Begged and Borrowed Time by WanderingWatchtower
Summary: While Roy is on a trip, Jim finds ways to be just a little closer to Pam. And that might be just enough to make all the difference. Set in the middle of season 2.
Categories: Jim and Pam Characters: Jim, Jim/Pam, Pam, Pam/Roy
Genres: Angst, Romance
Warnings: Adult language
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 5 Completed: Yes Word count: 15108 Read: 9759 Published: December 26, 2020 Updated: January 07, 2021
Story Notes:
This one has been simmering for a while, so I hope it comes together in the way it’s been projecting in my head.

Title for the story taken from the song “Ivy” by Taylor Swift, hallowed be her name.

(Also, I conned fluffy lil TPB into writing a summary for a fic that includes angst in it. What have *you* done today?)

1. The Whole World is Sleeping But My World is You by WanderingWatchtower

2. Waters So Inviting I Almost Jump In by WanderingWatchtower

3. Steal My Heart and Hold My Tongue by WanderingWatchtower

4. I Can't Decide if I'll Let You Save My Life or if I'll Drown“ by WanderingWatchtower

5. Tell Me Now Where Was My Fault, In Loving You With My Whole Heart? by WanderingWatchtower

The Whole World is Sleeping But My World is You by WanderingWatchtower
Author's Notes:
Somewhat of an introductory chapter to start us off.

Chapter title comes from the song “Bloom” by The Paper Kites, which to me is the perfect Season 2 Jim song. Friendly reminder that I own nothing, nothing at all.
*squeak...squeak...squeak*

Jim sighed. How did he always manage to grab the cart with the squeaky wheel? He brought it to a stop and rested his foot on the bottom bar as he scanned the variety of bread in front of him, as if he wouldn’t just grab what he always does. He pulled a loaf off the shelf and set it gently next to the bottle of fabric softener, the six pack of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and the two bottles of shaving cream—one for him and one to replace Mark’s that he finished off this morning and had offered to replace. He mindlessly wandered the aisles grabbing what he came for. His grocery list rarely changed each time he went shopping and this time was no different. The only thing that did change, however, were the products on the shelves that reminded him of her. Sometimes it was the hot sauce, sometimes it was the mixed berry yogurt, and always it was the Pam brand cooking spray (which he bought every time he needed it, fully knowing that it was ridiculous and the store brand worked just as well). Truthfully he could look at anything in the store and trace it back to Pam. It was like a more pathetic and hopeless game of Six Degrees.

He pivoted the cart toward the freezer section. Looking up, his breath caught and he felt the familiar tingle run through his veins that happened every time he caught sight of that curly hair and perfect facial profile—but usually he only saw it at work. Now she was standing in front of the ice cream, her hands on her hips and a quizzical expression on her face. Jim’s lips involuntarily turned up as he pushed his cart toward her.

“Just buy one of each flavor, that’s the correct answer,” he said, approaching her.

Pam looked at him and then did a double take upon realizing who she was looking at, her eyes brightening as the gears of recognition clicked into place.

“Hey, you!” she chirped, giving him a gentle punch on the arm. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He leaned his elbows down on the handle of his cart, trying desperately to keep his eyes on her face instead of her yoga pants and tank top. “Yeah, of all the gin joints...or whatever the line is from that one movie you told me to watch.”

She laughed, shifting her shopping basket into the crook of her left arm. “Casablanca.”

That’s the one. Told you I watched it.” He straightened and opened the freezer door to grab a container of cookies and cream ice cream.

Her demeanor deflated. “How do you do it?” she asked him.

“What?” He gestured to his outfit, made up of basketball shorts, a t-shirt he had had since high school, and a navy zip-up hoodie. “How do I manage to look this good while grocery shopping? It’s a gift, Beesly.”

She chuckled, and just as it always does, the sound of her laughter propelled him to do anything he could to keep it ringing through his ears.

“No, I mean, how do you pick an ice cream flavor so quickly like that? I’ve been here for five minutes trying to decide.”

Jim left his post behind his shopping cart and planted himself next to her, folding one arm under the other and putting his fingers to his chin in mock contemplation. Then he quickly shrugged and glanced at her. “You just have to go for it. Don’t think about it. Your heart will choose it for you.”

Pam shifted her weight beside him. Her shoulder was now lightly brushing against his arm and suddenly his focus was drawn away from the frosty freezer doors in front of him and straight to the warmth he felt with her contact, even through the cotton barrier of his jacket. He willed himself to switch the trajectory of his thoughts back to ice cream.

“Okay,” he said, pointing to the freezer. “I’m going to count down from five and when I reach zero you need to have picked a flavor. Or…” he thought for a moment. “Or you have to buy Dwight a new bobblehead. Of my choosing.”

She squinted a look of determination up at him, a smile peeking through her pursed lips. “Deal.”

“Five...four...three...two…”

Pam swung open the freezer door and hastily grabbed a carton. Jim dropped his shoulders and looked at her in mock disappointment.

“Pam...really?! All these flavors and your heart chose butter pecan?”

“You made me nervous with the counting!! I panicked.”

He shrugged. “Now you’re stuck with it. Hope you have a good time with your old man ice cream.”

As she laughed, the tip of her tongue peeked through the edge of her teeth and he nearly had to stick his head in the freezer with the way it made the blood rush to his head.

“So, Mr. Cookies and Cream,” she said, placing her ice cream in her basket. “Any big plans for a beautiful Saturday night such as this?”

“Maybe,” he shrugged. “If by ‘big plans’ you mean watching the Phillies most likely get destroyed by the Sox while this carton of ice cream sits in front of me, then yeah,” he laughed. “Huge plans.”

Not wanting her to leave, he attempted to keep the conversation going. He braced himself, knowing full well the answer to his next question probably involved Roy.

“What about you? Planning on watching some Antiques Roadshow, then popping out the dentures at 8:00 and turning in early like the old, butter pecan-loving old lady you are?”

“I don’t know,” she winked as his heart sped up. “Might live life on the wild side and stay up until 8:30.” She shifted her basket over to her other arm again. “No, actually, Roy left this morning to North Carolina for a couple weeks. His great-uncle died. So I’m just going to stay home and watch all the chick flicks I can while eating ice cream.”

Jim’s mouth turned down into a slight frown. “Two weeks for a great-uncle? Wow. Must have been pretty close with him.”

Her eyes shifted downward and she kicked an invisible spot on the floor with the tip of her shoe. “Well, the company allows a week of bereavement if it’s out of state…”

“And...the other week?”

Suddenly she seemed to gain great interest in anywhere that wasn’t his face and she couldn’t seem to look him in the eyes. “The other week he just...used vacation days to stay a little longer.”

It was convenient, Jim thought, that she couldn’t meet his gaze because his eyes rolled back before he could stop them. Of course Roy made the death of a relative into a vacation.

“Wait,” he remembered. “The vacation days you were both saving up to take that trip to Boston?”

She finally found his eyes again and shrugged sadly, her own eyes giving a slight roll. “Yeah, I guess. But we decided we probably shouldn’t do the trip to Boston anyway. Save the money for the wedding.”

Jim knew by this point in their friendship, that this is where he should stop talking. He wanted to say, “But a two week trip to North Carolina is okay?” Or “And he didn’t have you come along?” or “What do you see in that guy?” (Okay, he wouldn’t actually say that last one, even if it was a constant thought in his head).

No, he knew it just led toward hostility and defensiveness, and he was enjoying spending this time with her. It was rare to see her outside of work and it felt oddly intimate, even if they were only grazing shoulders in Aisle 7 at Price Rite.

Instead, he changed the subject. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t enjoy melted ice cream, even the good kinds. Do you have anything else you need to get?”

She shook her head and so the two of them made their way to the registers together. There was something so stirring about seeing her live a life outside of her office chair. He latched onto little details, like the color of her wallet or how organized she was when she loaded her groceries on the conveyor belt. She had one of those personalized debit cards donning a photo of a golden retriever he could only assume was her family dog, and he made a mental note to ask her about it sometime.

He let himself daydream for just a moment that they had come to the store together and that they would be leaving together. They would sit on her couch, legs tangled like string, and he would steal spoonfuls of her crappy ice cream and she’d do the same while they mocked the cheesy Hallmark movie they were watching, both secretly loving the storyline and both eventually suggesting they watch it again the next weekend.

He was jostled out of his thoughts with the persistent beeping of the scanner as the cashier pulled his groceries over it. Glancing over, he saw Pam lingering at the end of the register waiting for him to pay, presumably so they could walk out of the store together. He swiped his card, trying to contain a smile, and gathered his groceries in his hands.

Halfway through the parking lot Pam slowed, finally stopping in front of a pickup truck Jim recognized as Roy’s. She poked her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing toward it. “This is me, I guess. I hate driving this thing. But I guess I should be happy he left it with me so I could get around while he’s gone.”

“Yeah, how nice of him,” Jim mustered, hoping he masked enough of the sarcasm in his tone. “So, I guess I’ll see you Monday?”

