Trivial Pursuits by Comfect
Past Featured StorySummary:

The Office meets Parfumerie/She Loves Me/Shop Around the Corner/You've Got Mail. Pam and Jim meet earlier in life in AOL trivia chatrooms without knowing who each other are. 

In addition to the above-mentioned sources, also owes a lot to a number of fics on this site, most notably Expressions in Emoticons and the Love-Song of Squirrel McPants. 

Now Complete: AU, starting before S1 (and thus also a Prior Meeting), running into S2.


Categories: Jim and Pam, Present, Past, Episode Related, Alternate Universe Characters: Dwight, Jim, Kelly, Oscar, Pam, Roy, Toby
Genres: Angst, Childhood, Drunk Pam/Jim, Fluff, Holiday, Inner Monologue, Romance
Warnings: None
Challenges: Prior Meeting, Instant Messaging
Challenges: Prior Meeting, Instant Messaging
Series: None
Chapters: 32 Completed: Yes Word count: 32205 Read: 43643 Published: December 01, 2017 Updated: December 26, 2017
Story Notes:
This story starts a little slow, because they're teenagers. But it gets to the showtimes pretty quickly and then goes episode by episode until near the end when the pace picks up even more.

1. Pamerica Online by Comfect

2. Mythological Creatures by Comfect

3. Mom-Stuff by Comfect

4. Omg Omg Omg by Comfect

5. Actually Try by Comfect

6. Aftermath by Comfect

7. First Fight by Comfect

8. Marywood by Comfect

9. Pam's First Day by Comfect

10. Engagement by Comfect

11. Meeting Dwight by Comfect

12. Missed Connections by Comfect

13. "Pilot" by Comfect

14. "Diversity Day" by Comfect

15. "Health Care" by Comfect

16. "The Alliance" by Comfect

17. "Basketball" by Comfect

18. "Hot Girl" by Comfect

19. Hiatus by Comfect

20. "The Dundies" by Comfect

21. "Sexual Harassment" by Comfect

22. "Office Olympics" by Comfect

23. "The Fire" by Comfect

24. "Halloween" by Comfect

25. "The Fight" by Comfect

26. "The Client" by Comfect

27. "Performance Review" by Comfect

28. "Email Surveillance" Part 1 by Comfect

29. "Email Surveillance" Part 2 by Comfect

30. "Christmas Party" Part 1 by Comfect

31. "Christmas Party" Part 2 by Comfect

32. Epilogue by Comfect

Pamerica Online by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam gets online and meets people.

Standard disclaimer: I own nothing associated with the Office or the stories this references or AOL except an AOL account.

Pamela Morgan Beesly had a problem. She needed—needed—to get permission to go on online. Her friends Tammy and Izzy were online now, right now, and she was pretty sure they were talking without her—not about her, just, you know, talking, and her not there—and she couldn’t stand it. She needed to get online.

 

But her parents were, well, her parents, and they were also aware of what teenage girls liked to do, and worse, what they might like to do if given the whole of the internet to play with, and she wasn’t getting anywhere.

 

And that’s when it hit her. She knew why she needed to be online. They knew why she wanted (they wouldn’t say needed) to be online. And neither of them was budging. So she needed to change the game.

 

She needed something that was online that she couldn’t get at home, but that her parents would approve of.

 

Fortunately, she’d been watching enviously over her friends’ shoulders when she went to their houses, and she’d noticed a button that might help her out. A button her friends never clicked, to be fair, but a button she could use herself. A big button that said “Trivia.”

 

The argument was surprisingly brief. Pam fought dirty, after all: reminding her dad of his time on the school’s Quiz Bowl team, nagging her mom about her own experience with the trivia nights at church when she was a kid, then pointing out the utter lack of similar options at Dunmore High, their local church, or indeed the local community. As a clincher, she mentioned that if Dad would (please please please right now) set her up with a sub-account under his own on AOL, he’d be able to access and monitor her account if he didn’t trust her (this last said with the biggest Bambi eyes she could manage). After only a few days of this assault, her parents caved. Pam was allowed on AOL, where she could message with her friends after (this said with extreme [and, Pam thought, unnecessary] emphasis) she finished her homework, and provided she did as she promised and used it for educational purposes, including trivia. She could have sworn her father winked at her as he said that last part, but her mom’s back was turned and she wasn’t going to risk drawing her attention to double-check.

 

For the next couple of weeks she was deliriously happy chatting away gaily with her friends at times when, previously, she had felt tragically bereft of their presence and support. And, more to her surprise, she found out she was actually pretty good at this trivia thing. At least when she played the right games.

 

There were games on all sorts of topics, but Pam gravitated directly to the art history and general knowledge areas: she wasn’t a sports geek, she definitely didn’t do music, and most of the more specialized games were well outside of her comfort zone. But she was doing well enough in basic high-school history, math, science, and English—and she had taken them recently enough to have them fresh in her mind—that she surprised herself and held her own in the broader categories—and of course she was art-mad.

 

She didn’t exactly neglect her friends online (after all, that was the whole point of getting online in the first place!) but she did find herself also becoming sucked into the convivial community around the trivia games. At first her dad would play with her sometimes, hanging over her shoulder as if to check that she was really playing (or, she suspected, to relive his Quiz Bowl glory days) but after a while that dwindled off, and she was no longer p.o.s. Instead she was having fun just being Pam—or rather, MorganLaFey, the online handle she had adopted after hearing her mother’s lecture on online safety one too many times.

 

“Pam, you have to be careful. You know what they say—on the internet, nobody knows you’re a dog! But some dogs bite, honey. You can’t let people know who you are, or where you are, or anything about you. No Age/Sex/Location! No pictures! Not even your real name. Just…be yourself without being yourself, OK honey?”

 

This and similar fretting had convinced her to use her middle name, and to disguise it. Honestly, it seemed terribly romantic to her: she’d always wanted to be a sorceress, and who cared if the old stories made Morgan the villain. She could be her own version of Morgan, a brilliant powerful woman everyone feared because of how awesome she was.

 

Pam was a lonely child, and it was not entirely her mother’s fault.

 

But while she kept her mother’s advice in her heart, she also started making some friends online beyond TamTamTam and Izabellzandwhistlez. She was by nature shy, but some of the personalities online jumped off the screen, and as long as she didn’t reveal too much of herself she felt comfortable enjoying them for them. ALLISFALSE and JeopardyFellow were full of puns and good humour; CantBeetMe wasn’t funny, but he knew his stuff and wasn’t afraid to say so; and so on. She meshed particularly well with one person in particular, who went by the handle WScranton8. They were always on around the same time, played the same games, and did about equally well, though in opposite areas. They were funny, self-deprecating, and easy-going. And there was that tantalizing “Scranton” in the username. Pam wasn’t about to violate her mother’s advice and reveal that she too was from Scranton, but she couldn’t deny that there was a thrill in seeing her hometown’s name flash by every time they answered or commented in the chat. She wondered often what their A/S/L might be—was that Scranton for real?—but since she wasn’t about to give up any data on her own (not that they’d asked), she wasn’t going to bring it up herself.

 

She found herself intentionally seeking them out, even playing one stupid sports-only game in order to be in the same room. She’d noticed that they were a whiz at sports trivia, often waiting out the other players in order to give the only right answer immediately before the buzzer (a practice she had learned was called ‘bagging,’ worth it because being the only correct answer was worth three points instead of one). But when they noticed she was there, they suddenly started answering earlier and earlier, giving her a chance to ‘lem,’ or copy their answer blindly (a practice she realized one day in biology class was named for lemmings going over a cliff, a thought which briefly alarmed her when she realized how accurate it was to her copying sports answers). She found herself thanking them for their kindness in the group chat when an instant message popped up on her screen:

 

WScranton8: glad to help

WScranton8: but i expect the same from you on the next art question ; )

End Notes:
I'm extremely interested in anything you all might have to say about this, as it's obviously got a ways to go and I'm open to suggestions. Let me know what you think!
Mythological Creatures by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam chats.

 Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories this is based on. 


 

Pam wasn’t sure what to do with the new message on her screen. She thought she liked this WScranton8; they had been getting along, and she had few enough people she got along with in real life or online that that still felt special. But she wasn’t about to forget her mother’s instructions either, or her own intuition, which, although it felt good about this one, was still screaming at her on general principle. While she was wracked with indecision, she got another pair of messages:

 

WScranton8: you missed a question

WScranton8: everything ok?

 

She looked over and realized that while she’d been staring at the first messages another question had rolled by in the game, and a second one was in fact starting:

 

TomFoolery_HOST:    ****QUESTION COMING*****

TomFoolery_HOST:    WHAT FUTURE BASEBALL HALL OF FAMER SET A RECORD THAT STILL STANDS WITH 44 OUTFIELD ASSISTS IN 1930?

                                                                                                      

She realized she had no idea what the answer might be, but she was pretty sure WScranton8 did. They were a rabid Phillies fan, and seemed obsessive with baseball history in general. The answers started piling in.

 

ALLISFALSE: mel ott

Jack134:                      Melt Ott

SamWise:                     Tris speaker

WilliamSonofMa:          baberuth

D99999:                       Babe Ruth

0HHenry:                     ty cobb

 

She noticed that WScranton8 still hadn’t chimed in. She herself had no idea, but if they hadn’t answered yet that probably meant the right answer wasn’t out there. After all, they wouldn’t want to miss the buzzer...would they?

 

CHAR731:                   Ty cobb

HankYouMuchly:         tycobb

Easports:                      Ty Cobb

Dedspin1:                     ty cobb

 

It was always interesting to see how the chatroom groupthink developed. She usually followed that groupthink if she didn’t have any idea herself; and in this game she definitely didn’t. She had “Ty Cobb” written out when she saw it.

 

WScranton8:                Chuck Klein, for the Philadelphia Phillies

TomFoolery_HOST:    **************BUZZER*****************

 

She didn’t really have to look at the official answer after an entry like that. WScranton8 and the Phillies were pretty much automatic. But she did have something to type in her other window now.

 

MorganLaFey: everything’s fine

MorganLaFey: but I see someone’s back to bagging ; )

WScranton8: well, if you’re not going to play, I might as well have my own fun

 

Well. Didn’t have to wait long for that response, did she?

 

MorganLaFey: are you implying I’m no fun?

WScranton8: never : )

WScranton8: the rest of this group though…

MorganLaFey: oh?

WScranton8: I’m pretty sure 0HHenry is a troll.

MorganLaFey: he lives under a bridge?

WScranton8: LOL. yes, eating correct answers before they can get across onto the screen

WScranton8: Fi-Fie-Fo-Fum, I smell the blood of a correct one!

MorganLaFey: heh

WScranton8: heh?

WScranton8: you wound me

MorganLaFey: and yet somehow I think you’ll recover

WScranton8: you know me so well

 

Did she? She certainly knew this person better than the other denizens of this little section of the internet,  but did she know them well?

 

And would she like to?

 

She’d have to think about that.

 

MorganLaFey: it’s pretty obvious youre irrepressible

WScranton8: *you’re

WScranton8: anyway

WScranton8: where was I before I was so rudely mocked with “heh”?

WScranton8: oh right. 0HHenry is a troll, which makes Jack134 a centaur

MorganLaFey: oh really?                                              

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: half of the time he’s right, half of the time he’s wrong

WScranton8: you just gotta hope you have the right half

MorganLaFey: LOL

WScranton8: not heh?

MorganLaFey: I guess not

WScranton8: good

 

Pam smiled. She agreed. It was good.

MorganLaFey: what about CantBeetMe?

WScranton8: what about him? he’s not in this game

MorganLaFey: yeah but he’s clearly one of them

MorganLaFey: these mythical beasts

MorganLaFey: so?

WScranton8: come on morgan

WScranton8: it’s too obvious

MorganLaFey: you’re stalling

WScranton8: am not

WScranton8: you just don’t know

MorganLaFey: staller :-P

WScranton8: fine

WScranton8: he’s a dragon

MorganLaFey: oh really?

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: he sits on his giant answer hoard and glares at everyone else

MorganLaFey: lol

MorganLaFey: and he definitely does breathe fire

WScranton8: lol

 

She could definitely get used to this.

End Notes:
I realize this is two updates in one day; I doubt I'll be updating tomorrow so I wanted to get this one in. After this I hope to match my usual 1-a-day schedule. Feedback of the positive, negative, and neutral varieties are all welcome at any time.
Mom-Stuff by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam sets some ground rules.

 

Disclaimer: I still own nothing associated with the Office, the other source stories, or AOL except my AOL account.


 

As the weeks went by Pam got more and more comfortable chatting with WScranton8. They hung out in the same chat rooms, playing mostly the general trivia they were both good at, and they would chat throughout the games—which led to a lot of “you missed a question,” but it’s not like either of them were winning anyway. Well, sometimes, but only if there were enough of the right kind of questions. So they were perfectly happy whiling away the time in good humor. WScranton would hug “Morgan” electronically whenever she entered the room, and soon she would do the same to them.

 

She still wondered whether they were really from Scranton, what their name was—basically, anything real about them. But she was leery of letting her own secrets out, so she didn’t ask. Still, she paid close attention to any scraps of information that came her way. Until one day they were chatting and they let something big drop.

 

MorganLaFey: hey

WScranton8: hey

MorganLaFey: hows it going?

WScranton8: really well actually

WScranton8: i made varsity today

MorganLaFey: congrats!

MorganLaFey: what in?

WScranton8: oh guess I never said

WScranton8: basketball, actually

WScranton8: i play for my hs

 

And there it was. A perfect opportunity to find out more about this stranger who was no longer a stranger. But Pam…couldn’t. She just stared at the words she had automatically typed out—“oh, where do you go to hs?”—but she couldn’t send them, because she couldn’t risk having to answer the question if they asked back. She thought about the guys who played JV basketball at her high school: were any of them WScranton8? There was a William Weaver…but she remembered him as a particularly stupid kid, and WScranton8 was definitely not that. Then she thought about Wyonna Howell, who played JV on the girls’ side. She could be WScranton, but…somehow she was really attached to the idea that this person, who she didn’t really know, was a guy. She realized she really wanted them to be a guy. But probably not William Weaver. And with that realization she knew she couldn’t ask. Because she’d be disappointed if he wasn’t from Scranton, and she’d be scared if he was. Because if he was he suddenly became real, and she’d have to do something with this little bit of her (ok, a big bit) that really wanted him to be a hot guy. And if he was, she’d have to do…something with that information, and she just knew she wouldn’t and she’d disappoint herself (and maybe him, she thought sadly) and…that just wasn’t going to happen.

 

So she didn’t send it. But she spent so long not sending that he noticed. Of course he did. Because he always noticed her.

 

WScranton8: huh. I guess I never told you anything like that before.

WScranton8: like, I’m not even sure you knew I was in high school.

WScranton8: and I think you’re probably about my age? At least, we seem to have the same interests ; )

WScranton8: but I guess we really don’t talk about that stuff

WScranton8: you ok?

 

She was. Somehow the fact that he’d noticed her hesitation made the hesitation itself OK. Like because he talked about it she could too. Not like she was going to suddenly go all A/S/L on him or tell him that stuff about herself, but she could address the fact that they weren’t going to.

 

MorganLaFey: yeah

MorganLaFey: it’s just

MorganLaFey: my mom said not to tell that sort of thing to strangers online

MorganLaFey: and it’s not like we’re strangers now or anything

WScranton8: but we are even if we’re not. I get it.

 

And that was the thing. He did get it. And she felt comfortable with him. But she still wasn’t going to go any further. And she thought he’d understand. So she decided to tell him.

 

MorganLaFey: yeah.

MorganLaFey: hey, wanna make a deal?

WScranton8: sure. what?

MorganLaFey: let’s make that official

MorganLaFey: we can talk about anything, right?

WScranton8: yes?

MorganLaFey: so we agree: we can talk about anything but we won’t talk about anything personal

MorganLaFey: i mean not personal

MorganLaFey: not like personal-important, personal-personal

WScranton8: like social security numbers or addresses or credit cards

WScranton8: or like what high school i just made varsity at? ; )

MorganLaFey: exactly

WScranton8: sounds fair

MorganLaFey: good

WScranton8: so we can like talk about our days and how we’re feeling and what we thought of a movie, but nothing that might get stalker-y or get you in trouble with your mom

MorganLaFey: yes!

MorganLaFey: we can even have a code word if we think the other is talking about something out of bounds

MorganLaFey: like, we can call each other “stalker” or something

WScranton8: how about “mom-stuff”?

WScranton8: like if we went back to the start of this conversation

WScranton8: and I said that thing about making varsity

WScranton8: you could say “congrats! but also mom-stuff.”

MorganLaFey: perfect

MorganLaFey: also, congrats again. But also mom-stuff ; )

WScranton8: ; )

 

She smiled to herself. This was why she liked WScranton8. He just got things when she explained them—or didn’t even fully explain them, like this one. He didn’t need the explanation. They were just in sync.

 

Now all she had to do was quash this really strong desire to tell him all her “mom-stuff” all at once.

End Notes:
I hope this helps explain how they don't necessarily figure out who each other are instantly! Let me know what you think, and where you'd like to see this go. Reviews and jellybeans are much appreciated, as is constructive criticism of any kind. 
Omg Omg Omg by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam gets a date.

 Standard disclaimer: I own neither the Office, nor any of the sources for this, nor AOL, nor minor league ice hockey franchises. 

MorganLaFey: omg omg omg

WScranton8: what what what?

MorganLaFey: a boy asked me out

MorganLaFey: like, on a date

WScranton8: oh, I was afraid you meant he asked you to get out of his seat in math class

WScranton8: of course on a date :-P

MorganLaFey: :-P

MorganLaFey: it’s so exciting

MorganLaFey: omg

WScranton8: cmon now morgan

WScranton8: this can’t be the first time someone’s asked you out

WScranton8: smart funny girl like you should be beating them off with a stick

MorganLaFey: *blushes* you’re so sweet scranton

MorganLaFey: but for real

MorganLaFey: he came up to my locker after gym and was all like

MorganLaFey: hey you wanna go out sometime

MorganLaFey: and i almost didn’t think he was talking to me

MorganLaFey: but there was no one else there

WScranton8: and you said?

MorganLaFey: yes of course

MorganLaFey: well I kinda of said blurgumeruhyes

MorganLaFey: because i’m just that smooth

MorganLaFey: but he understood

MorganLaFey: we’re going out tonight actually

MorganLaFey: so i gotta go

MorganLaFey: but I just had to tell you

MorganLaFey: omg!

WScranton8: well, have fun I guess

WScranton8: talk tomorrow?

MorganLaFey: sure thing!

MorganLaFey: I’ll tell you how it goes!

 

Pam signed off and skipped around her room. Roy Anderson was taking her out tonight! Sure, it was to a minor league hockey game and she hated hockey, but still, a date! With a varsity football player. A hot, tall varsity football player who apparently knew her name. Or at least a version of it. And who wanted to date her! She was so excited she’d had to tell everyone, which she now realizes was basically just her parents and WScranton8. Izzy and Tammy and the rest of the group were all on a band field trip—music was definitely not her art, so it was the one time they were out of touch—and she’d just felt like screaming it to the rooftops. She had a momentary twinge of guilt at telling WScranton8 about her date; after all, she’d been having very date-like feelings about their chats in recent days. But she didn’t even technically know his S, let alone his A and L. Technically he could be an 85 year old grandmother in Tallahassee. You couldn’t cheat on someone you didn’t even know that much about.

 

Another small part of her reminded her that it was her idea that she not know any of those things about WScranton8; he’d seemed quite willing to go along with it, but it had definitively been her suggestion. And he had gotten awfully quiet when she’d kept gushing about the date, though she couldn’t tell how much of that was her own excitement not letting him get a word in edgewise. She shrugged. Or maybe he just didn’t care, and all this date-like stuff was entirely on her end. Maybe he was an 85-year-old Floridian grandmother. Or a 12 year old in Russia. Or anything else. She couldn’t let a hypothetical person she intentionally refused to know better keep her from the best thing that had ever happened to her romantically. Even if he was a wonderful listener, and even if they had been chatting about everything and nothing until the wee hours for the last week as she finished up an English paper that she “totally absolutely needed” online resources for when her mother asked. So there. She wasn’t going to feel guilty. She was going to feel excited. It wasn’t every day a hot guy like Roy took an interest in her. In fact, it wasn’t any day before now.

 

She briefly flirted with the idea that Roy could be WScranton8. Maybe he was short with her tonight because he too had to prepare to go watch minor league hockey game with a hot date. After all, he’d called her “smart” and “funny.” Well, WScranton8 had. Roy had just called her “Pammy” and asked if she was free tonight. And smiled. Oh that smile. Dimples for days. On further reflection, Roy wasn’t really the type to do trivia—he was barely passing gym as a varsity athlete, which was actually kind of funny—and she remembered WScranton8 was a basketball player, not a football player. But still, it would have been nice.

 

It was going to be nice anyway. She put on her best sweater (hockey was on ice, right? The games probably got cold) and as tight a pair of jeans as she thought her mother would let her get away with. She didn’t really plan to, you know, do anything with Roy tonight besides see a hockey game, but it wouldn’t hurt to dress up. Not even WScranton8 would call her “hot,” she thought (ignoring the point that he’d literally never seen her), but she could at least be “cute” tonight. After all, she had her first real date.


Omg.

End Notes:
I think we all know where this is going...poor Pam. Next chapter will be Jim's POV. I always appreciate feedback, of whatever variety. 
Actually Try by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Jim does homework.

 For those who were for some reason wondering who WScranton8 might be.

Standard disclaimer: I have no intellectual property rights in the Office, the other source stories, or AOL.  


 

Jim Halpert wasn’t really paying attention to the game. He’d just missed an Eagles question—an Eagles question—and he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He knew he shouldn’t be this bothered when a girl…well, he was pretty sure he was a girl…he had met online had a date. He didn’t know if she was really a girl (though the squealing about the date “with a boy” was probably a sign). He didn’t know if she was within a thousand miles of Scranton, PA. He didn’t know if she was his age (though the many hints he’d carefully tracked in their conversations strongly suggested it—and only so many people had “lockers” after “gym.”). He didn’t know if she was even interested in him, let alone as interested as he’d realized he was in her. It shouldn’t matter.

