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The first time he kisses her she tastes like strawberry chapstick and Long Island Iced teas, and her hair smells like melons and a little like smoke from the restaurant and it’s quick and sloppy but somehow still everything he’s ever wanted. When he gets home that night he touches his fingers to his mouth and is amazed he’s still smiling.
The second time she tastes like lipstick and wine and regrets, and her hair smells like hairspray and she doesn’t smell like Pam, and that breaks his heart just as much as everything else. When he gets home, he allows himself to really cry, hot tears dripping down his face and he wonders which is more heartbreaking: losing Pam, the potential love of his life, or losing Pam, his best friend.
The third time they kiss, his hands are tangled in her curls and she tastes like cherry lip gloss and second chances and she giggles into his open mouth.
“Are you laughing?” He asks with a smile as they break apart. Her lips are swollen and her eyes are bright and he thinks that everything in his life, every choice and every action, has some how led right up to this point.
“Sorry, no, I’m not laughing, well I am, but I’m just,” Pam shakes her head, biting down on her lip and he notices that her lip gloss is smeared and he reaches up and runs a finger over the top of her lips, because he can, and that simple fact makes his knees weak and his heart race. “I’m sorry.” She giggles again.
“All right, seriously, this giggling has to stop, you’re killing my self esteem here Pam,” he teases.
“I just can’t believe that this is happening,” she whispers, and her hands snake their way up behind his head and he moves his mouth down to hers and they have their fourth kiss.
After a summer of hot kisses and sneaking around, it’s a quick kiss in the car that gets them in trouble. Jim blames himself, because after a summer of the feel of her lips on his and her hands on his body, he forgets the cameras are back, and as soon as he gets her alone in the car, he presses his lips to hers for just a second. Pam insists that she’s not upset, that it was bound to happen, they were bound to be found out sooner or later.
“Michael still doesn’t know, so we’ve got that going for us,” she reminds him, “Besides, I like that you can’t keep your hands, and mouth, off of me.”
He grins and grabs her by the waist and pulls her into the bedroom pressing small kisses on every piece of exposed skin he can find.
It’s Pam who blows their cover with their coworkers, kissing his cheek quickly in the break room. Toby rats them out, and Jim wants to be angry, upset with his friend for not respecting their privacy, but Pam is blushing and she looks so adorable and she keeps apologizing and promising that she’ll make it up to him for her slip and he finds it impossible to stay angry for very long.
His favorite kiss happens on a rainy day, at a rest stop a little less than halfway between New York City and Scranton. After all his planning, after a year of the ring burning a hole in his pocket, after a year of kisses and smiles and being so damn happy, it’s a spur of the moment decision that leads him to speed down the highway, laughing every so often and tapping his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel.
Their 2,234th kiss happens on an early summer day; Pam’s ankle wrapped and elevated, his hand on her stomach. Pam keeps whispering,
“Can you believe it?” In this small, unsure, and giddy voice that makes Jim lean forward and press kisses 2,235 through 2,435 onto her lips. He can’t believe it either, but after 29 years, he’s finally been rendered speechless.
He’s a married man when he kisses her on a warm day.
She’s in a white dress, and she tastes like lipstick and communion wine and forever. Michael gives an inappropriate toast and Jim presses another kiss to her temple when she laughs instead of cringes at Michael’s jokes. She is unable to do anything today but smile and laugh, she tells him and he understands, because he’s pretty sure the goofy grin hasn’t left his face all day.
The first time he kisses her happens on a cold, February morning. She’s beautiful and Jim can’t keep his eyes off of her. He teases Pam that she looks like a burrito, all wrapped up in the pink blanket, but she smells like baby powder, and innocence and she’s everything he never knew he wanted.
“You’re hogging her,” Pam complains, and he brings the baby over to the bed and settles down next to a tired, beaming Pam.
“Sorry,” he grins, even though everyone in the room knows he is not. Kiss number two follows quickly, and kiss three is snuck in before Pam huffs with a mild annoyance and he hands his new daughter over.
Story Notes:
The title comes from a line in a Kate Nash song, "Pumpkin Soup." It's pure fluffy fluff.
bashert is the author of 37 other stories.
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