“Yeah,” she smiled brightly. “See you Monday.”

Raising a hand to wave, Jim watched as she lifted herself onto the step bar of Roy’s truck and slipped into the driver’s seat. Her small frame looked so out of place behind the wheel of the giant truck, just like how Jim always felt she looked out of place next to the owner of it.

Pam was soft, warm, intricate. And Roy was...none of those things. Roy probably didn’t appreciate her the way Jim would, either. He probably doesn’t notice the way she picks up and absorbs the emotions of those around her—something she thinks is a flaw, but Jim sees as a strength. He probably doesn’t recognize her ability to find the good in nearly every situation and light up a room just by being in it. He probably doesn’t spend nights lying awake, marveling at how the moonlight casts perfect shadows against her delicate features, and he’s pretty damn sure Roy has no idea how lucky he is to be the one laying next to her every night.

He looked to the gravel below his feet as he walked to his own car. His jaw clenched as his old familiar friend Jealousy tightened its grip on him, pushing him ever closer to complete suffocation.

******

By the bottom of the fifth inning, the Phillies were down seven runs and Jim clicked off the TV. It wasn’t so much that his team was losing, it was more that he couldn’t focus on anything other than the thought of Pam home, by herself. Was she lonely? Maybe she was happy to have the couch to herself and sole control of the remote. He wondered if it was a relief to have Roy gone—like she could breathe. He picked up his phone and flipped it open, his thumb hovering over the “2” button. Though he rarely called her (their interactions were confined to mostly work or quick back-and-forth text messages), he had her phone number programmed into his speed dials. Just like buying name brand cooking spray, he knew it was pathetic.

He snapped the phone shut. What would he even say if he called? As he rolled the phone around in his fingers, contemplating the proverbial line marked “too far” in red ink, it buzzed.

New TxtMsg: Beesly

His thumbs fumbled around the keys, frantically trying to open the message. His heart seemed to be trying to escape his rib cage as he finally read what she sent.

Call me an old lady, but butter pecan actually kind of rocks. ;)

He grinned and let out a small laugh into his empty apartment before responding.

I’m going to need photo evidence that you actually ate it, Beesly. What movie did you settle on?

He put the phone down on the couch next to him and stared at it, his left knee bouncing in anticipation. Minutes passed without a response and he worried he had somehow misstepped, though he couldn’t see where. Overthinking was his specialty when it came to Pam. Finally, the screen lit up.

Check your email.

He shot off the couch to grab his laptop. He placed it on his kitchen table and booted it up.

Come on, come on, come on…” he willed his computer. He had purchased the laptop last year after a fairly sizable commission check, but it was still the cheapest model and took ages to start up. When he was finally able to connect to the internet and log into his email, his smile spread seeing her name next to: “Subject: Photo Evidence”.

He clicked on the email and the only thing in the body of it was a picture of Pam that she had obviously taken herself. One arm was stretched in front of her, holding the camera. She was sitting cross legged, holding a DVD case of Sleepless in Seattle in her other hand while a half-eaten carton of ice cream sat in her lap. Donning an oversized sweatshirt and the cutest smirk on her face, she looked absolutely perfect to him.

He felt a sudden rush of longing—an ache so tangible that he could almost pluck it out of thin air and keep it stashed in his back pocket, only to be pulled out again when she did something simple, like exist near him.

Right clicking on the picture, he saved it to his computer after staring at it a minute longer. He knew she was someone else’s. He knew he probably shouldn’t be saving a picture of her to his computer. But the way she made him feel, somehow broken and whole simultaneously, sent all rationale out the window.

He loved her.

He had never said that out loud to anyone. But he loved her.

He slowly closed his laptop and rubbed his face with his hands then through his hair. Then sighing deeply, he pushed himself from the table and dragged his feet up the stairs where he took a cold shower and slipped between his sheets. He grabbed his phone and rolled onto his back.

Got the picture. Have to admit I’ve never seen Sleepless in Seattle.

Less than a minute later, her reply came through.

Guess we better watch it sometime! It’s a classic.

Oh, great. Something for Jim to overanalyze tonight. He didn’t want to sleep anyway. He’d rather daydream about watching a movie with the girl he was enamored with who is perfect for him in every possible way except the damn ring on her finger. Closing his eyes, he could almost feel the weight of her head on his shoulder again. He could smell her lavender conditioner that he probably shouldn’t recognize but does. He squeezed his eyes tighter to match the tightness in his chest and pulled the pillow out from under his head so he could slam it over his face and groan. Then he peeked out from under the pillow so he could formulate a response.

I’d actually really like that. Your place or mine?

He stared at the message without pressing send, his gut a flurry of nerves. Something about knowing that Roy didn’t have his arm around her made him feel a boldness he usually suppressed.

But the ring. She still had his ring on her finger.

He erased the message and typed another.

Maybe we can convince Michael to show it at work sometime. Haha

Not a bad idea, Halpert. We’ll sell it as “Movie Monday”.

You know how much Michael loves a good alliteration.

LOL yes. But we’ll have to make our master plan Monday because this old lady can’t stay awake much longer. Night, Jim! :)


He replied with a “Goodnight, Pam!” and rolled over, hugging his pillow to his chest, imagining for a moment that it was her pressed tightly against him and began to doze off, his head swirling with what-ifs and if-onlys until all he saw was her.
End Notes:
Thanks for reading! I only have a slight idea of where this might go, so hopefully you stick around to find out with me! :)
Waters So Inviting I Almost Jump In by WanderingWatchtower
Author's Notes:
Title taken from “Gold Rush” by Taylor Swift, because apparently I can’t stop listening to evermore on repeat.
The alarm clock blared and Pam startled awake. She thought it might be hard to sleep with Roy gone, since she was so used to having him next to her. In reality, she had been sleeping like a rock the last few nights—butterflied out across the whole bed, no snoring or blanket hogging to disrupt her.

She sat up in bed and checked her phone. No messages from Roy, but that was expected. In the four days he had been gone, they really only talked briefly on the phone about once a day. If she was being completely honest, sometimes she almost forgot to call.

Shortly after arriving at work and checking her emails and voice messages, the office door swung open and Jim walked in, greeting her with his usual “Morning, Beesly” and a shining smile. Only this time he was carrying a small white paper bag in his left hand that he extended out to her.

“They gave me an extra cinnamon streusel muffin for no charge with my coffee this morning and I know they’re your favorite. Want it? I already ate mine in the car, because, you know. Self-control issues.”

She gasped and snatched it from his hands, eyes wide with delight. “Of course I do! Thank you.”

He gave her a quick wink as he walked past her to his desk and her eyes lingered on him just a little longer than normal before opening the bag. She pulled out the muffin and with it came a small receipt that fluttered to the floor. Upon a quick glance after picking it up, she saw that Jim had actually ordered two muffins, not just the single muffin he had claimed to have ordered. She glanced up toward him, but he was already fully immersed in a sales call. She shuffled papers around her desk, unable to contain the way her lips were curling up.

The rest of the day was monotonous and boring, so pretty normal as far as a day at Dunder Mifflin goes. Jim had a lengthy meeting with a prospective client in Carbondale so he couldn’t distract her, and Michael was actually getting work done, so he wasn’t distracting her either. She much preferred Jim’s antics over Michael’s, but she would have taken anything at that point. The day dragged on, but finally 5:00 rolled around and she headed back to her empty apartment.

At home, she decided to pull out her paints and a fresh, blank canvas. It had been too long since she had done anything but mindlessly sketch out of boredom. Roy would often complain about how much space the easel took up in their small apartment but Roy was in North Carolina doing who knows what, so she was going to paint.

Without a concrete idea of what she was going to paint, she put brush to palette. The white of the canvas transformed into blues, greens, and greys, as she pulled her brush along it. After a couple hours, the long, deliberate strokes began to take shape and she cocked her head to look at the painting. She wasn’t sure what made her paint it. It was definitely more abstract than anything she had painted before, but she had to admit it was one of her better pieces. Against a swirling, slate grey backdrop were two dark figures, standing together, heads close, illuminated by a yellow glow behind them. There was a thin black line connecting the pair.

Swaying isn’t dancing ran through her head.

Quickly she picked the painting off the easel, smudging the corner, and put it in her closet, not caring that it hadn’t dried. Something stirred inside her and she couldn’t dissect what it was. Guilt? Confusion, maybe? But she knew she wouldn’t be keeping the painting.

She wasn’t even sure what made her paint it anyway.

She went into the bathroom and slipped off her engagement ring to wash the paint off her hands, watching the colors blend and swirl as they gurgled down the drain. When she grabbed the hand towel to dry her hands, it dragged along the edge of the sink, taking her ring along with it. It clinked a few times against the porcelain before dropping down the drain, her stomach dropping right along with it.

