He has many faults.
He is too sensitive sometimes; his emotions too ready, just skimming under the surface of his skin. He snores. (Although, if she’s being honest with herself, she secretly loves that about him.) He has a terrible habit of swearing often and loudly in public places. He can’t cook. (She does laugh when she thinks about the time he set off the smoke alarm trying to make pasta.) He gets irritable when his team loses, and snaps at her when she tries to cheer him up. He is at turns sarcastic, lazy, and indifferent about his ambitions. (And he, most of all, will not even admit he has dreams, and this is maybe the worst and the saddest of his shortcomings.)
But he is funny, and he’s hilarious when he’s not trying. (This happens more often than many people might think.) He is like a child when it snows, and his snowmen are always the best. He listens, really listens, and she can tell when because his eyes go soft around the edges and he chews on his lower lip, like he’s trying to work out a particularly difficult math problem. He smells like clean laundry, like a boy, and home. He is always the first to apologize after a fight, the first to take the blame, and he makes her smile even when she’s still angry. (As much as it should annoy her, she loves this too.)
He loves her back with an intensity that both scares and thrills her. She has never been loved this well or this hard by anyone, and she knows this should make her sad, that it has taken this long to find someone who can. But mostly she’s just glad to finally know what it feels like.
Finally is a word she still thinks after an entire year, and Jim is kissing her on the couch in their apartment while they pretend to watch a rerun of Friends. It is almost Christmas and they have only a week until their vacations begin. Pam can’t wait for four entire days of Jim – just him and her and the beautiful tree they bought and dragged home and decorated on a cold Saturday a couple weeks ago. Like grown ups, with their own life and their own stuff and their own money.
“What are you thinking about?” Jim asks, and by the way his eyes sparkle he’s expecting something good, like a new way to prank Dwight or an excuse to get out of their last few days in the office.
“You,” she says, and it’s better than any of those things when his eyes go bright with feeling.
She’ll never, ever get used to this. It’s impossible to get used to this much. This much what? she asks herself, a game she plays when she’s so indescribably happy the only way she can explain it is in her own head. This much love, she thinks, and joy. And light.
It’s blinding, sometimes, the force with which he loves her. But when she learns to unthread the light, she sees that it’s made of a million tiny things, infinite shining strands of love woven together, and it’s easier. Easier that way, taking it a piece at a time. Comforting, to know she’ll never run out of it. And years later when they’re older and it’s not so scary anymore, she’ll discover a way to braid it all into something wonderful and not drown in it. She’ll wear his love like a favorite sweater, and she’ll never be cold.
It’s mornings in December, when the alarm clock rings at an ungodly hour, that his light warms her and fills her up. The window of their bedroom holds condensation that trails down the glass like tears, but he coaxes her awake with gentle hands sweeping her forehead, with long, easy fingers teasing through her hair. She rolls over to face him, and he lets her press freezing feet to his calves. He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t try to untangle his limbs from hers. Just smiles, eyes half closed, and the light spills from him. She tilts her face up to his, to catch some on her lips, to capture it before it gets away. He is giving and generous, and she takes and takes. There is always more.
She bathes in it.
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.
Also, the title of this fic came from the lyrics to the song "This Low" by The Swell Season. Don't own that either. =)
Also, the title of this fic came from the lyrics to the song "This Low" by The Swell Season. Don't own that either. =)
Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to dundermifflinthisisdani for her encouragement and suggestions!
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it!
awesomeblossom is the author of 3 other stories.
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