 

But it did.

 

He couldn’t really concentrate at the thought of her being out, on a date, with some guy at her school. Some smooth-talking dude who apparently swept her off her feet, so much that she—cool, smart, funny MorganLaFey—was reduced to incoherence. He wanted to punch something. Or go shoot hoops. Or, god forbid, do his homework.

 

In fact, he thought he would. Maybe he could actually use this internet connection for what his parents thought he was using it for. He was the sort of student who could coast along getting As and the occasional B with only moderate effort, so much so that the concept of actually trying was becoming a little foreign. He was a master at doing the least effort for the most effect, and he really had meant to use AOL to help with that. After all, a quick Google or Altavista search could answer questions that would have taken hours in the library, and AOL’s News forums kept him up to date for Social Studies class. But mostly he’d ended up ignoring those resources, coasting by on a smile, an instinctive grasp of standardized testing, and an easy way with words to make sure he passed his classes and using AOL for trivia and chatting.

 

Mostly chatting recently. Mostly with Morgan.

 

Who was on a date.

 

Which he was really trying not to think about.

 

He liked her a lot. He’d noticed her early on in the trivia rooms, mostly keeping to herself except for occasional bursts of a wicked sense of humor he instantly found himself drawn to. He’d started playing the straight man, setting her up for cutting comments and bad jokes, reveling each time she’d take advantage of his lines to let her personality shine through. He’d been flattered beyond belief when she’d started going to the same trivia rooms at the same time, especially since some of her comments about life suggested someone about his age, with similar experiences. She was clearly extremely artistic—not just because of her easy answers about art history in the games but also because of something larger, something in her words that simply brightened whenever she described the world around her with an artist’s eye. He’d noticed it all the more once his silly chivalry about the sports game and his daring, hold-your-breath gamble of directly IMing with her had gotten them chatting.

 

He liked her. A lot. And he was pretty sure she felt equally comfortable with him. After all, she’d said “they could talk about anything.” Or was it “everything”? He was totally OK with the “mom-stuff” restriction too; it helped him avoid playing the high school boy with her and coming on too strong. Since they didn’t exchange identifiable information, they’d had to actually get to know each other, talking about real things like their likes and dislikes, their thoughts and dreams. And he had found out he was right about her art, right about her personality, right about everything. She was perfect.

 

Except that he literally didn’t know anything about her, from a demographic perspective. She knew he was in Scranton (or at least she should, from his username) but he didn’t even know that. He had started out hoping she was nearby. Now he dreamed about it. Except now she was on a date with some guy from her high school.

 

And if she was anywhere nearby, that might mean he knew the guy. And he honestly couldn’t think of anyone he knew who was worthy of her. Not even him, though he’d jump at the chance to prove himself wrong on that point. He didn’t even know what she looked like, but it didn’t really matter. She was Morgan. Morgan was beautiful, to him, no matter what. Though he wouldn’t have minded the chance to confirm that in person.

 

But right now her person was out on a date, and his person was sitting in his bedroom actually typing up an English essay that wasn’t due for three whole days. Which was, he supposed, better than playing another trivia game where he’d embarrass himself. Maybe next time he could forget what year the Phillies last won the World Series, or who Julius Erving played for. He couldn’t show his face in digital public until he’d gotten these feelings under control.

 

That resolution dissolved instantly when he heard the door-opening sound on his Buddy List and his incoming IM chime from the program he’d left on in the background.

 

MorganLaFey: worst. date. ever.

End Notes:
Dun dun dun! We'll be back to our regularly scheduled Pam POV for the next chapter. Let me know what you think, and where you'd like to see this go (and how fast).
Aftermath by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam comes home.

 Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, the other stories this is based on, AOL, or the Scranton/Wilkes-Barre Penguins. 

MorganLaFey: worst. date. ever.

MorganLaFey: ugh

MorganLaFey: hi

 

Pam was surprised and pleased to find WScranton8 online. She really hadn’t expected it, but some blind instinct had driven her to sign online after she stormed back into the house. She felt that anger start to dissipate when she looked at her Buddy List and saw his name. She couldn’t really talk to her mom or dad about this; not after calling them to pick her up. So humiliating! But Scranton was different. He’d understand. She could talk to him, maybe.

 

WScranton8: um, hi.

WScranton8: what happened?

WScranton8: are you ok?

 

She smiled at the screen. Of course he was concerned for her. He was there for her. He was always there.

 

MorganLaFey: yeah

MorganLaFey: it just really sucked

WScranton8: and you were so excited

MorganLaFey: exactly!

MorganLaFey: such a letdown

MorganLaFey: like, I thought it was going to be just the two of us

WScranton8: wasn’t it?

MorganLaFey: no!

MorganLaFey: I get there and his idiot brother is sitting next to him

MorganLaFey: and he just looks over and says hi and goes back to staring at the ice

WScranton8: ice?

WScranton8: like in his drink, or what?

MorganLaFey: oh!

MorganLaFey: the date was at a hockey rink

WScranton8: how eccentrically romantic

WScranton8: did he rent it out for the two of you? was his brother there to run the zamboni?

MorganLaFey: for a hockey game, dork

WScranton8: wait, you like sports now?

MorganLaFey:…no

WScranton8: ?

MorganLaFey: he does. and he asked. so I went.

WScranton8: I have heard that is how these things usually work, yes

MorganLaFey: and it sucked

WScranton8: ok hopefully not that part

MorganLaFey: they spent the whole time screaming at the players and the refs and whatever

MorganLaFey: and cramming hot dogs into their mouths

MorganLaFey: and we didn’t really get to talk or hold hands or anything

WScranton8: aww

MorganLaFey: and then he forgot me

WScranton8: ?

MorganLaFey: I went to the bathroom

MorganLaFey: and when I came back they weren’t there

MorganLaFey: and I had to call my mom for a ride

WScranton8: wait what what what

WScranton8: I’m sorry, I just can’t imagine anyone forgetting you

MorganLaFey: well it’s too bad you weren’t there :-P

MorganLaFey: I could have used a friend

WScranton8: I’m sorry?

MorganLaFey: forget it

WScranton8: …ok

WScranton8: so, when’s date #2?

MorganLaFey: shut up :-P

WScranton8: :-)

End Notes:

Poor Jim. He's going to wish he'd saved this chat log. Or will he? 

Another couple chapters around the start of Pam's relationship with Roy and then there will probably be a time-skip forward a few years to hit another couple major life events for our protagonists. Let me know what you think; I'm very interested in your feedback from jellybeans and reviews to bathroom graffiti and messenger pigeons. 

First Fight by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam goes on another date.

Standard disclaimer: I own nothing this is based on, from the Office to the other stories. 

MorganLaFey: so that’s why carrot cake is inherently superior

WScranton8: I’m not even sure I know who you are anymore

WScranton8: traitor ;-)

MorganLaFey: hee

MorganLaFey: so anyway

MorganLaFey: I should get going

WScranton8: hot date tonight? ;-)

MorganLaFey: well, actually…

WScranton8: !

WScranton8: see, I told you you’d be beating them off with a stick

MorganLaFey: actually it’s the same guy

WScranton8: ???

MorganLaFey: he apologized so much

MorganLaFey: it was really cute, actually

MorganLaFey: and he’s really sweet when he tries

MorganLaFey: he got me flowers

MorganLaFey: (actually, I think his mom got them, but they’re still pretty and he’s trying so hard and…)

WScranton8: and so you just forget he left you there?

MorganLaFey: well, not forget, but…forgive?

MorganLaFey: as I said, he’s really sweet

WScranton8: I’m sure he’s a real catch

WScranton8: have fun                   

WScranton8: maybe this time it’ll just be you two

WScranton8: and he’ll actually remember you’re there

MorganLaFey: what the hell?

MorganLaFey: you don’t even know him

WScranton8: I know he *literally forgot about you* on your last date

MorganLaFey: I’m aware! I was there! And he’s apologized!

MorganLaFey: and it’s none of your business!

WScranton8: hey I’m just saying

WScranton8: I think you can do better

MorganLaFey: who asked you to just say?

MorganLaFey: I’m fine with my choices

MorganLaFey: thank you very much

WScranton8: fine.

WScranton8: well, if it’s none of my business, it’s none of my business

MorganLaFey: that’s right it isn’t

WScranton8: fine

 

Pam slammed the keyboard in frustration. She didn’t really know what she expected from WScranton8, but this kind of jealousy was definitely not it. OK, so Roy brought his brother Kenny to the hockey game and then left her. If she was over that (she was over that, right?) then what business did WScranton8 have being angry about it? It was her dating life. It’s not like they were dating. Or even knew where each other were or what they looked like. Even the “Scranton” in WScranton8 might be a lie, or misleading anyway. Maybe he grew up in Scranton until he was 3 and hadn’t been back since then. Or he wanted to live in Scranton when he grew up. OK, probably not that last one, but still. She wasn’t going to let him control her life, and if she wanted to give Roy Anderson a second chance she would damn well give him a second chance.

 

WScranton8 hadn’t said anything in a little while, though, and that worried her. Sure, she was supposed to sign off and go prep for her date with Roy, but she didn’t really want to leave things like this. It’s not like she owed him anything—definitely not a veto over who she dated—but she wasn’t quite sure what she’d do if he stopped talking to her over it.

 

She sighed. It was probably her fault anyway. Not going on a date with Roy—she wanted to do that, she reminded herself—but complaining to WScranton8 about it after the first one went bad. After all, he’d only heard her extremely frustrated immediate reaction to it. He hadn’t been there when Roy showed up with the flowers the next day, or when he kept coming by her locker to beg for another chance. He’d even left the football table in the cafeteria to come sit with her one day and ask her for a second date. It had been really sweet, and hard to ignore, and it’s not like other boys were lining up to ask her out. So she’d said yes. But she hadn’t talked to WScranton8 about any of it. It had seemed…weird to talk to him about that kind of stuff. And it would have involved details of her school and routine that would have crossed the boundary they’d drawn up. So she hadn’t mentioned it, and all he’d heard was the frustration and not the softening. He was just trying to protect her and be her friend.

 

Maybe the solution was to go even farther in that direction. Avoid talking about Roy, or any future boyfriends, in any detail so that she wouldn’t make that mistake again. She couldn’t afford to lose WScranton8’s sympathetic ear…eye…whatever, but she wasn’t going to become some sort of nun or hermit for him. Maybe it was best to just put all that aside.

 

MorganLaFey: hey. I’m sorry I got mad.

MorganLaFey: I realized I only told you the bad stuff about the date and none of the good

MorganLaFey: and it’s not fair to ask you to read my mind.

WScranton8: I’m sorry I got…like I got about it.

WScranton8: you’re right. it’s your life, your business.

WScranton8: I’ll just butt out of it

MorganLaFey: hey, I don’t want you to butt out of my life

MorganLaFey: but maybe I shouldn’t dump my relationship drama on you

MorganLaFey: seeing as we’ve never, actually, met

WScranton8: seems fair

WScranton8: mom-stuff it?

MorganLaFey: mom-stuff it is.

WScranton8: well, have fun with your mom-stuff. I’m going to head out myself now too.

MorganLaFey: bye

WScranton8: bye

 

She breathed a sigh of relief. At least that was settled. Now she just had to figure out why there were more butterflies in her stomach trying to negotiate a truce with WScranton8 than there had been when Roy handed her those flowers. But first, she had a date to prepare for.

End Notes:

Now that Pam is together with Roy, time is going to start moving a lot faster. My current plan is to have a series of catch-up chapters moving us through to when Pam and Jim each start working at Dunder Mifflin and then through the time before the show starts, then a chapter every episode or so of the series itself for a little bit. Though of course all of those experiences will be a little different with an internet buddy in tow...

Feedback is ridiculously welcome as I figure out where I'm going with this.  

Marywood by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam drops out of college.

 Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, the stories this is based on, AOL, or Marywood University. 

The next couple of years were really good for Pam. Or at least she thought so. Things with Roy got pretty serious pretty fast; they were dating seriously enough that his opinion mattered when she was deciding on colleges, and he was one of the major reasons she stayed local at Marywood. He really improved from their first date—although a little part of her always wondered if that just set the bar so low he couldn’t help it—and she just felt incredibly comfortable with him. Well, except when they were at the bar. At first this was because she wasn’t of age, and sneaking in with a fake ID felt wrong even if she was the designated driver; later it was because of how he got when he drank. But she was happy with him. Content with him. Roy was her man, and she was his woman, and that was how the world should work.

 

It helped a lot that she didn’t have to actually talk to him about much. After the talk about colleges he hadn’t been much help on the big stuff. They did talk, of course, but mostly about day to day things, sports, beer…Roy’s interests, basically. She didn’t mind, though. It wasn’t like she didn’t get to talk about her hopes, her dreams, her interests. She just poured it all out online.

 

WScranton8 wasn’t always on, and neither was she, but whenever she really needed to talk she would be, and she always seemed to find him available. They had gotten really good at talking about what really mattered without talking about it: she never said “Marywood,” he never said…whatever school he’d gone to; she never said “Roy,” he never explicitly mentioned a girlfriend; she never said “Scranton,” and neither did he. But they talked about life, and love, and art, and friendship—and silly things like their favorite pizza toppings and children’s TV shows and what color he should call the weird stain in his dorm room. She never really thought about how much she talked to him about that she didn’t talk to Roy about; after all, they were different parts of her life. She’d never met WScranton8. She didn’t have an image in her head of him smiling, his shirt off and his hands on her waist, as he leaned down to kiss her, or of his dimples when she accepted an art award at their high school, or of him sitting with her family on Christmas opening presents with childlike gusto. She just had words. Lovely, important words, but words on a screen. He was necessary to her, but also not quite real.

 

They had their fights, of course, like any couple. Not that they were a couple. But they still did have their fights. The first big one, after Roy, was when she decided not to major in art. She figured it wasn’t practical, he reminded her that college was about doing what you loved and finding out who you were and what you could do with your passion. That one ended when she threatened not to talk about school at all and he promised to stop lecturing her. Their second was when he almost majored in business; she threw all his words about passion and enthusiasm back in his face, he used hers about practicality, and he ended up an English major. But both of those fights paled in comparison to the day she dropped out.

 

WScranton8: so how’re classes?

MorganLaFey: fine

MorganLaFey: ok, actually not fine

WScranton8: what’s up?

MorganLaFey: well, class is fine

MorganLaFey: but school…kinda sucks

MorganLaFey: like, I don’t have time for myself or for my art or my relationship

MorganLaFey: and I just feel like it’s all pointless

WScranton8: ookkkk…

WScranton8: I thought you were in that art club

WScranton8: and…everything else I want to say is mom-stuff

WScranton8: but I’m pretty sure you know what it is

 

She did. He had scrupulously avoided talking about Roy even in their earlier fights, but she knew he knew she was still dating the guy who’d left her at the hockey game. And he never said it but she knew he didn’t trust Roy to have her back. Which he did, she quickly reminded herself. Roy wasn’t telling her she had to drop out. He had just suggested that there was this job at his workplace that might help her with her debt, and that if she was hating being a communications major she didn’t have to keep on doing it, and if they worked together he might get to see her a little more often and…

 

OK, so maybe Roy was trying to get her to drop out. But that wasn’t something she wanted to admit to WScranton8.

 

She wasn’t really sure how she felt about it herself. Marywood was lovely, and she’d really enjoyed freshman year. Sophomore year had been more of a slog, though, and junior year legitimately sucked. She hated her classes, and she hated even more having to choose between her art club and her boyfriend. Roy’s job meant he was only available certain hours, since the warehouse at Dunder Mifflin, a local paper company, didn’t exactly have flex-time, and those hours happened to line up exactly with when the art club had negotiated to have studio space in the art department studios. She could still paint and bring her art in to their weekly meeting, but she missed the group dynamic of all painting alongside each other—or else she missed her boyfriend. Besides Roy got mad anyway when she said she was busy. So she hadn’t been there in weeks.

 

Another thing she did not particularly want to type into this particular chat.

 

MorganLaFey: I do

MorganLaFey: but there’s a reason that’s mom-stuff, and I’m not going into it

MorganLaFey: it just sucks

WScranton8: I’m sorry

WScranton8: you’ll pull through though

WScranton8: you’re smart and you’re dedicated and you can totally do this

MorganLaFey: I know I can

MorganLaFey: I’m just not sure I want to

 

And there it was, in green and gold (she’d reconfigured her AOL chat to Marywood colors when she’d enrolled, so it wasn’t black and white anymore). She knew WScranton8 was right; knew she could do this if she chose to. But she wasn’t sure it was the right option to keep going. What was the point? She wasn’t going into art. She didn’t actually want any of the “potential careers” they stuck up on the communications department bulletin boards. And there was a real job—a boring job, but a real one—that she could get right now. It was time to start her life, her real life, and she wasn’t sure she needed or wanted a college degree to do that.

 

But it was a hard decision. It was eating her up inside. And she had no one else to talk about it with. Her parents had already told her that they thought she should keep going but if she didn’t they’d understand; after all, neither of them had finished college either. They’d both gotten jobs, just like she was thinking of doing. And Tammy and Izzy were…just not people you talked about serious things like this about. As for Roy…it was his idea, but every time she tried to talk it out with him he took it so personally that she hadn’t dropped everything instantly to work with him (c’mon Pammy, it’ll be like a date every day when we go to work!) that she found she couldn’t even have that conversation in a serious way. So she’d come here, to see what her one serious friend might think.

 

WScranton8: SERIOUSLY?

WScranton8: Morgan, what are you thinking?

WScranton8: you have so much potential

MorganLaFey: you don’t even know me

MorganLaFey: you have no idea what my potential is

MorganLaFey: and I don’t have to explain myself to you

 

Where had that come from? WScranton8 might not know her in the flesh, as it were, but he certainly knew her—sometimes knew her better than her own boyfriend, or her mother, or anyone else she’d ever known. No one else understood how she liked sunsets better than sunrises, because they represented something finished, completed, triumphant. No one else understood why certain shades of green hurt her eyes while others gave her a sense of peace and joy. She knew she was being unfair, but she didn’t care; she needed this. She needed someone to yell at at this point, and he was the only person she knew who wouldn’t yell back, who wouldn’t hurt her back if she lashed out at him.

 

The fact that her long-time boyfriend didn’t fit the bill was the sort of thought she didn’t let herself think.

 

WScranton8: you don’t

WScranton8: but you always used to want to

WScranton8: and no matter what you think, I do know you

WScranton8: and I do know your potential

WScranton8: and I don’t want to see you give up on it

WScranton8: I haven’t

 

She’d hurt him because he wouldn’t hurt her back, but his very unwillingness to hurt her was painful in this moment. She slammed her laptop closed and walked away before she could say anything more cutting—or maybe before she had to admit that even if he hadn’t, she had.

 

That was what made the fight worse than the others, she realized later. Not that he yelled, or that they fought longer or harder than before. That she couldn’t face him and talk it through. That she’d closed the laptop and walked away instead of staying and figuring out exactly why she felt the way she did.

 

They didn’t talk again until her first day at her new job.

End Notes:

Dunder Mifflin approaches! 

 I'm not really sure I'm happy with how I write Pam/Jim fights, so I stuck to the silent treatment. Let me know what you thought (and what you think more broadly). All feedback is always appreciated. 

Pam's First Day by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam's first day at Dunder Mifflin.

 Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the other stories I am using.  

Pam felt guilty. She’d spent the last two weeks avoiding the internet as much as possible—not just her AOL account but really the whole thing. This hadn’t been as easy as she’d hoped, but every time she logged on, browsed, or even glanced at her computer screen she was reminded of the fact that they weren’t talking. Things with Roy hadn’t been particularly good either, but she found that didn’t bother her as much. He was like a puppy; very excited that she was coming to work with him in a way that was alternately annoying and cute depending on her mood. Because her mood was foul, right now it was very annoying. She forgave him for it, though, because she knew it wasn’t his fault. It was all her—her and WScranton8. She couldn’t explain it to Roy, though, which meant he was like a puppy she’d kicked: confused, disappointed, and prone to lashing out.

 

Because of that, he hadn’t come up to see her on her first day. He’d been in the warehouse; she’d been up in the office; and she’d quickly learned that the two did not mix, at all. That in turn meant she’d had to deal with her new co-workers entirely on her own, which hadn’t felt entirely fair. So she was back at her place, tired and cranky, and she needed an outlet.

Without really thinking about it, she booted up AOL.

 

There he was in her Buddy List. She clicked and took a deep breath.

 

MorganLaFey: hey

MorganLaFey: I’m sorry I haven’t been around

MorganLaFey: and I overreacted before

MorganLaFey: you’re a good friend, and I don’t want to lose you

WScranton8: hi

WScranton8: don’t worry, you don’t get rid of me that easy

WScranton8: but I appreciate the apology

WScranton8: sorry I was so pushy

MorganLaFey: no you were fine

MorganLaFey: I shouldn’t have signed off in a huff

WScranton8: I was wondering if I’d ever see you again

MorganLaFey: well…here I am

WScranton8: hi

MorganLaFey: hey

 

It was like a giant weight had lifted off of her chest. She hated not talking to him. She hated feeling guilty. She hated feeling cut off from the person she was when she was online. That feeling gave her the momentum to continue.

 

MorganLaFey: so I did end up leaving

MorganLaFey: and I started my new job today

WScranton8: can’t say I’m not disappointed

WScranton8: but that was quick

WScranton8: congratulations

WScranton8: how is it?

MorganLaFey: oh my god you have no idea

MorganLaFey: on my first day my boss called me by like fifteen different versions of my name

WScranton8: so what, like, organ? Borgan? Sorghum?

MorganLaFey: basically

MorganLaFey: only worse

WScranton8: worse than organ? wow

MorganLaFey: yeah

MorganLaFey: and then one of the other guys spent twenty minutes questioning me about whether I was a “corporate saboteur.”

MorganLaFey: I’m not even sure what he meant, so I’m not sure I convinced him

WScranton8: that you were, or that you weren’t?