This had happened once before. Roy was mad, but still shimmied under the sink to retrieve it from the pipes before it got flushed all the way through. But Roy was not here. And she felt exactly zero confidence in herself that she would be able to figure out any of the pipes under the sink.

Biting her nails and pacing for a minute or two, she picked up her phone and dialed.

”Beesly?”

“Jim! Hey. I, uh...I kind of have a problem.”


Within ten minutes, she was standing in the doorway of her bathroom while Jim’s legs poked out from under her sink.

“Okay,” his voice echoed. “I think if I just twist this thing…”

Suddenly water started spraying everywhere as Jim scrambled furiously. Once it finally stopped spraying, there was silence followed by a huge sigh. “Well, that was...not the right thing to twist.”

She swallowed as much laughter as she could.

“I can hear you, Beesly.”

She laughed harder. “Sorry! How’s it, uh...going?”

He grunted as he worked his long frame out from under the sink. He propped his arm on one knee and held up her engagement ring.

“Found it.”

All at once she found herself speechless. Jim Halpert, whose shirt was soaking wet and clinging to his (apparently very toned) chest, was down on one knee holding a diamond ring out to her. He seemed oblivious to what it looked like as he attempted to wipe some of the dripping water off his face with his free arm.

“Pam?”

She quickly shook her head and grabbed the ring, sliding it back onto her finger. “Thank you so much. Sorry about the…” she gestured toward his wet shirt, trying to will herself not to notice how she could see every individual abdominal muscle that definitely didn’t show under his work shirts…

“Oh, it’s fine. I was hot anyway.”

You’re telling m— she caught herself before she could finish the sentence in her head. What was going on with her today?

“Can I grab you one of Roy’s shirts? I’d feel terrible if you had to keep wearing that wet one.”

He waved his hand. “Nah, it’s fine. It’ll dry.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “Jim, it’s literally dripping on my bathroom floor right now. Let me find something for you to change into.”

He shrugged and gave her a half-smile. “If you insist.”

“I do,” she grinned.

Rifling through Roy’s dressers, she found one of his old t-shirts at the bottom that was slightly too small for him now. She figured it would fit Jim since he and Roy were around the same height, but Jim more slender. He was in the bathroom, literally wringing water out of the bottom his shirt into the sink when she approached him

“Here,” she offered. “I’ll just be in the kitchen.”

He took the shirt with a smile and partially shut the door. Meanwhile, Pam remembered that she left Roy’s drawer open, so she went back into their room to close it. But on the way out, she caught sight of Jim in the mirror through the tiny crack in the bathroom door. He was facing away from the mirror so she just saw his back, bare and smooth and damn, all that basketball he played really did him some favors and what was she thinking?!

She rushed past, rubbing her upper arms with her hands, continually trying to convince herself that Jim was her best friend and it was okay to...admire the work one had...put into their…physique...

Okay, she shouldn’t have been looking.

Jim came out from the bathroom, smoothing his wet hair back with his hands. Roy’s t-shirt fit him well, even though he looked rather uncomfortable in it, fiddling with the hem and adjusting the collar. He looked down at the front. “Well, apparently I’m now the 2001 Hot Wing Eating Champion at…” he pulled the shirt out. “...Arooga’s?”

Pam’s face flushed. “Yeah, one of his ‘prouder’ moments in life.”

“Easiest championship I’ve ever won. Just had to know nothing about plumbing.”

Pam chuckled. “You didn’t have to come, you know. I could have found someone who actually knew what they were doing.”

He smiled with a small laugh and suddenly his smile waned a fraction of an inch. He took a breath and leaned his head to the side, looking like he was about to say something—and not one of his usual jokes. It made her stomach twist for some reason, so she changed the subject.

“Hey, I was just going to order some takeout. Want to join me?”

“Is it from Arooga’s?”

She chuckled. “No, it’s not.”

“Then no deal.” He tapped the logo on his shirt. “I’m loyal to my title.”

She laughed and shoved a Chinese takeout menu into his chest. “Just pick something, dork.”


They sat at her kitchen table, sharing stories while they ate. Pam told him about the time when she was five and she named her stuffed horse “Bastard” having never heard the word before. Jim nearly choked on his spring roll.

“That’s amazing. Oh man, I bet your parents loved that.”

“It has become a favorite story in our family, that’s for sure.”

Their conversation continued effortlessly, like it always did. Pam learned all about Jim’s siblings and quickly understood where his love for pranking began. Eventually she caught sight of the clock above the stove. “Holy crap, it’s almost 10:00. We’ve been talking for like three hours.”

Jim crumpled a napkin in his hand, staring at the empty styrofoam container on the table in front of him. He slowly brought his gaze to hers as one corner of his mouth turned up.

“I don’t mind.”

Her smile mirrored his. “Me either.”

He broke their gaze, snapping her back to reality as well. “I should get going.”

Together they cleared the table and Jim grabbed his wet shirt from the back of the kitchen chair beside him. Pam followed him to the door. He turned to face her and before she knew what she was doing, she found her arms extended out toward him. Almost instantaneously his arms were wrapped around her in a tight hug. She snaked hers around his torso, now feeling the muscles she so furiously tried to forget pressed up against her body and under her skin. Without seeking permission, her eyes closed and she inhaled.

But her brain couldn’t seem to make sense of it. His shirt smelled like Roy, but he definitely felt like Jim, and suddenly it all became muddled in her mind. She released her grip and backed up, hugging her arms to her chest.

“Thank you again, Jim. I really appreciate it.”

He grabbed the door and opened it slowly. “Seriously. Any time. Thanks for dinner.”

She raised her hand to wave goodbye as he stepped out and tenderly shut the door behind him.

She stared at the door for a beat before walking over and lowering herself to the couch, nibbling at the nail on her left thumb. She replayed the events of the day, from the muffin to the mirror to the chopsticks. She had felt happy. A kind of happiness that seemed so foreign and she slowly came to the realization that it was because she hadn’t felt that kind of happiness in ages.

Jim had been intruding her thoughts all day, but why? She had known him for years and he was her best friend.

What had changed?

Her thoughts were splintered by the buzzing of her cell phone. She flipped it open.

“Hey babe, sorry I haven’t called today…”

She fiddled with her engagement ring. Jim was a friend. They would always be friends.
End Notes:
The “Bastard” story was taken from my own life and is still my brother’s favorite story to tell at family functions.

Thanks for reading! :)
Steal My Heart and Hold My Tongue by WanderingWatchtower
Author's Notes:
Happy NYE, y’all! Good riddance, 2020.

Chapter title from “Til Kingdom Come” by Coldplay
Friday morning, Jim folded Roy’s clean t-shirt and put it in his bag, grateful to be ridding himself of it. For a split second, he thought about keeping it—a ransom for Roy getting to marry the girl of his dreams. But he knew the only thing of Roy’s he’d ever want wasn’t his old t-shirt, so he clenched his teeth and shoved it further down into his bag.

He nearly brought in another muffin for her that morning, but was fairly certain she had figured out his little white lie from a few days ago and he didn’t want to be too forward. His life had become a trek across a tightrope—putting one foot in front of the other and not tipping the balance. If he couldn’t have her in the capacity he truly wanted, the least he could do was try to maintain their friendship.

When he arrived at the office, Pam wasn’t at her desk. She almost always beat him into work, so her absence sparked curiosity coated in a thin layer of concern. Brow furrowed, he sat down at his desk and turned his computer on, glancing periodically toward reception. He felt the need to distract himself, so he turned to his left.

“Hey Dwight, do you smell gas?”

Dwight continued typing without looking at Jim. “It’s probably just Kevin. He’s prone to flatulation.”

Jim took a few audible sniffs and leaned into Dwight. “No, I mean gasoline. And I think…” he sniffed again. “I think it’s you.”

Scoffing, Dwight continued typing away.

“No, Dwight, I’m serious. What if...no…”

Finally Dwight looked at him. “What if what?”

“Nah, it’s dumb. But I was just thinking maybe someone broke into your house and dunked your shirt in gasoline. Then it dried and they put it back and they plan to throw a match at you to set it in flames. Steal the beet farm. Take Mose out behind the shed.”

“Stop being an idiot.”

“Here, I have a way to find out.” He opened his desk drawer and pulled out a stud finder. He had it stashed in his desk for an emergency prank he hadn’t quite thought of yet. This would do. “I have a gasoline detector.”

He moved it toward Dwight, discreetly pushing the button on the side to make it beep longer and louder as it got closer to Dwight.

Dwight’s eyes widened and then he glared at Jim. “Let me see that,” he growled, snatching it out of Jim’s hand. He pressed the button a few times then held it up to Jim. “This is a stud finder, moron,” he said, chucking it back at him.

Sometimes even the pranks where he got caught immediately were worth it for the distraction.

As he bent down to put the stud finder back in his desk, he caught sight of Pam walking briskly to her desk. She threw her purse down beside her with a *thud* and sat down on her chair with almost as much force. Jim kept one eye on her, knowing she was obviously upset at something. She didn’t even do so much as look at him, which meant he couldn’t ask her what was wrong with the simple raise of his eyebrow. Just as he was about to push himself out of his chair to make a purposeful trip to her desk disguised as a jellybean run, his office phone rang.

