“So how many people do you think there are here? I had no idea this would be so big,” Jim said, looking down at Pam, his eyes wide. Jim had never been to an art fair before, and was shocked to find out that there were dozens of local artists willing to set up a booth for the weekend to try to sell their work, and hundreds of people who wanted to buy it.
Pam laughed at his child-like awe at the expansiveness of the fair. She had also been a little surprised, and somewhat intimidated by the extensive collection of booths scattered around the local park. “I have no idea, but the next time around you can keep count.”
“I’ll get right on that,” Jim responded as they continued to meander through the maze of art booths.
They had been wandering around the festival for about 45 minutes or so, but Pam had insisted that they get a feel for the whole fair experience before stopping to look more closely at individual booths. Jim was both intrigued and amused by her very specific game plan for their day at the art fair. When they had met for lunch at Cugino’s all she could talk about was the very particular way in which to enjoy such an art fair. He had joked that she had probably spent the entire previous evening planning it out, to which she merely rolled her eyes rather sheepishly.
Jim could tell from the moment he met up with her for lunch that she had a certain lightness about her today. She seemed brighter and happier than he could ever remember seeing her at Dunder Mifflin. Her cheeriness was contagious and soon he found he had to make an effort to keep himself from grinning like an idiot the whole time. They had joked most of the way through lunch, mostly about the likelihood of seeing one of their coworkers at the fair. They had debated on either Angela or Phyllis as being the most likely people they would run into today, with Pam making the very good point that Phyllis seemed the type to be interested in arts and crafts whereas Angela would be more likely to show up at a tractor show than an art festival where such “whorish” colors abounded. Pam had also very patiently explained to Jim the difference between Renior and Rembrant after he had admitted to always getting them confused with one another.
“Wow, now I feel stupid,” Jim had said after Pam had explained that one was a 17th century Dutch painter and the other was a 19th century French artist.
Pam had giggled lightly, shaking her head. She enjoyed being able to talk about art with him, even though he was clueless.
“No need for the laugh,” Jim had said, teasing her.
After lunch they had made their way to the local park where the booths were set up. Jim was surprised not only by the number of booths, but of the variety of different types of artwork. There was pottery, glasswork, paintings, photography, sketches, knitted items, and many more things that he couldn’t put names to.
They were now on their second pass through the arrangement of booths, which according to Pam’s very specific game plan meant that they could approach individual booths and look around more closely. Jim followed Pam’s lead, enjoying watching her excitement continue to grow as they continued to stroll along together.
“Hey, what about that one over there?” She pointed to a nearby booth with a variety of oil paintings, where a young woman sat, watching the fair-goers look through her paintings.
When they reached the booth, Pam began looking through the various landscape paintings. Jim hung back slightly, looking more at Pam than at the paintings. She seemed so at home. Her face was etched with peaceful joy, her eyes scanning the paintings before her. She seemed more content than he could ever remember seeing her, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself.
She looked through the bin of paintings, occasionally pulling one out to look at it more closely. She had felt so nervous about coming to the fair earlier that morning, but now she was at ease, enjoying just looking at all the beautiful things that other people had created. It made her wish that she could make things just as beautiful someday. Toward the back of the pile she pulled out one painting and gasped slightly.
“I love this one,” Pam said quietly. Jim moved behind her and looked over her shoulder at the landscape in her hands. It was a beautiful oil painting of a small black gondola floating along on a canal in Venice. Vibrant red and orange colors highlighted the sunset sky. “I wish I could go there,” she said absently. She longed to see the real place that had inspired such an incredible painting.
“It’s beautiful,” said the young woman sitting in the corner of the booth, not far from where they stood. “I painted that one a few years ago when I was in Venice.”
“Wow,” Pam responded, “I’ve never been to Italy, but I want to go someday.” She had always wanted to go abroad, but it had somehow just never worked out. Roy wasn’t much of the traveling type.
“It’s really an incredible place, especially for an artist. There’s so much material, so much to see, you know?” The woman paused, studying Pam briefly before asking “Are you an artist?”
“Oh, um, no not really. I mean I do some sketches, but nothing too serious,” Pam responded hastily. She had not been ready for that question.
“Actually she’s really good,” Jim jumped in. He wasn’t about to let Pam be self-deprecating when she had such a great opportunity to make a connection with another local artist. “I mean, I don’t know anything about art at all, but I think her stuff is great.” He smiled at Pam encouragingly. She returned his smile warmly, feeling a slight flush rushing to her cheeks.