MorganLaFey: that I wasn’t, duh

WScranton8: sounds like a missed opportunity to me

WScranton8: I bet you could have got him running in circles a lot longer than that

WScranton8: just namedrop your competitors in otherwise innocuous conversation

MorganLaFey: oh genius

MorganLaFey: I might just do that

WScranton8: let me know how it goes ;-)

MorganLaFey: will do ;-)

WScranton8: and good luck

WScranton8: it sounds like a madhouse

MorganLaFey: understatement of the year

WScranton8: well, you know where I am if you need to vent

WScranton8: not literally but you know what I mean

MorganLaFey: :-)

MorganLaFey: thanks

 

She looked over at the carton of ice cream she’d bought on the way home to reward herself for getting through her day. For some reason she didn’t think she needed it anymore. At least not right now. She got up, put it back in the freezer, and sat down to play a game of trivia.

End Notes:

So Pam's in! Now we just need Jim to join her. I know exactly when I want this to come to light and it's in S2, so this may very frustrating for our two protagonists along the way, but at least they're on the path to connecting now.

 Feedback and reviews are much appreciated. Let me know how you're feeling about our story so far! 

Engagement by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam gets engaged.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, the other stories this is based on, or AOL. 

Pam moved in with Roy two months later, at the end of what would have been her junior year. Her off-campus apartment lease was up, and as Roy pointed out, it just made sense for the two of them to live together now that they were working at the same place and spending most evenings together anyway. Pam liked living with Roy: the solid sense that she belonged was important to her, and their combined salaries meant that they were able to move into a nicer place than either of them had been in before. She liked driving in with him in the mornings and out in the evenings—at least those evenings where he wasn’t out with the boys from the warehouse—and she liked that it made them more “couple-y” in their friends’ minds. Not that anyone they knew forgot that she and Roy were together, but living together was an extra step of seriousness in everyone’s minds. And now she could see his smile every evening and feel his arms around her every night.

 

She hadn’t really thought about how moving in with Roy might affect her relationship with WScranton8. Because of the barrier they had erected against talking about Roy, he really didn’t factor into her thoughts when she was online, and she was careful without realizing it to make sure that the reverse was also true. She still poured out her hopes and dreams and enthusiasm online. She still didn’t tend to mention them to Roy. But she didn’t think about the difference, and her needs were all being met, so she was happy. It helped that Roy was out with the boys enough—or slouched in front of the TV on the couch enough—that she still had plenty of time to chat with WScranton8. Roy didn’t really care what she was up to as long as she didn’t interrupt the game, and after their third fight about how much she was spending on art supplies she gave up painting in front of the TV entirely, so their evening after-dinner routine was pretty much set. He’d flip on whatever game of whatever sport was on, she’d sit in the alcove by the kitchen where she was still technically in the living room with Roy, and she’d boot up the computer she’d stowed in the corner.

 

She was becoming more and more convinced that WScranton8 was in fact in Scranton, if only because the few references he made to sporting events always seemed to match whatever Roy was watching at the time. She supposed they could be national broadcasts, but she didn’t think the local minor league team was televised much outside of the Scranton area—and while he’d never explicitly said the team name, the elation he expressed at their results matched Roy’s too precisely for coincidence. She pushed that thought out of her mind, though, because whether or not he was in Scranton, she now had definitive proof (if their arguments about dropping out of school hadn’t been enough) that he was not Roy, unless Roy was some kind of AOL-chatting ninja who could do it while passed out on the sofa right under her nose.

 

So she tried to put aside her speculations about WScranton8 and just enjoy their friendship, especially on the nights when Roy was out with Darryl, his boss, and a bunch of the other warehouse guys. She’d come home, log on, and it would be just like old times. She’d regale him with stories of her work—always carefully anonymized—and he’d tell her about school—with similar lack of specific names or details. They weren’t kids anymore, so it wasn’t exactly her mom’s old warning that sat at the back of her mind when she did this. Instead, it was a rhythm they’d fallen into: nothing too personal on the surface even though everything was deeply personal underneath. He knew her as well as she knew herself: his book recommendations were flawless, his taste in movies matched her own, and when he sent her links for new food to try her mouth started watering with an almost Pavlovian reaction. She always bookmarked them, and usually tried them out on a night when Roy wasn’t home—after the first time she’d varied their dinner routine with one of WScranton8’s dishes had resulted in him dumping his plate in the trash and muttering about how he just wanted comfort food after a long day at work. She’d had to fish the plate out of the trash later; Roy still hadn’t adjusted to owning real plates and tended to forget when he was out of sorts. So she waited for his Friday night poker game, or his Monday Night Football party, or whatever event it was on a random Wednesday, and then she could pull out her spice rack, cook to her heart’s content, and chat with WScranton8 about the nuances of Oaxacan vs. Yucatecan cooking. She did notice though that whenever he mentioned his own cuisine in one of his stories about himself it was standard American: sandwiches, meat, cheese. She wondered if he was cooking along with her in the same way she was with him. A little bit of her hoped so.

 

This evening she was dreading him getting online, though, because even though she’d made the best chicken cacciatore two nights before from one of his recipes (Roy was out playing an impromptu Madden tournament at Darryl’s), that wasn’t the big news. The night after that—the night before this—they’d been at her parents’ for dinner and Roy had popped the question. He hadn’t made a big deal of it—it had just come out over dinner—but she’d said “yes” just as soon as she could understand what he was asking. Her mother had asked how they liked life now that they were living together, and they’d smiled at each other and he’d surprised her right then and there. “Pammy,” he’d said, “now that we’re living together, I was thinking…maybe we ought to make it official.” She’d given him a little bit of a confused look, since both their names were on the lease, and he’d gone on to ask it officially: “Pammy, will you marry me?”

 

Of course she’d said yes, she thought. She loved Roy; she was happy with Roy; her life would only get better if she became Mrs. Roy Anderson. And she was so happy and surprised and her parents were too and it had been such a wonderful evening.

 

But now she was online and realizing she would have to tell WScranton8 that she’d agreed to spend the rest of her life with the guy she couldn’t even mention to him most days.

 

Or did she? After all, precisely because she never mentioned Roy online, she didn’t really need to mention this, did she? It wasn’t like her being engaged changed anything about her relationship with WScranton8, any more than her having a boyfriend did, or his having a girlfriend would (when had he last had a girlfriend? She pushed the thought aside). They were still friends. They would continue to be friends. And since she wouldn’t mention Roy any other night, why should she mention him tonight?

 

She finished this train of logic triumphantly and spent the evening chatting about her chicken. She even mentioned that her mother had made a similar dish for dinner last night without letting slip a single mention of the larger event that might have made that night unique.

 

She was so proud she’d managed it that she barely even felt the little twinge of guilt that sat low in her gut as she spent the night after she had become engaged chatting with another man online without mentioning her engagement. Or the twinge of disappointment that her fiancé (such a lovely word!) wasn’t there to distract her from it because of Monday Night Football at Poor Richard’s. 

End Notes:

So Pam's living with Roy and engaged. Soon we will get Jim joining the office, then we can actually get into the series episodes. I promise this is going somewhere specific; I do appreciate your feedback (even if it takes me a little while to get to reviews). 

Meeting Dwight by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Jim starts at Dunder Mifflin.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories I draw from here. 


WScranton8: and that’s why calzones are better than pizza

MorganLaFey: hey as long as you don’t stump for that chicago deep dish stuff

MorganLaFey: I mean it’s not bad but it’s not pizza you know?

WScranton8: agreed

WScranton8: fancy tomato casserole

WScranton8: with cheese

MorganLaFey: precisely!

MorganLaFey: now, why were you and your roommate having calzones?

WScranton8: oh yeah! I totally forgot to mention. I got a job!

MorganLaFey: no way!

MorganLaFey: you’re really going to have to work on this “prioritizing information” thing Scranton.

MorganLaFey: congrats!

WScranton8: yeah, well, it’s not exactly the best job

MorganLaFey: ?

WScranton8: so, no personal details, but I think my boss might even be crazier than yours

WScranton8: like, he hired me off a phone call

WScranton8: no in-person interview

MorganLaFey: so? Lots of people do that.

WScranton8: yeah, but the phone interview consisted of him asking me for dating tips

WScranton8: I think he’s trying to date one of his superiors?

WScranton8: not entirely clear

MorganLaFey: oh dear

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: and then he sang “Like A Virgin” when I told him this would be my first job after college

WScranton8: he made a surprisingly convincing Madonna, actually

MorganLaFey: oh dear

WScranton8: and I figured he’d want to like deliberate or at least you know meet me before hiring me

WScranton8: but after the singing and the dating tips he asked if I would be his friend

WScranton8: and I was like “uh, yes? I guess?”

WScranton8: and he said “you’re hired! See you Monday!”

MorganLaFey: lol

WScranton8: so…I have a job?

WScranton8: but seriously, what am I getting myself into?

MorganLaFey: well I don’t think you have my job beat

MorganLaFey: but you’re in the running

WScranton8: right?

MorganLaFey: so if it’s anything like here, you still won’t have any idea what you’re getting yourself into after a year

WScranton8: lol

WScranton8: so I should prepare myself for the long haul?

WScranton8: because right now that thought is terrifying

MorganLaFey: try living it

WScranton8: well, apparently I will be

MorganLaFey: apparently so

WScranton8: so, tips?

WScranton8: tricks, approaches, methods of dealing?

WScranton8: I may not be in your particular desperate straits, but I need some help here

MorganLaFey: keep your head down, don’t make waves…and if you can slip away for lunch, DO IT.

WScranton8: thanks :-)

MorganLaFey: anytime

 

That Monday Jim went to work with a serious sense of foreboding. This “Michael Scott” guy seemed…eccentric at best, and while he’d apparently taken a real shine to Jim over the phone, Jim worried that things might change very quickly once they actually, you know, met. He arrived at Dunder Mifflin (the only local company that had called him back; he’d had to Google them to remember they sold paper when oh-call-me-Michael had called) at 8:30 on the dot, because Michael had said there was paperwork to fill out before he could start his first day.

 

The office was almost empty.

 

This gave him an excellent opportunity to ask around, but he found himself tongue-tied. There, sitting at the desk at reception, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. At least he thought so. So far he’d only see the back and side of her head as she worked diligently on something-or-other. He shook himself. If she caught him staring at her she might tell Michael about the creepy new guy and this whole thing might fall apart before it began. He coughed involuntarily and she turned to him with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

 

“Welcome to Dunder Mifflin. I’m Pam. How can I help you?”

“Hi, uh, Pam, I’m Jim. Jim Halpert.”

 

She stared at him quizzically.

 

“I’m here to meet with, uh, Michael Scott?” He rubbed the back of his head. “Or he said…I’m not sure I got this right…‘if I’m not there I suppose you can meet with our resident sadist Toby’?” He didn’t really want to start out his first day making fun of his boss—who knew what this vision of a Pam might think of Michael, or of him for that matter—but Michael hadn’t really told him enough to identify who Toby was, and it seemed best to be as close in the description as possible. Also, a large part of him really, really wanted to make this woman laugh, and he thought his Michael impression might get the job done.

 

It did.

 

“Oh yeah, Toby’s in back. He’s our HR rep.”

“That makes sense, since I’m the new salesman.”

“Welcome aboard. Let’s get you back to Toby before Michael can slander him any further. Toby’s a nice guy. You’ll like him.”

 

As she said this, they walked back around into an area Jim hadn’t even realized existed. A sad-faced man sat there filling out paperwork with a picture of a small child on his desk. He looked up as Pam entered and a small smile fought for space on his otherwise dour face. He glanced from her to Jim and the smile faded.

 

“Hey Toby. This is Jim. Michael said he’s supposed to meet with you?”

 

Toby stood up and offered his hand.

 

“Hi, Jim. I just read Michael’s email. I’m really supposed to meet the new hires before they get offered a job, but…”

“Oh, I didn’t know, I…”

“But there’s nothing to be done about it now. Here’s the forms. Do you need me tell you how to fill them out?”

“Um…”

“Let me know if you have any problems. I’d suggest you sit in the break room to fill them out; we’ll see about getting you a desk once you’re done.”

“Thanks.”

 

Jim followed Pam back into the main room and across to a small break room with a couple of tables. She smiled at him as he sat down and pulled out a pen.

 

“I guess I’ll leave you to it. You know where I am if you have any trouble.”

“I don’t know, could you remind me? Maybe draw me a map? Text me directions?”

 

He was rewarded with a smile and an almost-laugh. She pointed out the window towards her desk, clearly visible through the blinds.

 

“I’ll be over there. Think you could find it again, Jim the Explorer?”

“Perhaps.” He grinned. She smiled back.

“Then I’ll see you soon.”

 

He set to the paperwork with a will, trying to force himself not to look up and stare at Pam going about her everyday tasks. The forms only took about ten minutes, so he was back at her desk in ten minutes and five seconds.

 

“Done. Do I get a prize?”

“You can have some candy, I suppose.” She gestured to the little dish on her desk with a smile. “Then bring them back to Toby and we’ll get you set up.”

 

Talking to Toby about the forms took a little longer than he’d expected (he’d transposed two numbers in his hurry to get back to talking to Pam) and by the time he was out of the back the rest of the employees had come in—Michael, apparently, excepted. The names washed over him in a blur—Kelly, Angela, Oscar, Kevin—and then he found himself in front of reception again lost in a pair of lovely eyes. He had to shake himself to get back any semblance of focus.

 

“What did you say?”

“I said enjoy this moment, because you’re never going to go back to this time before your met your desk-mate, Dwight.” She grinned up at him.

“Oh ye of little faith. I’ll have you know I brought my portable time-machine with me this morning.” He tapped his watch. “If necessary, I can put this whole day in front of me again to do over.”

 

She slapped his arm lightly and muffled a guffaw with her other hand. His arm burned where she touched it.

 

He was fully ready to meet this “Dwight,” whatever happened, if it meant she’d laugh at him like that forever.

End Notes:

Next we'll see Jim and Pam's conversation after the first day (and the "first date" that isn't). Then onto the series! 

I appreciate any and all feedback, including paper-shredding my tie. 

Missed Connections by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Aftermath of Jim's first week.

 Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, any of the stories this is based on, or AOL. 

MorganLaFey: hey, sorry I haven’t been online for a few days

MorganLaFey: things have been really crazy here

MorganLaFey: how is the new job?

WScranton8: not sure?

WScranton8: I mean it’s crazy

WScranton8: but I think I’m used to that now? it’s a job

MorganLaFey: woah, high standards

WScranton8: yeah ;-)

WScranton8: I mean the work is boring

WScranton8: but the people are nuts

WScranton8: it felt like a rollercoaster?

MorganLaFey: tell me about it?

WScranton8: so my boss is exactly as crazy as I thought

WScranton8: and remember, I thought he was crazier than your boss

MorganLaFey: still don’t believe that, but go on

WScranton8: :-P anyway

WScranton8: and most of the rest of them are just as bad

WScranton8: do you remember CantBeetMe? from trivia?

MorganLaFey: the guy who always had to be right?

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: so the guy who sits across from me is exactly like that

WScranton8: and since we do the same job and it’s my first week…

MorganLaFey: oh dear

WScranton8: exactly

WScranton8: and there’s this lady who I swear is straight out of American Girl doll books, but like the ones about the bad old days in the 1800s

MorganLaFey: wait wait wait

MorganLaFey: you know American Girl dolls?

MorganLaFey: are you secretly a tween girl?

MorganLaFey: do we need to have an intervention?

WScranton8:  :-P I have female relatives

WScranton8: there’s like one normal girl there

WScranton8: and me now, I guess

MorganLaFey: woah now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves

MorganLaFey: who said you were normal? who’s been lying to you? ;-)

WScranton8: ANYWAY

WScranton8: so it’s a madhouse

MorganLaFey: so, did you make any new friends? Beetman? Dollgirl? Normal chick? I know you’re already best friends with the boss :-P

WScranton8: what is this, high school?

MorganLaFey: maybe

MorganLaFey: do you sit at the cool kid’s table and throw food at the geeks?

WScranton8: you know I am a geek

WScranton8: and on the first day I just sat on my own

WScranton8: second day I went out to lunch

WScranton8: that day might have involved food throwing, but I’ll never tell ;-)

WScranton8: and now I just kind of eat when everyone else does I guess

MorganLaFey: why would you have thrown food on the second day?

WScranton8: because I thought I had a date and then I didn’t

WScranton8: not the most fun experience

MorganLaFey: ooooooh tell tell tell

WScranton8: since when do we talk about this stuff, hm?

WScranton8: suffice to say she’s way out of my league and I should have realized she was already taken

MorganLaFey: :-(

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: but hey, maybe that’s the new friend you asked about

MorganLaFey: Dollgirl?

WScranton8:  No, normal chick

WScranton8: she’s pretty awesome, actually

MorganLaFey: she must be to be “out of your league”

WScranton8: she is

 

Jim stopped typing for a moment. The urge to unload his frustration to Morgan was high, but he also knew that he was very close to one of those areas they never talked about: their love lives. And particularly the fact that he was head over heels for this girl he’d never met—and that she clearly didn’t feel the same way about him. After all, it was her dating life—and his reaction to it—that had pushed the conversation to the point where they couldn’t be civil, and made them stop talking about their relationships at all. He hadn’t become a monk or anything; he’d gone on dates throughout college, and even had a couple of relationships long enough to stop counting the number of dates. But he hadn’t had anything really serious, and he was pretty sure she had. Which was another reason they didn’t really talk about this sort of stuff. He’d gotten really used to it, trying to date while knowing there was a wonderful woman he already knew who wasn’t interested in him. For a moment at Cugino’s he’d thought he’d finally had a breakthrough: here was a beautiful, hilarious woman who was actually out on a date with him! But then she’d mentioned “my fiancé, Roy,” and he’d noticed the little ring on her left finger (idiot!) and he’d only barely managed to avoid blurting out a number of obscenities as he realized he’d once again fallen into the trap. It was like he was a magnet for emotional pain.

 

He almost said what he was thinking—actually typed the words out, “she reminds me of you”—and then he chickened out. He knew that she’d ask why, and he’d have to answer, and their carefully constructed relationship might fall apart. So he deleted it and changed the subject.

 

WScranton8: so that’s my new job

WScranton8: what about you? anything new and exciting?

 

Pam looked at her screen in disbelief. She knew—knew—he hadn’t taken that long just to type that. There had to have been something more. But she wasn’t going to pry; they’d already strayed far into territory where they usually wouldn’t tread. After all, she still hadn’t told him she was engaged. What business did she have asking about his potential dates—much less failed ones that must be bothering him more than he’d let on. So she’d let him off the hook, this time. But she was certainly going to check in with him more in the next few weeks; it seemed like he needed a friend.

 

MorganLaFey: somethings new, nothing too exciting

MorganLaFey: my boss has been particularly crazy this week

MorganLaFey: keeping me super late for minor things, basically acting like a frat boy in a 40 year old’s body

MorganLaFey: and I have to clean up a lot of his messes, which is why I haven’t been on (sorry again!)

WScranton8: no worries

WScranton8: I’ve had some late nights at work too

WScranton8: this is actually my first night on since I started ;-)

MorganLaFey: lol

MorganLaFey: I guess you know how it is then :-)

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: so, want to unwind with some art history? I think there’s a game in TriviaZone on Art and Music tonight

WScranton8: we could tag-team

MorganLaFey: that sounds wonderful

MorganLaFey: but no bagging this time

WScranton8: aww :-P

MorganLaFey: :-)

End Notes:

So I hope it's not totally implausible that Pam does not recognize her workplace or herself there. I've always thought she had difficulty with seeing herself as Jim saw her, and I don't think she recognized the Cugino's "date" as a potential date at the time because of her own awareness of her engagement. And I tried to put a couple of days of buffer in to fuzz up those memories of them meeting. As for recognizing Dwight and Angela--this Pam is too amused by the opportunity to tease Scranton about American Girl dolls, and thrown off by the trivia room reference with Dwight to notice.  Let me know if it didn't work for you, though; there's a lot more dancing around the issue to come.

Speaking of which, next is the Pilot--or rather, some texts in its aftermath. Feedback is always welcome! 

"Pilot" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Into the series! Pam gets online after a rough day at work in the Pilot.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories this is based on. 

Over the next couple of years Pam got settled into a routine. She’d found a lifeline at work in the new salesman (well, by now no longer new new, but newer) Jim, whom she’d quickly stopped thinking of purely as a coworker and begun to think of as a work friend, or even just a friend. He was smart and funny and without him she wasn’t sure she’d get through the workday. At home, things with Roy continued on. They lived together, they were engaged, and that was basically it. He spent a lot of time in front of the TV or out with his warehouse buddies (or old high school friends who had stuck around like him); she spent a lot of time online expressing herself to WScranton8. It was like she lived three lives in one, and since two out of three were pretty OK, she felt pretty good about her life. If anything was wrong in her relationship with Roy, she told herself that was just how real life worked. Of course she and Scranton, or she and Jim, could talk for hours or finish each other’s thoughts. They didn’t have to deal with the baggage of reality, of finding a toilet seat up or making lasagna just like his mother made or remembering to do groceries. Jim was just another Scranton: a dear, dear friend who kept her sane. Roy was real life.

 

This particular day was terrible. Michael’s fake firing had really destroyed her more than she wanted to admit—she’d cried at work for the first time in a long time—and she needed some release. Roy had insisted them come right home, which sucked because of course now Roy was camped out in front of…she wasn’t sure what. College basketball maybe, which was ironic seeing as he’d never had interest in college anything when she was enrolled in it. He was in such a hurry to get home but they never did anything when they were. Real life, she guessed, wasn’t always so great.

 

WScranton8: hey, how’s it going?

MorganLaFey: don’t ask. I don’t want to talk about it.

WScranton8: um, ok

WScranton8: how’s it not going?

MorganLaFey: great :-)

MorganLaFey: I wanted to go out tonight but it didn’t end up happening

MorganLaFey: and now I’m sitting here as usual

WScranton8: hey, don’t knock sitting here!

WScranton8: after all, if you weren’t sitting here, you wouldn’t be with me

WScranton8: though now that I type it I see why you would knock it

WScranton8: terrible fate

MorganLaFey: :-P

MorganLaFey: you know that’s not what I meant

MorganLaFey: but speaking of that, why aren’t you out painting the town red?

WScranton8: what am I, a wild west cowboy?

