Story Notes:
Couldn't resist! Had this image floating around in my head and couldn't let it go. I miss Jam. :(
Title comes from Bing Crosby's classic "White Christmas"
Author's Chapter Notes:
Not mine. Not mine. not not mine. Daniels and Merchant and Gervais, et al.
The weatherman had been wrong.
What had originally been billed as a wet, seasonably warm Christmas Day had, in fact, been quite the opposite.
The rain that had been forecast all week wasn’t rain at all.
It was snow.
The first White Christmas on record in Scranton in nearly fifteen years.
After spending all day Christmas Eve at Jim’s parents’ house, he and Pam headed back to his place, stuffed to the brim on his mother’s traditional Christmas ham. Both were caught up in the thrill and excitement that accompanied this time of year and decided to indulge in a late night Christmas movie marathon. They found time for Christmas Vacation, A Christmas Story, Home Alone and, Pam’s personal favorite, Miracle on 34th Street. Jim teased her endlessly for insisting on watching the remake with Dylan McDermott instead of the much better original with Natalie Wood. Pam stuck her tongue out and teased, “Home Alone? Really?”
He blushed, ever so slightly, and defensively insisted it was a classic. “Macaulay Culkin’s best movie.”
Both sucked it up. In front of the fireplace crackling with flames Jim started with the Duraflame logs he swore by, they watched movies neither appreciated just to make the other happy. After imbibing too much store-bought egg nog (Pam really loved the Southern Comfort kind), lots of making out and little attention to the films they’d put on, Jim and Pam went to bed giddy and horny as hell.
Hot and sweaty after several hours of yuletide lovin’, the room stuffy and reeking of sex, Jim half-drunkenly stumbled over to the window to crank it open in a desperate attempt to air the space out; cool them both off. Pam giggled from beneath the covers as she watched her nude boyfriend trip in the dark and stumble head first into the wall.
“Careful, buddy.”
“Shut up,” he grumbled, a grin evident in his tone as he righted himself.
Pam followed him with her eyes as he carefully made his way back to the bed. Collapsing into it with her, they made love one more time, slow and steady, before falling asleep entwined in each other’s arms.
Four short hours later, Jim spooning her from behind, Pam shoved him awake, mumbling sleepily, “Window.”
“Guh,” Jim grunted, turning his face deeper into the pillow.
Pam exhaled in frustration, shoving her elbow hard into his chest. He sat up instantly, eyes wide and glossy with sleep, spinning his head around to catch his bearings. “What?” he snapped.
“I’m cold,” Pam said, ignoring his tone. “Close the window.”
Jim rolled his head around to glance over at the glass, slightly ajar, winter air whipping through it excitedly.
“Dammit.”
With wakefulness came the awareness that he, too, was freezing. Alcohol and post-coital bliss had slowed his reflexes. Wrapped up in Pam, the warmth of her body had seeped into his. They had fallen asleep still warm, sated and sweaty from sex. But now, hours later, the room felt like an ice box. The stench and steam of sex had long worn off.
Replacing it was frigid, impersonal, insultingly cold air.
Rising quickly before he could convince himself not to, Jim moved over to the window. He reached for the handle, started to pull the frame shut, eyes sweeping briefly, casually, over the landscape on the other side of the glass.
His hand stilled.
“It’s snowing,” he observed with surprise.
“What?” He heard Pam suck in a sharp breath, the sheets rustling as she turned around, sat up, and attempted to peer around him to catch a glimpse for herself.
“Yeah. Hard.”
“That’s what she said,” Pam deadpanned with a roll of her eyes.
Jim rolled his, and, ignoring her statement, held out a hand. “Come here.”
Awkwardly wrapping the bed sheet around her for some semblance of warmth, Pam slid out of bed and padded across the room, placing her hand in his. Jim drew her into the circle of his arms, sliding them around her waist. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the lack of light as she peered anxiously out the window.
She gasped at the vision of rapidly falling snow blowing outside their window. These weren’t the fat lazy flakes that instantly melted upon hitting the ground. These were dense, rapidly falling sheets of snow that coated everything they touched like a second skin. Dropping at a maniacal rate, the snow made visibility poor at best, nonexistent at worst. Pam could barely make out the street or the homes on the other side of it.
“Oh my God! Jim!” She whirled her head around to show him eyes dancing with delight. “It’s snowing!”
Jim smiled in amusement at her statement of the obvious. The moonlight – illuminated by the frantic swirling outside – only enhanced her beauty. The glow cast against her porcelain skin, her nose and cheeks flushed both from the cold and the aftermath of their lovemaking, showcased just how stunning she was. Everything about this moment, this night, this Christmas, was perfect.
Jim knew if he died tomorrow, he’d die happier than Kevin at a hot dog eating contest. Happier than Stanley on Pretzel Day. Happier than Kelly at the mall. Happier than Michael being liked, loved or praised. “I know, Beesly. I just said that.”
“Jim! It’s a white Christmas!”
Even in the dark, Jim could see the sparkle in Pam’s hazel eyes. The inflection in her tone rose and she literally danced from foot to foot as she took in the wonder before her. She was clearly ecstatic, like a child, and it was infectious. Jim was grinning so hard his jaw began to ache. “Pretty awesome, huh?” His arms tightened around her reflexively as he leaned his head down to get a whiff of her hair.
“Our first Christmas together and it snows.”
She sounded so happy, so in awe, so content, it nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Definitely pretty awesome,” he murmured, ignoring the way his voice broke and sounded foreign even to his own ears. It was their first Christmas together. Every year since he’d met her, the rage of love inside him was almost unbearable during the holidays. The memory of Christmases past when he’d had to imagine her celebrating with Roy was distant now, replaced by the knowledge – and confidence – that this first Yuletide for them far surpassed every single holiday (Jesus related or not) that she had spent with Roy.
“Yeah.” Her voice was soft, her tone humbled as they continued to watch the snow accumulate. It looked like at least an inch or two had already fallen. “Did you hear anything about this on the news?”
“Nope.” Jim shrugged. He hadn’t been paying much attention to the weather lately. Between dinner at his parents’ house and the all night movie-and-sexathon they’d had once they returned home, he hadn’t had much time to turn on the local news. Last he could remember the weatherman had said it would rain.
Looked like the temperature had plummeted twenty degrees and that rain had become snow.
And lots of it.
“I love you,” she said suddenly, her voice soft, quiet. “And this is, like, the best Christmas – ever.”
He sighed, tightening his arms around her waist, planting a kiss at the base of her neck. “For me too.”
“We might not make it to my parents’,” Pam said suddenly, a conversational tone to her voice. “It looks like this will be an all-day thing.”
Jim nodded, taking the hint and playing along. “Yeah. We’ll probably get snowed in.”
She turned her head just enough to plant a kiss against his cheek. “So let’s go back to bed.”
Clutching his hand in hers, she led the way.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading! Happy Holidays!
Sharipep is the author of 4 other stories.
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