before — hadn't had this many stars to count, a dizzying amount, just for her. Every time she blinked, a few more popped out, winking down at her.

She lay back on her elbows, and they dug through the blanket and into the earth in a grounding way. Knuckle-deep in the knot of her hair, she picked at the pins and tugged out little twigs of baby's breath, all into a pile somewhere at her side. She sighed, and her breath swirled out in fog.

The stars.

Maybe it was the wedding high, or the champagne, or the confetti cake — but she imagined she could reach out and touch those stars, just now. They were so close, so palpable that she could nearly snap them from their strings and hand them out as party favors. She was tempted to stand up and try…

She kept forgetting that she wasn't alone, but a laugh or a shout or the beginning of a familiar joke could always draw her back to earth. A good few people and their kids had made off earlier; now only a few settled around the dying fire, cigarette trails wisping off into the thin mountain air. Andy had surrendered his guitar to Creed, who plucked lazily under the puff of his cigar. The conversation turned drunk and sentimental, from what she could catch when she cared to listen.

Someone's gaze was on her — she caught a couple of people looking at her, before turning back to the conversation. She looked away, blushing.

All eyes were on her this evening. It was embarrassing, and warming, and she felt beautiful and awkward and glowing as she wrenched her hair out of its low perch, pins rolling down her full skirt. She freed her tangled fingers just long enough to find her half-full flute of bubbly, and dropped her head back…

Overhead, she found an upside-down Michael approaching. She smiled, and he smiled back.

"Hey."

"Hey, you," she greeted into her glass, still perched in her lips as she examined him. He'd loosened his tie — it had been bothering him all day, she knew — and walked sock-to-earth, a s'more in each hand. His face held that familiar warmth, the silly grin he wore whenever he made a good joke or received a compliment. That look made her want to kiss him all over, but she wouldn't — not just now, while all his friends were watching him go.

As he came around to her other side, she returned right-side-up and set her empty glass aside. The yarny blanket made wrinkles as he found a place next to her; and once there, he extended a s'more to her. She ignored the obvious lick-marks on the edges of the chocolate and accepted the treat.

"Having fun?" he asked, and she couldn't imagine why.

"Of course," she whispered, nipping at the edge of her s'more. She wiped at the edge of her mouth before adding, "Just taking a second — breathing it in."

His hand landed behind her, a loose embrace. Holly shuffled into his shoulder and drew her knees up to his side. She inhaled.

He smelled like bonfire, and it was good.

Polishing off his s'more, Michael looked her over. He licked the chocolate from his lips. "Taking your hair down?"

She nodded, mouth full.

"May I?"

She nodded, even though his hands were probably marshmallowy, and shifted to face away from him. In her periphery, she spotted the bewildered look on his face — she chuckled, but he ignored that and got to work.

"They're already cleaning up inside," Michael mumbled. A pin fell cold against her neck; he pinched it up and dropped it into the blanket. "Whenever you want to go get warm, we can."

Although the idea of crawling into bed with him did appeal to her, she was content not to make that call just yet. "I'm fine to stay out for a bit."

His lips brushed over her neck, a sneaky little kiss. "Aren't you cold?"

"Not now," Holly said — and she reached back to help with her hair, but he took her hand and kissed it. She grinned, peeking over her shoulder.

The fire was fading now, with only a few sleepy guests curled at its edges. She couldn't imagine what time it was now — late enough to feel tired, certainly, but the night didn't seem to be over. Maybe she just didn't want it to be.

"Was it everything you wanted?" she had to ask, practical nonsense at this point but still on her mind.

"Everything," Michael said with a conviction she couldn't doubt. Her hair finally fell free, and he gave it a fluff. "Everything."

The scene was silent for a moment, but a comfortable sort of silent. Michael caught back on his elbows to look at the stars; and Holly dropped her head on his chest, and something relaxed in him, and he laid his head down. She lazily draped an arm over him.

"It doesn't feel real," he said, after a long moment of thought. He played with her fingers absentmindedly, gaze drifting off somewhere in the sky. "It's like I'm here, and I feel it, but I can't grab onto it."

Smiling, she buried her frozen nose in his jacket. "I know. I thought I was gonna drown in this."

"Hm?" he asked, chest rumbling beneath her ear. She inhaled to repeat herself…

"I don't know," Holly admitted with a shrug. "I'm drunk."

Michael craned his neck to look at her. "No, you're not."

No, she wasn't. She sighed.

"I just…" she began, gaze slipping down. "I thought this couldn't end right, you know? I didn't think I'd actually get to you."

He didn't respond to this at first. She could feel his eyes studying her, his hand sneaking up from her waist.

"That's weird," he said, and brushed her hair back. "I always believed I'd get to you."

And Holly… melted.

So, draping her arms around his neck, she pulled him into a smiling kiss — and he set a hand under her chin to hold her there. He sighed, and she leaned into him, and she got a little lost in it.

She did pull back, forehead to his, and muttered, "You're drunk."

"Maybe a little."

"Maybe a lot," she teased. "You taste like champa-"

He caught her in another kiss, in that slow, warm lust creeping up on both of them. His mouth was warm against the cold; she drew breath, and it was a flood of champagne, and confetti cake, and smoke, and mountain air, and good dreams, and wool blankets… and bliss. This was bliss, and she just melted into it…

Maybe Holly didn't believe in much. She didn't believe she could actually reach out and touch the stars. She didn't believe in god, or fate, or getting it right the first time — and sometimes, she didn't believe in herself, either.

But she believed in this.

Let's get rich and build a house on a mountain

Making everybody look like ants,

And way up there, you and I

You and I.

Thanks, again. Let me know what you thought :)