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Author's Chapter Notes:
DisclaimerNBC owns all rights to The Office and it’s characters. I own nothing.
“What color did you get?” He asked, sitting on the stool in the empty bedroom. The room that Pam told him had so much potential. He loved that she could walk into a space and envision something, she could literally picture paint splattered on the walls, curtains, where a bed would go, and it would end up being perfect; even better than he’d imagined. She may have been an amazing artist, but he was pretty sure Pam could have been an interior decorator. He never thought his parents house could look so different and so theirs at the same time.

“It’s called,” she looked down at the cardboard slip in her hand, squinting at the name, “Windswept.”

Jim chuckled, “What does that even mean?” He stood up and moved to her, across the tarp, taking the paint card out of her hand. “It’s pretty.” He said quietly, and rubbing his thumb over the blue hues.

“Aren’t we breaking some sort of moral code by painting the walls blue?” He asked, pouring the paint into the tray and swiping his brush through it.

Pam laughed, “Who are you? And what have you done with Mister Jim Halpert I’m up for anything?”

He snorted, “All I’m saying Pam is that we don’t know what we’re having. What if it’s a girl and your Mom comes over here and thinks we’ve gone insane,” he placed a hand on his hip.

“She’ll deal. Plus, look at this color, it’s gorgeous,” she smiled, running her brush up and down the wall, “I’m more excited about painting the mural on here.”

“Have you decided what you’re going to paint?”

“Not yet. But when it’s done, I’ll just know.”

“Oh,” Jim looked up, he had already finished covering half of the wall, “Your Dad called, he said he’s sending a bunch of stuff for the baby in a package this week because he can’t make the shower.”

Pam was certain she heard a bit of annoyance in his voice. “Oh.” she replied.

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “Anyway, I thought that we’d go to Target or something this weekend and pick up the rest of the food for the shower and then get the last of the crib bedding.”

“Perfect,” she replied, standing on the stool to reach the top most part of the wall.

“Careful,” he placed his hand protectively on the small of her back, “don’t fall off that thing...I’d like a healthy baby, not one that can’t read or something,” he snickered.

“You’re terrible!” She cried with a laugh and swatted him across the face with the brush. His five o’ clock shadow was now masked with Windswept.

“You did not” he bit his lip and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her off the stool.

She screamed, “No, no, no, no, no!” she tried to get out of his grip, as he dipped a brush into the paint, still hanging onto her.

“Jim!” She cried as he swatted her with paint on her hair and down her sundress. He laughed, letting her go as she grabbed her own brush, flicking specks onto his face.

“Have I told you how good you look in blue?”: She giggled as she ran out of the room, his bare, blue stained feet, padding after her down the hall.

“Get back here!” He called, chasing her into their bedroom, eyeing the brand new white comforter she’d put on the bed just a few days before.

“Don’t.you.dare,” she squinted at him, tempting him to do just the opposite.

“Don’t worry,” he moved out of his stance and crossed his arms, his shirts and shorts covered in paint, “I won’t...but you owe me.” He cocked his head.

“Oh really,” Pam smiled, moving away from the bed and further toward the closet, still keeping space between them. “And what exactly do I owe you?” Her hand moved toward her stomach, still small, but growing daily. Their baby probably thought it’s parents were bananas with all this screaming and laughing.

“C’mere,” he put his hand out to her. Pam hesitated, but moved to him anyway, taking his hand and following him down the hall towards the screen door to the back yard.

“Why are we going outside?” she knitted her eyebrows, pushing open the door.

“It’s a surprise,” Jim wrapped his arms around her from behind, setting his chin on her shoulder. “You go over by the tree, stand there and keep your eyes closed,” he instructed. She turned her head around to face him, the kiss to her neck a signal that he wouldn’t do anything crazy.

She shook her head, giggling, knowing she was probably stepping right into a trap as she closed her eyes.

“Alright Pam, wait right there, okay?” his voice was getting further away as she brought her hands up to physically block her eyes from the sun that was skipping along her eyelids.

She waited, the only sounds of a few birds in the trees above her, and a distant hum of a vehicle coming down the road.

Pam felt it before she heard it.

“Jim!” She screamed turning around finding him with the hose, laughing hysterically at her soaked frame in front of him. He couldn’t control himself, his hand covering his mouth as he bent over laughing.

“I’m going to kill you,” she laughed, running over to him and wrangling the hose out of his hands and spraying him down, “there...we’re even.” She could barely speak through her laughs, as he grabbed her sides, tickling right where their baby lay. She swore she could feel him or her fidget inside of her.

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