A/N: Just something short based on spoilers again. It's short because in writing this, I'm guessing a lot. And I like to not try and guess so much about upcoming episodes. So I'm leaving the big lead up to your imagination.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I leave it all up to the them. They're better at it.
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She's kicking her toe into the glass door in front of her. The sun has already set by the time the workday is over, because that's what happens in February. She swallows, and needs to clear her throat, but she can't then. After all that's happened today, she doesn't shed tears, just sits on top of them. And if she cleared her throat, they'd become her.
So, in front of the double doors then, she furrows her brow and stares into the bushes across the lot. There's the loud buzz of the bright lights outside and a howl of winter wind against the glass. She can barely see the curl of air that her breath leaves against the glass. She pushes her forehead into the door for the third time and closes her eyes.
She knows a lot about her life, she's nearly thirty after all. She knows there's an end to problems, and confusion and complication. It's hard to deal with still, knowing that one of the things that's in place for longer than those thirty years could be falling apart. Her father's news of a pending divorce had, for lack of better terms, completely ruined her day.
She flexes her fingers in the stiff air, coaxing warmth between all of her knuckles. They barely stick out past the cuffs of her coat. It's like she's reaching out for him, because suddenly he's there.
"Hey," he whispers, his voice careful. She offers him a feeble smile and it breaks his heart again. "Sorry, I just had to finish something up there, the guy wouldn't get off the phone."
She nods, the remnants of her smile falling into her fingers, still moving. Becoming fists then falling apart, spreading like webs.
The glint of her ring is what he sees with his head tilted to the side, and he moves over to her.
"I canceled the reservations, I figured you probably wouldn't feel up to that."
He gets it, at least that part, she realizes. "Thanks."
He nods, adjusting the strap of his bag and putting his hands deep into his pockets. He tenses his hands into fists and then lets them go, just like she is.
"You want to go?" He offers a sympathetic slide to the door, bracing his hand against the bar to open it.
She's not sure what about that moment makes her do it, but suddenly she's somewhere near tears and he sees that, too. All she does is scrunch up her face somewhat and cover her mouth with her hand. Her knuckles are white, and the other fell to the side, lying limp.
"Pam," he breathes. She shakes her head as he pulls his hands from his pockets and delicately wraps his arms around her. He keeps one of his hands against the back of her neck, stroking the hair that covers it there; the other hand tucked beside her waist. He pulls back as far as he can to see her face, but she's flush against him, so he kisses the top of her forehead and sighs.
She has enough restraint to just breathe into his coat without letting the tears push over her lashes. The worst part about crying is the look when your eyes are red and worn, and you need to itch them to keep up with your day. She knows that, so she avoids it.
"I'm sorry," she says and before she can go on, he's interrupting her.
"No," he says, shaking his head and then resting it on top of hers. "Don't be."
"I am, Jim," she reiterates, gripping his forearms and pushing away to look up at him. Her eyes are glassy, but that's it. "I shouldn't have said it, that's not what I meant."
"I know," he assures her, looking at nothing but her eyes. The green there is nothing but despair, her whole day.
"I do want to marry you, you know that right?" Her hands hold his arms tighter, her thumbs rubbing small circles into the fabric of his coat.
He nods, defeated, his eyes cast toward the floor.
"It's just..." She shrugs, and her eyes briefly watch the floor like he does, before trying to look at him again. "They're my parents, I don't know why they're falling apart. They're what I know."
He nods again, he knows more is coming.
"Almost forty years and there's an end? That's not supposed to happen with them, I don't get it."
His hands are meeting at her waist now, under her coat and resting on her shirt, his thumbs mimicking the motions of hers.
"I promise I'm not questioning this, I promise--"
"Pam, it's okay," he presses, stilling his hands and just holding.
"It just makes me--"
"Pam," he says, and his voice has a quality now that she's been waiting for all day. It's sure, it's ready, and she breathes when she hears it.
He inches backward, and picks up one of her hands, kisses it quickly and holds it.
"I'm not afraid of that," he says, shaking his head. He gingerly rubs his hand over hers, gestures to the ring with his thumb. "This is one of the smartest things I've ever done. I know that."
Her lips roll into her mouth, between her teeth as she tries to hold his gaze.
He shrugs, happy with a little progress he senses. "I mean it, that ring means a lot to me, probably more than you know. I mean..."
He runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. "You know how long it took to get there just as well as I do. I'm not going to let anything get in the way of..."
He trails off again, knowing words get caught on his busy hands all the time. She knows it, too, but she waits for the rest of it while he scratches the stubble on his jaw.
"We're good," he says with a simple smile, hoping the reassurance will drop from his body to hers. "I know it might not sound like anything, but I think we are. And when we hit a bump in the road somewhere along the line, we'll be fine."
She smiles and that's working.
He presses his thumb against the ring again. "There's not anything, really... there's not much I wouldn't do for this. And I know it sucks, I know it's hard. But, Pam--"
"I know," she says, closing her eyes and nodding with her hand still in his. She squeezes his fingers and bites her lip when her eyes flutter open. "I do, I know."
He can stop then and he breathes out. He must have held it in, because it's heavier than they both expected. They both sigh and laugh lightly.
"Thank you," she says simply, wrapping her arms around him again, settling her cheek to his chest. He's always warmer than she is, she knows that. His arms waste no time crawling around her once more, and they rock for a little aside the dark. She tilts her head up, her chin resting on his chest.
His lips quirk into a smile and he drops a kiss onto hers. When she fits her forehead into his chest again, he presses another kiss into her hair. Closing his eyes, he breathes the scent that sits there in and hugs her again.
"My dad might need a place to stay, I don't want him to stay at the hotel the whole time he's here."
"That's fine, yeah."
"Okay."
A minute passes, and they're really pulling away now. He has his hand nestled on the small of her back, opening the door and ushering them into the cold. She gathers her scarf around her neck and face, as they shuffle to the car through new snow.
Inside they both groan at the cold, exaggerated sighs into the silence. The stir of the engine after the shake of the keys, and her hand rests on his thigh.
Her head dips into the space between them and she stares through the front window of the car.
"I meant it, I can't wait to marry you." She smiles, and the tears aren't as close anymore. She knows they'll come later on, she knows it's inevitable, but right now they're far enough from her.
He squeezes her hand there, and pokes a finger into her shoulder. "You know I love you."
She pushes her hand into his thigh, scratches her fingernails lightly there, before it retreats to her lap. The ride is slow through neighborhood streets, there's no music on the radio.
The snow falls without a noise outside of the car windows. It's a picture in the living room window. It's the backdrop when she finally falls asleep at midnight, on the very edge of another day.
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