WScranton8: I’ll paint the town red after I put on my spurs and gunbelt and round up the cattle

WScranton8: hit up the saloon and let them slide a beer stein down to me

MorganLaFey: shut up

WScranton8: :-)

WScranton8: I was supposed to go out for drinks with some coworkers but I ended up bailing

WScranton8: so instead I was sitting here feeling sorry for myself until you came along

WScranton8: so thanks for that, you messed up a good wallow

MorganLaFey: likewise

MorganLaFey: any exciting wallow-free plans for the week?

WScranton8: not much. Gotta go grocery shopping tomorrow, that’ll be a treat.

MorganLaFey: anything fun on the list?

WScranton8: I think the most fun thing on it is jello

MorganLaFey: jello?

WScranton8: hey, it’s a multi-use food staple that never goes bad

MorganLaFey: oh, I know, trust me

MorganLaFey: I love me some jello.

MorganLaFey: though not as much as this guy I know…

WScranton8: oh really? I bet he doesn’t love it as much as I do

MorganLaFey: I don’t think you’re going to win this one

MorganLaFey: my guy is really into jello

WScranton8: well, get him online sometime

WScranton8: we can find an empty chatroom and have a jello-off

MorganLaFey: lol

WScranton8: after all, any friend of yours is worth meeting even if I do destroy him with my jello domination

MorganLaFey: jello domination?

MorganLaFey: now you’re starting to sound like my coworkers

WScranton8: oh dear. Can’t have that

WScranton8: quick, change the topic!

MorganLaFey: j/k you’re nothing like them

MorganLaFey: but what else is on the list

WScranton8: nothing much

WScranton8: meat, cheese, canned tomatoes, canned beans, flour

MorganLaFey: someone’s really out of groceries

WScranton8: bread, coffee, beer, fabric softener

WScranton8: yeah, I’m a little low, it’s been a long week

MorganLaFey: wait, fabric softener?

WScranton8: …yes?

MorganLaFey: lol

WScranton8: oh come on! I like my clothes fresh and comfy!

WScranton8: is that a crime?

MorganLaFey: I just never saw you as a fabric softener kind of guy

WScranton8: so I’m a guy who hates comfort?

MorganLaFey: clearly ;-)

WScranton8: thanks so much for your good opinion, it means a lot

MorganLaFey: :-P

MorganLaFey: anytime

End Notes:

And on to Diversity Day we go! Fair warning, I find that episode pretty frustrating; I'll try not to let it seep into this. Let me know what you think of our progression now that we've made it into S1! 

"Diversity Day" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

The aftermath of "Diversity Day" online.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories I'm using here. 

MorganLaFey: hey

WScranton8: hi

MorganLaFey: so today was awful

MorganLaFey: like, get a new job, burn the whole place down awful

MorganLaFey: the only saving grace was that I fell asleep at work

MorganLaFey: and when that’s the best thing…

WScranton8: I know how you feel

WScranton8: like, my day wasn’t that bad

WScranton8: but it was?

WScranton8: you ever have a day that ought to feel totally shitty but somehow manages to turn itself around because of one minor thing?

MorganLaFey: only all the time

MorganLaFey: usually because of you :-)

MorganLaFey: or, like, this one friend I have at work who’s kinda cool

WScranton8: hey, I try, and I’m sure she does too

WScranton8: but actually, funny you should mention that, I have someone at my work who does that too

WScranton8: you remember “normal chick”?

MorganLaFey: the one vaguely sane person at your workplace?

MorganLaFey: yeah, I remember

MorganLaFey: wish there were a sane woman at mine, I could use a girlfriend

WScranton8: what about your one friend?

MorganLaFey: oh, he’s great, but it’s not quite the same thing, you know?

WScranton8: I suppose not

WScranton8: anyway, she’s awesome

WScranton8: like I think I told you before

MorganLaFey: yeah, awesome but taken I think was your description

WScranton8: *sigh* yeah

WScranton8: so she’s just...well she reminds me of you

WScranton8: and our conversations here

MorganLaFey: so totally amazeballs :-P

WScranton8: yeah ;-)

WScranton8: and today was really bad

WScranton8: like, as bad as you said plus nuke the place from orbit bad

WScranton8: and just sitting next to her made everything OK

MorganLaFey: aww

MorganLaFey: that’s really sweet

MorganLaFey: and if she can do that I’m flattered you think she’s like me

WScranton8: :-) no flattery

WScranton8: just the facts, ma’am

MorganLaFey: :-)

WScranton8: so I’m sorry you don’t have someone like that to make your day better

WScranton8: or, sorry, I’m assuming, you probably do

MorganLaFey: I think I might

MorganLaFey: since I’m talking to one of them

WScranton8: aww

WScranton8: and you do that for me too, never think you don’t

WScranton8: but I meant in person

MorganLaFey: yeah

MorganLaFey: it’s different, isn’t it?

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: too bad

MorganLaFey: so what made your day so bad? It really can’t have been worse than mine

WScranton8: terrible meetings—I swear my boss is a possessed evil child—and on top of that I lost a major client to a coworker

WScranton8: like, seriously, what kind of company makes their own salespeople compete against each other?

WScranton8: how do you justify that kind of business model?

WScranton8: IT MAKES NO SENSE

MorganLaFey: I’m sorry

MorganLaFey: if it helps, my boss is an infant in big boy clothes too

WScranton8: it does, a little

WScranton8: at least we can suffer together

MorganLaFey: and I’m not a salesperson, but I’m pretty sure I’d be frustrated if my coworkers were undermining me. Not that I’m sure how they would, but if anyone could find a way to, it would be them.

WScranton8: I hear you

WScranton8: how’d we land the two worst jobs in the world?

MorganLaFey: just lucky I guess

MorganLaFey: but hey, gives us something to talk about, right?

WScranton8: it does at that

WScranton8: so, um, how’s the art?

MorganLaFey: the art?

WScranton8: yeah, it’s been a while since I heard you talk about your art

WScranton8: been painting much recently?

MorganLaFey: no, you know, I just haven’t had the time

MorganLaFey: if it’s not going to be good, why do it, you know?

WScranton8: no, Morgan, I don’t know

WScranton8: you’re a good artist. Remember when you sent me those pictures last year?

WScranton8: it’s not going to suck

WScranton8: you just have to keep doing it

MorganLaFey: thanks, but I dunno

WScranton8: well, I do

WScranton8: you have to keep doing it

WScranton8: it’s like a muscle: use it or lose it

WScranton8: and we don’t want you to lose it, do we?

MorganLaFey: no :-)

WScranton8: good :-)

End Notes:
And on to "Health Care." Sorry this update was so late; today was a long day. Please let me know what you think as we go into the series.
"Health Care" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Jim contemplates his future and his present.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories I based this on. 

After the whole Dwight-cutting-benefits debacle Jim found himself thinking about the future. Not the future if he ever got spontaneous dental hydroplosion, but the future if he had taken over the health care planning, if he had let this “job” become a “career”—or, alternatively, the future where he dropped everything and became a yak farmer in Outer Mongolia, or a botanist in the Amazon jungle, or…really, anything else.

 

He realized there was only one thing that truly tied him to Scranton, and to Dunder Mifflin: Pam. She was everything he wanted in a partner. It was like his crush on Morgan had grown a body and walked out of the computer screen into his real life, only to cruelly and ironically be engaged to someone else. Morgan, at least, had the virtue of being, well, virtual. Oh, he was sure there was a real woman somewhere out there with her amazing sense of humor, her artistic skill, her adorable knowledge of minor trivia, and her incredible ability to make things feel right after a totally awful day. Hell, he was sure there were two of them. But Pam was engaged and Morgan was who-knew-where (not him, for sure), and so he clung to Morgan’s virtual presence. After all, even if he did leave for Outer Mongolia, he was pretty sure he could manage to have internet access. And that meant he might have to leave Pam, but he’d never have to leave Morgan. Assuming she didn’t leave him.

 

It was funny, he thought, that he’d managed to form two deep friendships with women in his life and neither of them was ever remotely available to him. Maybe it was a symptom of something, or one of those moral illustrations like in Aesop’s Fables: the Salesman and the Siren or (if he was optimistic) Paper and Perseverance. After all, third time’s the charm.

 

Not that he expected lightning to strike thrice. Twice was already too lucky for one man, even if he’d never get to kiss Pam or even meet Morgan. People like that didn’t come around that often, and when you did you held them tight and didn’t let them go.

 

And that’s why he wouldn’t move to Outer Mongolia or the Amazon. Why he wouldn’t even leave Dunder Mifflin. Because while it hurt to watch Pam and Roy together at the end of the day, or to remember that her health care was their health care, and it sucked to never have a chance to even see Morgan (he had taped a printout of one of her pictures that she’d sent a photo of to the wall by his desk at home so he could have something to look at when they chatted), he couldn’t give either of them up.

 

So instead he watched trashy TV and moped. Even the TV mocked him: “Trading Spouses” was a little on the nose given his thoughts about Pam and Roy, “ditto “The Bachelor,” and “The Apprentice” hit too close to home in relation to his recent speculations about his career goals, or lack thereof. He clicked off the TV and turned his attention to his laptop.

 

WScranton8: please tell me there’s a good game tonight or something

WScranton8: because my TV has abandoned me

MorganLaFey: it grew legs and walked out?

MorganLaFey: you should really get that checked

MorganLaFey: is your house on the site of an ancient burial ground?

MorganLaFey: have you offended any particular deities recently?

WScranton8: only a few

MorganLaFey: which ones?

WScranton8: um, I didn’t catch his name, but I’m pretty sure the guy I knocked down in the parking lot on the way to work today was a Norse god…Logi? Lowkey? Something like that.

WScranton8: and my grocery bagger yesterday was a dead ringer for Anubis, god of the dead, and I gave him a really hard time about where he put the eggs and bread in the bag

WScranton8: oh yeah, and my landlord’s some kind of wood dryad and I’m behind on my rent

MorganLaFey: hmm…it could be any of them

MorganLaFey: I’d bet on Loki though, he’s a trickster god

MorganLaFey: didn’t know you worked with him

WScranton8: no, he works in another part of the complex I think

WScranton8: maybe with the HVAC guys in our building

MorganLaFey: makes sense, he was a fire spirit originally

WScranton8: exactly

MorganLaFey: but really, it could be any of them

MorganLaFey: I think you’re going to have to go around and make amends

MorganLaFey: or hope that the TV gets lonely and comes home

WScranton8: I should leave out a trail of breadcrumbs, or something

MorganLaFey: what does a TV eat…

WScranton8: brain cells?

MorganLaFey: yeah but those are really messy

MorganLaFey: your wood dryad landlord’s gonna object if you leave those out

WScranton8: true

WScranton8: maybe the batteries from my remote?

MorganLaFey: perfect! It’s not like you’ll need those without the TV anyway

WScranton8: true

WScranton8: maybe I can put up little “MISSING” signs around the neighborhood

WScranton8: like people do for their pets

MorganLaFey: lol

MorganLaFey: your TV is definitely your favorite pet

MorganLaFey: do you have any pictures of it you could post?

WScranton8: no :-(

MorganLaFey: that’s OK, I’ll just draw you one

MorganLaFey: I can email it over tonight

WScranton8: thanks :-)

MorganLaFey: my pleasure

MorganLaFey: after all, I have to put those art supplies I bought last week to some use, right?

WScranton8: definitely 

End Notes:
Poor Jim. But hey, Pam's drawing again! Now onto "The Alliance" and back to Pam's POV. I value all feedback on this chapter, earlier chapters, or the story as a whole. 
"The Alliance" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Aftermath of "The Alliance" episode, in two parts (within this one part, not two published parts).

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of these stories. 

MorganLaFey: hi

WScranton8: hey

MorganLaFey: so I’m not gonna be on for long

WScranton8: oh

MorganLaFey: yeah

MorganLaFey: my boyfriend’s being

MorganLaFey: well, totally awful

MorganLaFey: I know we don’t talk about that sort of thing much

MorganLaFey: but tonight has been really sucky and I could use a friend

WScranton8: hey, I’m your friend

WScranton8: and I know we don’t talk about it much but I’m always here

MorganLaFey: thanks

MorganLaFey: I know you are

MorganLaFey: honestly, that’s why I’m online at all

WScranton8: well, now that we’ve established I’m the reason for your odd online habits

WScranton8: you want to talk about it?

MorganLaFey: *sigh*

MorganLaFey: he’s just being incredibly jealous about something totally minor

MorganLaFey: he has this insane idea that one of my coworkers is hitting on me

WScranton8: let me guess, the one cool one?

MorganLaFey: yeah

MorganLaFey: so he’s being just jealous and controlling and it’s driving me up a wall

WScranton8: I’m sorry :-(

WScranton8: you OK? you’re not in danger or anything?

MorganLaFey: yeah, yeah, it’s not that kind of thing

MorganLaFey: he’s just…hard to talk to, you know?

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: I mean, actually, no I don’t, but I think I get it

WScranton8: and that sucks

MorganLaFey: yeah

MorganLaFey: and like, it would be one thing if there was something for him to be jealous of, you know?

MorganLaFey: it wouldn’t be totally OK, because he’s way overreacting, but at least there’d be something to talk about

MorganLaFey: this way is just...

WScranton8: how do you prove a negative

MorganLaFey: yeah

WScranton8: man, that sucks

WScranton8: you know, even if you can’t talk to him, you don’t have to keep it bottled up

WScranton8: and not just because you can always talk to me (you can you know)

MorganLaFey: I know :-)

WScranton8: but, like, I have this artistic friend

MorganLaFey: oh really? ;-)

WScranton8: yes, IRL, not everyone is you :-P

WScranton8: and when she’s stressed out about something she doodles

WScranton8: I don’t know if that works for you, but you could try it

MorganLaFey: yeah, that’s what I do too

MorganLaFey: that’s a good idea, thanks

MorganLaFey: ok he just came downstairs, gtg

MorganLaFey: bye

WScranton8: bye

 

******

 

MorganLaFey: hey again

WScranton8: hi

WScranton8: you ok?

MorganLaFey: yeah?

MorganLaFey: it’s…it’ll be ok

MorganLaFey: and I’m fine, the doodling helped

WScranton8: oh good

MorganLaFey: how’re you?

MorganLaFey: sorry to have run off earlier

WScranton8: hey no, you gotta do what you gotta do

WScranton8: totally understand

WScranton8: and I guess I’m OK?

WScranton8: today wasn’t great for me

WScranton8: and my two best friends seem to be having shitty days too, so…

MorganLaFey: I’m sorry

MorganLaFey: you don’t need to worry about me

WScranton8: I do, though

WScranton8: you matter

MorganLaFey: thanks :-)

MorganLaFey: but more about you, you don’t get off that easy ;-)

WScranton8: eh, the day was actually pretty OK until the end

WScranton8: well, scratch that, everyone at my office is afraid they’re getting fired

WScranton8: but, like, lemons into lemonade, you know?

WScranton8: we managed to make it a good day

MorganLaFey: I’m glad to hear that

MorganLaFey: must be the economy, we have the same rumors

WScranton8: :-(

WScranton8: yeah, everyone’s on edge

WScranton8: and then at the end of the day I got my friend in trouble

WScranton8: so I feel bad about that

MorganLaFey: :-(

MorganLaFey: I’m sure it wasn’t your fault

WScranton8: thanks

WScranton8: but yeah, since then I’ve been missing easy questions in Zone Trivia and drowning my sorrows in Yuengling

WScranton8: so, all in all a productive day ;-)

MorganLaFey: sounds like it

MorganLaFey: how about we head back into the trivia room and team up on these guys?

WScranton8: I think I could do that

MorganLaFey: good :-) 

End Notes:
"Basketball" is next, so that should be fun. Thanks for reading, reviewing, and otherwise interacting with this story!
"Basketball" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam asks Jim a question about gendered behavior.

 

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories I'm basing this on.

MorganLaFey: I need your advice on something as a man

WScranton8: you’re a man now? Congratulations, I know that transition is a difficult one.

MorganLaFey: you know what I mean

MorganLaFey: I need your advice on something because you are a man

WScranton8: ok, ok

WScranton8: what do you need?

MorganLaFey: are all men just a step away from gorillas?

MorganLaFey: I mean, are they all just giant balls of macho competitiveness if you scratch the surface?

WScranton8: …kinda?

WScranton8: like, I hate to paint with a broad brush

WScranton8: (that’s your job :-P)

WScranton8: but I think so? like, most guys do like to compete

MorganLaFey: (no, it’s not my job sadly)

MorganLaFey: ugh

MorganLaFey: I get that, I really do, but do they have to do the chest-thumping me-vs-you thing while they do it?

WScranton8: oh yes, that’s very important

WScranton8: scientific studies have revealed that each chest thump improves peak athletic performance by 12.3%

WScranton8: so the chest thumping is very important

MorganLaFey: what studies?

WScranton8: scientific ones

WScranton8: very real, very legitimate scientific ones

MorganLaFey: sure

WScranton8: I’m hurt you don’t believe me, Morgan. I really thought we had a trust thing going on here.

MorganLaFey: I mean, I trust you

WScranton8: about as far as you can throw me? ;-)

MorganLaFey: no, definitely farther

MorganLaFey: this is a desktop after all

MorganLaFey: I could probably throw you like a foot

WScranton8: I’m gonna bet you couldn’t throw the real me any further than that anyway

MorganLaFey: oh, you wanna bet?

MorganLaFey: come over here and say that, pilgrim

WScranton8: would if I could

WScranton8: and nice John Wayne reference

MorganLaFey: *bows*

MorganLaFey: and it sounds to me like someone’s getting competitive and chest-thumpy over there

WScranton8: what can I say, you bring out the competitor in me

WScranton8:  and you’re the one who wanted to make it a bet

WScranton8:  so I think we have definitive proof this chest thumping competition isn’t just a man thing ;-)

MorganLaFey: never said it was

MorganLaFey: just said asked if all guys do it :-P

WScranton8: well, I think we can safely say yes to that one

MorganLaFey: damn

MorganLaFey: I was hoping that you’d tell me there was some small tribe in the Amazon or something where that’s not an issue

MorganLaFey: and I could move there and live like a queen

WScranton8: I mean, I could still tell you that

MorganLaFey: no, no, we’ve already established your credibility over here is hanging by a thread ;-)

WScranton8: ouch

WScranton8: but you totally deserve to become an Amazon queen

WScranton8: which, for the record, would make the chest-thumping a lot easier

MorganLaFey: why’s that?

WScranton8: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazons

WScranton8: the Amazons were super aggressive and supposedly cut one breast off to make shooting a bow easier

WScranton8: coincidentally also making chest-thumping easier

WScranton8: or is it a coincidence? *DUN DUN DUN*

MorganLaFey: dork

MorganLaFey: anyway I didn’t say “Amazons” I said “the Amazon”

MorganLaFey: big difference

MorganLaFey: your little wikipedia page even says so, the Amazons were nowhere near South America

WScranton8: now who’s the dork? Geography nerd ;-)

MorganLaFey: just because I care about what continent something happened on…

WScranton8:  or didn’t happen on

MorganLaFey: or didn’t happen on, precisely

MorganLaFey: does not make me a geography nerd :-P

WScranton8:  no, but last week’s Countries of the World game did

MorganLaFey: lol, fair point

WScranton8:  :-P

WScranton8: anyway, why the sudden interest in male competitiveness?

MorganLaFey: oh, just the boyfriend again

MorganLaFey: he always has to win, and he does not take losing well

MorganLaFey: so I always have to pump up his ego after he loses at something, even something minor

MorganLaFey: even when it’s against our friends or family

WScranton8: that sucks

WScranton8:  I’m sorry you have to play cheerleader

WScranton8: but at least he cares about your opinion?

MorganLaFey: I guess so

MorganLaFey: not sure if it’s me specifically though or if I’m just closest. And I’m not really the cheerleader type, you know?

MorganLaFey: sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping all this on you

WScranton8: it’s ok

WScranton8: I’m sorry you’re feeling this way

WScranton8: and you may not have been a cheerleader, but you’re a great bringer of cheer

WScranton8: if that helps any

MorganLaFey: it does, thanks

WScranton8: you’re welcome

WScranton8: so, any big plans for the weekend?

MorganLaFey: I did have some, but now I have to work

MorganLaFey: you?

WScranton8: same

WScranton8: or rather, I did, but my boss decided we’re all going to get fired anyway so we might as well not

MorganLaFey: oooh, ouch

MorganLaFey: I wish my boss would have a change of heart like that, but definitely not for that reason

WScranton8: yeah

WScranton8: it sucks

WScranton8: but anyway, trivia tomorrow? To help you feel better after work?

MorganLaFey: sounds good

WScranton8: 7pm Eastern? I hear there’s a 19th century game on then.

MorganLaFey: it’s a date

End Notes:
Phrasing, Pam, phrasing! Next up is "Hot Girl," so we might get some Jim POV as well as the IM interaction. Time for old Jimbo to get himself a date. I really appreciate all of you who are reading and/or giving feedback (though if you're giving feedback without reading...odd). Soon we'll breach the S2 barrier, although there may be one or more hiatus chapters before the Dundies roll around. 
"Hot Girl" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Jim's and Pam's thoughts on the day of the purse girl's visit.

 

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, AIM (RIP), or any of the source stories. 

 

Jim sat in the office watching the purse girl—what was her name? Katy? Kathy? Kandy?—selling her wares. She seemed nice enough. Definitely cute enough. Enough for what? Certainly enough for his coworkers to make fools of themselves over her, Michael, Dwight, and even Roy most definitely included.

 

As he thought about Roy’s comments in the break room, he got mad. Not at Roy, or rather, not at Roy anymore. He’d been mad enough at Roy when he’d heard him say it, and Pam seemed irked enough for the two of them anyway. Not that there was a two of them, not really. That was what was making him mad, actually. Even though Roy was an ass, Pam was still engaged to him—still wanted to be engaged to him. Still loved him, and not Jim. And last weekend’s little…whatever it was…with Morgan wasn’t helping either. “It’s a date,” like he hadn’t wished she’d say that about a real date, with him, for ten years. Not constantly; not incessantly; he hadn’t wasted his life pining away about an imaginary girl that whole time. But enough to make it suck when she made light of that sort of thing. After all, she was taken too, by that boyfriend that he had a sneaking suspicion was the same one that she’d been dating the whole time. Since she had made such a point of not mentioning him for so long.