“Well I don’t know if you’d be interested at all,” the woman continued, “but I’m actually giving a class in oil paintings starting in a couple of weeks if you’re interested.”
Pam’s eyes lit up. “Really? That’d be really great. Oil painting is something I’ve never really tried much of, but I’d really like to learn.”
“Great! Here’s the information,” she said, handing Pam a small blue flier, “I’d really love to have you in the class. It meets once a week in the evenings…”
As the woman continued to explain about the specific details of the course, Jim began wandering through the rest of the booth. He wanted to be sure Pam didn’t feel like he was intruding.
Pam felt rather than saw him walk away, but her focus was more on the woman explaining what sounded like an incredible class. She had never down much oil painting before, and would love to get some experience and training, especially from someone who clearly had some talent.
Jim wandered through the rest of the booth, looking at the different paintings from all over the world. He thought of Pam traveling to all of these places to paint and how happy she would be. But he also knew Roy would never go for it, would never support her in her desire to become an artist. Jim couldn’t help but think how much he wanted to give her all that she wanted. And how much, if given the chance, he would be different. He would be better than that.
“Hey,” Pam’s voice pulled him from his reverie. Her bright smile immediately pushed away all the dark thoughts clouding his head. He smiled in return.
“So…” Jim said questioningly.
“This class looks really cool. It’s only once a week, so I could totally manage it with work, and I’ve never done oil painting before, and, I’m just,” she paused, a huge smile lighting up her face again “I really want to do it.”
“Good.” Jim responded nodding, “You should.”
“Okay then.” Pam laughed, “Now we’ve got to keep moving or we’ll never get to round three.” She nearly skipped ahead of him out of the booth, more confident than she could remember being in a while. She was going to do those art classes, she didn’t care what Roy said. It was not lost on her that Jim supported her unquestioningly, though she tried to put that under another one of his wonderful best friend qualities.
They continued walking through the various booths and stalls, Pam talking excitedly with more than a few of the vendors while Jim wandered through looking at the various sketches and paintings displayed there. He didn’t mind that he was left to wander while Pam talked, he knew this was exactly what she needed. Though he didn’t know anything about art at all, he was surprised by the end of the day, how quickly he was able to pick out items that he knew Pam would love, and ones he knew she would hate. It was like he had picked up her tastes. Not that he minded.
Even though most of the booths had closed up by 4pm, Pam had continued talking with a man about his watercolors until about 4:45. As they walked back to their cars, Pam talking animatedly about all the people she had talked to and artwork she had seen, Jim listened contentedly, happy to hear her talking so passionately about something she clearly loved.
He took advantage of a small pause in her discourse, saying, “So I take it you hated it. Completely.”
She laughed and shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve been rambling, I’ll stop.”
“No. It’s great to hear you so excited Pam. I’m really glad you enjoyed yourself.” Jim said genuinely.
“Thanks,” she paused, stopping so Jim had to turn to face her, “Really Jim, thank you so much.” Her gaze was intense, full of something Jim couldn’t describe, but had only seen very rarely in her eyes. “I really,” she paused, looking down, trying to find the words strong enough for what she was trying to convey, “I really couldn’t have done this without you.”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Jim said quietly, as if mesmerized by her intense gaze. There was so much in her eyes, so much she had not said with words, but that she conveyed with that look. Eventually she broke their gaze and continued walking toward her car.
“Hey,” she said, her tone lighter, “Would you maybe want to get some dinner? I’m starving”
Jim smiled, slightly giddy at her suggestion, “Wow Beesly, you just ate what, like four hours ago.”
“Shut up, I’m hungry,” she said smiling.
Jim just nodded with pursed lips, trying to hide his grin.
“You could come to my place. I could cook.” It slipped out of her mouth before she could truly realize the implications of her words. It appeared that her feelings of boldness were taking over her mouth now.
Jim looked at her quickly, shocked at her suggestion, but she chose to play it off as merely a mock look of terror at the thought of her cooking.
“I’ll have you know I’m a very good cook,” she said, her eyes challenging him, her lips betraying a smile.
“I have no doubt,” Jim began, proceeding carefully, “I just, um, it’d be kind of weird, wouldn’t it?”
“Roy’s up at the lake, he won’t be back until tomorrow,” she said. Then suddenly realizing the implications of her statement, again chiding herself for letting her brashness go unchecked, she quickly amended, “besides, he wouldn’t care. I’m just cooking for a friend as a thank you.” She had tried to play it off, and knew she had failed miserably.
