Story Notes:
So, one of my favorite things to do in fic is the 'What if' scenario. There are roughly ten thousand of them. So... what if Pam had asked the question that was on her mind at the Dundies?
Much thanks to WhatAWaste for the brainstorming, even if you did abandon me to come up with that crummy title on my own. ;)
Much thanks to WhatAWaste for the brainstorming, even if you did abandon me to come up with that crummy title on my own. ;)
the dundies: can I ask you a question?
Later, he’d realize she never did tell him exactly what she wrote about Michael on the bathroom wall.
As Angela pulled up and they stood up from the bench and strolled to meet her, Jim sighed inwardly. Such a great night. Why did it have to end?
Pam staggered a little and he put out a hand to steady her. “Whoa,” he smiled. He’d never seen her so drunk. It was cute. No; it was adorable. He wanted to take her home and put her to bed. Not even necessarily in a sexual way. Just tuck her in and see her smile up at him as she drifted off. Then he could climb in beside her and put his arm around her and pull her close, bury his face in her hair and—
Stop.
She grinned up at him, but then her smile suddenly faded, her expression becoming pensive. “Can I ask you a question?”
She looked serious. His heart thumped. “Sure.”
“Do you ever think about …” She tucked her bangs behind her ear, her gaze faltering. “Just, about…” She gestured with one hand at the space between them, and her eyes came back to meet his uncertainly.
Her meaning was clear enough. The connection, the thing between them. He stared at her stunned, his lips slightly parted, and in his moment of hesitation, her face fell and her eyes dropped to the pavement.
Say something!
But he found himself mute, and before he could articulate three years of tortured longing into a coherent reponse, Angela was rolling her window down, glancing from Pam to him with her expression of perpetual disapproval. “Are you ready?”
Jim answered before Pam had a chance. “You know what, Angela, I can take her.”
Angela scowled. “Are you –”
“I’m fine to drive,” he said quickly. “It’s right on my way anyway.”
She pressed her lips together, suspicion in her eyes, but finally just nodded and rolled the window back up before pulling away.
When he turned back to Pam, her cheeks were aflame and her gaze was firmly fixed down at her Keds. “Why don’t you stay here. I’ll get the car,” he suggested.
She nodded, but still wouldn’t look at him. He touched her arm and her eyes flew up to his, wide and startled. “I’ll be right back,” he said gently.
She nodded again, and his heart beat faster at the panic and fear in her face.
About…
About them, about you and me. What else could it mean?
She’d kissed him.
Kissed him. Thrown her arms around him and kissed him.
It meant something. It had to mean something.
His hands were shaking as he put the key in the ignition, his heart hammering double-time.
She let herself in before he could get out to open the door for her. “I got it,” she waved at him, and he watched in amusement as she fumbled blindly with the seat belt, missing the clip two, three, four times before looking at him in exasperation, blowing her bangs out of her eyes. “I can’t see.”
He reached down to fit it into the buckle for her, deliberately grazing her knuckles in passing. Got it,” he murmured, and she smiled, meeting his eyes.
He made a point to hold her gaze for a moment, a beat or two longer than usual, until at last she cleared her throat and straightened up, clasping her hands in her lap and staring out the windshield.
Jim turned out of the parking lot and pulled onto Mulberry, and they drove in silence for a few minutes. Finally, at the third red light, he gripped the steering wheel and screwed up his courage.
“You asked me,” he began. “If I thought about—”
Her eyes shot to his, startled and fearful. “No, it’s okay,” she interrupted. “You don’t, I mean…”
He cut her off. “Did you mean, like…you and me?” he persisted.
“I…” She hesitated for a long moment, chancing a brief glance at him before leaning her forehead against the window to stare out at the passing streetlamps. “I just, I had fun tonight,” she murmured finally.
Of course, she would evade the question. But he was a patient man, and an experienced navigator of these waters. He took a breath and let it out very slowly . Careful. “Me, too.”
“I always have fun with you,” she sighed.
“Me, too.” He managed a small, cautious smile. “That’s good, right?”