 

So his whole life was taken up by two women, neither actually available to him. It felt…actually, it felt pretty good, most of the time. When he was at work and Roy wasn’t in the break room he could pretend Roy didn’t exist; when he was online, and they weren’t talking about him, he could pretend Morgan’s boyfriend didn’t. And most of the time he just felt like a guy with two amazing female friends. And then he’d go home, and Morgan wouldn’t be online and Mark would be out, and he’d sit alone in the apartment. Or he’d come to work and Roy would be there and Pam would be so engrossed in Roy she wouldn’t make eye contact with him and he’d actually have to work. It was a pattern with him, he was realizing: he let the awesome parts of these friendships take over his brain and he forgot to protect himself from the fact that they were just friendships. Not relationships—or at least, not mutual ones. It was like doing the emotional lifting of a relationship without getting the benefit. And not just in the friends-with-benefits sense, but in just knowing that the person you were with wanted to be with you, and no one else.

 

Though to be fair, how mad could he be at them if he also had two people? How much of a difference did it make that neither of his was, well, his, while both of them had someone who belonged to them (and who they belonged to)? He couldn’t really say he was cheating on Pam with Morgan or Morgan with Pam if they weren’t interested in him at all, right? But it did feel strange inside to complain that they weren’t committed to him when he was constantly thinking of both of them.

 

But on the other hand, friendships weren’t exclusive. Relationships were. And he would kind of like to remember what that was like.

 

Before he knew what he was doing he was in the little room with Katy (yes, that was definitely her name) and he was smiling and she was smiling and he had a date.

 

*******

 

MorganLaFey: hey, didn’t see you on until now

MorganLaFey: hot date? ;-)

WScranton8: yeah, actually

MorganLaFey: wait what?

WScranton8: you don’t need to sound so surprised

MorganLaFey: sorry, it just seems to be going around

MorganLaFey: must be seasonal: all my best friends hooking up at once

WScranton8: this was a little more than “hooking up”

WScranton8: we went to a nice restaurant and everything

MorganLaFey: I just meant….never mind

MorganLaFey: I’m glad you’re on now

WScranton8: any particular reason?

MorganLaFey: just feeling bleh

MorganLaFey: and talking to you cheers me up

WScranton8: I’m flattered

WScranton8: but isn’t that literally what your boyfriend is supposed to be for?

MorganLaFey: fiancé actually

MorganLaFey: sorry, I realize I never told you that, but yeah, he is

MorganLaFey: and no, he’s not

MorganLaFey: if you understand me

WScranton8: seems to be going around, as you say

MorganLaFey: :-(

MorganLaFey: anyway, how’d it go?

WScranton8: oh, you know, a gentleman never tells ;-)

WScranton8: but it was fine

MorganLaFey: I’m glad

 

But Pam was not glad. She’d been in a funk most of the day since Roy had told her he’d totally date Katy if Pam wasn’t his “girlfriend,” a funk that had only intensified when she’d remembered that she’d never actually bothered to tell her best friend (well, online, but still) that he wasn’t her “boyfriend” anymore. She’d been pulled out of it for a little by Jim’s prank on Dwight, but discovering he was taking Katy out had put her right back in, and missing Scranton online—and then finding out he was dating too—had bothered her more than she’d wanted to let on.

 

Still, she figured, it couldn’t be jealousy, or at least not just jealousy. She didn’t want to date both Scranton and Jim—how would that work? Oh, and of course she was happily engaged to Roy, there was that too. So she didn’t want to date either of them. So why was she so grumpy?

 

Maybe, she realized, it was because this was the first time she’d really been mad at Roy without being able to talk to anyone about it. She’d always grumbled to someone, first Izzy or Tammy, then Jim or Scranton—she’d even broken her promise not to talk about Roy with Scranton in order to have an outlet, though she wasn’t sure he knew this was the same guy. So this particular crisis was unique in that she didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Except, maybe, Roy? But he was asleep on the couch again. And it’s not like they ever talked about this stuff anyway.

 

She sighed and picked up the phone. At least there was always her mom. 

End Notes:

And goodbye Season 1. Next we'll have at least one (probably just one) hiatus chapter, then start in on S2. I promise there's an end of this when-will-they-notice in sight, and it's in S2. So we're coming up on it! Stick with me here, and please, any feedback would be appreciated, especially on what you'd like to see in the hiatus or early S2 (since my thoughts are still somewhat fluid on those points). 

Hiatus by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam and Jim on a lazy boring Saturday.

 

Standard disclaimer: I do not own AOL, the Office, or any of the stories I based this on. 

Pam had fallen into a routine over the past few years (god, had she really been living with Roy for three years already?), one that she did not consciously think about very often, but that she reacted very strongly to having disrupted. She talked to Jim almost non-stop (or at least, it felt non-stop) from 9-5 on weekdays; she came home and ate dinner (either food she made or takeout) with Roy, then let him turn on the TV and watched with him until about 8 or 9; then she got online and stayed online until about 11 or midnight, chatting with Scranton. At that point she went to bed with Roy, woke up with Roy, showered and got ready around Roy, and went in to work.

She found herself wondering why she disliked weekends. Or at least weekend days, which seemed to stretch forever into the mists. She vaguely remembered liking that feeling as a kid. The limitless possibilities of a summer day or a weekend afternoon were a temptation to be savored. Now, the limited options available to her tended to be 1) football, baseball, basketball (in that order) or an equivalent local sport as decided by Roy 2) the lake with Roy’s brother Kenny and whatever girlfriend he’d managed to hang onto long enough to invite her out with him and Roy and Pam 3) twiddling her thumbs while avoiding (1) or (2). In the evenings she still hung around with Scranton online, but her fingers itched during the day to text Jim, call Jim, communicate with Jim somehow. She didn’t, because she didn’t like the feeling that she was somehow dependent on Jim for her happiness. And truly, consciously, she didn’t even realize that was what she wanted to do. She just found herself picking up the phone and wondering why it was in her hand, or thinking about work, or (on one strange day) staring longingly at a ream of paper for half an hour. So she just sulked most of the weekends, unsure why but unable to stop herself either.

It might have helped if Roy had noticed. Then she would have had to confront the fact that she was unhappy, and to ask—herself, Roy, anyone—if this was really what real life was supposed to be like. Instead he noticed nothing different. If anything, he was happy that Pam seemed so easygoing about watching so much sports on TV. He remembered vaguely that when they first started dating, and then again when they first started living together, she was always bothering him about doing things on the weekends, ruining his perfectly good days of relaxation away from the warehouse with errands or art shows or something like that. But now she didn’t, and he liked it. Maybe women got better at this relationship thing as it went on, or something.

Jim felt slightly differently about his routine. He too had one—just like eating ham and cheese every day, he liked to keep things simple—but he knew what was wrong with his. What was wrong was that he wasn’t interested in the right girl. Katy was fun, and they went out on dates a few times a month—a little more than once a week, a little less than she’d have liked. But he found himself thinking of a different face when she looked at him, or of a different screenname when she messaged him, and he knew it wasn’t going to last.

But since it had lasted longer than any of his previous attempts to get loose of Pam and Morgan’s joint hold on his brain, he wasn’t about to stop it anytime soon. But he felt very guilty every night when Katy went home (or he did) and he booted up his computer. Because she kept hoping he’d stay over, kept hinting they should stay out later, kept calling him “Old Man Jim” for his eagerness to go home by 9. He’d convinced her Dunder Mifflin was a much more stressful workplace than it was as an excuse for all his early nights; fortunately, she never talked to anyone from his work without him there so he was not yet caught out on that particular lie.

The weekends were often when the two of them would get together, precisely because didn’t have plans with Morgan then. But this particular weekend Katy had had to cancel (something about a convention where she could sell her purses to a particularly well-heeled group of conventioneers) and he found himself alone with his thoughts unexpectedly. Well, his thoughts and his computer.

MorganLaFey: hey

MorganLaFey: didn’t expect to see you online

MorganLaFey: how’s it going, stranger?

WScranton8: same old same old

WScranton8: how’s about you?

MorganLaFey: dead

MorganLaFey: or rather, the day is

WScranton8: as long as you, yourself, are not

WScranton8: while there’s life, there’s hope

MorganLaFey: so they say

MorganLaFey: but I’m booooooooooored

WScranton8: me too, to be honest

MorganLaFey: wanna play a game?

WScranton8: what game? There’s nothing on until tonight

MorganLaFey: no, not that kind of game

MorganLaFey: an us-game, not a game-game

WScranton8: um, ok?

MorganLaFey: yayyyyyyy

MorganLaFey: all right, I spy with my little eye something beginning with B

WScranton8: really?

WScranton8: this is what we’re resorting to?

WScranton8: I feel like I’m 8

MorganLaFey: if you were 8 you’d play with me :-P

MorganLaFey: c’mon it’ll be fun

WScranton8: seriously?

MorganLaFey: I’m not hearing any gueeeessssinnnng

WScranton8: fiiiiiiine

WScranton8: briefcase?

MorganLaFey: what am I, an old-timey lawyer type??? no

WScranton8: bandolier?

MorganLaFey¨are you just flipping randomly through the Bs in the dictionary? no

MorganLaFey: guess again, and try for real this time

WScranton8: oh, I’m supposed to take this seriously?

WScranton8: well, then, I suppose it matters where you are

WScranton8: I’m going living room, so…bookcase?

MorganLaFey: cold ;-)

WScranton8: in the location or the guess?

MorganLaFey: both ;-)

WScranton8: not the living room…bathroom? bidet?

MorganLaFey: how do you even know what that is? and again, not an old-timey lawyer, so no. Very cold.

WScranton8: living room, bathroom both cold…bed?

MorganLaFey: ding ding ding

MorganLaFey: boring days are great for sitting in bed

WScranton8: I suppose they are…

MorganLaFey: your turn!

WScranton8: um….I spy with my little eye…something beginning with A

MorganLaFey: ok

MorganLaFey: I got this

MorganLaFey: ants!

WScranton8: as I am not currently having a picnic, no

MorganLaFey: artichoke dip!

WScranton8: if I were having a party I’d have said so

MorganLaFey: that’s not a no…

WScranton8: no :-P

MorganLaFey: Adirondack chair?

WScranton8: nice vocabulary, but no

WScranton8: give up yet?

MorganLaFey: gimme two more guesses

MorganLaFey: no, three!

WScranton8: fine, do your worst

MorganLaFey: AC outlet

WScranton8: nope

MorganLaFey: AOL!

WScranton8: oooh nice guess

WScranton8: but no

MorganLaFey: hmmph

WScranton8: one more left

MorganLaFey: OMG if you tell me it’s an AC adapter and not an AC outlet I will be so mad

WScranton8: is that your guess ;-)?

MorganLaFey: fine, yes, AC adapter

WScranton8: no indeed it is not!

MorganLaFey: what then?

WScranton8: Art

MorganLaFey: art?

WScranton8: yeah, your drawing of the sunset

WScranton8: it’s on my desk in my bedroom

MorganLaFey: aww

MorganLaFey: that’s so sweet

MorganLaFey: and also a total violation of the rules!

MorganLaFey: sunset starts with an S, buddy

WScranton8: but I don’t look at it for the sunset :-)

MorganLaFey: :-)

End Notes:
And with that, we'll start tomorrow on the Dundies. Season 2 ahoy! Thank you all for reading, reviewing, and providing whatever other feedback you can (though please do not TP my house. Or find out where my house is, for that matter).
"The Dundies" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

A drunken Pam and not-drunken Jim message after the Dundies.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, Advil, or any of the stories I based this on. 

MorganLaFey: heyyyyyyyyyyy

MorganLaFey: heyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

MorganLaFey: where you at?

WScranton8: Morgan, are you drunk?

MorganLaFey: maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe

MorganLaFey: itsa been a agood night

MorganLaFey: how you doing?

WScranton8: I’m fine, thanks

WScranton8: I had a good night too

MorganLaFey: that’s good

MorganLaFey: you’re a goodguy you deserve it

MorganLaFey: whys it that my frineds are all good guys

WScranton8: I think you have that effect

MorganLaFey: can’t be me

MorganLaFey: if it were me my faince would be a good guy

WScranton8: I’m sure he is Morgan

WScranton8: you’re just drunk

MorganLaFey: nonononono I’m not that drunk

MorganLaFey: heh taht’s funny, I’m the drunk one for once

WScranton8: you should go to bed

MorganLaFey: so?? don’t care

MorganLaFey: I had a good night

MorganLaFey: not ready for bed yet

WScranton8: I really think you should

MorganLaFey: see, you’re a good dguy

MorganLaFey: always looking out for me

MorganLaFey: bot h of you, always looking out for me

WScranton8: see, he’s not such a bad guy

WScranton8: now go to bed

MorganLaFey:¨no no no not him, the other guy

MorganLaFey: other good guy

MorganLaFey: you’re so nice to me

MorganLaFey: wanted to ask you both

MorganLaFey: why are you so nice to me?

MorganLaFey: is not like I seserve it

WScranton8: how can you say that?

MorganLaFey; is ttrue!

MorganLaFey: you’re so nice nad I’mnot and he’s not and why are you so nice?

MorganLaFey: makes sn o sense!

WScranton8: I’m nice to you because I care about you

WScranton8: and you’re my friend

WScranton8: and because of that you really need to GO TO BED

MorganLaFey: hehehehe that’s what she said

MorganLaFey: you see, becaue of the bed?

WScranton8: ok, we are not having this conversation now

WScranton8: seriously, Morgan, I think you need some Advil and some water and some sleep

MorganLaFey: stayonline with me?

WScranton8: only if you can do that in bed

MorganLaFey: can’t

MorganLaFey: :-(

WScranton8: then go to bed and I’ll talk to you tomorrow

WScranton8: drink that water and take that advil, ‘k?

MorganLaFey: fine

MorganLaFey: talk to you tomorrow

MorganLaFey: thanks for being so nice

End Notes:
Pam's misspellings and grammar issues are intentional. Hopefully they convey a sense of her mental state and inebriation. I'm sorry this one is so short, but in-universe a long conversation right here didn't seem to fit, given the events of that night. I promise more in "Sexual Harassment," including the infamous "Which one is Jim?" moment. Thank you for the reviews and the feedback. I appreciate each and every one of you who chooses to read.
"Sexual Harassment" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam's mom comes for a visit, and Pam doesn't log online once.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories I have based this on. 


 

Pam hated today.

 

Well, Pam didn’t hate today for itself, she hated it for what it was doing to her. Todd Packer’s very presence was a bad start, but she was terrified what would happen if her mother had to interact with him. She’d been downplaying how bad work was for a long time: talking up getting to hang out with Jim, talking up the chance to share a commute and a frame of reference with Roy, trying to avoid telling too many Michael and Dwight stories. So of course Todd Packer was there and sexual harassment was on the agenda the day her mom was actually going to see all of it.

 

She wasn’t even angry, except maybe at the universe. She knew what this place was like. She knew that only Jim kept her sane at it. So she should have known this was coming. She just felt like someone watching a train wreck in slow motion: out of control and incapable of stopping it.

 

Maybe that was why she giggled so loudly and blushed when her mom asked in that carrying whisper “so, which one is Jim?” She could see his ears do that thing they did when he was pretending not to listen, and she giggled like a schoolgirl because that was not at all what she had expected her mother to say.

 

“Mooooooom.”

 

She pulled her mother further away from Jim and behind her desk, out of Jim’s range of hearing.

 

“He’s right there, he can hear you.”

“Honey, I just want to make sure he’s real.”

“Of course he’s real, why wouldn’t he be real?”

“Pam, dear, you’ve been going on about an imaginary online friend for ten years. I wanted to make sure Jim was actually tangibly present, unlike that Scranton guy.”

“Scranton is real! And anyway, Jim isn’t like Scranton, I see him every day.”

“OK, dear, but you talk about them just the same, you know. Jim did the funniest thing. Scranton shared this great link. Jim and I pulled a trick on Dwight. Scranton and I won the Arizona Trivia…”

“Zone Trivia, mom. And I don’t…anyway, Jim is right there. I can even introduce you if you promise to not be weird.”

“Now why would I be weird?”

This is weird, mom. What you’re doing right now. I feel like I’m 16 again and you’re embarrassing me in front of Tess and Izzy.”

“Are you sure you don’t mean like when I embarrassed you in front of Roy?”

“Yes, that too. Why are we splitting hairs on who you embarrassed me in front of how? The point is, don’t embarrass me.”

“I won’t, honey. I just wanted to check what kind of embarrassment we meant. Is this ‘don’t tell Jim I just learned what a tampon is’ or ‘don’t tell Jim about playing naked in the mud at age three?’”

Why would you tell him either of those stories.”

“OK, OK. Just checking, honey. Now, introduce me before I raise my voice and he starts hearing what you don’t want him to hear…”

 

Fortunately for Pam, Michael had chosen that moment to rope Jim into a discussion of what, exactly, differentiated sexual harassment, sexual assault, and boys being boys. Pam would usually have reveled in hearing Jim try to squirm out of that conversation, but at the moment she said a small prayer to whatever deity had been listening to her and slipped her mother out while Jim was otherwise engaged, giving him a small smile and wave as they hurried out the door.

 

She spent the ride to dinner trying desperately to find something to talk to her mother about besides Jim or Scranton. They ended up talking about Roy. This made dinner itself fairly awkward, as Roy was so clearly making a very different level of effort to impress Helene than he usually did for Pam—and thus than Pam had been talking to her mother about. Her mother kept shooting her knowing glances over her wine glass (the alcohol being another failed attempt to get a different conversation started) and Pam felt the joy of a day with her mother slipping away.

 

Her mother seemed to have a sixth sense about this, though, and after dinner dragged Pam away from Roy for a girls’ night out at a small bar Pam had never been to (but which apparently had been a real happening place when Pam’s parents were younger). Pam would have sworn she saw Roy breathe a sigh of relief and let his gut out as he went to the truck, but that felt ungenerous so she shook it from her mind.

 

It was harder to shake the feeling that her mother had something very definite in mind as the conversation at the bar turned inexorably to her “imaginary and real friends.” Her mother, apparently, was concerned that Pam didn’t seem to have any girlfriends anymore, and wanted to pump Pam about the friends she did have. Pam was careful not to mention quite how often she was online, or how much time Jim spent at her desk. She wasn’t sure why she felt guilty; her mother wasn’t Roy, after all, and it’s not like she even had anything to feel guilty about even if she had been. But by the end of the night she knew two things for sure: she needed to talk to her mother more when they weren’t drinking and Roy wasn’t around, and she needed to spend either more or less time with Roy. It bothered her a little that she wasn’t sure which. 

End Notes:

No IMing because I didn't think Pam would get online the day her mom was in town. Next we'll have the Office Olympics, and back to the IMs.

Thank you all for your feedback. It is great to know what you're following and what grabs you. I always appreciate hearing anything you all have to say. 

"Office Olympics" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam shares her worries after the Office Olympics.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories on which this is based. 


 

MorganLaFey: am I too needy?

WScranton8: woah, where did that come from?

WScranton8: and hello to you too

WScranton8: no you are not too needy

MorganLaFey: thanks, hi, I just needed reassurance

MorganLaFey: I’ve just been realizing how much I rely on my close friends

MorganLaFey: and I don’t want to seem a burden

WScranton8: c’mon Morgan, you know you aren’t a burden

WScranton8: what’s all this about?

MorganLaFey: oh, just a bunch of things all at once

MorganLaFey: and they’re all minor, you’d probably laugh at me, but they bother me

WScranton8: you know I would never laugh at you

MorganLaFey: that is a damn lie, you do it all the time

WScranton8: ok, ok, I would laugh at you, but only when you want me to

WScranton8: there’s a difference, you know?

MorganLaFey: yeah, I know :-)

MorganLaFey: but last week my mom was telling me how much I talk to her about you

MorganLaFey: and my office friend

MorganLaFey: like, apparently you guys are like all I talk about

MorganLaFey: which is super embarrassing forget I said that

MorganLaFey: and then today one of my coworkers had some nasty things to say about how much time I spend with my office friend

MorganLaFey: and I realized I spend just about as much time with you online

MorganLaFey: and it suddenly bothered me a lot

WScranton8: so you talk to your mom about me? ;-)

MorganLaFey: is that really all you got from what I just said?

WScranton8: no, but I figure we should go through stuff slowly

WScranton8: and stop dodging the question

MorganLaFey: dude, we’ve been friends for ten years, of course I’ve talked to my mom about you

MorganLaFey: she used to monitor my internet use!

WScranton8: ah, I didn’t say “talked”

WScranton8: and you didn’t say “talked”

WScranton8: I (and you) said “talk”

WScranton8: so, you talk to your mom about me? :-P

MorganLaFey: fine, yes

MorganLaFey: I talk to my mom about you

WScranton8: good, because my mom has a whole dossier on you

WScranton8: I think it’s in three volumes by now

WScranton8: I shudder to think how bad it would be if I, like, knew your real name ;-)

MorganLaFey: stalker :-P

WScranton8: technically I said my mom was the stalker

WScranton8: but point taken

WScranton8: anyway, I think it’s sweet, and of course I also talk to my mom about you

WScranton8: but no binders

MorganLaFey: yet ;-)

WScranton8: well, I can’t promise for the future, that’s true :-P

MorganLaFey: :-P

WScranton8: and no, you don’t bother me by talking to me online

WScranton8: if anything, I worry I’m bothering you

WScranton8: my evenings are pretty free, but I’m constantly surprised that yours are too

MorganLaFey: oh, mine are booked solid

WScranton8: ???

MorganLaFey: I have this standing arrangement with a friend

MorganLaFey: maybe someday you’ll meet him

MorganLaFey: he gets online around 8-9, so do I, and we chat about life

WScranton8: sounds like a stand-up guy

MorganLaFey: I tend to think so :-)

WScranton8: so no worries on that score. What’s left…oh yeah, your office friend and your coworker

WScranton8: can I ask…is this coworker someone you like? trust? are generally friends with?

WScranton8: or is he or she a busybody?

MorganLaFey: I’m going to go with column B

WScranton8: and is what they had to say a real issue of workplace morale or productivity, or a personal pet peeve?

