Resolute

Jim looks out of the corner of his eye at Pam, who is steadily packing up her belongings in a sort of “It’s 4:58 on a Friday” frenzied mode of movement.

It is January 5th, 2007. The New Year. He has only one resolution.

He carefully molds the casual note, written with more than casual care, turning and folding until it becomes a passable if not entirely perfect representation of an airplane.

Waiting until he won’t be noticed, he turns quickly and fires, then swings back to his desk as if nothing has occurred.

He cannot hear her reactive movements. The drumming of his heartbeat outweighs all.

Pam says her goodbyes to several people. With barely held patience, he waits until most have left the office before leaving himself.

When he exits the building, she is there, leaning against the hood of her car, arms wrapped tight in an effort to keep warm. Her breath swirls around in puffs, and she looks just as apprehensive as on his first day back. He prays silently for this night to end differently.

Without another thought, Jim pushes the door open and walks briskly towards Pam’s vehicle, ignoring the strong slap of wind that meets him.

Pam’s eyes widen as takes in Jim's approach.

His greeting is neutral. “Hey. What’s up?”

Pam blinks slowly. “Uhm, you tell me.” She waves his airplane around lightly, before jamming her hands back into her coat.

Jim starts to speak, then thinks better of it.

“I really don’t want to have one more conversation in this parking lot, if that’s alright.”

Pam smiles softly. “Good point.”

“Wanna take a ride?”

Now her smile becomes a grin. “Deal.”

He waits until they are safely in his car and stopped at a light before he leans over and kisses her softly. Karen is long gone, but the fear of exposing their private lives to the public outweighs the constant burden of their secret life, just begun together.

“Do you know what today is?”

Pam shrugs, eyes dancing. “Absolutely no idea.”

Jim laughs outright. “Liar.”

Pam attempts to maintain a straight face, and fails miserably.

“I believe, Mr. Halpert, that tonight is date number 4,” she manages, through her giggles.

“Close, but no. Tonight is date number 3.” Jim shakes his head in mock consternation.

Pam settles back into to her seat and prepares for verbal battle. “I beg to differ.”

Jim removes his right hand from the steering wheel and wiggles it in front of her before ticking off on his fingers.

“Date one, Sunday December 31st, New Year’s Eve.”

Pam nods in agreement.

“Date two, the following night, and date three, now.”

Pam's vigorous headshake emphasizes her disagreement.

“Your misguided date two is in reality our date three. You’re forgetting brunch on New Year’s Day.”

Jim rubs his forehead. “I can’t believe this.”

“Pam,” he continues, with a faintly disdainful air. “Brunch cannot be a date. Brunch is …Brunch!”

“Maybe that’s true where you grew up, in Heathenville.”

There is a stunned silence, and then they both break out in raucous laughter.

Pam decides to prolong the good times with a passable Dwight after the success of her Angela-ism.

“Fact. You picked me up for Brunch, after you had seen me less than 9 hours before.
Fact. You held my hand on the way, and while in the restaurant.
Fact. You brought me back home, walked me to my door, and kissed me goodbye.
Fact. You had stars, hearts and birds flying around your head as you whistled your way back to your car after said kiss goodbye.”

Jim’s jaw is slack with admiration. He remains silent for a moment, then nodds sharply. “Date four it is.”

Pam turns her attention to the radio dial, quite satisfied with his response.


When Jim pulls into the parking garage at the Scranton Hilton, Pam tenses slightly. She is not sure what a 3rd/4th date drive to a hotel signifies, despite all their previous banter.

Anticipating this, once they are out of the car, Jim points towards a sign that reads,
“The White Dove.”

Pam bounces giddily on her toes, then gives Jim a quick kiss on his cheek for bringing her to the only five star restaurant in Scranton.

Dinner is amazing, of course. Pam cannot stop looking around at the impeccable setting and Jim cannot stop looking at Pam.

The wine served soon melts whatever tensions remain, and their conversation turns, as usual, to witty quips and rejoinders, subtle teasing and admiring smiles.

Jim’s steak is fantastic and Pam exclaims happily over her stuffed mushrooms and pasta.

Jim gazes at her in the candlelight and wonders why it took so much to get to this moment.

They both pass on dessert and linger over their wine.

Eventually, Jim asks for the check, and barely glances down as it arrives. He helps her on with her coat as they move towards the lobby.

“Are you too tired for a movie?” Jim ventures, knowing only that he is not yet ready for the night to end.

Pam takes a deep breath and interrupts before his torrent of words can build steam.

“Jim.”

“Hmmm?”

“It’s our fourth date.”

His body stills, and he blinks slowly and attempts to compose himself as he follows her gaze towards the Hilton’s front desk, where attentive staff wait to serve.

His eyes squint a little when he looks back at her, trying to see if this is in fact actually happening. She gazes back, her eyes conveying reassurance.

“Are you sure?” His voice is suddenly desperate, hoarse from the emotion he is trying to keep in check.

Pam nods slowly. “Aren’t you?”

Jim tries to shrug lightly.

“I guess it depends. Can we jump on the bed? Play Truth or Dare?”

Pam grins, suddenly completely at ease with the monumental step she has just taken.

“Duh, Halpert.”

They walk hand in hand towards the desk.

Pam opens her mouth to address the clerk, but Jim beats her to it.

“Reservation for Halpert, James.” The words are stated calmly, and Jim takes care to look at her face as he says them.