She glanced over at him and returned his smile. “You’re my best friend.”
Friend. Her eyes were warm and her tone utterly sincere, but it was a cold bucket all the same. He tore his eyes from hers and fixed his gaze on the road, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.
She saw his face fall, his jaw tighten, and felt an unpleasant twisting in her gut. He was upset; she’d upset him. And she hated to see Jim upset more than anything in the world. “Just,” she floundered helplessly. “I have fun with you. You make me laugh… I don’t know.”
Her voice, soft and plaintive, apologetic and uncertain, was enough to cut through his frustration. A quick glance in her direction caught her worried frown, her hands twisting nervously in her lap, and softened him completely. “You’re my best friend too, Pam.” He fought to keep his voice steady, controlled, and added quietly, “You’re very…special. To me.”
He heard her soft intake of breath, felt her eyes on him, but kept his eyes on the road.
She was quiet for a moment that seemed very long. His neck was ready to snap from the effort of not looking at her. “You mean a lot to me too,” she murmured at last.
He swallowed.
“You make me happy,” she added, nearly a whisper.
“You make me happy too, Pam.” He hesitated, choosing his next words with care. “But it’s not just… it’s more than that.” He licked his lips, his heart pounding so hard he felt light-headed. “I’d like to make you happy all the time.”
She stared at him, her eyes wide, her face pale. She didn’t answer for a long moment, and he had to look back at the road.
“What?” she whispered at last.
“Pam.” His voice was soft, a plea.
Her eyes grew suddenly bright and she looked out the window, tracing her index finger over the glass. “I—it’s—I've been with Roy so long…”
“You kissed me.”
Her eyes darted to his for a long moment before the blush heating her cheeks forced her to look away again.
He licked his lips again, every muscle in his body at attention, his heart beating too fast, instinct telling him to back off, not to push too hard. What the hell was he doing? The frustration and longing was becoming harder and harder to bear, but the prospect of losing her friendship, too? The horrid awkwardness at work? It wasn’t too late, he could still salvage this somehow, their friendship, his tattered dignity…
“What about Katy?” she asked finally.
It was so utterly not what he’d expected that he didn’t fully comprehend the question immediately. She was looking at him, her expression equal parts challenge and uncertainty.
“It’s not serious with her,” he said firmly.
“It’s not?”
Jim looked at her, and she caught her breath, startled by the intensity in his eyes.
The stoplight at Harrison, which was never, never green, was green, and as he took the turn he realized in dismay that they were nearly to her place. His heart beat faster yet again as he pulled over abruptly in front of a house three blocks from her street and put the car in park.
She frowned at the unfamiliar surroundings and looked back at him in confusion. “Jim, what…?”
Her expression of frightened anticipation mirrored his own. He swallowed hard, keeping his eyes on hers, squeezing the steering wheel in his sweaty palms, so nervous he wasn’t sure he would be able to speak. He swallowed again, took a deep breath; his voice, when he found it, came soft but clear. “Do you think about…you and me?”
She stared at him for what seemed an eternity, and he could read her thoughts as they crossed her face: fear and uncertainty warring with curiosity and desire, yes, desire, he saw it flicker through her eyes in the briefest of moments that her gaze flicked down to his lips.
But then a deep wrinkle creased her forehead, and the uncertainty returned, and she looked away. “I don’t… I don’t know,” she sighed.
He looked at her sternly. “Pam.”
“Maybe,” she blurted.
“Maybe,” he repeated. He was a patient man, but a flare of irritation gave a sharp edge to his voice.
Her eyes darted to his, and dear god down to his lips again for an instant before meeting his eyes again.
“Sometimes,” she whispered.
She was looking at him, and the fear in her face had mostly given way to desire, and when her eyes drifted down to his lips yet again he couldn’t help himself; he reached for her. He put his hand out to cradle her head and bring her closer, and she met him halfway, her fingers taking up a fistful of his shirt as their mouths came together.