During the entire call, Jim kept his eyes fixed on Pam. He could see the ripple in her jaw where she seemed to be continuously clenching it and her eyebrows were permanently knitted. Before he hung up, he opened his IM chat window.

JIM9334: Hey, you okay?

Receptionitis15: Yeah.

JIM9334: Very convincing. Spill it, Beesly.

Receptionitis15: It was just a stupid fight.
Receptionitis15: With Roy.

JIM9334: ...want to talk about it? I’m almost done with this call.

Receptionitis15: Not really. I’m trying not to smash things at the moment and would rather try and forget about it right now.

He could feel her eyes on him from her desk for the first time that morning. He met them and gave her a sympathetic shrug and smile. Feeling bold, he typed a message back.

JIM9334: What about drinks after work? My treat.

Receptionitis15: I’d like that. :) Heaven knows I could use one.

JIM9334: That bad, huh?

Receptionitis15: We’re not talking about it, remember?

JIM9334: Sorry.
JIM9334: And I’m sorry you’re upset.

Receptionitis15: It’s okay. Thanks though. :)

Next to the smile, she had left one tiny little red heart emoticon. A simple gesture of thanks, he was sure, but that didn’t stop his eyes from fixating on it while his heart migrated to his throat. He wanted it to mean so much more. He wished he could send it back, but sandwich it between “I” and “you” and let her know how she truly deserved to be treated...and holy crap she had turned him into such a hopeless sap.

He made good on his promise to not bring up Roy, which included keeping his borrowed shirt in his bag the entire day. He took pride in the way he could start picking apart her seams with jokes and pranks when she was tense or upset. One thread at a time, he could see her loosen and unravel, smiling more and sitting straighter.

Jim stopped at her desk when 5:00 rolled around, “So, you still want to go get drinks? You don’t seem quite as upset, but Dwight had ‘Carry on Wayward Son’ stuck in his head the entire day and now I need a drink.”

She laughed and grabbed her purse, agreeing that they could both use it. In the elevator, they stood next to each other, their shoulders inches from each other. Jim leaned forward and pressed the button to take them to the main floor, when quietly, but deliberately, Pam started humming “Carry On Wayward Son”.

“That’s it…” Jim groaned and started pushing all the floor buttons and the “door open” button furiously. “I’m taking the stairs.”

The doors pinged open on the third floor and Jim tried to bolt, but she grabbed his wrist with both of her hands, laughing loudly. “No, I’m sorry!!” He couldn’t help laughing himself, but he was also silently savoring every moment their skin was touching. Finally, he gave in and walked back inside the elevator. He gave her a warning look.

“Better watch yourself, Beesly.”

She looked up at him apologetically, a smile still lingering on her lips. Her hands hadn’t moved from his wrist and he wondered if she could feel his pulse under her fingers the way he could feel it in his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’ll behave.”

The way she was biting her bottom lip. The way she was biting her damn bottom lip. Talk about unraveling at the seams.

Much to his dismay, she removed her hands and they exited toward the parking lot, agreeing to meet at Poor Richards.

********

“Wait, why did you have a stud finder in your desk anyway?” she laughed, biting the end of her cocktail straw in a way that elicited a few impure thoughts in Jim’s head.

He took a sip of his beer. “I had to hang some shelves one day and figured it might come in handy with Dwight, so I stashed it in my desk.” He looked straight ahead and shrugged. “Wasn’t my best work, but I’ll take it.”

He was painfully aware of how close they were sitting. Her knee was pressed against his and he briefly let his mind wander, envisioning running his hand down her thigh, leaning in close to tell her something, anything, in her ear, then moving down her jaw and getting a secondhand taste of her vodka cranberry. Instead, he gripped the bottom of his glass a little too tightly to keep his hands from roaming.

Pam’s phone began vibrating on the bar and Jim saw her shoulders deflate. She looked over to him.

“It’s Roy, I should probably…” she pointed her thumb away from the bar.

“Yeah, no, go ahead.”

He watched as she walked toward the door, putting her phone to one ear while she plugged the other with her finger. He drummed his fingers on the bar and motioned the bartender over to order another beer. As hard as he tried not to turn around, he couldn’t seem to help it. Pam was right inside the door, talking into her phone, making large, staccato gestures with her hands.

And she was mad

He turned back toward the bartender and pointed at Pam’s half-empty vodka cranberry. “Yeah, better get her another one of those too.”

After about 10 minutes, and after Jim had basically pulled a muscle from straining so hard to hear any of her conversation, Pam stomped back to the bar. Wordlessly, she grabbed Jim’s beer and chugged the remainder of it without coming up for air. She slammed the glass on the bar with an big intake of air, wiped her mouth with her sleeve, and pointed at the newly refreshed vodka cranberry.

“This mine?”

Jim, partly amused, partly stunned, could only muster a wide-eyed, “Yup,” as she threw it back in three giant gulps.

“You...want to talk about it?”

“Nope!” She called the bartender back over. “We’re doing shots.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Whoa, Beesly. I know for a fact you’re a lightweight. You maybe want to take it easy?”

“Nope!” she tipped her head back, the shot glass going from full to empty in an instant.

“Listen, I don’t want to leave both our cars here. I think I’ll pass on the shots and I guess give you a ride home when you’re...done?”

“Does that mean you aren’t drinking that?” she said, gesturing to the tequila in front of him.

“Uh...all yours.”

“Thank you, kind sir,” she sang, then tossed it back.

It didn’t take long (or many more shots) before Jim could see her alcohol consumption catching up to her. Suddenly she got really quiet and stared forward, not moving except for her body slowly tipping to the left.

“Um, Pam?” he urged, entertained by the fact that she had stopped talking mid-sentence. “You in there?”

She chewed on another cocktail straw lazily for a few more seconds. Eyes still fixed ahead, she slurred out a sentence. “One time Roy broke his arm figure skating and told everyone it was from football.”

Jim let out a surprised laugh. “Wow.”

She finally turned her head toward him. “Figure skating.”

“Yeah, I heard you. That’s...something.”

“I like figure skating. We should go ice skating, you and me. You and I. Me and I. You. Whatever.”

All he could do was stare at her with wild amusement spread on his face. “Yeah. We should. Probably not tonight, though.”

She shook her head. “No. Too wobbly.”

“Yeah, too wobbly.”

The mention of Roy made Jim remember that he still had his shirt in his bag. He pulled it out and handed it to her.

“Ew,” she scoffed. “Let’s burn it.”

“Beesly!” he laughed.

“BURN IT!”

He put his finger to his lips and looked around, still laughing. “Let’s not yell about burning things in a place full of flammable liquid, okay?”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

He had seen her drunk like this only one time before. His lips tingled remembering that night, when she had briefly kissed him after winning the Whitest Sneakers dundie. But then the moment was thrown into the void by way of the alcoholic haze she was in that night, never to be remembered or spoken of again. By her, at least. It was basically on a constant loop in his head.

He also remembered that she fell off her barstool that night, so he suggested that he take her home before she injured herself. She agreed, after one last shot, and Jim helped guide her back to his car.

*******

“Why won’t it go in?! Pfffffftttt that’s what she said.”

Pam started drunkenly snickering while fumbling around with her keys at the door to her apartment. Jim stepped in and grabbed them from her hand.

“That’s your truck key, Bees.”

She stopped laughing abruptly. “Oh.”

Jim chuckled and unlocked the door for her, pushing it open so she could walk through before him. She stumbled inside laughing to herself. “Alright, drunky, we should probably get you to bed.”

“That’s what she said,” she mumbled, letting out a little burp between “she” and “said”.

“Okay, that needs to stop.”

She plopped her hand on Jim’s shoulder and looked at him through her droopy, drunken gaze. “Don’t tell me what to do, Halpert.”

He could kiss her right now. He could kiss her and she probably wouldn’t even remember, just like last time.

But then her eyes widened and she ran into the bathroom to begin her night of regretting her choices.


Jim stood at the kitchen sink, filling up a glass of water for her. He turned off the faucet and grabbed the bottle of Advil before turning back to her bedroom. Being in the room that she shared with Roy made him feel queasy, and he tried to actively shut off the part of his imagination about what transpired in the bed he had just sat down on next to Pam. He placed the water and the Advil on her nightstand as she pulled the covers up to her chin.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Her voice was still laced with the effects of the alcohol, but the goofiness seemed to have been flushed down the toilet with the contents of her stomach.

He stared at her for several minutes, watching her eyes begin to fade as she fought off sleep, knowing he would most likely never get this chance again, just to watch her. She looked beautiful—peaceful, almost. He fought the urge to move a curl from her face.

He saw her slightly shiver and she turned to him. “Hey, could you get me a blanket out of that closet?”

