After they’ve been sitting on the bench for a few minutes, Angela pulls up and Jim gets to his feet to help her into the car. This whole night has felt like a date and he feels completely justified in striding ahead of her to open the passenger door so she can get in. He feels somehow brighter than he usually does, like he’s basking in the light of her. She was so kind to Michael tonight, so brave to get up and make a fool of herself just so he would feel better, and he feels his stomach drop out a bit as it has several ties tonight as he remembers again that she kissed him tonight. It was probably just friendly, but—
"Can I ask you a question?"
Her voice breaks into his thoughts and he looks up at her, serious. Hopeful. "Yeah."
It takes her the tiniest moment to speak again, but then, "...if I kissed you again, would you let me?"
Nothing. Pure shock.
"Would you kiss me back?"
Not one word will formulate in his brain. He raises his eyebrows, opens his mouth and then closes it. No sound will come out.
"Oh—“ She stammers, coming out of her confident reverie. Her cheeks are flaming and she suddenly looks like she might cry. “God, I—"
"Pam." He says her name softly, firmly. This conversation can not end here, but it also probably should not be happening over the hood of Angela’s car.
"Excuse me!” This, from Angela. “I don't have all night!"
Pam keeps opening and closing her mouth, her eyes wide and frantic. If he doesn’t do something soon, she’s going to get into the car and drive away with Angela and if he never does another thing in his life he has to stop that from being the end of this night.
“I’ve got her, Angela,” he says loudly, keeping his eyes on Pam’s. “Thanks—sorry about that. I’ll take her home.” He looks away just to lean over and look at Angela through the car and she’s rolling her eyes. “Sorry about that,” he repeats, stands back up and closes the passenger side door. The car pulls away and they’re still standing there, still a car door’s distance apart, not one word—or maybe a thousand of them—between them.
She’s still trying to find something to say, and all she can come up with is, “Um, I’m—“
“Yes.” His voice is deep, urgent.
“What?”
“Yes,” he repeats. “The answer is yes. If you kissed me again, yes, I would let you.”
“—Oh,” is all she can say. Then, barely audibly, “And you—would you—“
He shakes his head slightly, but moves the tiniest bit closer to her. “You’re gonna have to find out,” he whispers. He doesn’t know where this is coming from but for some reason it seems like the right move to make. She moves a little closer, too, and now they’re so close his eyes can barely focus on her lovely face.
“Oh,” she whispers, and he can feel her breath on his lips as he leans even closer. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows that it’s probably crazy to not just be the one to kiss her. It’s not like they can really back away from this like they always do with awkward stuff and pretend it didn’t happen. But part of him just knows that this has to be up to her. She has to be the one to make this move.
“Pam,” he says, urging her on.
And she does it. Her lips brush against his so softly he can barely feel them, but it’s enough. She might not have known what she was doing earlier in the restaurant, and she’s still certainly buzzed at the very least, but she knows what she’s doing, now. And it’s enough to make him bring his hands to her face and deepen the kiss.
She breathes out a sigh that sounds a little like a moan and relaxes into him. Her hands move from where they were clasped at her waist, and drag up his torso, over his chest and up into his hair. He pulls back to nip at her lower lip but she uses her new leverage to pull him back down and crush her mouth to his.
This isn’t the first time they’ve kissed. It’s happened once before tonight. When he first started at Dunder Mifflin, he asked her out to lunch, just before he found out she was engaged. They’d been working together for a few weeks, flirting and joking, and one day it just felt right to ask her out. He’d offered to drive and to take her anywhere she wanted, and the hour they were allotted had passed by so quickly that they were well on their way to doubling it before either of them noticed the time.
They were in his car, having just parked in the office lot. They were both laughing about something and leaning close to each other and he’d just leaned a little closer and pressed his lips to hers. “Thanks for lunch,” he’d said easily, still grinning, and then watched, confused, as she went pale and nodded before quickly getting out of his car and hurrying into the building.
It was later that day, after he’d spent hours replaying everything in his mind and trying to figure out what he’d done to upset her, that she’d told him about Roy, her face serious, and she’d apologized for giving him the wrong impression. It was just that her ring was being resized and she hadn’t realized that he didn’t know because everybody knew and she guessed she’d just failed to mention it. He’d played it off like it was no big deal (instead of something he’d analyze over and over until Mark threatened to move out if he ever brought it up again).
But this feels totally different. They’re both breathing heavily and time seems to have stopped around them. The fingers of her left hand are laced through the belt loop at his right hip and he pushes his forehead against hers just to separate their lips enough so that he can gulp down some oxygen and then she breathes out, “Where’s your car?”
They run to get into Jim’s Corolla and they’re both laughing giddily for no real reason when they pull into his driveway. His heart skips a beat with gratitude when he sees that Mark’s spot is empty. They get out of the car and he unlocks his door and holds it open for her to duck under his arm and then they’re in his house and it’s so weird because it’s not weird at all. She’s smiling and her eyes are roving over everything, taking it all in.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He asks, not really sure what makes him think to do that.
“No,” she says clearly, turning her brilliantly green eyes to him, and then they’re kissing again. And then they’re fumbling their way up the stairs to his bedroom. And then they’re in his room, and on his bed, and then they’re under the sheets, and he thinks he might pass out from the electricity in her every touch.
***
She wakes up to discover there is frost on his windows, which isn’t typical for Scranton in October. The bed sheets are cold and there’s a chill in the air but his breath is warm on her skin, the stubble on his chin scratching against her bare shoulder. Their legs are tangled together and she’s gazing at the window next to the bed, at how the sun streams through his frosted over windowpanes, and she’s thinking about how normal everything looks. It’s like nothing has changed, instead of everything.
He shifts slightly in his sleep, snoring softly once or twice, and she thinks about waking him but then she decides to just snuggle back into his warmth. As she closes her eyes, she feels his arms tighten around her, and she drifts back to sleep with a smile on her face.
Story Notes:
I suggested this challenge, like, a million years ago, and I just remembered it recently and thought I'd give it a shot. I hope it seems plausible! Enjoy
Author's Chapter Notes:
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
watchthesky84 is the author of 10 other stories.
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