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"At least it's a festive color, right? It won't clash with the decorations."
"God forbid," Pam answered with a chuckle, running her foot across the red shag carpet. It had only been a week since she and Jim had started moving their things from his apartment to the house, and with the holidays right around the corner, there wasn't time for remodeling and refurbishing yet. Instead, they settled in minimum furniture until New Years passed and they could put in hard wood floors. Though now, Pam felt that she might actually miss the hideous carpeting; it was a fun little quirk the house had, and as disgusting as it might look, they had found (twice, by now) that such a cushioned floor definitely had its own appeal.
"I think there are still marks on my back from it," she winced, rubbing her skin through her sweater.
"Sorry about that, got a little excited."
She nodded, pulling a string of gold garland from their box marked "x-mas decor" and arranging it around their newly bought tree.
"There's just something different about doing that here, isn't there? In our house."
She stopped with the glittery gold still in her hands, and watched him as he stood on tip toe to place a star at the top of the tree, the hem of his t-shirt lifting just a bit. There was something that felt so . . . normal about all of this. Normal, but still exciting and fresh. It made the pit of her stomach flip a little, to think about their first Christmas together in their own house that was both of theirs.
Last year, he had helped her set up a small plastic tree in her apartment, and she'd made him endure an hour long persuasive speech on why he absolutely needed his own tree and why on earth would you not want Christmas decorations?? So she decorated his place too, and they spent Christmas Eve together before splitting off to their families on Christmas Day and reuniting late that night.
The plans for this year had already been set- Christmas Eve with her family in Wilkes-Barre, then Christmas Day here in this house, how his family had always done it. She had no idea how she was going to manage so many people- and so tall- in this house, and what the hell would she cook, and how did his mother get anything done with that damn clown painting staring from its death grip on the wall?
Still, all the holiday stress only made this feel more real... this wasn't just her family and his family, but their family, all connected by her and him and the ring on her finger and God did she still get giddy when she thought about all of this.
"Mind if I put some music on?"
She shook her head and concentrated on getting blinking little lights to sit just right on the branches. The strong pine smell reminded her of when she was little, and she would walk right up to the tree and get as close to the needles as she could without being poked so she could inhale deeply and see how different it was from those car deodorizers. She wondered about Jim's childhood Christmas memories, right here in this house, and realized that in a few years, they might have children who would have their own experiences.
Bing Crosby's calm crooning filled the room, and Jim collapsed on the couch.
"Oh no, you don't. You didn't even do anything yet!" she scolded him, trying not to smile.
"I carried the tree in from the car! I put the star on top! Please, Pam, I think I did enough for right now."
His smirk was too much for her, and she found herself giggling and walking into his outstretched arms, sinking into him on her old couch next to his old arm chair on top of the terrible carpeting that was both of theirs.
"I think I'm going to miss this mess," she said, running her fingers through the thick, soft threads.
"Even with the rug burns?"
"Yeah, let's not do that on the floor for a while, okay?"
"How about right here?"
He maneuvered them so he was above her, bracing himself on his forearms while his hips collided with hers and his long legs awkwardly tried to fit on the couch, just like every time before. She smiled up at him, kissing him softly before turning her head to look at the tree.
"Can you even believe this?" she asked. "It's all ours."
"That's generally what happens when people get engaged," he informed her, his voice full of mischief. "And this often happens as well." He bent his head down to kiss her neck, teasing her skin with his lips and teeth and she was laughing below him, her arms hugging around his back and she felt so ridiculously, blissfully happy.
"What do you want for Christmas this year?" he asked her, his head buried in her shoulder.
"You."
"Alright Mariah Carey, but you already have me."
He moved back a bit to let her sit up. She toyed with the neckline of his shirt, trying to find any words to express how she felt.
"Jim, anything I could have wanted . . . I have it. We have this, now, and I can't even think of anything else." He gave her a skeptical look. "Maybe some new paint brushes," she admitted. "And new earphones for my iPod. And, ohh, do you think they sell Dwight repellant?"
"If they did, I would have a drawer full of it, always. Maybe a portable bottle keychain."
They quietly laughed before he bent back down to kiss her, taking her bottom lip between his teeth and moving a knee between hers.
"I feel weird having sex with Bing Crosby in the background," she mumbled as he went to pull her sweater off.
"Would you prefer Wham? Or maybe Charlie Brown?"
"Just lose the tunes, Halpert."
"You're not very jolly compared to last year. You had practically threatened me whenever I put other music all through December."
"It's the rule in the car, but not if you're looking to get lucky. I think the shag is festive enough."
Once the room was silent and the bickering subsided, Jim returned to the couch and they began to languidly undress each other.
"No floor," she reminded him.
"What are we going to do when that's wood, huh? You're not going to want to have sex on the floor then, either, I bet. So picky."
"We'll make a rug of the carpet, alright? Merry Christmas- that's your present."
"I'm touched, really. That's a heartfelt gift- a square of recycled carpet from three decades ago."
"I know of something else I want."
"Shoot."
"How about you smash that clown with a hammer and we call it even?"
"Alright then, merry Christmas. Can we continue please?"
She snaked her hands down to his belt buckle and kissed him, feeling warm and content and smelling pine.
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Story Notes:
Disclaimer: Don't own them.
Title of course from "I'll Be Home For Christmas"
Title of course from "I'll Be Home For Christmas"
Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm a holiday geek. Therefore, this happened.
flonkerton is the author of 8 other stories.
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