As he opened the closet, his brain nearly blew a fuse. In front of him, was an incredible painting. It was abstract, but he knew without a doubt that it was the two of them, outside the office building, listening to Travis. Swaying, but apparently not dancing.

“Jim?”

He snapped out of his daze and hastily grabbed a blanket, mind still reeling. Handing the blanket out to her, he wondered if he should bring it up, say something. For the first time in three years he felt a sense of hope—that maybe she didn’t just see him as a friend. Maybe, just maybe he was something more to her.

But then he remembered she was laying in a bed she shared with another man and once again he felt out of place, disjointed, and deflated. If she felt the same about him as he did about her, why did she have that ring on her finger?

He helped her spread the blanket on top of her, suddenly anxious to leave this place he would never get to share with her. She closed her eyes and let out a sigh. Quietly, almost inaudibly, she whispered to Jim.

“Roy kissed another girl.”

Almost instantaneously, white hot rage ran through him while his stomach dropped to his feet.

“You’re kidding. Oh, Pam…”

She sniffed, obviously attempting to fend off tears, and nodded slowly. “He and Kenny were at a bar and super drunk, and a girl came onto him. He said it was just one kiss and meant nothing and nothing else happened.”

Jim clenched his jaw. “And he told you this?”

“Sort of. I heard Kenny bragging about it in the background when I talked to Roy this morning before work and I pressed him about it until he told me. Then we fought about it again tonight.”

Jim calculated how long it would take to drive to North Carolina so he could punch Roy square in the jaw. Repeatedly.

“Pam…”

“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Today’s theme. Jim hesitated. “Okay.”

He watched as she started to doze off. He wanted to envelope her in a hug, let her know she’s worth more, deserves more.

But she wasn’t his.

“Goodnight, Pam,” he whispered as he walked through the bedroom door.

“Jim?”

“Hmm.”

“Can you stay?”
End Notes:
Sorry for the cliffhanger. Sort of.
I Can't Decide if I'll Let You Save My Life or if I'll Drown“ by WanderingWatchtower
Author's Notes:
“I tried my best to never let you in to see the truth
And I've never opened up
I've never truly loved 'till you put your arms around me
And I believe that it's easier for you to let me go”


The chapter title of this one is from the song “Arms” by Christina Perri, which is actually the song that inspired the entire story.

This chapter is a bit longer than the others but for good reason, I promise. Enjoy!
Pam woke up to the morning light blaring in her eyes, accentuating the throbbing in her head. She groaned and rolled her face into the pillow to block the stream of light coming through the window. Her memories from last night were missing beginnings and endings and some parts in between. There was tequila—lots of tequila—based on the dryness in her mouth and how she had to pause to wait for the room to stop spinning after sitting up.

She saw the Advil and water sitting on her nightstand and frowned. Then rapidly her eyes widened and whipped to Roy’s side of the bed. Jim was there last night.

They hadn’t…

Had they?

She looked down and realized she was still in her work clothes.

Phew.

But...he had been there. Had she asked him to stay, or was that just a thought she had in her restless, alcohol-induced sleep?

She brought her feet to the floor, tossed four Advil into her mouth, and chased it with the lukewarm water. Rubbing her eyes and groaning with how terrible she felt, she dragged her feet through the hallway to start the water for her tea. But before she got to the kitchen, she was startled by something else.

A very familiar, very floppy head of hair was resting on one of the throw pillows on the couch.

He stayed.

She tiptoed over to the couch to peer at him. His mouth was slightly open and he was curled up so he could fit his body on all the cushions. It seemed to her like all he could find during the night was the decorative blanket she kept on the back of the couch, but it only covered him from shoulder to thigh. She smiled and grabbed his suit coat from the floor to carefully drape it over his legs.

He had stayed.

She decided to take a quick shower before Jim woke up, seeing as she was still in her wrinkly work attire and smelled like stale alcohol. With one more glance at her best friend, she slipped into the bathroom.

After her shower, she found Jim still asleep on the couch. She paced around the apartment, shuffling the clutter and nervously waiting for him to so much as even stir. She finally decided she would start making some breakfast in hopes the smells would lure him out of his slumber, but upon opening the fridge, she remembered that she had forgotten to go grocery shopping last night like she had planned earlier in the week and had instead gone out with Jim—and apparently stayed in with him as well. So if they wanted something besides deli meat, maraschino cherries, sour cream, and some questionable leftovers...they would have to leave the apartment.

Her stomach rumbled and she glanced over him, mentally willing him to wake up. But he looked so peaceful. It was strange, seeing him here, having him be immersed in her life outside of work. Something stirred inside her as she watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically. Subconsciously, she imagined herself slipping next to him, resting her head on his chest and being lured back to sleep by his languid breaths and heartbeat in her ears.

She quickly shook her head, remembering it was Jim and that he was just her best friend. That was all it was. He had been a listening ear when she needed it and she was grateful for that.

She made a mental note to call Roy. She was still furious with him but maybe they could patch things up. Just like every other time.

With her eyes still fixed on him, he began to stir. She scrambled and grabbed a magazine from the coffee table, opening to a random page. Jim rolled to his side, rubbed his eyes with his fingers, then propped himself up on his elbow.

“Hey.” His voice was deeper and thick with sleep.

“Good morning,” she responded as casually as she could.

Jim pointed to the magazine in her hand. “Kobe’s doing well this season, huh?”

Her brow furrowed and then realized the magazine in her hand was a copy of Roy’s ESPN Magazine. She set it back on the table, cheeks flushed. “Have to keep up with football, you know me.”

“He plays basketball, Beesly.”

“Right,” she laughed nervously. Jim was on her couch, his hair poking up in every direction. “So, you didn’t go home last night,” she mustered out slowly.

Jim yawned as his eyes spanned the couch. “So it appears.”

“You didn’t have to stay.”

He looked at his hands for a brief second before glancing up at her with a one-shouldered shrug and a half-smile. “You asked me to.”

Jim seemed to sense her slight embarrassment, so he interjected before she could respond. “You weren’t in...great shape last night, so I figured I should stay and make sure you were okay.”

She wasn’t positive if he was talking about her physical state or mental, because she vaguely remembered telling him about Roy’s drunken escapades.

“Well, thank you,” she said quietly.

He fiddled with the blanket edge. “So...how are you feeling?”

She thought about it for a second, mulling it over. “I’m fine,” she mustered with a small smile that never reached her eyes.

He nodded, brows furrowing slightly. “Good,” he said. But his eyes said something more like: Are you?

The way he was looking at her made her feel anxious, like their conversation was about to take a hard left into Roy territory, and she wasn’t quite ready for that yet. So she changed the subject. “But I’m starving and I apparently forgot to buy any food this week. I was going to make you breakfast as a thank you for, you know...listening.”

All he did was give her another sad smile then fix his eyes in front of him. “You know, I have food…” he glanced at her through the corner of his eye. “At my place.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond, so luckily he kept talking. “I just mean...I have to take you to go get your car anyway and I live like a block from Poor Richards. I also make a mean omelette. If you want, that is.”

It was logical: She was hungry. She needed her car. He lived so close. At least, that’s what she told herself after she had agreed before he had even finished speaking.

It was logical.


After picking up her car, she followed him back to his apartment. They both got out of their cars and she met him at the base of the stairs.

“Just so you know, my roommate Mark is kind of a slob, so I don’t know what we are about to walk into.”

Pam raised an eyebrow. “Riiiiight…Mark is the slob. I just rode in your car, Halpert.”

“This is fair.”

She chuckled and followed him into his apartment. Her eyes darted around, taking in what she saw. She had to admit that she had always wondered what his apartment looked like—what he did when he wasn’t at work. It all sort of screamed “bachelor” but she could see little touches that she knew were all Jim. She saw an array of baseball caps hanging neatly next to the coats that she just somehow knew were his. There was a shelf full of tattered books—she knew he loved to read, but rarely showed that side of himself. The entry had a framed picture of Bill Murray from Caddyshack. No question there.

Jim tossed his keys into a bowl on the counter. From the other room, another voice called out. “Halpert! You didn’t come home last night!” The voice, who she assumed belonged to Mark, got closer. “Did you get som—oh. Hello.”

Pam blushed and raised her hand to wave.

“Mark, this is Pam.” Mark’s eyes widened and she swore she could see recognition on his face when Jim said her name. “I crashed on her couch last night.”

Mark’s eyes went from Jim’s head to his toes, taking in the disheveled clothing he had worn to work the day before and Pam thought she saw him wink at Jim. “Cool. Nice to meet you, Pam.”

“You too!”

Mark grabbed a different pair of keys from the bowl. “I’m heading to Sarah’s house. I’m probably going to ‘crash on her couch’ tonight so don’t wait up for me.”

She was pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to see Jim’s middle finger shoot up behind his back as Mark walked away snickering, but she definitely did.

