Sleeping was impossible. Pam swore she had been lying there for a good hour with her eyes closed, willing it to happen, but apparently Dwight’s farm was just a little too weird for her brain to let her relax in. The sounds had mostly stopped, at least, and now all she could hear was Jim’s slow breathing. Putting together the beds was probably the best idea they had that night (the worst being her decision to go check on that creaking noise – that was a little bit more than she ever wanted to see of Dwight’s cousin), and at the very least she was much more comfortable now using Jim as a pillow than the homemade ones Dwight had given them.
After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, she finally gave in and got up, wondering if she could find something – anything – that could pass as tea downstairs in the kitchen. A part of her wanted to wake Jim up to go with her, but she couldn’t bring herself to shake him awake. At least one of them should get some semblance of sleep.
So she braved it on her own, pretending that it wasn’t possible some kind of wild animal (or Dwight, or who knew what else because they were in the middle of nowhere on a beet farm) could jump out at her. The floorboards creaked as she carefully made her way down the stairs, flipping on the flashlight only when she realized the bottom floor didn’t have a light on like the floor she had left did. It was admittedly a little creepier (the dead, stuffed animal heads adorning the wall really weren’t helping), but she pressed on, following only the tiny beam of light toward the kitchen.
She didn’t know where the light switch was, so she relied on what little bit her flashlight was offering, opening the cupboards carefully. What she found was a mess that almost beat out what she found the first time she found in Jim’s apartment; a mass of pots, pans, cups, and plates piled together with haphazard care, some of the fancier items looking barely used to the point Pam wondered why Dwight had it in the first place. It was after the second cupboard that she heard a creak behind her, and she whirled around and found someone standing right behind her.
She managed not to shriek (the shock had done wonders on making her vocal cords useless), but she did drop the flashlight, which promptly turned off with the bump it took on the wooden floor. The other person stumbled back in surprise. Whoever it was lost his footing and fell backwards, giving Pam just enough time to grab the flashlight and flip it on.
Mose sat squinting in the harsh light, looking as frightened as she felt. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding, trying to stop her hands from shaking. While Dwight’s cousin wasn’t the most normal person in the world, he was definitely preferable to someone she didn’t know.
“Mose? What are you doing?” she asked, walking over on (still unsteady) legs, squatting down in front of him. He didn’t look at all ready to get up, drawing his legs to his body. “Are you alright?”
“I had a nightmare,” he explained, sounding almost meek. “I didn’t want to wake Dwight up, so I came down to get water. Uh. Is everything to your liking? I can wake Dwight up.”
Pam smiled at the offer. The two of them, despite how strange the experience was, actually did seem to want to make the night enjoyable for them. And if she looked past certain parts of the day (like that time she almost got hit by flying manure, or the dinner that used beets in a way she never thought possible). She stood up, offering her his hand, which he took and pulled himself up.
“Why don’t you turn on the light and show me where you keep the stuff to make tea, and we can have some together?” she offered. At the very least, it would solve the problem of being uneasy about hanging around a dark, unfamiliar house alone. He took it and pulled himself up, nodding once to show he was fine with the idea, and scurried (because really, walked or jogged just did not properly describe the motion) to flip the light switch. Pam blinked as her eyes adjusted to the now bright room. She leaned against the counter as she watched Mose walk about the room, retrieving what she asked for.
“Thanks,” she said, taking the offered box of tea and the tea kettle.
“Do you want a slice of beet cake, too?” he inquired. “It is very delicious.”
Pam eyed it warily. “Just tea is fine.”
The tea wasn’t the best kind, but Pam knew she ought to just count her luck Dwight had any at all. He never did come across as someone who drank the stuff regularly. They waited for the water to boil in relative, somewhat uneasy silence, because even though Mose was sitting at the table, she could actually feel him staring at her. She poured two cups for them, and, after a little looking around, found the honey she wanted to put in it. She brought the cups, then the honey over and placed it all on the table and sat down.
It was at that point Pam realized she had no idea what to talk about. Mose seemed a little preoccupied anyway, staring worriedly down at his cup. It took Pam a moment to guess why.
“So you had a nightmare, huh?” she asked, actually feeling a little sympathetic when his face seemed to darken at the mention of it.
“Yeah,” he replied, shifting a little in his seat, looking a little nervous. “It’s always the same thing.”
“Well,” she said, tapping her nails lightly against the warm mug in her hands. She didn’t think she had a right to pry into the dream, so she figured maybe advice would help. “When that happens to me, what I try to do is change the ending in my head before I go to sleep so it doesn’t end badly.”