MorganLaFey: I’d go with B again

WScranton8: then I don’t think you have much to worry about

WScranton8: unless your office friend himself comes and complains, I think you’re probably good

MorganLaFey: thanks :-)

WScranton8: you’re welcome

WScranton8: and if I may say so, you came to the right place

WScranton8: I am a noted expert in issues of coworker relations and the maintenance of friendships

WScranton8: why, I even have a coworker friend myself!

MorganLaFey: oh that’s right, normal chick. How’s she doing?

WScranton8: she’s great

MorganLaFey: I remember you saying that before ;-)

WScranton8: well it’s still true

MorganLaFey: I’m glad

MorganLaFey: so, thanks for talking me down off the ledge

WScranton8: anytime

MorganLaFey: yeah, but that’s supposed to be a polite nicety you say to a friend

MorganLaFey: and I find myself taking advantage of you for it way too often

WScranton8: hey, I mean it

WScranton8: just because some people are frivolous with their language doesn’t mean I am

WScranton8: when I say anytime, I mean anytime

MorganLaFey: thanks :-)

MorganLaFey: you’re a good friend

WScranton8: thanks

WScranton8: so are you

End Notes:
Next: we didn't start "The Fire," it was always burning (as was Pam's annoyance at Roy's inconsiderateness). Thanks as ever for your feedback; keep it coming!
"The Fire" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam asks Jim an important question.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or any of the stories this is based on.  

MorganLaFey: is it ok to dislike your friend’s girlfriend?

MorganLaFey: like, a lot?

WScranton8: I think it depends on the context

WScranton8: and maybe the reason?

WScranton8: like, is this a “she’s a huge unrepentant asshole” thing

WScranton8: or a “she’s totally wrong for him” thing

WScranton8: or a “I just don’t like your face” thing

WScranton8: those all have different answers

WScranton8: which friend?

MorganLaFey: you know, the one office friend I have

WScranton8: ah yes, your nearest and dearest companion

WScranton8: I think we need a snappy name for this guy

MorganLaFey: oh?

WScranton8: well, my one person who keeps me sane is also my office friend

WScranton8: but we call her normal chick

WScranton8: your office friend needs something like that, some kind of shorthand

MorganLaFey: hmm

MorganLaFey: well, you just called him my nearest and dearest

MorganLaFey: and that’s not too off, so how about we call him that?

WScranton8: no, too long and rhyme-y

WScranton8: needs to be snappy!

MorganLaFey: dear friend?

WScranton8: works for me

WScranton8: so what’s the problem with dear friend’s girlfriend (hey that rhymed)

WScranton8: do we just not like her face or are we in unrepentant asshole territory?

MorganLaFey: no, she’s got a fine face

MorganLaFey: everyone thinks so

MorganLaFey: and she’s not an asshole, she’s just a ditz

WScranton8: so are we in category 2, “she’s totally wrong for him,” or what?

MorganLaFey: basically?

MorganLaFey: like, I didn’t even know they were full-on dating, not for sure, for a while

MorganLaFey: and in the abstract it’s great, he’s a great guy, she’s really pretty

MorganLaFey: but like, he’s really smart and funny and she’s just…not

WScranton8: how do you know?

MorganLaFey: I mean I guess I don’t

MorganLaFey: but like every time I meet her she’s just giggly and I don’t know, vapid?

WScranton8: 10/10 for vocab there

WScranton8: I mean, does Dear Friend just make everyone that way?

WScranton8: is he just a giggle machine who leaves everyone else in his intellectual dust?

WScranton8: or is this unusual?

MorganLaFey: he’s funny, so I guess some people giggle?

MorganLaFey: but he’s not the kind of smart that makes other people stupid

WScranton8: that’s high praise right there

WScranton8: you obviously think highly of him

MorganLaFey: I do!

WScranton8: I know, you talk about him a lot :-)

WScranton8: are you sure this isn’t jealousy?

MorganLaFey: I’m engaged

WScranton8: I know

WScranton8: I didn’t know that stopped people from having emotions or making connections

MorganLaFey: I’m not jealous of Dear Friend’s girlfriend

WScranton8: fine, fine, just asking

WScranton8: I mean, you don’t have to be jealous in a “I want to hit that” kind of way

WScranton8: you could be jealous in a “I want my friend’s attention” way

MorganLaFey: I’m not jealous, OK, just drop it

WScranton8: …ok

MorganLaFey: what’s that supposed to mean?

WScranton8: just that I have a lot of experience with jealousy and it’s like Fight Club

MorganLaFey: you lost me

WScranton8: you know the first rule of Fight Club?

MorganLaFey: don’t talk about fight club, yeah

WScranton8: first rule of jealousy: you’re not jealous

MorganLaFey: oh

MorganLaFey: but how do you actually say you’re not jealous then?

WScranton8: how do you actually know someone’s not in fight club?

MorganLaFey: I don’t know

WScranton8: neither do they

WScranton8: so yeah, denials don’t cut it

MorganLaFey: well either way, can we move on? I don’t think that’s the issue here anyway

WScranton8: fine

WScranton8: in that case, I’ll say this: you’re perfectly within your rights to dislike Dear Friend’s girlfriend

WScranton8: I mean, I hate Normal Chick’s fiancé

WScranton8: though that’s different, I’m sure

MorganLaFey: why?

MorganLaFey: omg are you jealous of him? is that why it’s different?

WScranton8: …yeah

WScranton8: I mean, as I said, I have a lot of experience with jealousy

MorganLaFey: aww Scranton that’s very sweet :-)

WScranton8: yeah thanks

WScranton8: can we go back to you now? :-P

WScranton8: it’s perfectly fine to not like Dear Friend’s girlfriend

WScranton8: whether or not you’re jealous

MorganLaFey: thanks that helps

WScranton8: the key thing is what you do with it

WScranton8: like, you can’t break them up

WScranton8: especially if you’re not jealous, and double especially since you’re engaged

MorganLaFey: seems fair

WScranton8: and…do you thin Dear Friend likes you?

MorganLaFey: duh, we’re friends

WScranton8: you know that’s not what I meant

MorganLaFey: oh. Oh, no. We’re just good friends.

MorganLaFey: he doesn’t think of me that way

WScranton8: really?

MorganLaFey: really

WScranton8: ok then

WScranton8: either way, you can’t go hinting to him that she’s not good enough either

WScranton8: no backdoor breaking up

WScranton8: you can sympathize if he complains, but you can’t start it

WScranton8: and you can’t finish it

MorganLaFey: that seems reasonable

MorganLaFey: but other than that I’m free to hate her in my heart of hearts?

WScranton8: with all the fervor in your completely-not-jealous body

WScranton8: as long as you don’t act on it

MorganLaFey: thanks, that helps a lot

WScranton8: no problem

MorganLaFey: and good luck with your normal chick

MorganLaFey: I’m sure she’ll come around some time

WScranton8: thanks

WScranton8: I doubt it, but thanks

MorganLaFey: anytime :-)

End Notes:
So near and yet so far. But I promise we are getting nearer. The "dear friend" thing is ripped directly from She Loves Me (though I think it also features in the lonely hearts clubs in Parfumerie and Shop Around the Corner). I welcome any feedback of any form that you might wish to give as we head on next to "Halloween."
"Halloween" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam and Jim talk moving.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, the Simpsons, or any of the other stories this is based on. 

WScranton8: so you might be my only friend pretty soon

MorganLaFey: I’m flattered, but why?

WScranton8: I’m thinking of moving

WScranton8: just something someone at work suggested

WScranton8: and it’s kind of stuck in my mind

WScranton8: but, you know, we only know each other through the internet, so you’re stuck with me :-P

MorganLaFey: lucky me :-D

WScranton8: I know, right?

MorganLaFey: seriously, I’m glad we’re friends

MorganLaFey: and that you can’t run away from me by something as simple as moving :-)

MorganLaFey: but this seems sudden

WScranton8: I guess, yeah

MorganLaFey: and anyway, I’m not sure you’re allowed to move

WScranton8: ?

MorganLaFey: have you checked your screenname lately?

WScranton8: :-P

WScranton8: we’ve already discussed this—you have no idea where I live ;-)

WScranton8: it’s our one rule ;-)

MorganLaFey: and if you’re going to talk to me about moving, you’re going to break it :-P

WScranton8: fine :-P

WScranton8: my lips are sealed

WScranton8: on that particular point at least ;-)

WScranton8: you should think of my Scranton as Springfield

WScranton8: you know, from the Simpsons?

MorganLaFey: yeah?

WScranton8: like, how they always threaten that they’re going to show it on the map, but keep faking you out

WScranton8: and it could be any of a million Springfields anywhere in the world

WScranton8: well, the US anyway

MorganLaFey: seems fair

MorganLaFey: and my lips are sealed too ;-)

MorganLaFey: anyway, you’re not allowed to move

MorganLaFey: we still need to get your hooked up with Normal Chick

WScranton8: not gonna happen

WScranton8: my moving was actually her idea

WScranton8: and she seems completely happy with her ogre of a boyfriend

MorganLaFey: I’m sure she didn’t mean it

MorganLaFey: I mean, you guys joke around all the time, right?

MorganLaFey: just like I do with Dear Friend?

WScranton8: we do

MorganLaFey: so there you go

MorganLaFey: if anything, it probably means she cares about you

WScranton8: come again?

MorganLaFey: today I told Dear Friend he ought to get a better job

MorganLaFey: but I didn’t do it because I wanted him to leave

MorganLaFey: I did it because he’s a dear friend, and I want him to be happy

WScranton8: I suppose that makes sense

WScranton8: but you weren’t there

WScranton8: it really hurt to have her act like me being there doesn’t matter to her

WScranton8: and she did take it back, but it still hurt

MorganLaFey: and I totally get that

MorganLaFey: Dear Friend didn’t realize that I didn’t mean it either

MorganLaFey: but we sorted it out

MorganLaFey: and I’m sure you and Normal Chick can too

WScranton8: wish I could agree

WScranton8: but you’ve talked me down off the ledge

MorganLaFey: good

MorganLaFey: I’m sure she didn’t mean anything by it

MorganLaFey: if she’s that important to you, I’m pretty sure you’re important to her too

MorganLaFey: I wish you’d figured things out like Dear Friend and I did

MorganLaFey: but there’s still time :-)

WScranton8: thanks :-)

WScranton8: any advice? ;-)

MorganLaFey: make sure she knows you’re OK?

MorganLaFey: and keep up the jokes

MorganLaFey: that way she’ll know you understand she doesn’t mean everything seriously either

WScranton8: good advice

WScranton8: so basically, business as normal, with a side order of smiling?

MorganLaFey: basically, yes

WScranton8: sounds doable

WScranton8: let me know how it goes with Dear Friend

WScranton8: wouldn’t want him to get too troubled

MorganLaFey: will do

MorganLaFey: but only if you let me know how Normal Chick is

MorganLaFey: I still think we can get the two of you together ;-)

WScranton8: Morgan La Fey!

WScranton8: are you suggesting I should break up an engagement?

MorganLaFey: not really

MorganLaFey: I wouldn’t do that, you know

MorganLaFey: I’m just saying that you seem so perfect for her, and her fiancé seems so…not

MorganLaFey: so I’m sure you can convince her to break her engagement all on her own ;-)

WScranton8: I know

WScranton8: just teasing

MorganLaFey: yeah, but I get what you’re saying

MorganLaFey: and no, I don’t think you should be a homewrecker

MorganLaFey: I just ship you guys ;-)

WScranton8: well, thanks for that

WScranton8: I’ll bear your support-without-consequences in mind :-P

MorganLaFey: you do that :-)

End Notes:
So this was difficult for me, because it's hard not to have them recognize their parallel situations are one. For me, the answer (which I hope was obvious in the text here) is that Pam thinks the issue is over with DF, while Jim is very clear that it is not over with NC. So they think they have a parallel where Pam succeeded where NC failed, when in fact they are of course each others' friend in both contexts. This trend may continue as we enter "The Fight" next time. I welcome your feedback on whether this works for you, alternate approaches you might think would work, or anything else you want to tell me.
"The Fight" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam ponders the various men in her life (no IMing).

Hold onto your hats, we're going AU (not that we haven't been from the start).

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office or the various stories I have used as source material.  

Pam sat in the office munching chips. They were good chips. They were Jim-chips. So of course they were good chips. And she was thinking very hard.

 

Her conversations with Scranton had gotten her thinking about Jim. Dear Friend that he was, was her relationship with him all that different from Scranton’s with his Normal Chick? They both spent all their time at work together, they both seemed down when the other one was in the least put out, they both…they both cared more than the other one knew about their happiness.

 

Scranton had a crush on Normal Chick. He had for years. Did she have a crush on Jim? If she did, she had to have had one for years too. It’s not like anything had changed recently. Sure, Jim had been a little extra nice recently as if to apologize for his part in the whole Cumberland Mills thing, and she’d been real jumpy around him—witness today’s ridiculous situation at the dojo. But that was all minor stuff. The real stuff had been there from the beginning. So if Scranton had a crush on Normal Chick, she probably had one on Jim.

 

But if she had one on Jim, she definitely had one on Scranton too. Sure, she’d never seen what he looked like, but for every time Jim had helped her through a workday, Scranton had helped her through an evening. Actually, looking back on it, it was more like 3:1, since she’d known Scranton for so much longer.

 

Longer than Roy, even.

 

Roy was the real issue here, she realized. She’d always assumed that her relationship with Roy was how real life went: that Scranton was an online fantasy who’d ultimately turn out to be a 45-year-old woman from Calgary, Alberta, while Jim was only able to be Jim from 9-5 on weekdays. Roy was solid, Roy was secure, Roy was safe.

 

But was Roy all that safe if she needed both Jim and Scranton to keep her sane?

 

Why wasn’t she spending every workday hanging around the warehouse, or every evening chatting with her fiancé? Why was she finding excuses not to eat lunches with him, and secretly reveling in the nights when he went out with Darryl and the boys and she could stay online all evening without guilt? Why was she happy with Roy only taking up 11 hours a day of her life, 8 of which she spent sleeping?

 

Maybe she’d had it wrong all along. Maybe Roy was the fantasy—a fantasy of a boyfriend you met when you were 16 and never broke up with, a fantasy of first love being true love. Maybe she needed to take some time to think that through, with all its implications.

 

Maybe she needed another chip.

 

She realized the bag was empty, and it was already 7. She wasn’t going to be home in time to cook dinner for Roy tonight, and he was going to be mad. And why was that? They’d been living together forever, why was it that he was incapable of making dinner for himself? Why did he always assume she’d do it?

 

Because she always did. She was always in such a hurry to get dinner on the table so they could eat and she could get online that she never really thought to think that Roy wasn’t helping. At most he provided gusto when eating it and maybe some help setting the table, but most nights he was pretty indifferent to the food and sat on the couch until she told him it was ready. So of course he wasn’t up to making dinner for himself on the fly.

 

“Well, he’s going to have to do it tonight,” she said to herself out loud, as she hit the buttons on the vending machine for another bag of chips. These wouldn’t be Jim-chips, but they would be thinking-of-Jim chips, which made them almost as good.

 

So. She had a crush on Jim. She had a crush on Scranton. And she…didn’t have a crush on Roy. Well of course she didn’t, they’d been dating for ten years, engaged for three. What she felt for Roy was much more than a crush, wasn’t it?

 

The little Pam inside of her (maybe she should start thinking of it as “Morgan” in honor of her online personality) quirked an eyebrow at her. Was it really?

 

No. It was much less.

 

Well, that was going to be fun.

 

The first thing she felt upon realizing how she really felt about Roy was a crushing sense of guilt and unease. Her parents had raised her better than this. You don’t let a ten-year relationship go just like that. You work at it. You try, hard.

 

So she would. She would try to limit her conversations with Jim and Scranton a little and work on how she felt about Roy. If she decided she felt the way she had thought she felt until a few minutes ago, well, that was as things should be. If she decided otherwise, she would cross that bridge when she came to it.

 

But she definitely was going to cross that bridge if she came that far. She realized abruptly that she’d been shying away from that particular bridge for some years now, hiding behind the “reality” of Roy compared to her other…what should she call them. Options?

 

Now, were they really options?

 

She was pretty sure Scranton had had a crush on her at one point. He’d been so pissed off when she’d gotten together with Roy that she’d known it couldn’t entirely be just because of that one story she’d told him about one bad date. But they’d never met. Never, most likely, would meet, although she was getting more and more certain he had at least lived in Scranton in high school if not now. So he wasn’t an option, per se, but he was definitely someone else who’d been attracted to her—and not for her body, that’s for sure, since he’d never seen it. But he was definitely into this Normal Chick he worked with—although he’d said at least once that she reminded him of her, so that had to be a good sign, right? Still, put him in the maybe column.

 

Jim on the other hand she was convinced was not into her. If he had been, wouldn’t he have asked her out? Well, she was with Roy the whole time. But still, Jim had slid so quickly and efficiently into being her best friend that there hadn’t really been any time to think of him in that way, so what were the odds he’d ever thought of her that way? Pretty low, she imagined. She’d seen the kinds of girls he dated, when he dated. “Pam 6.0” kinds of girls, at least according to everyone else. Red-haired goddesses everyone else drooled over. Not Pams. So he’d picked her up today and she’d found herself liking it a little too much. That just meant she had a Jim problem, not the other way around. But still, he did hang around her a lot. There was that terrible game of Angela’s, Pam Pong, which strongly suggested he hung around her at least enough to make Angela grumpy. Though Angela was always grumpy about other people having fun, so perhaps that was not the best example. Still, he did like her, even if he didn’t like-like her. Oh god she was back in high school again. Best to move on.

 

So even if Jim and Scranton weren’t really options, they were still…indicators? Suggestions that maybe it wasn’t necessarily Roy or bust. Maybe neither of them would burst through the computer screen or fling themselves across her desk and declare their undying love, but at least they cared about her.

 

It was time to figure out if Roy really did. And if she did about Roy. Because it was unfair to be having these thoughts right now. But she might have to indulge herself in them again soon, if things with Roy went as she was beginning to suspect they might.

 

But first, she needed a real dinner. For reasons she wouldn’t figure out until later, she grabbed her keys and headed out to Cugino’s.

End Notes:
So a number of your comments led me to the conclusion that it's time to show a little more of our characters' thoughts in action, and to start moving towards our resolution (even if that resolution isn't here yet). So here's Pam's current thoughts on the issues in front of her, which I hope give some context to where I think we are emotionally. I value your input on this as I go forward; I may not always agree, but it's really helpful for me to know what you all think. Next: "The Client" and some unfortunate remarks on first dates.
"The Client" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam reveals something and she and Jim wonder about it.

No IM this week either.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, any Leo DiCaprio films, or any of the stories on which this is based. 


 

The next few days were hard on Pam. She was trying with Roy, she really was. He just wasn’t cooperating. The first night home she’d planned he’d ruined by going out with the guys to Poor Richards and stumbling home at one am; the next had been some college football game she hadn’t known he cared about; by the next she was feeling pretty discouraged and his utter indifference to the freshly prepared meal had almost done her in.

 

Still, she was trying. She wasn’t getting online very much, and when she did she kept the conversations with Scranton light and airy. She was still going into work, so she still saw Jim, of course, but she was trying very hard not to think about how life would be with him instead of Roy, or to take too much refuge in his eyes and smile.

 

She hadn’t really realized how important those were to her until she tried to stop caring.

 

But she was trying to give Roy a chance to be the fiancé he was supposed to be. She dragged herself down to the warehouse to say hi, invited him up to the break room, made the gestures she felt guilty for not having made before. It helped a little, but not too much. She found herself wishing involuntarily for Jim to be at lunch with them, and feeling glad instead of sad when Roy was too busy downstairs to see her or to come up. Though his casual inconsiderateness still affected her more than she wanted to admit.

 

This particular day he had barely acknowledged her with a shouted “Hey Pammy, guys and I are going out for lunch!” as he passed her on the stairs. So she was sitting in the break room feeling pretty unhappy (even though she was eating with Jim—and everyone else, which kind of minimized the effect) when Oscar started telling the story about his terrible first date, who had done a background check on him. And for some reason her mouth got ahead of her brain and she blurted out her own story: “Oh my God, I win! Ok, it was a minor league hockey game. He brought his brother, and when I went to the bathroom, the game ended and they forgot about me.”

 

Everyone assumed it was either a joke or a sad commentary on her relationship with Roy. Of course, it was Roy, but why did everyone assume it had to be? Sure, Roy was her fiancé, but shouldn’t that mean they would assume it wasn’t him? She almost missed Jim’s little “wait, when was this?” as she realized she’d dug herself into a hole. At first she answered honestly—“it was not that long ago”—before realizing that wasn’t actual an honest answer. As the whirl of questions rose around her she revised her answer.

 

“Actually, it was definitely a while ago.”

 

“So it was Roy?” Kelly would not be put off.

 

In a moment of weakness, Pam dodged the question. “Why do you all assume it had to be Roy? It’s not like Roy’s the only man I’ve ever talked to! I’m not a nun!”

 

Kelly spotted the flaw in that logic right away. “Yeah, duh, we know that. But isn’t Roy, like, your only boyfriend or your first or something like that? Usually it’s so romantic, like Leo and Claire Danes in Romeo + Juliet” (somehow she pronounced the +) “or Leo and Kate Winslet in Titanic. OMG, did you hear who he’s dating now?”

 

So Kelly was going to be on a roll for a while, and Pam tuned her out, but what she’d said so far stuck with her. Why was she so insistent that people not realize this was Roy? Why was she so defensive? Was it because, deep down inside, she didn’t like that this was how she’d dated Roy? No. She realized in a flash, it was because everything they were all saying (oh no, how could you have kept dating him, that can’t be Roy, that can’t be who you decided to marry) was so familiar. Scranton had said all those things. And she’d responded by telling him never to talk about it if he wanted to be her friend.

 

She was so caught up in her own thoughts as they carried her through to Scranton that she didn’t notice that Jim had fallen silent, staring at his ham and cheese.

 

*******

 

Jim was having a hard time processing what Pam had said. On the one hand, that was a really distinctive story, right? There was no way that two people had been left at hockey games by their inconsiderate dates and said dates’ brothers. It had to be her.