Jim tasked Pam with chopping onions and green peppers while he quickly showered. With the sound of the water hitting the shower floor, she found it nearly impossible not to flashback the smooth plane of his back and wet t-shirts and the freaking ab muscles she could probably wash laundry on. She concentrated harder on chopping.

Jim finally came back into the kitchen wearing jeans and a baseball tee, his hair still wet. “Okay, how’s it coming?”

She proudly displayed her hard work on the cutting board.

He rubbed his hands together. “Perfect! Now we need the eggs and the Halpert secret: marbled cheddar AND pepper Jack cheese.”

She smiled brightly. “Show me your ways!”


Pam took the final bite of her omelette and leaned back in her chair. “I want like four more.”

“Good hangover food, huh?” he laughed.

She closed her eyes, savoring her last bite. “Totally.

Jim stood up and cleared their plates from the table. This felt like the appropriate time she should thank him for breakfast and head back to her own apartment. If you counted work, they had been in at least the same vicinity for over 24 hours. She should go grocery shopping, maybe start a new painting, clean the apartment...call Roy.

But she didn’t want to.

“So, any plans today?” she asked lightly.

Jim placed their dishes in the sink and turned around. “I actually have a date. With Princess Peach,” he winked. “I’ve been trying to beat Super Mario because apparently I’m 12.”

The way her stomach dropped when he said ”date” was unexpected, and the relief that it was just a joke even more so. “Oh, and how does Mario feel about that?”

Jim chuckled. “We’re cool now. Came to an understanding.”

She smiled, suddenly (and surprisingly) anxious to find a way to stay. “Do you have Mario Kart?”

His eyes rolled. “Do I have Mario Kart? I’m only the reigning champion of the Halpert family.”

“Well...I’m the reigning champion of my family...so…” She raised her eyebrows to him. “Maybe we should see who is the best. For science.”

He grinned. “For science.”

She practically skipped behind him into the living room, where he loaded the game into the console and flipped on the TV. He handed her a red controller. “This is my lucky controller, but I have a feeling you need it more than me.”

Pam scoffed. “So we’re starting the trash talk early, huh?”

He shrugged, navigating the screen to the first race. “All I’m saying is that if I could get paid for winning Mario Kart races, I wouldn’t have to be selling any paper.”

She smirked. “Don’t write a check that your thumbs can’t cash, Halpert.”

A minute later Jim was muttering curse words under his breath. “How are you so good at this game?!”

“Practice, Jim. Practice and humility.”

They ended up playing nearly every race. Toward the end of Rainbow Road, Pam was just barely ahead of him, inching toward the finish line. Suddenly, Jim swiped the controller from her hands.

“Hey!!” she yelled through her laughter, lunging across his lap where he was holding it out of reach with his long arms. “That is not an appropriate response!”

Jim stood up, trying to steer his own player on the screen with one hand while holding Pam’s controller above his head.

“You really are 12!!” she huffed, jumping up to try and reach it while he dodged her with his arms and elbows. That’s it. Drastic times call for drastic measures. She took both hands and dug them into his ribs, tickling him until he collapsed to the couch and she stole her controller back, finishing the race ahead of him.

She sat back down next to him and raised her arms in victory, both of them breathing heavy.

“Talk about not having an appropriate response,” Jim said. He turned his head toward her. “Tickling, Beesly?!”

“Cheaters don’t deserve mercy.”

Jim’s phone buzzed on the coffee table and he picked it up. “Crap. I forgot I was watching my niece today while my brother and his wife pack for their move.”

“Is she supposed to be coming here?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, in like ten minutes.”

“Do you want me to…”

Jim held up a finger so he could answer the phone. “Hey man. No, we’re still good for tonight. Uh, I have a friend from work over, is it cool if she’s here too? Cool. See you soon.”

He shut his phone and looked at her. “Sorry, maybe I should have asked if you wanted to stay first. She’s only five but I can always use reinforcements,” he laughed.

She smiled wide. “I’d love to stay.”


Jim wasn’t wrong. Reinforcements were definitely needed. Vanessa was downright adorable—curly blonde hair, dimples so deep you got lost in them, and the most contagious little laugh. But if the Tasmanian Devil and the Energizer Bunny had a love child, it would be Vanessa.

They managed to keep her entertained for a few hours with Duck Duck Goose (pretty exhausting with just three people), playing at the park next to Jim’s apartment complex, and lots of hopscotch that Pam drew with chalk on the sidewalk outside. Finally she started to slow down and they went inside.

“Pam,” Jim said, looking toward his niece. “Did you know Vanessa wants to be an artist when she grows up? Vanessa, Pam is really good at art.”

Vanessa’s eyes lit up. “Really?! Will you draw with me?”

Pam didn’t often click right away with kids, so she loved this window to connect with Vanessa. “I would love to!”

Jim gave Vanessa a high five. “I’ll make us some grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner and you two can draw while they cook. Pam, I have some paper and colored pencils in my desk drawer upstairs. Do you want to go grab them?”

Pam agreed and found her way to Jim’s room. It was neater than she expected, based on how he kept his desk at work. His bed was made, no dirty socks on the floor. He had a guitar set up in the corner. Had he ever mentioned he played guitar? She ran her hand against the back of his desk chair, looking around his room for a minute, lingering her eyes on his bed, then remembering why she was there.

She opened the bottom desk drawer first. She picked up a small stack of printer paper and the box of colored pencils when another small box caught her eye. Scrawled in Jim’s handwriting was her last name and suddenly there was no restraint in the world. She carefully took the box out of the drawer as her pulse quickened. Slipping the lid off, her heart skidded to a stop. To anyone else, the contents would look random and strange. But she recognized every one of them.

There was a Boggle timer. She remembered it from when they had played during a lunch break and he wouldn’t stop finding dirty words, leaving both their sides in stitches from laughter. Her grandpa had died that week and she knew he was doing everything he could to cheer her up.

There was a miniature golf pencil. Once on a “team building” outing Michael arranged, they went mini golfing and they had made a bet that she would beat him. Jim sunk a hole in one to beat her and she threw the pencil at him, narrowly missing his left eye. They laughed anyway.

There were hot sauce packets. One time Bob Vance had paid to have a hot dog vendor come to the parking lot for the employees in the business park. Pam grabbed three packets of what she thought was ketchup but had turned out to be hot sauce. Jim never let her live it down.

There was a cassette tape. She rolled it over in her hands to see the names of the songs he had put on it. He had listed about ten songs, all of which he had suggested to her at some point.

Her throat was tight as she surveyed the contents again, delicately running her fingers over them. They were obviously for her or about her. Why did he save them? She had always assumed he thought of her as a best friend and nothing more...but what if…

“Pam!” a little voice called from downstairs. “You gonna come draw with me?”

Pam slammed the lid back on the box and shoved it back in the desk drawer, heart pounding and head reeling. “Coming!” she yelled back.

Hastily grabbing the paper and pencils, she went back downstairs. She stopped before entering the kitchen and looked down to see her hands trembling. All at once things felt...different. She peered around the corner to see Jim at the stove with Vanessa on his back. They were singing “We Will Rock You” by Queen while Vanessa drummed on his head lightly with some rubber spatulas.

Her heart seemed to be unable to decide what to do—start or stop—but a smile came to her face anyway. He would make an amazing dad someday. And subconsciously she realized she wanted to be there to witness it. This window had been opened, and memories of him making her happy flooded in like a cool spring breeze. She felt the urge from somewhere deep inside to shimmy through it and meet him on the other side.

But then the ring on her finger got caught on the metaphorical window sill. She was engaged. She loved Roy, didn’t she? She did. They had been through so much together and he treated her well enough. There had been great times in their relationship and now they knew how to work past the rougher times. This was the plan. No matter how many hot sauce packets and Boggle timers she found.

She took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face for Vanessa, even if she had never felt more confused in her life.


She knew that Jim could pick up on her change in demeanor, judging from the fact that he seemed to always keep an eye on her at all times—gauging to see if she was okay. She did her best to act normal, but acting was never her strong suit.

Jim’s brother came to pick up Vanessa around 6:00. Pam stayed back in the kitchen to help clean up dinner when she heard his footsteps enter back into the kitchen. Her back was to him as she continued doing the dishes, but she just knew his eyes were on her as he was leaning on the doorframe.

“You...want to tell me what’s going on?”

You mean the fact that I basically found your shrine dedicated to me and now I can’t figure out how to feel? she thought, before turning around. She dragged her eyes to meet his. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

He stood up straighter. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“C’mon, Pam, you’ve been acting weird ever since you came back and started drawing with Vanessa. I know you.”

Now her heart had really begun to pick up speed. “That’s the problem, Jim,” she whispered. “You know me.”

Now he had taken a few steps toward her. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” His tone had changed from concerned to slightly irritated.

She suddenly felt the sting of tears and fought them back the best she could. “You know me better than anyone, Jim. And I thought it was just because we were great friends but I’m starting to wonder…”

He was only an arm length away now and she couldn’t quite read his expression, but she could hear his breathing pick up and he seemed nervous. “Wonder what?” he said slowly.