He seemed to perk up at the idea. “That works?”
She shrugged, sipping her tea and putting it back down on the table. She realized then this had to be the most she heard him talk since they got here. To be honest, she hadn’t thought he could talk for the first few hours they’d been there at all. “It might. Worth a try, right?”
Mose nodded, seeming to consider it. “Thanks, Pam. Dwight was right about...uh.”
The comment made Pam glance up, her eyebrow rising up. “Right about what?”
He looked uncomfortable, staring down at his cup again. After a long pause, he glanced over his shoulder, as if making sure Dwight wasn’t coming down the stairs. Then he leaned forward, his voice a bit lower. “He thinks you’re nice. And pretty.”
She looked a little surprised, feeling a faint blush rise up on her cheeks at the compliment. It was weird to think Dwight ever said something that nice about her. She knew he was easier on her than he was on Jim, but it was more than she expected. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he said, scratching the side of his cheek, just above where his beard began. A frown appeared on his face a moment later. “Don’t tell him I told you, though. He told me not to. I just thought if you knew, maybe you’d help him out. He’s…going through a rough time right now. Even rougher than when Uncle Eli got lost for three days after he got out of the barn.”
Pam felt a vague sense of guilt start welling up in her when she realized what he was asking her to do. Sure, Jim and she had let up on the pranks a week or so ago, when it was becoming apparent things were getting pretty bad. And yes, Pam had at least been trying to be a little nicer, and Jim just didn’t bother him (because him being nicer would panic Dwight more than any prank he could do on him). Still, neither of them had really gone out of the way to help yet, which they probably should have. “Um..we’ll try, okay?”
Mose seemed relieved. Pam wasn’t sure what Jim and she could actually do since Dwight still obviously didn’t realize they knew, but between them, she knew they’d think of something.
“I’m happy to finally meet you guys. The only other person who Dwight ever brought up here was Ryan and – well, that’s it, really. I don’t think he liked me much. Dwight said he wouldn’t even take the thing I whittled him as an apology. Oh! Hey! Do you want something I whittled? As a souvenir!”
So that had been why Ryan had looked so weird after he had come back from his trip with Dwight. Pam was almost tempted to ask what had happened, but decided against it. “That – that’s okay, Mose, but I don’t have any room in my apartment and I wouldn’t want it to go to waste. But thanks.”
“Does Jim want one?”
She bit back a smile. Pam knew full well Jim would take it without question because doing anything else was insulting, so it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. “I think he does. You should surprise him with it in the morning.”
“Really? Okay. I’ll give him my best one,” he decided. Pam didn’t know what that meant, but she was suddenly really looking forward to seeing it. She drained the last of her tea and stood up. “I think I’m going to head up to bed again.”
Mose hastily got up as well, taking the cup she had before she could head over to the sink. “You’re the guest. I’ll wash it.”
“Alright,” she said, offering him a small smile. She turned and started walking toward the stairs again. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Pam.”
She slipped up the stairs, then, careful not to make much noise when she went into the room. It was only when she slid under the covers that she realized he was awake too. His arm wrapped around her waist lazily so he could pull her closer until she could rest her head on his chest.
“There you are,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He had to have just woken up recently. “Where’d you go?”
“Miss me?” she teased with a tiny smile, kissing his jaw before settling down against him.
“Of course,” he replied, as if that was the most obvious answer in the world. She wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not, but she was glad he couldn’t see her blush.
“I just went downstairs to make some tea and ended up talking to Mose,” she explained. Just the warmth of his body against hers and the slow, easy movement of his chest rising and falling were already making her start to drift towards falling asleep.
“How’d that go?”
“Not as weird as I thought it’d be.” She meant that, too. He was a little off, but not in a bad way. “Jim?”
“Mm?” he asked, sounding like he was falling back asleep again.
“I’m actually glad we came,” she admitted, flattening her palm against his stomach as she slid her arm around his torso. Sure, she had thought their first time away would be a little different, but there was something special about this. It was the kind of story that’d be worth telling years down the line. After all, not many people could claim they slept over at a beet farm. “We should write a good review.”
“If anyone can make watching Dwight murder beets to make wine, you can,” he said, with laughter in his voice. “It’s a good idea, though. We should.”
It was a start, she thought. Maybe if they were openly nice to him, it’d make things a little easier. As she relaxed again, and Jim fell silent, she started wondering what was the best way to describe watching Dwight make a table for an hour and a half.
Story Notes:
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.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Because there needs to be more Mose fic in the world.
traceace is the author of 9 other stories.
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