Jim contemplated this for a moment. He had caught the underlying implications of her words just as quickly as she had, and he wondered about the truth of her statement that Roy wouldn’t care if she was cooking dinner for another man in his house. He didn’t want to get the crap beat out of him, but then again, she had said that Roy wouldn’t be back until the next day. Still, he’d rather be safe than sorry.
“I don’t know Pam, it’s just…” he struggled to find the right words, but she jumped in before he could continue.
“Come on Jim,” she said more seriously, “It’s just dinner. Besides I really want to do something nice for you since you had to put up with me wandering around being Miss Blabbermouth all day.” She smiled at this. She wasn’t sure why she kept pushing this when he was obviously uncomfortable, aside from the fact that she just wanted to do something for him for being so supportive today. But she knew there were plenty of other ways to do that aside from inviting him over for dinner…but she pushed that thought away.
He really wanted to protest, say it was not a good idea. But her smile. It got him every time. There was no use saying ‘no’ to that smile.
“Alright.” He said, giving in.
“Great!” she responded, “you can just follow me in your car.”
About fifteen minutes later Jim found himself pulling up to a small house, which seemed to be fairly well kept, but not the most friendly place he had ever visited. Pam had explained to him once that she and Roy were renting for now and trying to save money for a nicer house once they got married.
As he walked toward the front door, Pam joined him saying “So this is it. I can’t believe you’ve never actually been here before.” She felt nervousness creeping into her stomach.
“Nope.” Jim responded simply. Truthfully he knew where she lived and had driven by on occasion, but he decided not to relay that information to her at the risk of sounding stalker-ish.
“Well, there’s not much to it, but we like it,” Pam continued, fiddling with her keys, “so what do you feel like for dinner?”
“I don’t know, what are you offering tonight at ‘Casa de Pam’?”
Pam smiled. It was incredible how he could always diffuse tension with a joke. “Well, I’ve got chicken, fish, pasta, pizza, your choice.”
“Chicken sounds good to me,” Jim responded.
“Great!” Pam said cheerily, opening the front door and leading him inside.
Jim was met with a small living room off to the right of the doorway, and a hallway leading to the left where he guessed the bedroom and bathroom were. Pam led him through the living room toward a doorway that led to the kitchen. He took in the sight of the living room as he walked through. It screamed of Roy, and he couldn’t really see signs of Pam anywhere. There were Sports Illustrated magazines splayed out on the glass coffee table next to the Lazy Boy recliner and in front of a brown leather couch that looked as though it had seen better days. There was a large tv that sat in one corner across from the recliner, complete with an entertainment center full of game systems and other electronics. There were a few pictures on the walls, mostly groups of family photos, with the exception of one watercolor hung in the corner of the room.
“So as you can see, this is the living room,” Pam said waving her hands around the room. For some reason she was so nervous to show him around. He knew her better than just about anyone, so he would notice the little things about the place that were so not her. She felt incredibly exposed, like her whole life with Roy was under scrutiny.
Jim nodded, “Nice.”
“It’s not nearly as exciting as the next room on our tour,” Pam continued, walking toward the doorway off the living room, eager to put that room behind them “here we have the marvelous wallpapered kitchen.”
Jim was immediately overwhelmed with the bright yellow and green patterned wallpaper covering the kitchen walls and had to make a real effort not to cringe. Pam noticed his discomfort, “yeah, don’t worry, I still have that reaction,” she said. “It’s pretty terrible wallpaper. Apparently the tenants before us talked the landlord into doing a little remodeling…”
“Wow, bad choice for the landlord,” Jim responded still unable to pull his eyes away from the hideous wallpaper.
Pam chuckled, “No kidding. He said we could change it if we want to. Roy just hasn’t gotten a chance to yet,” she said, looking away, somewhat embarrassed by this statement. Roy had just never wanted to go through the hassle of changing it, so she was stuck with hideous wallpaper.
At the mention of Roy’s name Jim could feel the tension in the room grow. It was as if they both knew what Roy would really think if he ever found out about this, but didn’t want to acknowledge it. Jim also noticed that Pam’s demeanor had changed. The happiness and joy of earlier in the day had virtually disappeared, discomfort and unease beginning to make their way into her demeanor.
“So what can I help you with?” Jim asked, attempting to relieve her discomfort.
“Oh you don’t have to help, I’m cooking dinner for you remember,” she said, glad for a change in topic away from Roy.
“Nope, I insist. What are my first instructions Beesly?”
She smiled up at him, clearly happy at his insistence to help her. She pointed him in the direction of the pans and they began pulling out all the ingredients for the chicken recipe she had in mind. They continued to chat about little things with Jim trying to get a laugh out of Pam every few moments. She kept threatening to throw him out of the kitchen for making her laugh while she was adding crucial ingredients, but eventually they got everything prepared and into the oven.
