Author's Notes: I wrote almost all of this story a year ago, in the summer hiatus after season two, and then didn't post it because I wasn't sure how to end it. Um, a lot of the ideas seem less fresh now, but oh well. Totally the longest fic I've ever written.
Story Notes: Jim/Pam, Pam/Roy. Season two a/u -- starts after Boys and Girls and eventually diverges from canon in obvious ways.
Summary: You know, this would not happen if we had a union.
Disclaimer: Characters aren't mine.
Jan: Excuse me. I'm told that there's been some interest in forming a union, and that Michael supported it. Obviously he's not a friend of yours, because he didn't tell you the facts. So let me. If there is even a whiff of unionizing in this branch, I can guarantee you the branch will be shut down like that. They unionized in Pittsfield, and we all know what happened in Pittsfield. It will cost each of you a fortune in legal fees and union dues, and that'll be nothing compared to the cost of losing your jobs. So I would think long and hard before sacrificing your savings and your futures just to send a message. (Boys and Girls)
Roy jogs down the stairs with his keys jingling and Pam puts her finger in the margin of her book to mark her spot, before glancing up.
"Hey babe," he says, "I'm going to that meeting Darryl set up with the AFL people or whatever. Don't wait up, okay?"
"Okay," says Pam, already looking back at her book. "Have fun." He bends down and kisses her cheek quickly -- he smells like aftershave and his cheek is cool and she waves absently over her shoulder as he goes out the front door.
**
Things are kind of weird at work lately. There was that whole thing with Jim and Michael and what he told her about the booze cruise, and now she feels strange doing wedding things in front of Jim. It just seems... rude, somehow. Like, it must be strange for him to watch a girl he used to... Anyway. She just tries not to. She likes when she doesn't have to think about it, when she's not stressed out about whose feelings will get hurt if they're left off the guest list, and he's not avoiding meeting her eyes.
On a Wednesday he comes up and leans over her desk.
"Hey," he says, voice low, "um, fyi, Phyllis put cookies in the kitchen," he jerks his head in that direction, "so you might want to stock up before word gets out."
She grins.
"Oh, you're stockpiling desserts now?"
"Heck yeah," he says. "Do I need to remind you of the brownie incident of '05? When she made the mistake of telling Kevin about them first?"
She's laughing.
"Okay, okay," she says, "I'm coming."
"Okay," he says, "but keep your head down. This is high priority reconaissance."
He holds the kitchen door open so she has to duck under his arm to get in, and they take three cookies each. Michael's in his office with the door shut, on the phone with corporate, so she sits on Jim's desk to eat them and they try to convince Dwight that being allergic to peanuts is all in his head.
**
The dress is already on layaway, and she thinks it's the right one. No, she knows it's the right one. But she still wants her mom to see it, needs her seal of approval before she can write a check that big.
Her mom drives down on a Saturday, and they get pancakes down the street and then Pam drives them over to the store. The woman knows her when she goes in now, and smiles wryly.
"One more time, huh?" she says, and goes to get the dress out of the back. Pam makes her mom wait outside the dressing room so she can't see it until it's on. The fabric is white and cool and heavy and Pam smoothes her hands over her stomach before pushing out through the door.
"Oh," her mom says. "Oh, honey. Oh."
Pam smiles, ducks her head, looks back up.
"You like it?"
"You look so beautiful," her mom says, and the store owner crosses her arms and leans on the door frame.
"That's what I've been trying to tell her."
"Oh," says her mom again, then laughs, teary. "You're all grown up. This means I must be really old."
Pam laughs and feels her face getting red.
"Stop it, you're going to make me cry."
"Turn around," her mom says, and Pam does, the dress moving with her.
**
She's just finishing taping up the WELCOME DAUGHTERS sign for tomorrow when Jim wanders up to her desk, bag slung across his chest.
"Nice," he says. "Good old dot matrix."
"Yeah, it's classy," she says, bending over to shut down her computer.
