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It's a frantic drive back to New York, the wind whipping the sides of his car and the rain sounding like tiny knives stabbing aluminum. The highway is a disaster, car horns sounding and tires upsetting the murky water that fills the potholes every few feet. He's still half an hour outside of the campus, and even though it's taken him almost twice as long to even get this far, every mile closer to her makes him feel warmer.
His hands are still shaking, pressed against the wheel with an urgency he hasn't felt in over a year. But that time had been unsure, wondering, his hands tapping against the dashboard in anxiety. But now, his knuckles are white with promise and knowing and finally.
Traffic has come to another standstill, the only movement outside his windows coming from the clear drops that surround and distort the ruby brake lights. He looks at his radio, which he's been too distracted to bother putting on, and the clock reads 5:02pm. His temples begin to pulse.
He feels his cell phone vibrate against his leg, and his heart stops momentarily before picking up speed. It's a short burst, signaling a text message, but he can feel his hands sweat as he digs through his pocket. He can't help but grin when he sees her name on the screen, like an unripe teen discovering his first love.
How much longer?, it reads, simple and heavy at the same time.
Third traffic jam, he begins texting back. Can't tell. Need you. Want you. Love you. Everything.
It takes a resounding honk from the car behind him to get him to notice that the world has continued moving around him, and he lurches forward, matching the cars' speed that is probably too fast to be safe in this weather. He doesn't care. Every green metal sign has him more anxious, more desperate.
He tries to ignore his phone, insistently buzzing again, but curiosity wins the battle.
Everything to you too :)
He really doesn't want to be the loser crying in his car in the rain, but he can feel a definite sting in the back of his eyes. This beginning and end is wearing heavily on his heart, in a good way, and he can feel the pain of years before melt away. He can laugh at the past while looking forward to the future. Nothing hurts anymore.
It's like he almost can't contain himself when he eases onto the exit ramp, having to push the brake pedal to the floor because he forgot to slow down. There's no time. If he goes one more minute without her, he just might die.
When he parks, he's pretty sure it's a spot that's reserved for faculty during the week, but he doesn't care because it's the only one he sees and she's close, so close, just inside. He's also pretty sure that the kids lurking under the awning with their cigarettes kept close are laughing at him as he dashes inside, his dress shirt practically see-through from the rain and his messenger bad dripping as it bumps against his thigh.
His fist is banging against the door of her dorm so hard that it will probably be bruised tomorrow, but he isn't thinking about that now. Just her, the smell of her, the taste of her, the promise of her, and this goddamn door standing between that.
When the door opens, she's still in wet clothing, fresh from the class she pretended to pay attention during. He smells rain water and perfume, intoxicating and fresh. Her eyes are still red and glinting and she's beaming, every tooth peeking out as she looks up at him and laughs. All he can do is blindly move forward, taking her in his arms and holding her, shaking with laughter, against his chest.
This, he thinks, is all he's ever wanted.
Her giggling is infectious and it doesn't take long for him to be pulled under, and soon they're both two laughing idiots, deliriously in love and so insanely happy that they don't know what to do with themselves. When he finally moves his mouth to hers, all he can think about is that this is their engagement night, and they've had sex in the backseat of a car and now in a twin dorm room bed and how he hadn't ever expected it but wouldn't ever want to change it.
She's murmuring, between every kiss, I love you, I love you, I love you, so much that he can't keep up. All he can offer is a weak, I love you too?, posed as a question and she simply laughs and draws his bottom lip between hers.
Her ponytail is wet, beads of water clinging to the strands and coaxing them back to curls. He can feel her trembling at his touch, at the cool air on her damp skin, at everything. Her ring is digging into his back as she wrestles his shirt off and it's the best goddamn thing he's ever felt.
It takes some effort to peel each other's snug clothing off and try to arrange themselves in the tiny bed. They're backed by an urgency, by a need to feel, and he's high off the taste of her tongue and the rain that mixes with their sweat and makes everything feel blurry and one.
She smiles up at him, touching everywhere, her hands never quite happy to stay in one place. He can't decide where to kiss, where to focus attention, and his lips are traveling fast, so fast, from her neck to her breasts to her earlobe. He wants all of her, everything, right now. They laugh as his feet hang off the mattress and bump the desk, as her head hits the wall behind her, when they accidentally roll off the bed and end up in a heap on the ground. They laugh but don't pause, instead utilizing the larger space and the inviting rug beneath them. They're both smiling and whispering and tasting and touching and he can't remember a single day where he's ever felt this alive.
It's a head rush at the finish line, a cry of yes and you and this. It's different but the same. They breath against each other's skin, finally taking the time to slow down and think. He undoes her hair, letting down the curls which gather at her shoulders and tickle his chest. He reaches his long arms up, pulling a few pillows and the comforter off her bed and arranging it all around them.
He hears her whisper two against his neck, and he playfully reminds her that the night is still very young.
"Is this how it's going to be, Halpert? You gonna wear me out every night when we're married?"
He tries to think of a snarky comeback, of something silly that will make her laugh for the umpteenth time tonight. But he can't.
"Pam," he says in wonder. "We're getting married."
She kisses his temple, and he feels her lips more than hears her words when she once again tells him I love you.
And then fuck it, he's crying and he's pretty sure she is too, and now they're just two crying idiots who have nothing better to do but hold each other and cry and smile.
"Everything is gonna change," she tells him. He nods.
"Some things, yeah."
"Yeah."
The next morning, the air is new and full, and the sun is out.
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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.
Title from "Brand New Colony" by The Postal Service, which has become my personal soundtrack to the proposal.
Hope no one minds the 50th fic based on it.
Title from "Brand New Colony" by The Postal Service, which has become my personal soundtrack to the proposal.
Hope no one minds the 50th fic based on it.
flonkerton is the author of 8 other stories.
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