She looked to the floor and hugged her arms against her chest. “I...found the box in your desk drawer. I was looking for paper and…”

Damnit,” he muttered as he closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to find it. What...why do you…”

He opened his eyes and put his hands behind his head. He looked at her in a way that made her want to tear her gaze away with how intense it was. His eyes were dark, almost sad, as he responded in a shaky, low voice.

“Why do you think, Pam?”

She whispered so quietly that almost she didn’t hear it. “I don’t know.”

Jim closed the gap between them. He was inches from her now and she could see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he fought off his own tears. Tentatively, he raised his hand and ran it down her arm, bringing it down to her side. He reached her wrist and grabbed it tightly as he lowered his head to hers. The blood coursing through her veins was white hot and any rational thoughts were being obliterated by his touch.

Jim swallowed hard and rolled his forehead against hers. “I think you do,” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered shut. His other hand slid up to her face and he cradled it, wiping a runaway tear from her cheek with his thumb. She finally met his eyes, brimmed with tears, searching hers.

“And I think you feel the same way.”

She let out a quick sob, then crashed her lips into his. Quickly, he brought his other hand up to her head, tangling her hair in his fingers as he groaned into her mouth, which was now open and welcoming his eagerly. He backed her against the counter with his hips, and she completely lost herself in the way he was touching her, kissing her. She grabbed his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to her, then ran her fingers up the back of his shirt, his skin warm and taut under her own. He lifted his arms up and she pulled it over his head, tossing it to the ground, hands now running freely across his chest.

He stopped and looked at her, his eyes dark and wanting. He grabbed her by the waist, lifting her up on the counter in one swift motion while she crossed her arms in front of her and pulled her own shirt over her head. Jim seemed to drink in the sight of her with a gentle shake of his head, then softly whispered her name against the soft spot under her ear, trailing his lips down her neck and onto her collarbone, while his hands delicately grazed over the thin cotton fabric of her bra, eliciting a soft moan from deep inside her.

Maybe it was the way he said her name, or the way his hands were spanning her back possessively. Maybe it was the fact that when she opened her eyes briefly, she saw she was in Jim’s kitchen, and it was his lips, not her fianc’s that were finding their way down the valley of her chest.

Whatever it was, it made her jolt out of the daze she was in.

She was engaged.

She was not this girl.

And she needed to leave.

Her voice caught in her throat, she mustered out his name.

“Jim…”

“Hmm?” he hummed against the top of her breast.

Tears sprung to her eyes as she slammed them shut and gripped his shoulders.

“Jim,” she whispered through her tears.

He pulled back to look at her, his eyes full of concern. She put her hands around the back of his neck and rested her forehead against his, sobs now racking her chest.

“I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

Before he could respond, she grabbed her shirt and slipped off the edge of the counter, throwing it over her head as she nearly ran to the door. She heard him call after her but she never stopped, slamming the door behind her, wiping her eyes furiously with her hands.

She got in her car and drove around the corner where she pulled over because she couldn’t see through the hot tears in her eyes.


Once she was seemingly drained of tears, she dragged herself home and straight into her bed, fully clothed. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she stared out the window into the night sky and forced herself to take deep breaths even though the weight of what just happened sat on her chest, threatening to crush her entirely.

Her phone began buzzing on her nightstand. She glanced at it, then rolled over. A single tear soaked into her pillow as her phone illuminated the words “Jim Halpert” into the cold darkness of her room.

Cheaters don’t deserve mercy.
Tell Me Now Where Was My Fault, In Loving You With My Whole Heart? by WanderingWatchtower
Author's Notes:
The final installment of this little story. Thank you so much for the love and encouragement!

Chapter title comes from the song “White Blank Page” by Mumford and Sons
He had his shirt in his hand and his head against the front door that she had just bolted out of. He slammed his fist against the door, hard.

Shit!

The panicky ache hadn’t seemed to leave his chest since the moment she had whispered his name, stopped him, left him.

He felt like such an idiot. For so long, years even, he had been able to keep his feelings pooled safely behind a dam. They pushed against every one of his walls, but he had been careful to maintain them, keep them in check.

Then she found all these things, these tangible memories he had kept of her and there was no way to contain them. The dam had finally burst, sweeping her out of his reach in the process.

But…she had brought it down. He admitted his feelings, yes, but she had kissed him first. She kissed him back. She blazed the trail he had been afraid to trek for three years and all he could do was cling onto her for dear life, pleading with his lips and hands for her to assure him it was all real.

And then she left. After she kicked up the dust and led him to places he had only dreamt, she left him standing there, exposed and confused.

He was unsure of how he was supposed to feel. She obviously thought of him as more than a friend, because friends don’t rip your shirt off in your kitchen while their tongue is in your mouth. It gave him a sliver of hope, until he remembered how she couldn’t breathe, crying out regretful apologies as she ran away from him.

The conflicting winds inside of him were impossible to tame. He would start by fending off the pain as he tried to remember the feel of her lips, tried to immortalize the imprint of her fingerprints on his skin. Then he would move to letting the guilt consume him completely, regretting putting her in that kind of position in the first place. As much he wanted to relive every kiss, the look on her face before she left would haunt him mercilessly.

He pulled his shirt on and sat on the couch, feet bouncing against the carpet, hands snarled in his hair. He pulled out his phone and drafted sixteen different text messages to her, deleting each one as soon as he finished typing. What was there to say?

It was only 7:30 but he just wanted to sleep, though he was certain sleep would most likely evade him. He slipped under the covers and stared at his desk drawer, still slightly ajar, that was holding the contents—the spark, really—that began this wildfire he felt trapped in.

The girl those items represented was not only his best friend, but he loved her. Which is why he grabbed his phone again and pressed “2” until it started ringing. He had no idea what he would say, but he loved her and she was hurting because of something he did—they did—and he needed to find some way to stop the fire from burning the whole damn forest to the ground.

It rang.

And rang.

And rang.

Until he heard her recorded voice, cheerfully telling him to call back later. So he did, four more times over the course of the night but with the same result, each time driving a nail further into the coffin of what they were or could ever be.


**********

He sat in his car for 23 minutes before finally going inside the building for work Monday morning. He had no clue what he would say to Pam as he walked in the office, but he knew he had to say something. So many times he had swept feelings under the rug and tried to pretend there was nothing between them but there was no way that could happen this time.

He paced in the small elevator on the way up, unable to keep any of his nervous limbs stationary. The doors opened and he took a deep breath. Through the glass doors he could see she was standing at her desk. Normally, his stomach danced when he saw her through the door, but this time it plummeted.

He walked in, gauging her reaction as he walked by the reception desk. She glanced up as he passed her and their eyes met briefly. In the split second before she busied herself with a task that probably didn’t exist before that moment, he could see the sadness lingering behind her eyes—a perfect reflection of his own. He told himself he didn’t have to confront her immediately. He would need some time to prepare his heart to look into those eyes again anyway.

For the next three hours they exchanged stolen looks, each of them looking away once the other snagged onto a lingering gaze. He tried not to watch her as she walked past him to the kitchen, her arms hugged tightly against her chest. He tried not to stand up and follow her. He tried, but just like so many other things in his life, he failed.

He glanced behind him to see if anyone else was around when he grabbed the kitchen door before it shut and slipped in behind her.

“Pam…”

She tensed at the sound of his voice which made his heart pang with grief. So much had changed.

“Pam...can we talk? Please?”

She couldn’t meet his eyes. Her lips turned down and her brows furrowed. “Not here,” was all she could seem to muster out.

“Then where?! You won’t answer…”

She shook her head and started back out of the kitchen before he could finish. He grabbed her hand to stop her.

“Pam, come on. Don’t do this,” he pleaded quietly, giving her hand a squeeze. “I can’t lose you.”

She finally looked at him and he saw the tears pooling in the corner of her eyes. She squeezed his hand back, then slipped it out and briskly walked back to her desk. He quickly rubbed his face with his hands and followed right behind her, defeated.

Right as he sat down, Michael called from behind him.

“Jimbo!”

Jim turned around in his seat. “Yeah?”

Michael walked over and strained to raise one leg up on Jim’s desk. “Listen, man. I kind of got myself in an impediment.”

“Predicament?”

“Whatever. I have a problem. I seem to have double booked myself.”

Jim squinted. “Explain.”

“See, I scheduled a potential client meeting at the same time as...something else...and I need you to go to the meeting for me.”

“What’s the other thing?”

“Not important.”

“I can’t say yes until I know.”

Michael stared at him for several seconds before blurting, “I have a wart removal appointment, okay?! It’s a very normal thing! Just...please go for me?”

Jim cringed. “Uh, yeah. Sure. When?”

“Now.”

Jim sat up straight. “Now?!”

Michael turned to go back into his office. “Yep. Well, 15 minutes. Bring Pam. It’s at Applebee’s since Apple-BEESLY over there got herself banned from Chili’s.”