Pam’s eyes fly up to his, and he watches a myriad of emotions pass across her face.

Shock, certainly. Wariness, and just plain jitters. She supposes that she shouldn't hold knowing her so well against him. Her frown is quickly replaced by a smile she attempts to suppress.

Jim sees it anyway, and lets out the apprehensive breath he has been holding.

She waits until they receive their key, and the elevator doors close to punch his bicep.

He manages to keep his hands clenched at his sides the entire elevator ride up and as they walk the floor towards their room. In front of the door, Jim tries once, twice, and then again to slide the cardkey into the door slot.

Pam takes pity on him and removes the card from his shaking hands with a teasing smile that manages to convey affection as well.

The door swings open on her first attempt.

She walks into the room purposefully, then looks back over her shoulder at Jim, who remains at the entryway. When she meets his eyes, questioning, he takes a deep, calming breath.

“I swear to you, that whole card thing is not an indication of how the rest of this night is going to proceed.”

Pam’s reply is low, sultry and blood-stirring.

“Prove it.”

She takes a moment to appreciate the beauty of the room, or suite really, as she drops her coat on a nearby armchair.

When she straightens, she can feel Jim’s breath against her neck, and something else against her lower back.

He hugs her tightly from behind, and his hands eventually start moving along her sides and back. His lips are whisper soft against her neck, her face.

Pam allows her head to fall back, giving him better access.

He accepts her offering.

He begins to unbutton her sweater from behind. He tugs gently, placing it next to her coat.

She turns, needing to see his face. She cannot help grazing his face again and again with her lips.

Her kisses are distracting, but Jim remains steadfast, backing Pam towards the bed.

He stares down at her, hair spread, gaze adoring. She is ready. They both are.

He yanks at his tie, stopping when Pam’s little hands decide to help.

Instead of taking it off, Pam uses it to pull Jim onto the bed, and incidentally, right on top of her.

They both groan at the heat of each other's bodies, still for a moment in anticipation of what is to come.

Jim’s mouth is suddenly everywhere, and Pam thanks God for multi-tasking as he continues to kiss her while also taking his tie and dress shirt off.

Pam barely has time to appreciate the thick, soft hair covering his well-defined chest before his body drapes over her own once more.

Minutes pass in a sensuous haze, and when she surfaces again, Pam is mildly surprised
to find that her blouse is off and her bra is about to join it.

“What happened to my clothes?” she murmurs, half to herself.

“Pam,” Jim chides gently, “This will probably work best if you actually pay attention.”

She laughs, then arches up, partly to lick the little hollow between his chest and neck, and partly to give him access to the clasp of her bra.

Jim sends the undergarment soaring, scooches Pam to the center of the bed, and gives her chest all the attention of a young boy presented with a brand new puppy.

It was lovely, Pam mused, to discover that his mouth was talented at so much more than wry grins and apt impressions.

Everything is pulling at her. His mouth, his smell, the feel of his skin against hers.

Jim keeps moving, touching, rubbing, licking whatever strikes his fancy from moment to moment.

Pam absorbs it all, unable to do anything but feel. She feels completely cherished, worshiped. And damn it all, restless.

Their lower halves are still fully clothed, and Pam is beginning to get the impression that this is a deliberate choice on Jim’s part. Just as he is deliberately moving his hardness away each time she arches or undulates her hips, seeking it out.

Pam eventually realizes that his delicacy is intended to make her comfortable, that his tentative, slow mannerisms are designed to give her comfort, a sense of ease.

Exactly what Pam would expect from sweet, kind, considerate Jim.
And exactly, she is amazed to discover, what she doesn’t want.

Pam has always been shy, reticent. In almost every facet of her life. She trusts in him enough to give her not only what she needs, but what she wants, her deepest desperate fantasies. He has already given her the most potent, powerful aphrodisiac. Choice.

She bucks under him so abruptly that he is caught off guard. Frozen, Jim stares down in confusion.

She smiles sweetly in response, then whispers, “I promise I'll let you be gentle next time.”

Jim barely has time to absorb her words before her hand surrounds the heat of him.

It is his turn to buck, but his version is wild and unrestrained.

He never gets to finish his plan, because Pam has her own in mind.

She removes his pants and boxers in one swift tug, and then hurriedly strips off the remainder of her own clothing. They both scuttle under the covers, and Jim lets his hands settle behind his head as Pam educates herself.

She caresses him softly, learning what pleases, what creates shudders and moans.

Bringing him to the brink once, then again. She always stops before he goes over.

She slides up his body, intending to set the pace with control firmly, and continually in her grasp.

“Pam.” Her name is a drawn out moan, his eyes sleepy with wonder, skin slick with the effort to allow her to do as she desires.

“Do you need me to..?” Jim doesn't finish the question, for Pam brings his own hand inside her body, letting him see and feel for himself that his worry is unnecessary.

He smiles, satisfied. He brings his fingers up, licks all he can, and grins up at her roguishly when her face and chest flushes in response to his actions.

She cannot believe she did that. She cannot believe he did that.

Jim grips her hips softly, but securely. He nods in reassurance, even as his lips tighten with the strain of her body joining with his.

She is hot, wet satin, snug and soft all at once.

Her cries of wonder match his grunts of passion. They move together, undulating in seamless rhythm. He lasts nowhere near as long as he had previously hoped, but from the contractions that surround him at the last, he is quite sure he has done the Halpert name proud.

His last thought before sleeps envelopes him is that next time, it's his turn to be on top.