“Do you want some wine?” she asked him nonchalantly while digging through one of the kitchen cupboards. She wasn’t sure what made her say it, but she was feeling bold so she didn’t immediately take it back like she might have normally.
He was startled by this suggestion, and was glad she was facing the other way so as to prevent her from reading his somewhat shocked expression. He forced away the thoughts that this was definitely a bad idea and responded tentatively, “Uh, sure. That sounds good.”
Pam poured two glasses of white wine, handing one to Jim and then plopping down at the kitchen table. He followed suit, sitting next to her at the small round table. He couldn’t help but think about the fact that he was sitting beside Pam, drinking wine, having just put a home cooked dinner in the oven, in her fiancé’s house. But he quickly pushed that rather menacing thought away and took a rather large sip of wine.
Pam began talking about the art fair again, recounting her favorite pieces of art she had seen there. She felt so comfortable here, talking to Jim about the one thing she was really passionate about. She continued on about how excited she was for the oil painting class and about the possibility of really trying out her skills and stretching herself. Jim listened intently, a smile on his face. He was content to listen to her talk about this all day if she wanted to. He was just happy to be the one who she told.
Pam paused to take a sip of wine, then her eyes lit up and she said excitedly, “So this is totally random, but do you want to make some cookies?”
Jim gave her a quizzical look and smiled. “Cookies?”
“Yeah, you know, those things round things that come in assorted varieties, some with chocolate chips, others with peanut butter…” she trailed off a mischievous look on her face.
“I totally deserved that,” Jim said shaking his head, his grin growing wider, “But yeah, sure, what kind do you have in mind?”
Pam rose from the table and made her way to the cupboards, Jim following suit.
“Hmm, I’m not really sure what I have, but I think we could do chocolate chip,”
“Mmm, my favorite,” Jim responded.
“Chocolate chip it is then,” Pam said and began digging out the necessary ingredients.
“So what brought on the sudden desire for cookies Beesly?” Jim asked as she handed him the canister of flour and pointed to the chocolate chip cookie recipe on the back of the Nestle Toll House bag.
“I don’t know, it just sounded like fun,” she said, grinning at him. That was only part of the reason however. Truthfully, she loved baking, it was her retreat (beyond sketching) when she couldn’t stand being near Roy anymore. She had always baked with her mother when she was younger, and it was something she knew that Roy would never intrude on. It was something she could always count on doing alone. For some reason she had the overwhelming urge to share this with Jim, and since she was following her urges today without question, here they were, trying to squeeze enough drops of vanilla extract out of the virtually empty bottle.
Jim laughed the concentration Pam focused on process of coaxing enough vanilla out of the bottle into the little teaspoon, wondering to himself why she had suggested baking. He had never been much of a fan of baking, unless it was his mom doing the cooking and he and his brother doing the eating. He was curious why she had wanted to make cookies with him all of the sudden, but figured it didn’t matter much because they were having fun, and she was smiling. That was what really mattered.
He proceeded to crack an egg on the side of the bowl and removed the little bit of shell that had fallen in. He had hoped Pam hadn’t seen, but he was not so lucky and she chimed in, “Wow, you really suck at cracking eggs Halpert.” Her tone was teasing, her voice light.
He gave her a look of mock consternation, though not having any reasonable response to her comment, he threw the shell in the trash and moved to rinse off his hands. He rinsed his hands for a moment and then realized the perfect payback.
When the splash of water hit her, she was caught totally off guard. She blinked and let out a small squeal, shielding her face from further onslaught. She backed away across the kitchen to the other counter, laughing merrily. She grabbed a handful of the flour from the canister which was still sitting open there.
Jim laughed mischeviously, grabbing the sprayer connected to the sink and pointing it at her.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Pam said, challenging him. Yet she knew he would dare and in a moment she’d be soaking wet if she didn’t strike first. So she lunged at him, attempting to throw the handful of flour into his face, but his reflexes were too quick and he grabbed her arm pulling her hand away from his own face and pushing it down toward her own. Pam yelped and ducked, clutching the flour tightly, though still feeling light sprinkles of the white powder rain down on her face.
Jim laughed, loosening his grip slightly on her wrist. Pam stood back up and glowered at him, trying to prevent her smirk from showing. She then moved much more quickly than he was expecting, grabbing at the sprayer in his other hand, she managed to twist it to face him and pulled the trigger to produce a short spurt of water which managed to hit him mostly on the side of the head. He let out a yell of his own, strengthening his grip on the sprayer, pulling it from her grasp. She laughed loudly, trying to get away from him because no doubt he would retaliate immediately, but he still had a firm handle on her wrist.
