He buries his head in her pillow, smiling to himself in anticipation of the weekend. She has a final tomorrow, but then she’ll be in Scranton before lunchtime. He can imagine her arms around him, curly hair tickling his face and her lips on his. He sighs, and gives her pillow a squeeze before drifting off to sleep.
They’re cuddling on a hammock in the warm sunshine before he hears a squeaking noise. He rolls over and falls; only to open his eyes and it’s dark.
He’s on the floor of his dim bedroom, the only light coming from the clock. 1:43 am. He groans, trying not to be too disappointed by the fact that she’s not there. He climbs back into bed before he hears the floorboards in the kitchen creak. He scrambles to his feet and looks out the bedroom doorway to see a light turn on.
“Hello?” He suddenly asks himself why he doesn’t keep a baseball bat or something in his bedroom. Dwight probably keeps a taser. Or a rifle. He then remembers he has a life.
“Jim?” It’s barely a whimper. But it’s her voice. Pam. He sprints to kitchen and the collision knocks him back. She giggles from the floor and he crawls over to her. Her left hand glints in the kitchen light.
“Pam? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry.” His hand finds her cheek, caresses the corner of her mouth, and he presses his lips to hers. She wipes the loose strands of hair away from her face and grins as he squeezes her in his arms, still on the floor.
“What are you doing here?”
“I live here, right?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t expecting you for another eight hours.”
“You show up early all the time. I was trying to be romantic.”
“I was fifteen minutes early, Bees. You were awake, and not thinking that maybe you should take leaf from Dwight’s book and keep various weaponry in your bedroom.”
“A leaf won’t do you much good… but if you’re getting it from Dwight…”
He laughs and helps her up. She grabs her bag from the kitchen and turns off the light before making her way to his bedroom. He follows, wrapping his arms around her waist and lifting her off the ground in the doorway. She squeals and he tosses her on the bed. She’s in her pajamas, and rolls onto her belly with a sigh.
“You’re skipping your final? Bad example, Miss RA.”
“I emailed my final. My back is killing me.” She’s motionless on the bed, her face muffled in the blankets.
“What’s the matter?” He settles himself next to her, putting a hand to her shoulder blades. He can see ridge through her shirt. His palm can completely cover the bone.
“My damn mattress…”
He knows. The six-inch thick piece of foam Pratt calls a twin-size mattress is brutal. It’s also way too small for two people trying to do it quietly in the middle of ‘quiet hours’. (Maybe that’s why they do it. Neither of them can sleep) He runs a hand down her spine, and gently starts to rub. Her sigh is long and refreshing, like when they start. Kissing. When they start kissing.
He rubs a little while longer, until her breathing’s deep and regular. Then he gently sits up and gives her earlobe a kiss, only for her to turn around and return the favor. He gives her back her pillow and they both crawl under the covers. She rolls onto her back and lets out another deep sigh. He can see the smile on her face in the dim light, and he gives her check another kiss.
He’s still got some raspberries from the farmer’s market. He wonders if she’ll like mixed-berry chocolate chip pancakes in the morning.
She will. It’s better than the breakfast mush at the cafeteria.
Story Notes:
I'm still recuperating from my ankle in a whole new way. While icing/heating, I stayed in bed to elevate my foot. After a weekend stuck in bed, well... I'm not the only one who should suffer.
I own nothing. If I actually owned my dorm mattress, it would be obliterated in a way that would make Dwight proud.
I own nothing. If I actually owned my dorm mattress, it would be obliterated in a way that would make Dwight proud.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Cross-posted at FF.net under 'Backache'.
wildthing0088 is the author of 4 other stories.
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