It's barely 30 degrees outside in the middle of the day in the middle of the week. The sun glints off of the fresh snow and reflects so brightly that they have to squint as they make their way outside, even though the snow is barely an inch deep.
He reads off the list of teams and Pam throws a grin at Jim when Michael announces that they will be working together. Jim hopes Pam doesn't notice the wink Michael directs at him when he announces this. Pam's smile turns to a look of mock horror when they learn that Creed is the third member of their team.
When Michael finishes reading off the teams, they split into groups to begin the contest. They assemble in various areas of the parking lot, which, unfortunately, does not have much snow in it, aside from the dirty gray pile pushed to one corner.
Pam looks around and notices that Creed has settled himself on the ground, propped against the side of a car, and fallen asleep. Looking around at the other groups she notices Oscar talking animatedly on his cell phone while Meredith sips from the cup she brought with her and Kelly talks loudly to both of them, not caring that neither is really listening, her hands flailing wildly in big gestures.
She sees Dwight circling the pile of snow he and Phyllis had gathered while Toby looks on, disinterest and annoyance at another wasted afternoon evident in his eyes. Pam notices that Stanley has brought down his crossword puzzle and is completing it while his teammates, Angela and Kevin, argue over what is and is not an appropriate suggestion for the subject of their sculpture. Michael is talking to Ryan, who he has chosen as his co-judge and therefore not assigned to a team. Ryan looks as though he is about to bolt.
Pam had originally been excited about the contest. She'd always loved the snow and any chance to get out of the office in the middle of the day was always welcome. But looking around at her co-workers, her excitement drains as she wonders whether any of them are happy with their jobs, happy with their choices. Few of them seem to find anything to smile about in the course of an average day. She finds a small amount of comfort in the idea that she's not alone in her uncertainty.
She's pulled out of her thoughts as she feels Jim's hot breath on her skin, hears his soft voice whisper near her ear.
"You want to get out of here? Take a walk?"
She spares one more glance at her co-workers, hears Creed's slight snore, and agrees.
They walk around the building, past the warehouse, towards the area behind it. There's a tree back there and a small picnic table covered in, Pam notices, at least a foot of fresh, clean snow. The glittering landscape takes away Pam's breath for a moment, a peaceful and perfectly undisturbed sea of whiteness. She briefly thinks it would have been the perfect place for the contest, her thoughts cut short by the plopping sound of snow hitting the back of her neck, the cold trickle of melting snow as it makes it's way down the back of her shirt. It sends shivers down her spine and to her toes, chills her to the bone until she turns around and sees Jim's sheepish grin, the sparkle in his eye warming her from head to foot.
The second snowball is already formed in his gloved hand, ready to soar through the air and hit her skin with more icy water as it melts upon contact.
She lets out a little screech and ducks, the snow hitting the tree behind her instead. She gathers together a clump of snow and throws it at Jim, her hasty attempt at forming a snowball falling apart in mid-air.
She's hit again by a shot from Jim and ducks behind the picnic table, building a small arsenal of ammo as Jim fails to hit her with snowball after snowball, lobbing them at her from a safe distance.
The combined effect of the adrenaline coursing through her from being in a full-out war and the activity required to constantly make and throw snowballs from behind her protective fort makes her sweaty and she removes her hat, taking in the chilling effect of the icy winter air hitting her sweaty forehead. Her hat has loosened hair from her barrette and she removes her pink knit mittens so that she can fix it. They'd been soaked long ago, anyway, and the freezing snow on her bare hands feels good. She decides to leave the mittens off, tossing them to the ground beside her hat.
It takes her a moment to realize that it's suddenly quiet and she hasn't had to dodge a snowball in a while. She looks up from her spot on the ground and finds Jim's knees at her eye level. Her eyes follow his legs upwards and she sees his smug grin.
"Hey, Beesley."
She notices the armload of snow he holds just before he releases it and it lands on her head. It falls down her collar, sneaks into her ears, fills her mouth as she gasps at the initial shock of it.
She can hear his laughter before she can clear the snow from her eyes enough to see him.
To him, she looks like a human snowman. A SnowPam, covered head to toe in snow, a pile of it melting into the top of her head, dampening her hair as it disappears.
He thinks he's never seen anyone look so perfect.
Pam allows one second for what has just happened to sink in before she reacts.
"Oh, you are so dead."
The grin slips from Jim's lips and his eyes widen as he sees the look in her eyes.
She's serious.
He bolts towards the tree as she lunges at him, hoping to find safety behind it before she catches up.
He feels her arms wrap around his knees, her shoulder ramming into the back of his thighs. He realizes only after he's halfway to the ground that he's going down.
He hits the snow with a soft thud as Pam attempts to pin him down by sitting on his back while she shovels snow on top of him, taking extra care to push some down the back of his collar and rub it into his hair.
She's tackled him and is pinning him down and he can't breath, partly from laughing so hard, partly from the crushing force of an overwhelming urge to turn the tables on her, to tackle her, to pin her down, to...well, not to cover her in snow, that's for sure.