 

But on the other hand…how could it be her? Over the last three years, how could he not have noticed? Or, for that matter, how could she not have noticed? It couldn’t be Pam. OK, they were extremely similar people, but Morgan was…free and open in a way that Pam never was. Morgan had suggested that Pam (well, “Normal Chick,” but that was just code for Pam) was into him the same week Pam had shrieked and told him to drop her at the dojo and then stopped making time to chat with him at work. Morgan had obliquely suggested he break up an engagement, for god’s sake, while Pam couldn’t see the extremely oafish writing on her own particular wall about Roy. No, it had to be a coincidence.

 

Maybe Morgan was from Scranton and had dated Kenny. He could definitely see Roy and Kenny doing that twice. Hell, maybe she’d dated Roy, it was long enough ago. Or maybe…he realized that he was pretty sure that Morgan was still with the guy she’d gone on that horrible date with—was Pam so insistent that it didn’t have to be Roy because she’d dated Morgan’s fiancé, who somehow had a habit of doing this? Or because this was her one disastrous date before Roy, so she only counted Roy as her boyfriend ever since? If Pam was Morgan, this would have to be Roy, right? But Pam was so horrified that people assumed it was Roy…maybe it wasn’t?

 

He was all twisted around. But one thing he knew was that he was Pam’s friend, whatever her dating history or online habits. So he used the information he had to help his friend.

 

“Hey, it’s not that unusual. I had another friend it happened to. Minor league hockey must be uniquely boring.”

 

*********

 

Pam’s head whipped around. Did Jim just say what she thought he said? Her brain, on autopilot, used Jim’s excuse to get out of the room without saying more about the hockey game. But inside she was whirring.

 

Did this mean Jim was Scranton? I mean, they’re very similar people, you said it yourself last week, that’s why you’re doing this whole thing with Roy. But hey, maybe it wasn’t that unique. She didn’t even know if it was the same team, or anything, or when this was, or…no reason to run away with yourself. Maybe she had gone this whole time thinking this was the worst first date ever and it wasn’t really that bad. OK, amend that, but maybe it wasn’t that uniquely bad. Maybe this did happen to other women. Jim never said what friend; he probably knows her in real life. There’s no reason to think that makes him the only other person outside my family, Tess, and Izzy I’ve told about this. It could really be someone else.

 

Or it could be Jim is Scranton.

 

She filed that away for future investigation, but it was way, way too explosive to think about right now.

 

The rest of the day was a real pleasure. She found the Michael Scarn script, and they had so much fun with it, and then sat on the rooftop and swayed to music, and she felt herself feeling increasingly guilty. She hadn’t even given Roy a full week. She’d fallen right back into her routine of letting Jim be her emotional support. As a punishment to herself, she didn’t get online that night, and just sat with Roy watching college basketball (go Nittany Lions, apparently).

 

The next day, when Jim tried to tell her it was their first date, she shot him down out of guilt and frustration with her situation. When he lashed out with the story of her first date she had to get out of there. Yes, it was Roy, yes it was bad, yes it was somehow simultaneously the start of her relationship and one of her biggest regrets. But she needed some time to process how she felt. And letting Jim joke about it was not going to help. She busied herself with the faxes and resolved to give Roy another week, this time for real, before she made any hasty decisions.

 

******

 

Jim regretted it the instant the words came out of his mouth. But he’d been so close. So. Damn. Close. The idea that they could be together had been so tantalizing—and he hadn’t had Morgan to guide him last night, so he was in the dark about where to go from here.

 

Apparently his own instincts stunk. Great job, Halpert. Throw the one thing you know she’s ashamed of right into her face.

 

And if he needed any confirmation this was not Morgan—and that Morgan didn’t know what she was talking about in terms of Pam being into him—her quick denial that that could have been a date should put that to rest. Still, he needed to tell her about it. If anyone could help him now, it was her.

 

Too bad she hadn’t really been on much in the past week.

End Notes:

I hope those internal monologues helped make sense of where our protagonists are in their own minds. Don't worry, we're getting close.

 Thanks so much for everyone's feedback on the last few chapters; it has really helped clarify my writing process as we speed towards wherever this is going (which I promise I do know).

Thanks for reading and for your feedback. 

"Performance Review" by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam gets back online.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, any of the stories this is based on, or the Gregorian calendar. 

MorganLaFey: hey

WScranton8: hi

MorganLaFey: sorry I haven’t been on much recently

MorganLaFey: I’ve had a bunch of things to figure out

MorganLaFey: and while I’d normally ask your advice about them

MorganLaFey: some stuff just has to happen in your own head, you know?

WScranton8: totally

WScranton8: like, today I had to decide what soda to get from the vending machine

WScranton8: I couldn’t ask anyone else

WScranton8: I couldn’t bring myself to involve them in my complicated, long thought process

WScranton8: I just had to stare at the machine and hit the buttons myself

MorganLaFey: lol exactly

MorganLaFey: so what did you get?

WScranton8: what did you figure out? ;-)

MorganLaFey: hey, I’m still figuring it out

WScranton8: maybe I’m still standing in front of a vending machine :-P

MorganLaFey: I seriously doubt that ;-)

WScranton8: :-P

MorganLaFey: fine, don’t tell me

MorganLaFey: but I wanted to talk to you anyway

WScranton8: about the things?

MorganLaFey: just in general

MorganLaFey: I’m worried I’ve been a bad friend by retreating into my own shell

MorganLaFey: so, tell me about your day

WScranton8: well, it was a lovely Thursday morning

WScranton8: the air was clear, the sun was shining…

MorganLaFey: Friday. But go on.

WScranton8: um, Morgan, it was definitely Thursday

MorganLaFey: huh, I thought we were in the same time zone

MorganLaFey: guess not

MorganLaFey: go on, tell me about your Friday

WScranton8: um…ok

WScranton8: so the big decision you already heard about

WScranton8: I spent a good like ten minutes at that vending machine

MorganLaFey: still not going to tell me what you got?

WScranton8: nope

WScranton8: the other thing I did today (which was Thursday)

WScranton8: was to mess with my coworker who reminds me of CantBeatMe

WScranton8: which was, as you can imagine, easy

MorganLaFey: sounds like a great idea

MorganLaFey what, did you convince him he was wrong about something?

WScranton8: yes, actually

WScranton8: specifically, what day it was

WScranton8: which is Thursday but he thought was Friday

MorganLaFey: I’m gonna have to go with the Beets here

MorganLaFey: I’m afraid you’ve been counterpranked

WScranton8: not possible, my computer says Thursday

MorganLaFey: are you telling me you’re such an amateur you can’t even change a little computer time stamp?

WScranton8: well, no, but

MorganLaFey: then I’m sure he can too. Please, continue.

WScranton8: ok…so I did that, and I hung out with Normal Chick, and it was pretty chill

MorganLaFey: we’re saying chill now?

WScranton8: I guess so

MorganLaFey: I don’t know, I think that’s a word you gotta really own

MorganLaFey: so I’ll ask you again: are we saying chill now?

WScranton8: yes!

WScranton8: I am chiller than an ice bucket at a swanky hotel

MorganLaFey: chiller than a warm day in February

WScranton8: chiller than a scientist at McMurdo Base, Antarctica

MorganLaFey: chiller than the background radiation of the universe

WScranton8: OK, I can’t beat 3 degrees Kelvin

WScranton8: but I am also pretty chill

MorganLaFey: :-)

MorganLaFey: I see someone caught ALLISFALSE’s science history game last night

MorganLaFey: although I don’t remember seeing you there

WScranton8: yeah, I was only there for a hot second

MorganLaFey: hot date?

WScranton8: nah, just a poker game with the guys

MorganLaFey: didja win?

WScranton8: yeah, I smoked them all

WScranton8: you are looking at the proud owner of $25 and a gift certificate to Target

MorganLaFey: nicely done

MorganLaFey: well, tell them I say hi

WScranton8: will do ;-)

WScranton8: you know, my roommate asks about you

WScranton8: wants to know if he’ll ever meet the woman I spend all night chatting to

MorganLaFey: you tell him he might, if he plays his cards right

MorganLaFey: which I gather around you he rarely does ;-)

WScranton8: :-)

WScranton8: are you suggesting you’ll break into my apartment to meet my roommate?

WScranton8: after all, it’s not like I have you over for Sunday brunch

MorganLaFey: I know, it’s a terrible oversight on your part

MorganLaFey: we’ll just have to fix it in 2 days

MorganLaFey: on Sunday ;-)

WScranton8: that would be Saturday

WScranton8: but I’ll keep my schedule open :-P

MorganLaFey: we can at least chat online then

WScranton8: sounds good to me

MorganLaFey: see you later ;-)

WScranton8: bye :-)

End Notes:

I think Pam has something in mind, don't you? 

 Next we get "Email Surveillance." I hope to see you all there (and let me know what you think on the way!) 

"Email Surveillance" Part 1 by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam goes to Jim's party.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, the stories this is based on, or West Scranton High School. 

Pam had had a great week.

 

OK, by most standards including her own, Pam had had a really shitty week. She’d broken up with her boyfriend—fiancé—of ten years—three—and even though he hadn’t set a date for the wedding in three years, that hadn’t been a pleasant experience. He’d cried, which she couldn’t remember seeing him do in the past except when the Eagles were knocked out of the playoffs, and he’d argued, and he’d offered to set a date (June 10th had magically appeared out of thin air at the moment she’d said it was over). But none of it had moved her. Or rather it had, but only to convince her that no matter what this was the right decision. The last two weeks she’d been paying close attention to him and their relationship, trying as hard as she could to make it work for her.

 

But it wouldn’t work for her, and that was true whether or not Jim/Scranton (who she was more and more convinced were the same person, especially after that prank moment online and the first date conversation) was really interested in her. Jim could laugh at her and say it was a prank ten years in the making—that he’d gotten the job at Dunder Mifflin knowing it was her and built all of this up as a gigantic farce—and she’d still not want to be with Roy. The truth was that of the three men in her life, or rather (she though) the two, he was the one who didn’t care about her. Not just who cared about her least; she wasn’t sure he cared about her.  He cared about the Pammy he’d built up in his head, the one who happily made his dinner and sat quietly by while he was watching TV, the one who would marry him and continue on doing the same thing every night. But he didn’t care about her, Pam, the one actually living her life. He didn’t care about her art, or her dreams for doing more of it. He didn’t care about her thoughts and feelings, or what happened in her day. He didn’t care that she didn’t actually like football, or that she hadn’t been able to bring herself to root at a hockey game ever since their first date. He didn’t even notice that she spent half of their waking time “together” online paying attention to someone else. Or rather, he did; when she stopped going online and started paying attention to him instead, he asked her why she was bothering him all of a sudden. She was done. They were done.

 

She was staying with her parents for a few weeks while she figured out where she was going to stay. He could have the apartment; it was all his decorations anyway since she hadn’t dared to do any of the exciting things she’d originally planned with the space. And that alone should have been a sign, she realized  It wasn’t her apartment. She’d get a few of the appliances and the furnishings in the split, but nothing there was firmly hers except the computer. And that she’d brought with her when she moved out, along with a suitcase full of clothes.

 

That was the first half of her plan, a necessary precondition for the rest of her life. She was not half of Pammy-and-Roy anymore. She was just Pam. Or maybe Morgan. The second half of her plan was the scary part, even if the first half should have been. The first half was just housekeeping in a sense: doing what had to be done.

 

The second half was the giant leap.

 

She was pretty sure Jim was Scranton—or was that, Scranton was Jim? She’d known him longer online after all. The coincidences were just too much, and after she’d set what she thought of as a very good trap for him online last week, she’d become even more sure. That Dwight prank was too recognizable—just like her first date story. But the second part of her plan required a big gesture to let him know that she knew. And to psych herself up for a big gesture, she needed proof. Not “I’m pretty sure these things are parallel enough that they must be the same” proof. Not “I tricked you into saying you pulled the prank I already knew you pulled” proof. Physical proof. Something that showed her Jim was Scranton, something undeniable and incontrovertible, something that couldn’t just be in her own head. Then she could unleash her inner kraken, and make the grand gesture that had been bubbling up inside of her ever since she’d started to suspect.

 

It was convenient that Jim picked that week to host a barbecue at his apartment and she’d get physical access to his stuff for the first time.

 

She hadn’t told him—or anyone at the office—that she and Roy had broken up. Ostensibly this was to allow him to save face with the warehouse workers; it wasn’t their business, so until she had a new apartment and he could invite the guys over for a poker night without her stuff there and make the official announcement to them, they were keeping it on the down low. But on her side, it was really to give her space: space to breathe without Kelly chattering about her newly single status, but also space to plan and plot. It was really important to her that this went well.

 

So she showed up to Jim’s without an excuse for Roy’s absence save for the bare fact that “he didn’t feel like coming.” And that was enough. She realized to her chagrin that no one really expected Roy to act like he was a friend to her friends. Another red flag she’d ignored.

 

She showed up “just in time” for the tour, though she expected Jim had been holding it for her, and she walked through his apartment marveling at how much it looked like him. She didn’t know Mark—or rather, she knew him doubly through Jim’s and Scranton’s occasional comments about him, but didn’t know him personally—but he was either very like Jim or he’d ceded decorating to his lankier friend, because the apartment simply looked like an extension of Jim’s personality. She loved it. As she was beginning to realize she loved him, and might have done for a lot longer than she’d ever known.

 

She slipped out of the tour at Jim’s bedroom, sliding onto his bed and looking around her. She gasped as she recognized a piece of art by the desk in his room that she knew she had painted. But she couldn’t remember when. Had that been something she’d shown to Jim, to Scranton, or to both? She suspected that it was older than Jim’s employment at Dunder Mifflin, which would make it the proof that she needed; but she wasn’t sure enough. It was corroborating evidence, but not sufficient. It did pique her curiosity, and she rummaged around on his shelves with a determined air. There had to be something…ah. There. His high school yearbook. If anything would prove that Jim was the kid she’d started chatting with in high school, it would be a record of his time in high school.

 

As she pulled the book from the shelf she saw Jim loom in the doorway and then slide carefully into the room.

 

“I thought we’d lost someone.” He grinned at her.

 

“Just taking a pitstop.”

 

“The bathroom’s down the hall. Or didn’t you pay attention?”

 

“Well, I was all gung-ho for the tour, but then the tourguide kind of sucked.”

 

She stuck her tongue out at him. His grin widened.

 

“I’ve heard that several times. I’m thinking of firing him.”

 

“Oh no, you couldn’t do that. I don’t think he has the skills to get another job, or any other prospects. You couldn’t do that to his family.”

 

He doffed an imaginary cap to her.

 

“As you say ma’am. Now, what souvenir have you picked up there?”

 

She turned the book over in her hands. West Scranton High School it said on the binding, with Invaders on the cover. She flipped it open, looking desperately for a picture of young Jim—though she wasn’t sure what it would reveal, since she’d never seen WScranton8 in the flesh, at least not by that name.

 

“Ooooohhh no!” She pointed at his picture in twelfth grade.

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“You were so dorky!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“It’s cute.” She said it without thinking, but realized it was totally OK now. She was a single woman. She could think—and say—things like that. But Jim didn’t know, so she enjoyed the slightly goldfish-like expression on his face.

 

“Any other pictures of you in here? Anything dorkier, if possible?”

 

“Well, there’s a few of me on the basketball team, but I’m not sure they’re what you’re looking for if ‘dorkier’ is your goal.”

 

“Someone’s got an ego about his basketball skillz.”

 

“Hey, you’ve seen me play. And was that skillz with a z?”

 

“I have. And it was, you have good ears.”

 

“Not in that photo I don’t.”

 

They laughed together as she flipped the pages. Soon she found the posed photograph of the basketball team, Jim kneeling in front row with his arms around two buddies and a big, bold 8 on the center of his chest.

 

“Oh my god, his screenname was so unoriginal. How did I not guess that?” was the first thought in her head. This was quickly replaced by a warm feeling of peace and joy. It was definitely time for the second part of the plan, though it would have to wait until tonight.

 

Speaking of waiting, the kisses she really wanted to land on Jim’s dorky face right now should probably also wait until phase two was complete. She pulled herself together enough to say “no, still pretty dorky,” as she smiled up at him smiling down at her.

 

A crash from downstairs brought them out of the mutual reverie of smiles and Jim reluctantly (it seemed to her) motioned towards the door.

 

“I better go see what that was.”

 

“Yeah. You better.”

 

“Be good.”

 

He slipped out, and she grinned, hugging the book to herself.

 

Phase two was going to be fun.

 

She spent the rest of the party socializing and spying on Dwight and Angela, whom she’d become more and more certain were in fact an item. She tried confiding her suspicions to Phyllis roundaboutly, which turned out to give her a wonderful opportunity to have fun with her secret singleness.

 

“So, Phyllis, have you heard anything about any secret office romances?”

 

“You tell me. Well, you do mean you and Jim right?” Phyllis was suddenly flustered. “Oh God. I am so sorry, I thought, you guys hang out all the time and you're talking all the time. I'm sorry!”

 

“It’s OK, Phyllis. I just didn’t know you thought that was a secret.”

 

And with that, Pam Beesly sashayed out of the party and back home to prepare the second phase of her two-phase plan.

 

Or rather, being Pam, she carefully made her goodbyes to everyone, apologized for leaving early, and cleaned up a few plates and dishes on her way out.

 

But it felt like sashaying either way. 

End Notes:
Dun dun dun! There will be a second part to "Email Surveillance," then probably two parts of "Christmas Party" and maybe an epilogue. And just in time for Christmas too. And since Christmas is a time to tell people how you feel, how about giving me some (much appreciated) feedback?
"Email Surveillance" Part 2 by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam initiates Phase Two of her plan.

 

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, Steamtown Mall, Starbucks, or any of the stories this is based on. 


 

MorganLaFey: hard pretzels or soft?

WScranton8: hard. What am I, a barbarian?

WScranton8: soft pretzels are overrated bread

WScranton8: although beer cheese is, admittedly, excellent

MorganLaFey: oh good, I was afraid I’d have to disown you as a friend

MorganLaFey: beer cheese is almost a good enough reason for soft pretzels to exist

MorganLaFey: but not for anyone to actually eat them

WScranton8: Pepsi or Coke?

MorganLaFey: do I have to have one?

WScranton8: I believe that is the point of this exercise, yes :-P

MorganLaFey: then Coke

MorganLaFey: but I’m a real sucker for grade soda ;-)

WScranton8: me too :-)

WScranton8: but that’s not what I asked ;-)

WScranton8: and Coke is a fine answer

MorganLaFey: was Pepsi OK?

WScranton8: yeah, probably

WScranton8: I’m kinda running out of questions, to be honest

MorganLaFey: OK. I have one more, though.

WScranton8: shoot

MorganLaFey: it’s a big one

WScranton8: oh, bring it on Morgan

WScranton8: I’m sure I can handle it

MorganLaFey: I certainly hope so :-)

MorganLaFey: so bear with me here, it requires a little groundwork

MorganLaFey: a question before the question, if you will

WScranton8: you trying to cheat me, Morgan?

MorganLaFey: hey that’s why I’m asking beforehand

WScranton8: so a question before the question before the question?

MorganLaFey: yeah :-P

WScranton8: go ahead

MorganLaFey: are you really in Scranton?

MorganLaFey: I know that’s the sort of question we tend to avoid

MorganLaFey: but I really need to know

MorganLaFey: it’s important

WScranton8: why?

MorganLaFey: because I’m in Scranton

MorganLaFey: and I just broke up with my fiancé

MorganLaFey: so I’m looking for apartments

MorganLaFey: and I need a friend to go look with me

WScranton8: um, yes, yes I am in Scranton

MorganLaFey: good. Do you know anyone who might be free to help me look?

WScranton8: I can think of someone, yes

WScranton8: how did I not know this about you?

MorganLaFey: because we met when I was a scared 16 year old on the internet?

WScranton8: fair enough :-)

WScranton8: so, when do you want to do this?

MorganLaFey: you mean, actually meet?

WScranton8: yes

WScranton8: and get you a new apartment, of course

MorganLaFey: of course

MorganLaFey: after work on Wednesday?

WScranton8: sounds good

WScranton8: where do you want to meet?

WScranton8: how do you want to meet?

MorganLaFey: Steamtown Mall Starbucks?

WScranton8: sounds good

MorganLaFey: but we’ll need to make sure we can recognize each other…

MorganLaFey: how about you bring a book with a red rose in it

MorganLaFey: maybe your high school yearbook, since we met in high school

MorganLaFey: and I like to think we’d have written in each other’s yearbooks if we’d really known each other in person

WScranton8: sounds good

WScranton8: so, I bring my yearbook with a red rose in it

WScranton8: how do I recognize you?

MorganLaFey: oh, I’ll be wearing a rose

MorganLaFey: and also, I’ll be the one who comes over and talks to the weird guy sitting in the Starbucks with his high school yearbook :-P

WScranton8: :-D

WScranton8: I can’t believe you actually want to meet

MorganLaFey: I think it’s time, don’t you?

MorganLaFey: it’s not like we’re teens anymore

MorganLaFey: I’m not afraid of you and I don’t think you need to be afraid of me

WScranton8: probably not, no

MorganLaFey: so, Wednesday after work doesn’t exactly seem “too soon”

MorganLaFey: shall we say 7, to be precise?

WScranton8: sounds good

WScranton8: and no, I don’t think we could really call that rushing into things

MorganLaFey: then it’s a date

 

Pam smiled at her computer screen. Phase two was coming along nicely. 

End Notes:
And we're done with "Email Surveillance." On to "Christmas Party" (on Christmas, naturally), which should be in two parts. I appreciate you all reading and reviewing, and thanks for sticking with me for so long. I promise the happy ending is right around the corner!
"Christmas Party" Part 1 by Comfect
Author's Notes:
At the Office, on the day of the Christmas Party.

 

Pam slipped on the grey beanie she had had since childhood, which her grandmother had embroidered with a red rose when she was young because Pam reminded her of her own sister, Pam’s great-aunt Rosie. It was such a precious memory Pam rarely wore the hat out, for fear something would happen to it. But for today it was perfect, and she hoped to have another family memory to attach to it by the end of the evening. She grabbed her coat and her Secret Santa gift and drove the two hours into work from her parents’ house, dodging the minimal early morning traffic. One positive to living so far out was that she rarely had to deal with rush hour, since she needed sufficient buffer for a long drive.