She released the sprayer and tried to bolt out of his grasp, but his hand still held her wrist firmly so she didn’t make it very far before he caught her. He pulled her toward him and suddenly he spun her around and into his arms so her back was to his chest. He held her firmly there with his one arm while he reached for the flour on the opposite counter. She squealed and squirmed, knowing she was about to get flour in the face, but he wouldn’t release his grip at all. She tried desperately to come up with another way to free herself, but was unsuccessful and soon she felt Jim’s fingers wipe flour all over her cheek. She laughed, still squirming slightly, though admittedly putting up less of a fight than she probably should have.
“So, what was that you were saying about my egg cracking skills?” Jim said into her ear in a way that sent shivers down her spine. Suddenly this had gotten a whole lot less innocent, but it was like she was being driven by her daring side.
She laughed, “Okay fine, you win, you’re the champion egg cracker.”
“Good I’m glad we agree,” he returned, loosening the grip on her arm, but not immediately letting go. She lingered for a moment too long, but then turned to face him.
There was a smile lingering on his lips, but in his eyes was a look more intense than she was ready for and it took her slightly off guard.
He tried desperately to cover the intensity that he knew was present in his eyes, but it took more of a struggle than usual. He knew she had seen it, he had seen her startle a little when she met his eyes with her own.
He looked away and grabbed a towel from the counter, and moved to offer it for her to wipe her face, but she made no move to take it.
She didn’t know why she couldn’t lift her hand to take the towel he had offered, but it was as if she was frozen, making it impossible to grab the towel from his waiting hand. It felt as though a sudden streak of boldness had taken over her body and was egging him on.
There was a slight pause, when the towel lingered between them and Jim searched her eyes, trying to read if she wanted him to brush the flour off her cheek. They had just been practically wrestling in the kitchen, but to him the act of wiping the flour from her cheek was so much more intimate. He didn’t want to be overstepping his bounds and go too far. And the voice in the back of his head reminded him that he was in Roy’s house of all places.
After what felt like an eternity of agonizing over what to do, but was probably only the span of about a second, he lifted the towel to her cheek and brushed away the excess flour. She smiled and looked down to the floor. She could feel the blush rising to her cheeks, shocked at her own willingness to let him touch her like this. She moved her eyes to meet his again, and said softly, “Thanks.”
He held her stare, knowing that her soft appreciation was for more than wiping away a little flour. He searched her eyes deeper, wanting to find so much more in their depths. So much more about what he meant to her, who he was to her. He wanted to see himself in her eyes.
She could feel the intensity of his gaze deepen, and she knew they were treading into dangerous waters. She could see in his eyes so clearly what this meant to him, and it frightened her. Not because she didn’t feel it too, but because she did. She didn’t know how to deal with all of the emotions that flooded her when he looked at her like that. It was all just so there, filling the space between them faster and faster every second. She knew she had to lighten the mood, bring the focus back to the cookies, or the chicken or something, but she couldn’t force the words from her mouth.
Then she heard it. The front door of the house opened and closed. She looked quickly to the entrance to the kitchen and then back to Jim with a shocked, slightly panicked look on her face. He returned a similar slightly petrified look. Roy was home.
“Pam!” he shouted from the living room, “Are you here?” Jim could hear Roy’s heavy footsteps coming through the living room toward the kitchen. He was so surprised to hear Roy’s voice that it took a moment to realize how bad this was about to be. Here he was cooking dinner, drinking wine, and standing way too close to Pam, and yet too paralyzed to move in time.
“Hey babe,” they heard him say as his footsteps through the living room became louder, “It smells good in here did you make me dinn…” the rest of the sentence died on his lips as he entered the kitchen to see Pam and Jim standing there, looking at him with thinly veiled expressions of utter shock.
Author's Chapter Notes:
So sorry for the massive delay...I've been fighting hard with this chapter (and with icky research papers), but I think it's to where I'm happy enough with it to let it be.
I hope you enjoy!
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.
~~~
I hope you enjoy!
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.
~~~
Chapter End Notes:
Dun Dun Dun!
Thanks for reading! More to come sometime soon (perhaps after finals).
Reviews are like Jim Halpert's smile...BEST THING EVER.
Thanks for reading! More to come sometime soon (perhaps after finals).
Reviews are like Jim Halpert's smile...BEST THING EVER.
