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four: the goddamn batman

“I just think it’s too easy, you know? Like, of course he just happens to need to figure out where Heath Ledger--"

“The Joker.”

She rolls his eyes. “Fine, where the Joker is right after he makes some big computer that can do exactly that. I think it’s cheap. Like, who would think of that?”

“Batman,” he says.

“Oh, come on,” she says exasperatedly.

“Pam, you’re talking about a guy who secretly built a global network of semi-sentient spy satellites to keep track of every superhero on the planet in case one ever went psycho. Not supervillain, every superhero. Batman always has a plan.”

“Uh, Jim?” she says. “What movie were you watching? I did not see that…y’know, at all.”

He blushes.

“Seriously.” She’s waiting for an answer.

He reluctantly mumbles an issue number.

“Oh my God,” she groans. “I’m dating a huge dork.”

Later, she grabs a Post-It from her desk and draws him a little picture of a sour-faced cartoon Batman, just the head and the cape spreading to frame the words “BATMAN ALWAYS HAS A PLAN.” He sticks it to his computer monitor.

It’s what he glances at when Chris Brown starts seeping from behind Michael’s door. He calls Maid of the Mist from his desk.

two: flotation device

His head goes down and hits his desk hard enough to make her jump in her seat. Just a bit. Because of the sound, you know. (not because she can’t stand the thought of watching him hurt, not now not ever) Her fingertips skitter across the keyboard, and the little chime from Jim’s computer is just loud enough for her to hear if she listens closely.

Receptionitis15: i’ll save you!

When he sees it, he gives her a goofy smile. The next morning, there’s a donut sitting on her desk, covered in powdered sugar with squiggles of jelly on top, visible even from the doorway. He’s sitting at his desk, not looking at her, and when she picks it up she notices that the jelly isn’t in squiggles. They are words, messy and clumsily written, but it’s jelly so she’s pretty inclined to give him a pass.

S.S. Beesly -- United States Coast Guard

She smiles for the rest of the day.

three: holes

They get Devon into a cab and he hangs back a little, watching as the others wave goodbye, self-conscious about getting back to their drinks too soon and seeming callous. He heads in a bit earlier, because he’s cold and he doesn’t give a damn and even though she tried to take it back he can’t shake how much her telling him to take the job in Maryland hurt him.

One pull drains half his glass and she sneaks around behind him, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Hey,” she says meekly. She can tell he’s still a bit put out. Not mad, but distant.

“Hey,” he replies. He’s a little slow. Beer-drunk.

“Look, Jim,” she starts and that’s when he hears the alcohol in her voice, but she’s not her usual drunken happy self. She’s…pensive, which is new for Pam after more than two drinks.

“What’s up?” He tries to stay casual, tries to pretend he hasn’t dreamed about her thinking deeply without a big warehouse worker around to anchor her.

“I’m really, really glad it wasn’t you.” She puts her hand on his shoulder and they’re looking right at each other. Her bottom lip twitches, just a bit, but he notices like he always does and that’s when he knows that if he tries to kiss her she will let him, just this once, just because of how close she thought she was to losing him forever.

“You know what, Pam?” He says with a smile, a real smile. A Jim smile. “Me too. C’mere.” He gives in a little bit and pulls her into a friendly, one-armed hug and ignores how warm she feels against him and how right this all seems.

He doesn’t kiss her, not even a little, because he could never have just this once. Not with her. And she’s nestled under his arm and he thinks she’s dozed off a little and suddenly he hears the sound of tape coming loose. She holds up one of his black circles. He’s Two-Hole Punch Jim now.

“”Got your hole!” she shouts before her voice is overtaken by a swarm of giggles.

He can’t help but laugh with her, because she’s got way more than that.

five: forev-ev-ever

She finds it when she wakes up, on the nightstand next to her side of the bed. Just a simple almost-flat box wrapped in plain blue paper. She opens it delicately, smoothing the edges and lifting the tape. And when she sees what’s inside, she walks to the kitchen where he’s standing next to the coffeepot with a sleepy grin on his face.

“Mm, where is he?” she asks.

“My mom just picked him up. Yes, she has the car seat. Yes, she has the bag. Yes, she has the emergency bag.” He flashes her a grin. “Yes, she has the emergency emergency backup bag. And a cell phone. And the flare gun.”

She takes a step forward. “Call in sick, Halpert,” she says, pulling him close. His lips brush hers, soft and just barely.

“Did that too,” he whispers back. “Halpert.”

They don’t make it out of the kitchen.

That night, after dinners and nights out and all the date things that they can’t really do with a baby, she takes it out of the box again, rubbing the familiar fabric between her fingers while he sleeps next to her. Her fingertips trace the abrupt edge, and her ears are filled with the sound of scissors snipping as he evened the score.

Pam,

This is the only part of me you didn’t get a year ago. I love you so much. Happy anniversary.

Yours always and completely,

Jim

October 9th, 2010

one: plan a

He slides the pen across her desk, mouthing thanks as she hangs up the phone. Before he can say anything, it rings again.

She makes apologetic eyes and picks it up.

“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam.”

Yeah, he’s going to marry this girl.