 

Another plus was that she got to the office nice and early most days and could get situated without Michael’s interference. She hung up her coat and hat, booted up her computer, and sat down to wait.

 

The major negative of living so far out, besides the drive itself, was that on mornings like this she had nothing but time to wait. And since what she was really interested in today was after work—like, 2 hours after it—she was going to have to wait even longer. She pulled out the giant book of Sudoku puzzles she had bought after realizing how much earlier she was arriving now that she wasn’t living with Roy and got to work. After a moment she stopped, put back on her engagement ring—she was giving Roy until the end of the week to tell his buddies so she could stop this charade at work—and went back to the puzzle.

 

At nine Jim came in, greeted her, and headed for his desk. She watched him for the rest of the morning until Michael called everyone together for the office Secret Santa. He really had no idea, and she was filled with glee at the prospect of revealing her prank to him. As well of probably having the opportunity to finally kiss him. A lot.

 

At the Secret Santa, she was excited to see that Jim had clearly gotten her name, and she was initially disappointed when Michael’s frustration at his own inability to follow the rules caused him to announce that that the Secret Santa was now a Yankee Swap. But her eyes lit up when she realized this was the perfect opportunity to play an extra double prank on Jim. She resolutely chose the video iPod every chance she got, watching Jim sink lower and lower every time she passed on the little teapot. She felt almost cruel, only steeling her resolve with the knowledge that she would make it all better later. When the Swap finally finished, she grabbed Dwight before he could walk off with the teapot.

 

“Dwight, I just realized, I already have one of these. Would you be willing to trade me for the teapot?”

 

“Pamela, are you seriously asking if I will trade this $20 teapot for that video iPod?”

 

“Absolutely I am.”

 

“Then I accept. This trade is final.”

 

He grabbed the iPod, shoved the teapot box into her hands, and swept away. She thought she heard him muttering something like “all trades are final” before she turned away and headed back to her desk. She sat down and put the box on top of her desk, waiting for Jim to notice. His head swiveled towards her, his eyes lit up, and he sauntered over.

 

“So what are you doing?”

 

“Just checking out my present.”

 

“I thought you got the iPod.”

 

“Oh, you know, I decided I didn’t need it all that much.”

 

“You didn’t need the ability to stream thousands of songs and even movies in the palm of your hand?”

 

“Nah, my hand can already do that.”

 

She held up her hand in faux-seriousness.

 

“Anyway, someone important to me got me this, so I thought I might want to check it out. Seriously, you went to a lot of effort, and it means a lot.”

 

His smile would have been cheap at twice the price of a video iPod. He beamed down at her.

 

“Well, either way. This is an amazing gift because it comes with bonus gifts. Look inside…”

 

She noticed as he enumerated all the little presents inside (how had he remembered that hot sauce? And the Boggle timer?) that his hand snaked out when he thought she wasn’t looking and snagged a little card. “Interesting,” she thought. “There’ll be time to deal with that later…”

 

“So…” she said as he finished going through the last item with her (seriously, the pencil? How awesome was he?). “I was wondering if you might be free tonight. To have dinner. With me? Around 7?” She smoothed her skirt with her hands, only glancing sideways up at him, her lashes lowered.

 

His head jerked up. “I’d love to, but, um…actually, I kind of have plans tonight already.”

 

“Oh. I mean, that’s OK. What kind of plans?”

 

“Um, I’m meeting a good friend for drinks.”

 

“Oh, Katy?”

 

“Ah, no.”

 

“Oh, I thought you guys were…”

 

“Well, um, we broke up.”

 

“Oh!”

 

“And anyway, we were never that serious.”

 

“Not serious enough for drinks?”

 

“No, uh, I…this is different.”

 

“Oh, sure.”

 

“I mean, this friend is…she’s special.”

 

“Oh, it’s a she?”

 

“…yeah.”

 

“Is she pretty?”

 

“Um…”

 

“No, I was just kidding, you don’t need to tell me that.”

 

“No, it’s just…I actually don’t know.”

 

“You don’t know?”

 

“Well, we met online, so….”

 

“And you’ve never met her?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Never made her send a picture?”

 

“Um, no. It’s not like that. I mean...”

 

“No, no, it’s none of my business. Well, have fun at drinks. Shame about dinner. I had something I really wanted to tell you.”

 

“I’ll make it up to you. And you can tell me anything.”

 

She smiled up at him, a full, broad smile. “I know. And I’m sure you will.”

 

******

 

Jim was…to say confused would be a major understatement. He’d been so nervous about today: first, about the Secret Santa, with his card declaring his feelings for Pam tucked in beside the various inside jokes inside the teapot. Then, very suddenly, about this date (she said date, right? he didn’t misunderstand that?) with Morgan that afternoon. He’d watched in horror as Michael turned Secret Santa into Yankee Swap, and then in mounting dismay as Pam repeatedly picked the video iPod over the teapot. He just…couldn’t, suddenly. He couldn’t go on a date (or whatever it was) with Morgan after giving Pam that card. He couldn’t give Pam the card if she was that into an iPod instead of his own gift. He just couldn’t do any of this anymore. He was in complete turmoil about his own feelings, about what he should do about them, about what was happening. Pam still had that ring on her finger; Morgan was single; Morgan wanted to meet him and had said “it’s a date”; Pam wanted an iPod. Then suddenly Pam had the teapot and he had to think fast before she read the card and he ran out of time to figure it out. When he’d put the card into the package last week it had all seemed so straightforward. Now it was all confused again and he breathed a sigh of relief when he snatched the card and slid it into his pants pocket in one smooth motion.

 

That relief lasted for about ten seconds. Was Pam flirting with him? Dinner??? What was going on here? Why tonight? What was happening to him? He was glad he’d acted on that impulse to break up with Katy when Morgan had suggested they meet. He really wasn’t up to juggling three women in his life.

 

But was he really juggling Pam and Morgan? Or was he misreading signals? Was she asking him out? But there was still that ring on her finger…what was going on? Damn it, would 7pm never arrive? The rest of the day passed in a blur—smiling at Pam, pretending to work, watching the clock, fending off Michael’s sugar-induced frenzied bouts of activity—and before he knew it it was 5. He picked up his coat, bidding Pam a warm but confused goodnight, and headed home to prepare for his date.

 

His mind was sufficiently distracted that he never would remember the two hours between heading home and finding himself sitting in the Steamtown Mall Starbucks with a red rose (where had he gotten that from?) sticking out from the pages of his high school yearbook (minus one yearbook picture, of course). Pam. Morgan. Pamorgan. He couldn’t keep the two of them out of his head—or even keep them straight anymore. But he shook his head and focused on Morgan. The single one. The one he’d never met. Who wanted to meet him. Who called this a date for crying out loud. He wished intensely he’d ever taken Pam’s retrospective advice and asked for a picture. She could be anyone. He was sure he’d be interested in her whatever she looked like, but it would help to know what he was looking for. He took to staring at each woman (she was a woman, right?) who walked through the door, hoping to see a red rose. As each one failed to have a rose or look at his, his heart dropped a little further.

 

It was with real shock that he looked up and saw Pam, in her hat and coat, standing in line to order. As if looking up at her had magnetized her eyes, she turned to him, smiled, and waved. Before he knew it, she was smiling down at him, steaming chai latte in hand.

 

“Mind if I sit down?”

End Notes:
And now they get to talk. There will be a part 2, and then the epilogue (which will take us back to IMs). Thank you all for reading and reviewing. The response to this has been amazing, and I appreciate each and every one of you. Merry (or as they say in the UK, Happy) Christmas!
"Christmas Party" Part 2 by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam meets Jim.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, Starbucks, or any of the stories this is based on. 

Pam was so happy to see him there, rose-in-yearbook-in-hand. It was true! It was Jim! She hadn’t been wrong, she hadn’t been hallucinating, she hadn’t broken up a ten-year relationship with Roy over a fantasy of nothing. No, she’d broken up with him because she’d discovered first that he hadn’t been actually supportive over all those years (she’d just thought he was because the support from Jim and Scranton was so strong) and second that the two people who had been giving her support were in fact the same person. The person sitting there in a mall Starbucks looking up hopefully at every woman who went by and then drooping a little more each time one of them wasn’t her. Or whatever he thought she was supposed to be. She still wasn’t sure if he knew like she did. Of course, to be fair, she hadn’t really known like she did now until she saw him, even if she’d been incredibly sure. Sure enough to set up this whole prank-like scenario.

Which wasn’t done yet. Because today was not about Roy. For the first time in ten years, nothing had to be about Roy at all. She had pocketed her ring as soon as she left work, so it wasn’t on her finger anymore. She was meeting WScranton8 (a friend she’d known longer than Roy, after all) for drinks. So she wasn’t technically breaking her promise not to tell anyone from work that they’d broken up. It just happened that her oldest male friend was also her coworker Jim, which of course would come as a total shock to both of them. So tonight was not about Roy; it was finally about Pam, and about what made Pam happy. Which, she now realized, had been Jim—or rather, Scranton—for a long, long time.

But just because she loved him (words she hadn’t really let herself think until now) didn’t mean she didn’t want to have just a little more fun at his expense. After all, pranks were a bedrock of their relationship (another word she hadn’t been in the habit of using but which fit so well). He’d forgive her; if anything, it would convince him all the more that they were meant to be together.

Assuming that was what he thought. But she’d become pretty sure over the years that he did—and since she knew now that she was Normal Chick (or at least that if she wasn’t, he had some very odd ideas about Kelly, Angela, or Meredith), she could be pretty definite on that point. So now it was time to have some fun and let Jim in on her best prank ever.

She caught his eye as she stood in line ordering and did her best not to look like she was expecting him. She came over after getting her drink (tea, of course, even from Starbucks) and walked over to him.

“Mind if I sit down?”

He really was adorable when he stammered.

“Um, well, I’m supposed to be meeting…”

“Yes, your internet friend, I remember. So, where is this electronic paragon? I really want to meet the woman who so interests Jim Halpert that he won’t have dinner with me.”

“I said I’d make it up to you. I’m just…it’s not like that, but I don’t want to miss her.”

“Oh that’s right, you don’t know what she looks like. So how is she supposed to tell it’s you?” She looked down and pretended to be surprised by the book on the table. “Oh my god, Halpert, you went with the old rose-in-a-book method? Is that “Oh that’s right, you don’t know what she looks like. So how is she supposed to tell it’s you?” She looked down and pretended to be surprised by the book on the table. “Oh my god, Halpert, you went with the old rose-in-a-book method? Is that your yearbook? Let me guess, she’s supposed to have a rose on too, and the two of you will know each other because of the roses. That’s just adorable. Was it your idea or hers?”

“…Hers.”

“Aw, you two are so sweet. And what’s she going to think, Halpert, when she can’t find your picture in that yearbook?” She pulled his yearbook photo out of her bag. “Should I be giving this back so you can impress your online lady love?”

“Keep it.” His eyes kept darting off her face and towards every woman who walked in. She was sure he hadn’t seen her ring finger yet, and apparently he didn’t really register her hat either. “No returns or exchanges accepted on Secret Santa gifts, you know that.” At that he really smiled at her, a true Jim smile. She returned it full force.

“Thanks, Jim. It means a lot.” She scooted her chair up next to him. “Look, you’re clearly anxious about this. Would it help if I looked with you? Maybe I’ll see a rose you miss, or something.”

“That’s very nice of you, Pam, but…”

“Oh, you’re afraid I’ll scare her away, that if she sees you with someone else she won’t come over. What’s the matter, Halpert, didn’t tell her about me? I’m a little hurt to hear that, I have to say. Didn’t mention her to me, didn’t mention me to her…”

“We’ve mentioned you.”

“And what did you say, Jim, that makes you think she’ll bolt if she sees me here?”

“Nothing bad! We just…talked about you. But she won’t know who you are, and that might…”

“Oh my god, she’ll think I’m Katy, won’t she. She’ll think you brought your girlfriend with you. Unless you told her that you broke up. I guess I’m always the last to know these things.” She smiled at him. “Well, don’t worry, I’ll just move to this table next to you until she comes and keep you company.” She slid over to the next little tabletop, putting their chairs back to back. “Now we can look at our likely candidates and compare notes but no one will suspect a thing.”

He chuckled. “You have an answer for everything, Beesly.”

“I do, Jim, I really do. You should really know that about me, I have the answer to all your questions right here.” She grinned. “Now, are you sure that she hasn’t come in yet? When were you supposed to meet this marvel of the world wide web?”

“Yes, I’m sure she hasn’t come in yet. I’d have noticed the rose, and before you sat down I was sitting here alone with the book out, so she’d have noticed it too. And we were supposed to meet at 7pm, but I’ve been here since 6:45.”

“Nice and early. Good choice. OK, well, if you’re sure she hasn’t come in yet, we need to get that book nice and visible.” She slid it further out on the table and plumped the rose so it was in maximum bloom. “And now. What about that one?” She pointed at a redhead by the milk containers.

“No rose.”

“Maybe she is the rose!”

“She said she’d be wearing it.”

“Maybe she’s like that guy from Silence of the Lambs

“Hannibal Lecter?”

“No, the other one, the skin one. Maybe she’s wearing that body.”

“OK, that’s officially too creepy to be her.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you of all the possibilities. What about that one?” She pointed at the nervous-looking woman who stood in the doorway scanning the crowd.

“Could be…no, she’s found her someone.” Jim and Pam watched as the nervous woman flung her arms around a somewhat portly man who had arisen from the table two over from theirs.

“Unless he’s also coincidentally carrying a yearbook and a rose and she thinks he’s you.”

“I highly doubt that, Beesly, but ten points for creativity. Next.”

“What about the blonde with the macchiato?”

“No rose, not looking around the Starbucks, and holding hands with the brunette next to her. Next!”

They continued in this vein for two hours, eventually interspersing a normal conversation into their constant evaluation of each woman who walked in. Jim found his heart rising inside him as Pam and he sat back to back, just talking. He was almost feeling OK about Morgan standing him up when Pam brought the conversation back around to his yearbook.

“I think I need to sign your yearbook, Jim, don’t you? After all, I like to think we’d have been friends—maybe even best friends—if we’d met in high school, don’t you?”

“I know it, Beesly.”

“So let me see it.”

He handed over the yearbook. She grabbed it, flipped it open to the last page, where there was fortuitously a large blank space left in the middle. She pulled out a fancy pen from her purse and hesitated for a moment.

“You sure you’re OK with this Jim? Last chance to back out.”

“Just sign the book, Beesly.”

She bent over, wrote a short note, signed with a flourish, and handed the book back to him. He glanced down and read:

“To West Scranton’s #8

Thanks for making senior year the best year it could have been, and every year after it even better. Don’t forget about me when you’re famous, and give me a call sometime. I think you know the number.

Pamela Morgan Beesly.”

His jaw dropped. Could this really be true? He’d hoped it was her. He’d wanted it to be her. Whenever their work stories or personal stories had been parallel; when he’d heard her complain about that first date; even today when she’d asked if she could sit down. He’d longed for it to be her for so long that he couldn’t really believe it was possible. Was it really the truth?

He looked up into her smiling eyes and watched her slowly nod.

He could barely find his voice. “But…the rose…”

She took her hat off and shook out her hair, which tumbled down in curls. He so rarely saw it down, it made his breath catch and he almost didn’t look at the hat in her hand. When he saw the embroidered rose he started to grin. She laughed at him.

“Sometimes you’re just not that observant, Halpert.”

“It’s a failing, I admit. I’m clearly going to have to work on it.”

“I’m happy to be your tutor. For instance, you not only missed the rose on my hat, you missed what’s missing from my hand.”

“What’s missing from…” he looked again at her left hand which held the hat. No engagement ring. No Roy.

“Remember when I told you I broke up with my fiancé? That’s still true.”

“And is this…”

“And is this a date? I don’t know, Halpert, what kind of guy makes a date with a girl and doesn’t notice when she shows up and flirts with him for two hours?”

“You call that flirting? You didn’t even tell me who you were!”

“I told you I’d be the one who came over to talk to the weird guy sitting in the Starbucks with his high school yearbook, didn’t I?”

“I suppose you did.”

“And anyway, I was totally flirting with you. Or did I misunderstand what pranks mean in our relationship?”

“You didn’t misunderstand anything.” His eyes were shining. “Now, I have just one question for you, Beesly—or Morgan, if you prefer.”

“Either one. And I told you, Jim, I have the answers to all your questions today.”

“Can I kiss you now?”

It turned out that was a question he knew the answer to already.

End Notes:

And there we are. I hope it lived up to the buildup. There will be a brief epilogue over AIM, and then we will be done.

Thanks so much to everyone who has read, reviewed, or otherwise interacted with this story. 

Epilogue by Comfect
Author's Notes:

Pam and Jim talk again.

Standard disclaimer: I do not own the Office, AOL, or the stories I have based this on. 


 

MorganLaFey: hey

WScranton8: hi

MorganLaFey: so what do you think of my new apartment?

WScranton8: very classy

MorganLaFey: thanks for helping me pick it out

WScranton8: you’re welcome

WScranton8: I still think you should have held out for extra kitchens though

MorganLaFey: what, is my one kitchen not enough for you?

WScranton8: I dunno, I think you could have gotten more

WScranton8: that landlord was ready to deal

MorganLaFey: I didn’t think that was the room you were most interested in anyway

WScranton8: and just what are you implying, Beesly?

MorganLaFey: I’m just saying that we didn’t spend most of our time last night in the kitchen

WScranton8: you’re right, that living room was definitely not to be missed

MorganLaFey: not what I meant :-P

WScranton8: Pamela Morgan Beesly, are you suggesting I was most interested in the bedroom?

MorganLaFey: maaaaaaaaaybe

MorganLaFey: we did spend an inordinate amount of time there ;-)

WScranton8: I disagree

WScranton8: vehemently

WScranton8: that time was entirely ordinate

MorganLaFey: :-)

WScranton8: as is the time we’re going to spend there tonight

MorganLaFey: who said anything about tonight?

MorganLaFey: I thought you knew this was strictly a one-time offer

WScranton8: oh, I understood that

WScranton8: I just figured it was a one-time deal with an unlimited end date

WScranton8: buy now, keep forever

MorganLaFey: are you suggesting you bought me, Jim?

WScranton8: maybe I misspoke

WScranton8:  acquire? obtain? possess?

MorganLaFey: how about “opt in”?

WScranton8: works for me

MorganLaFey: me too :-)

MorganLaFey: and yeah, now that you’ve opted in, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me

WScranton8: I can think of worse fates ;-)

WScranton8: like, all other fates :-)

MorganLaFey: that smiley definitely undersells your face right now

WScranton8: :-D

WScranton8: better?

MorganLaFey: :-*

WScranton8: even better

MorganLaFey: so, Jim

WScranton8: yes?

MorganLaFey: could you do me a teensy favor?

WScranton8: what is it, Pam?

MorganLaFey: I need more cocoa

WScranton8: as you wish

MorganLaFey: :-)

MorganLaFey: thanks honey

MorganLaFey: oh, and while you’re up?

WScranton8: *sigh* yes?

MorganLaFey: what was in that card yesterday?

WScranton8: card?

MorganLaFey: don’t play dumb, Halpert, it doesn’t suit you ;-)

MorganLaFey: the card you almost gave me and then took away

WScranton8: oh, that card

WScranton8: um, just an expression of my feelings towards…OK, do I say “you” or “Pam” or “Normal Chick”?

WScranton8: speaking of which, why are we doing this over IM again?

MorganLaFey: so you don’t ruin the movie with talking :-P

WScranton8: but kisses are fine?

MorganLaFey: are you complaining about the kisses?

WScranton8: no, no, no

WScranton8: I withdraw my previous remark!

MorganLaFey: damn right you do

MorganLaFey: and don’t change the subject

MorganLaFey: any of the three options are acceptable, go on with the story

WScranton8: an expression of my feelings towards Pam

WScranton8: that I wrote back when I put the teapot gift together

MorganLaFey: thank you for that, by the way, it was perfect

WScranton8: glad you liked it :-)

WScranton8: I got it when I pulled your name back in, like, October

WScranton8: and I wrote the card then

WScranton8: but suddenly it felt very wrong to give you the card when you’d been all up in that iPod earlier and I was going on a date with Morgan later that day

MorganLaFey: but not wrong to give to me while you were dating Katy?

WScranton8: well, you may remember I broke up with Katy

WScranton8: but yeah, I suppose I was still dating her when I wrote it

MorganLaFey: so you didn’t give it to me because I messed with you about the iPod, and because you were going on a date with…well, me…later that day?

WScranton8: yeah, it felt like two-timing both of you

WScranton8: so I pulled it out

WScranton8: honestly I didn’t think you’d seen it

MorganLaFey: you gotta learn, Halpert, I pay close attention to you at all times

MorganLaFey: sometimes creepily close ;-)

WScranton8: I think I can deal with that :-*

MorganLaFey: so now that you know there’s only one of me…

MorganLaFey: and you’re not two-timing either of the single me…

WScranton8: objection!

WScranton8: I was kind of working under the assumption there was no “single” you anymore after yesterday ;-)

MorganLaFey: sustained

MorganLaFey: now that you know you’re not two-timing either of the unitary-but-totally-dating-you me…

MorganLaFey: do you think I could see it?

WScranton8: I suppose that’s fair

WScranton8: it’s in my bag, I’ll go grab it

MorganLaFey: thanks Jim

MorganLaFey: don’t forget the cocoa ;-)

WScranton8: here you go

WScranton8: now I’ll just go hide under a blanket until you read it

MorganLaFey: awwww

MorganLaFey: you wrote this in October?

MorganLaFey: that’s so sweet

WScranton8: :-)

MorganLaFey: c’mere you

MorganLaFey: I love you too

MorganLaFey: I think it’s time to take this conversation back offline ;-)

WScranton8: sounds good to me ;-)

WScranton8: love you too

MorganLaFey has signed off

WScranton8 has signed off

End Notes:
And there you have it. Thank you all for reading, and for leaving whatever feedback you left. I appreciate each and every one of you. Merry Christmas (or, technically, Happy Boxing Day).
This story archived at http://mtt.just-once.net/fanfiction/viewstory.php?sid=5483