His throat tightened upon hearing her name. He glanced quickly to reception then rushed to meet Michael in his office. He lowered his voice.

“Wait, Pam?” He cleared his throat. “I thought this was just a sales meeting...why...she probably doesn’t have to come…”

“Nonsense,” Michael scoffed. “She always comes with me to take notes and since you’re acting as me, she’s going with you. You two are besties, I don’t see the problem.”

Jim gave an insincere smile, not wanting Michael to pick up on the fact that something was amiss with Pam. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll just uh, go get my things.”

Michael handed him a folder filled with quick info on the potential client and shooed him out of his office, leaving him to fend off the cold front coming off of Pam’s shoulders by himself for the next two hours.

Ten minutes later he was in his car next to Pam, who had yet to look at or speak to him. He handed her the folder.

“Sorry, Michael sprung this on me. Could you...maybe read the bullet points to me while I drive?”

She took the folder and cracked it open. He had to admit, the sound of her voice was soothing after the radio silence he had endured all morning, even if she was just rattling off facts about this prospective client.

The meeting went as smoothly as it could have, with the promise that Jim would be receiving a call by the end of the day with a sizable order. Any other day, he would have been pleased. It was a big company and Michael assured him he could keep the sale and commission for himself. But all he could picture was the way Pam seemed to shrink anytime their eyes crossed paths. He had started the day out with nervousness and sadness, but slowly he started to become more upset and confused. All he wanted was the chance to repair as much of their relationship as he could, but there wasn’t a shot in hell of that happening if she wouldn’t even look at him.

In the car on the way home, Pam’s entire body was turned toward the door, away from Jim, and she looked silently out the window. Suddenly, Jim couldn’t do it anymore. He quickly pulled into an abandoned parking lot and killed the engine.

Pam turned to look at him, then looked around the parking lot. “What are you doing?”

“C’mon, Pam. We need to talk.”

Pam let out a big, shaky exhale. “Jim…”

“Listen, I’m sorry. But you obviously felt something too and I’m confused and need to know what’s going on,” he shrugged. “And where we go from here.”

Pam’s fingers went to her engagement ring. “I don’t know if I can do this right now.”

Jim let out a sound of frustration “Pam.”

“What do you expect me to do, Jim?!” Her voice was louder now, with a bite to it.

“I don’t know, Pam, let yourself feel something? Face something? Freaking talk about it for once?!”

Pain, frustration, and anger all flashed through her eyes as she glared at him. “I’m engaged, Jim.”

“And don’t I know it,” he spit back.

They stared at each other, just the sound of passing cars filling the silence between them. She dropped her gaze. “We shouldn’t have…”

He looked down too, cutting her off bitterly. “Yeah…”

“I’m sorry, Jim.”

He could hear the emotion in her voice. He flashed back to that night, to feeling her hands run over his body, hearing the sighs from her mouth, her breath heavy against his. Maybe they shouldn’t have, but it wasn’t one-sided.

In a near whisper, he uttered, “What about the painting? In your closet?”

Now the hurt on her face was flushed out and replaced with shock and confusion. “You saw that?!”

“I saw it the night we went out. The night you asked me to stay with you. You know, the night you got drunk and told me about your fiance, who you’re so hellbent on defending, kissing another girl.”

Pam glared at him sharply. “You don’t get it all, do you?” she asked quietly. “I got drunk because Roy kissed someone and then the very next day I turn around and do the exact same thing.”

He couldn’t hide the pain that flickered across his face. “It’s not the same.”

“Oh really? How?”

He raised his voice. “I’m not some guy, Pam! At least I thought I wasn’t! You didn’t get drunk and stick your tongue down some random dude’s throat at a bar. It’s me,” he urged. “It’s you and me. You can play the “engaged” card all you want, but don’t tell me you didn’t feel something that night.”

Now Pam’s eyes were glossy with tears as she sat silently, taking in his words. She took in a shuddering breath and locked eyes with him.

“I can’t.”

He found it amazing that two words--just five letters--could bring his world to such a screeching halt.

He felt his eyes start to burn as he rested his head against the headrest of his seat, completely defeated.

“Okay.”

He silently started the engine back up and put the car in drive. As he pulled onto the road, he felt her hand creep over the center console and grab his. She kept her eyes fixed out the window, but never pulled away. His chest clenched tightly. He squeezed her hand back, his head dizzy with her gesture but it was mingled and soured with the intense pain of knowing that after all that had happened, she was still choosing someone else.

Just another failure for Jim to put on his shelf.

The ride back to the office was silent, barring the occasional sniffles from the passenger side as Pam quietly cried. Jim ran his thumb along her knuckle, wanting to comfort her but knowing he was slowly sinking himself. He couldn’t save her. Not anymore.

They pulled into the parking lot of the office building. In one last effort, Jim brought her hand up and pressed his lips to the back of it, closing his eyes. Things would likely never be the same and he wanted to savor their last moments alone. She looked at him and mustered a smile through tear-stained cheeks and bloodshot eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He lifted a corner of his mouth. “I know.”

Reluctantly he let go of her hand and they exited the car and went back to the office, where they finished their workday without another word or look shared. At the end of the day, he stopped at Pam’s desk.

“Hey, uh, I just thought I should let you know I’m taking a couple days off.” He looked down to his shoes, then back up to her.

“Okay,” she said, brow furrowed. “Everything...okay?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, just need to, uh, sort some things out. I’ll see you Friday.”

They said their goodbyes and he walked out the door. His bag felt four times heavier now that it held five different applications for jobs and transfers out of state.

He had no future here.


************

The next two days were nothing short of miserable. Every time he walked into the kitchen he remembered her pressed against him. Every time he was in his car, he felt her phantom hand in his. He had horrible nightmares of her painting swirling and mixing and reminding him of all their stolen moments that ultimately amounted to nothing but heartbreak and regret.

It wasn’t until he pulled the Cumberland Mills application out of his bag that he realized that he wasn’t sure he could leave. Not yet. He grabbed his keys and bolted out the door.


He took the steps slowly, reciting every word he wanted to say on a loop in his mind. He held his knuckles in front of the door, wondering if he could stomach another rejection, but knowing he had cards in his hand he hadn’t played and he just had to try. One more time.

He knocked and paced on her doorstep.

This was a dumb idea. She made her decision. It wasn’t you.

The door opened and he saw her standing there, framed by her doorway, lovely as ever, her hair cascading over her shoulders, reflecting the glowing sunset behind them. It left him, quite literally, breathless. He exhaled sharply.

“Jim?”

“Hey.”

“Hi,” she smiled warmly, which caught him off guard.

He shook his head slightly. “I had this whole speech planned out and I was going to come and say it and have you listen but…” he gazed at her intently. “You’re beautiful.”

She smiled bashfully and opened her mouth to speak. “Jim…”

He held up a hand. “Wait, just...I actually do have something to say and I really need to say it before I chicken out.” He cleared his throat. “Listen, I know you’re getting married. I know I put you in a weird position and that you made a decision. But I think you need all the facts before you can actually decide what you want. And the fact is…I’m in love with you, Pam,” he breathed out. “This isn’t a crush or getting caught up in the moment. This is it for me. You said I know you better than anyone and you’re right. Which means I know you deserve so much better than what you’re allowing yourself. I just wish you would let me try and show you that. Because I love you. One word and I’ll drop it, I promise. I’ll find a way to move on. But even if it’s not me, you deser—“

“I broke up with Roy.”

He nearly choked on the shock. “You what?!”

She brought her hand to her mouth and chuckled lightly and for the first time he noticed her ring was gone.

“I drove to North Carolina yesterday since Roy refused to come home to talk. I got home an hour ago.”

His hand ran through his hair as he tried to pick his jaw off the floor. “But...why?”

She rolled her eyes as if he had just asked her the color of the sky. “Jim.”

He closed his eyes. “No, I need to hear you say it.”

She stepped out of the doorway closer to him. “Toby let it slip that you might be looking to transfer or get a new job. When I went to work yesterday morning, you weren’t there. I couldn’t bear to think about what it would be like if you were gone for good.” She took one more step closer. “So, I finally let myself admit that it was you. It has always been you, Jim.”

There was no hope for clarity of thought. Instead, he lowered his forehead to hers like he had just days ago in his kitchen.

“Jim,” she whispered. “I think I might…” she said slowly, meeting his eyes. “I think I might love you too.”

He couldn’t contain his grin. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”

He quickly and purposefully lowered his lips to hers and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tighter, tethering himself to her for as long as she would let him.

They broke apart after several minutes and Jim let out a breathy laugh, smiling wide. “Holy crap...”

Pam chuckled and took his hands in hers and bit her bottom lip. “I do have one request.”

He gave her another gentle kiss. “Anything. Literally anything you want.”

She smiled. “Can you take me to the store? I’m out of butter pecan.”
End Notes:
Again, thank you for every review and every jellybean!! This is the best community out there, hands down.
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