But he suddenly remembers Roy, remembers that they've set a date for their wedding. June 10th. The thought stills him as he mutters his defeat.
"I give up."
Pam, ever oblivious to the torture she inflicts on him, takes this as a surrender and, deciding he's gotten what he deserves, slides off of him, letting him sit up. As he turns to look at her she is struck suddenly by how adorable he can be sometimes, especially now, with his rosy cheeks and wet hair sticking up in all directions. This thought catches her off-guard and she looks down at her hands, suddenly aware of how red and cold they are, the bare skin still exposed to the cold snow and icy air. She rubs them together and blows on them, a vain attempt to warm herself up and distract herself from unbidden thoughts.
Jim notices her attempts at warming her hands and realizes his own are feeling suffocated in the thick, warm confines of his gloves. He removes his gloves and takes Pam's small, cold hands in his large, warm ones. He envelopes her hands in his, the contact sending a searing heat through his hands and up his arms, so strong he's sure she can feel it. He rubs her hands gently before breathing softly on them. As he does this, he hears a sharp intake of breath come from Pam and he pauses, looking up, meeting her eyes. She is staring at him, her eyes boring into his, still bright from their recent activity. Her cheeks are flushed with the cold and he can see drops of water on her eyelashes and the tip of her nose, remnants of the snowflakes that have begun to fall from the sky. He fights the urge to use a finger to gently wipe them away.
Pam is the first to break the eye contact, clasping her hands in front of her, claiming they've warmed up. She moves to twist her engagement ring - a nervous habit - but instead of touching the thin metal band she is met with only skin.
She looks down and confirms her fear. The ring is gone. Strangely, she thinks, she can only focus on having to tell Roy that she lost it, more worried about that than trying to find it.
But she knows she has to look for it, has to find it, so she fixes Jim with a desperate stare.
"Jim, my ring is gone. You have to help me find it."
She begins sifting through the snow at the base of the tree, thinking it must have slipped off during her assault on Jim.
Jim follows their path around the tree and back towards the picnic table, thinking it best to leave the snow as undisturbed as possible, thinking that this might make it easier to see a ring made of white gold and diamond against a white backdrop of sparkling snow.
He realizes, suddenly, how ironic it is that he's helping Pam look for an engagement ring given to her by another man. He almost laughs at this, an attempt to scare away the darkness creeping towards the edges of his mind at the reminder that she's not his.
His eyes find the pink mittens discarded under the table and he thinks that the ring might be stuck in one of them, snagged on the pink wool in her hurry to get her mittens off and continue their fight. He knows the ring is just a little too big for her slim finger - though why or how he knows this he's not sure. It could have easily slipped off.
He reaches inside a mitten and is met with the hard metal and smooth surface of the ring. After a moments struggle, taking care not to further snag her tear a hole in the wool, he pulls it free.
"Hey, Pam. I found it. It was stuck in your mitten."
She comes bounding over, a wide grin on her lips, relief etched in her face.
Jim knows he should just hand her the ring, let her slip it onto her finger. But he's sick of suppressing urges, sick of denying himself. So when she reaches out for it, he grabs her hand, finds the fourth finger and slowly slips the ring into place, allowing himself the tiniest gaze into her eyes before he is once again struck that this is someone else's ring, someone else's fiance.
He'd always thought that the first time he slid a ring onto Pam's finger that it would have come from him.
As Jim slips the ring back into place, Pam is struck by how different it feels from the last time this same ring was put there. Now it feels exciting, thrilling, full of possibilities. The last time it had just felt predictable. Practical. The next logical step in their relationship.
She lowers her eyes to her hand as Jim gently passes his thumb over her ring finger, just once, before dropping her hand.
She's finding it difficult to think. Her heart has sped up and her breathing has stopped. She can't move, can only stare at her hand, wishing he hadn't let go.
She's shaken out of her daydream and back into reality by the sound of Roy's voice.
Roy.
"Hey. I thought I heard you guys over here. What are you doing?"
"What am I doing?" she thinks. But she knows now is not the time. She notices Jim crouched down, gathering snow into his arms, his eyes pointed firmly at the ground.
"We're getting snow. Michael's making us have a sculpture contest and the parking lot is pretty bare."
Roy accepts this and offers to help carry snow back for them, stooping to gather some before heading back to the parking lot with Pam.
She's not sure why she lied. She could have told him the truth, could have told him that they'd gone on a walk to escape Michael's insanity masquerading as a sculpture contest. But as she walks towards the parking lot with Roy, she notices Jim still hunched over on the ground, his hands still, and she knows that it was more than just a walk, knows she is trying to convince herself of it's innocence as much as she was Roy.
Nothing she does with Jim is ever innocent.
Jim watches her go, sparing him one sidelong glance before lowering her eyes to the ground, slipping her arm through Roy's, and walking away from him.
He wonders if she'll ever stop breaking his heart.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Response to the Snowy Times Challenge. Takes place after the Booze Cruise but before The Secret.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Smurfette729 is the author of 14 other stories.
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