It was gentle, but firm. His eyes drifted shut as her lips softened under his, accepting his kiss for a moment before returning it. Her grip on his shirt tightened; his fingers tangled into her hair. Her lips parted and when the tip of her tongue ventured out shyly to touch his he felt a jolt of pure desire deep in his belly.
She broke away first, her eyes wide with an expression he couldn’t identify as she released his shirt and sat back. But she didn’t look upset, and she didn’t look sorry. More than anything, she looked like she wanted to kiss him again.
He smiled, feeling bold. “Sometimes?” he asked, softly.
Rosy spots of color warmed her cheeks as she looked away. “Jim.” Her voice was stern but he saw the edges of a smile not entirely suppressed.
He waited a few beats for her to turn back, his every fiber poised to pull her in and kiss her again, but she shifted toward the front and kept her gaze out the window. He licked his lips and stared at her profile, the gentle curve of the back of her neck, and slowly realized she was going to act like it hadn’t happened. Or wasn’t going to say So…what was that?, at any rate.
He put the car into gear and pulled out onto the street. She glanced at him, seeming startled, and he was confused all over again; did she want…
But then she looked out the window again.
From there it was only a few blocks that would pass in silence. Roy’s truck wasn’t in the driveway when he pulled up to the curb. “Pam,” he began.
She turned to face him, her expression serious but unsure. “More than sometimes,” she said softly.
Her eyes searched his as he stared back at her, and as the moment stretched out her gaze faltered and she looked past him, but only for an instant before her eyes came back to his, questioning.
“All the time,” he whispered. “All the time, Pam.”
She looked terrified and relieved at once, and surprised him by suddenly leaning forward to grip his shirt and pull him down to her. Her kiss was unexpected and he felt her teeth, hard against his, before she broke away and ducked her face into his neck, her arms winding about his neck in a tight hug.
She was trembling a little, and instinctively he put his arms around her, drawing her awkwardly against his chest over the gearshift. Her grip on him tightened and he felt her exhale a long, slow breath before she pulled away, swiping discreetly at her right cheek. Her eyes were bright. “Jim,” she sighed, looking out the window toward her dark front step.
She sounded tired, and a little sad, and his heart started racing. “Pam…”
She looked at him again. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For the ride.”
She looked like she was getting out, and in a panic he reached out, grabbing her wrist before he could stop himself. Her eyes went to his hand in surprise, but instead of pulling away she turned her palm up so that his hand could slide down to cover hers. Her fingers tangled with his and she looked up to meet his eyes again.
He could barely breathe from the look in her eyes, the gentle squeeze of her fingers around his.
“All the time?” she asked softly.
He almost laughed, almost burst out Are you kidding? , but the hope and fear and vulnerability in her eyes killed the last vestige of his joking façade and he could only nod.
“I have to,” she gestured toward the house with her other hand, still holding fast to him as she looked back with a troubled expression. “It’s…can we just…think about things?” She was clutching his hand, her eyes begging him to understand.
God, he didn’t want to let her go. But there was a light in her eyes, one his heart recognized from all the times she’d smiled at him, laughed at him, plotted with him, and he squeezed her fingers. “Think about things,” he commanded gently.
She nodded and bit her lip and looked away, and her eyes seemed bright, but she didn’t seem upset. “Okay,” she murmured, and damn it if she didn’t sound… happy.
He gave her hand a final squeeze before pulling away and starting the engine. “Pam.”
She looked at him, pausing with her hand on the door handle.
“For the record, I don’t have anything to think about,” he said quietly.
Her eyes went bright again. “Jim.”
He smiled. “Just saying.”
She smiled. “See you tomorrow.” She slipped out the door and shut it with a firm push, pausing at the window to meet his eyes one more time before straightening up and heading up the driveway.
He watched her go, waiting until she was safely inside before he’d pull away. Look back, look back…
A few steps from the door, she looked over her shoulder. A tiny, nervous smile came to her lips as she lifted one hand, just the barest movement of her fingers.
He smiled.
She put the key in the lock and went inside.
_
Chapter End Notes:
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