"You all set?" he asks and she nods, gathering up her things.
They're the last ones out and he waits while she turns out the lights and locks the door.
He's trying to convince her she should skip work tomorrow and tell Michael it's because she's going to visit her mom's office for Take Your Daughter To Work Day when they push outside. It's cold and she shivers, rummaging in her purse for her hat. Jim's smirking at her when she pulls it on.
"Nice pom-pom," he says and she glares.
"I hate you." They stand awkwardly for a moment in the dusky parking lot -- the streetlights are just starting to come on.
"Okay, well," she says, taking a backwards step toward the warehouse. "I have to go meet Roy."
"Oh, yeah, definitely," he says. "I'm just gonna--" He indicates his car with his shoulder.
"Okay, cool," she says. "See you tomorrow."
"Yep, bye," he says. "See you tomorrow."
Pam picks her way across the icy parking lot toward the warehouse. Jim's car is just pulling out of the gates when she opens the door and goes inside. Normally she doesn't like the warehouse much, but tonight it seems bright and warm. She scans the floor as she walks down the stairs -- Roy's over by the forklift, talking to Darryl and Lonny.
"Hey, babe," he says, when she comes up beside him, and they go on talking while she fiddles with the buttons on her coat.
"The big issue now," Darryl is saying, "is getting the money to have a lawyer on retainer, so if they try to come at us legally, we're ready. Line of defense."
"Yeah, yeah," Roy says. "For sure." He checks his watch, then glances over at Pam. "Hey, I gotta take off."
"All right, man," Darryl says. "We can talk about it more tomorrow."
"Sure," says Roy, peeling the velcro open on his support belt. "See you guys later."
"See you, man," says Lonny, and then Roy finds his coat and they go.
On the way to the truck, Pam almost slips on a patch of ice and Roy grabs her arm, steadying her automatically.
"Careful," he says absently, and she goes around to the passenger side.
"Hey, what do you want for dinner?" she asks, as he starts the truck.
"Oh, I don't care. Whatever you want," he says, putting a hand on the back of her seat so he can twist around to look out the back while he backs the truck up.
**
The Rite-Aid cashier gives Pam and Jim a weird look when they roll the cart up. Pam helps unload the M&Ms and DVD and fabric softener (she gives Jim another bemused look) and Michael's terrible aftershave but stops with the Cup o' Noodles. She puts one on the belt, then looks from the rest to the cashier.
"There are, um--" she looks at Jim, but he has his eyebrows raised like he's trying not to smile. "There are 70," she says, and the cashier punches it in.
"Nice, Pam," he says as they're pushing the cart full of bags away. "Lying in public."
"I didn't see you about to volunteer," she says, and he grins, pausing by the door to slide his credit card back in his wallet.
"Oh, did you want me to--" she gestures toward it and he shakes his head.
"Nah," he says. "Don't worry about it. It's always been a goal of mine to spend that much on meals in cups, actually."
The bags take up the whole trunk and backseat of Jim's car. Pam twists around in the passenger seat to look back at them as Jim pulls on his seatbelt and starts the car.
"How long do you think it'll take him to eat it all?" she asks.
"Hard to say," Jim says, glancing up at the rearview mirror as he pulls out of the space. "Three, four days?"
She laughs and turns forward in the seat as he shifts the car into drive. Jim's car smells nice and they're missing work in the middle of a Wednesday and she doesn't even care. His radio's on and she reaches over to play with the dial without asking. He's watching her when she glances up and he shakes his head.
"Seriously, no manners."
She rolls her eyes and flicks through all the pre-programmed stations to see what he has. Number 6 is WQFM, All Oldies All the Time, and she laughs delightedly.
"Jim!" she says. "Why didn't you tell me you're a soccer mom? An old soccer mom?"
"Hey!" he says. "Sometimes there's nothing else on."
She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed, and he grins over at her.
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© 2006-2023 More Than That | Skin created by Kali