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Author's Chapter Notes:
Jim and Pam have one more thing in store for Dwight

Christmas Eve, 6:32pm

If three days ago someone had told Jim he would be spending Christmas Eve parked in front of Angela Martin’s house, Pam sitting beside him in dark clothing with a package from him to Dwight on her lap, Jim would have said there was absolutely no possible way. Him converting to being a New York Giants fan and showing up to work in a Manning jersey was a far more plausible scenario. But here he was, eating cookies and joking about Dwight with Pam, Jim’s hand occasionally reaching out to touch hers.

Yesterday he called Karen at the earliest acceptable hour he could. He actually told her the truth, that he reconnected with a girl he long had feelings for and he was really sorry but he had to see where it goes. Sure, he felt a little guilty for omitting that this girl was Pam, but this was his doing, and he needed to take responsibility. 

Karen scoffed, it made sense since he had been weird since the merger, she said. She chastised him a bit, stating it was pretty shitty to start up with her and encourage her to take the transfer if he knew he still felt this way about someone else, before ultimately confessing she hated Scranton and Michael and wasn’t keen to return anyway and now she had no reason to, “so thanks for that.” Jim didn’t push back, since nothing she said was untrue, he simply apologized and hoped she would still have a merry Christmas. “Sure,” she said curtly before hanging up. Honestly, it went better than Jim expected it to.

He sat for a few moments after the call was over, he should probably give it a few days, let everything settle down a bit, But then on the arm of his couch he saw a striped scarf that he really should return to its owner. So, Jim gathered up his unwrapped Christmas gifts for his family, braved the Steamtown Mall in order to visit the wireless shop along with a couple other stores, then showed up on Pam’s doorstep, wrapping her scarf back around her neck before kissing her.

She showed him how to wrap presents with only three pieces of tape, and he mostly could do it (she never said how long the pieces of tape could be). They made some more cookies with a new set of cookie press discs Jim found at the mall, adding some chubby reindeer and snowmen to the pile of camels. They sipped spiked cocoa and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder as they watched the newer Miracle on 34th Street (she practically swooned when Dylan McDermott was onscreen and then apologized for acting like a teen fangirl. “No, I get it, look at those baby blues,” Jim replied, grinning at her giggles). And later in her bedroom he would undress her until all she was wearing was that striped scarf before pulling her to him and falling back on the bed.

“So how are we doing this?” Pam asked, pulling Jim’s mind back to the car and this ridiculous plan they cooked up.

Jim shrugged, “I’ll run up, drop off the box, ring the doorbell and run back.”

Pam’s jaw dropped. “What? Why do you get to do the fun part?”

“Because it’s my gift to Dwight.”

“We’re only doing this because of what you text Dwight.”

“Well, what do you suggest, Agent Beesly?” Jim said with a half grin.

She looked at nothing in particular for a moment, her brows adorably knitted in thought then her eyes widened. “We go up together, I’ll drop off the box and start back to the car, then you ring the doorbell.”

“And I’m waiting ... why?”

“Because your legs are longer,” Pam said, as if it was the most obvious thing. She pulled on a knit hat and put her hand on the door handle. “Let’s go.”

They tip-toed up the walkway to the cat-shaped welcome mat. “Do you think this is the right house?” Jim whispers, and Pam shushed him while stifling a laugh. She knelt down, carefully setting the box on the mat, then nodded at Jim and started shuffling away. He watched her until she was halfway down the sidewalk, then pressed the doorbell. Pam was right, Jim caught up and passed her quickly to reach the car first, though karma instantly got him back when he struggled to get the seat-back down.

“What are you doing?” Pam giggled.

“I can’t find the fuckin’ thing,” Jim muttered, blindly feeling the side of his seat.

“That’s what she -”

“Don’t. Even think about it.” He looked out the window and saw the front door of Angela’s place crack open. “Shit, get down!” Pam lay back on her already-reclined seat and Jim awkwardly leaned over the console until his head was nearly resting on her lap. He turned his head until he could see her smiling face in the side of his eye. “Hi.”

She laughed, “Hey.”

“Can you see, are they back inside?”

Pam sat up to peek out the window then quickly dropped back down. “He’s still reading the letter.”

When they dreamed up this plan this morning (still in bed and undressed, Pam curled up to his side and Jim stroking her soft curls) Pam said she still had some CIA letterhead and wanted to include a final report. “What did you even write in it?” Jim asked Pam, who printed out the letter and sealed it up before Jim could get a look.

“A thank you for his service and details on his next mission.”

“Next mission, huh?” He looked back again and she shrugged with a smirk on her face. 

She then turned suddenly, “Oh I think I heard…” She sat up again and nodded, “Yep, they’re inside.”

“Thank God, my arm is about numb,” Jim sat back up and started rubbing his shoulder. “Now what?”

Pam tilted her head, “More cookies and Christmas movies?”

Jim grinned. “I was hoping you say that.” He leaned towards her, still not quite able to believe he could do that now and and that she would instantly respond by leaning in for a kiss. When their lips parted, he smiled at her blushing cheeks, then turned on the car to head to her place. 

* * * * *

Our finest gifts we bring
Pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the king
Pa rum pum pum pum

“Thank you for this, Dee.” Angela nestled her head into Dwight’s chest as they danced slowly to his Christmas gift to her, a vinyl record of the newly remastered Bing Crosby Christmas album.

Fröhliche Weihnachten , Monkey,” Dwight said, pulling Angela closer to him. “That’s not the only gift I have for you, I brought my pickle to hide in your tree.”

Angela gasped, “Dwight!” She pulled away from him and gave him a slap on the arm, though a small smile was on her face.

Dwight widened his eyes, “What?” He thought for a moment. “Ah, I see, you thought I was making a reference to sexual intercourse.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small pouch. He opened it up and emptied it into his palm, revealing a glass pickle ornament. “It was my grandmutter's.” 

Angela’s smile faded into surprise. “Oh. Well, it’s lovely.”

The doorbell rang, Dwight scowled, slipping the pickle back into its bag. “Who is that?”

Angela’s eyebrows met, “No idea, carolers perhaps?” She started towards the door but Dwight stepped in front of her.

“No, let me get the door, in case it’s some delinquent.” With Angela close behind, he walked to the front door. He opened it carefully and only a crack, listening for any unusual noises. Opening the door more, he spotted it, a small box with an envelope on it. 

“Is anyone there?” Angela whispered. 

“No, just a package.” Dwight opened the door all the way, took a look around the neighborhood then bent down to grab the gift.

“Well, bring it inside, it’s cold.”

Dwight shook his head, “No, always examine packages before you bring them into your house.” The letter had his full name written on it, Who would know he was here tonight, he wondered as he ripped open the letter. 

Central Intelligence Agency
Washington, D.C.

Dear Mr. Schrute

This correspondence is to update you on the status of the operation you have assisted us with in recent months. This operation, codenamed “Rendezvous” depended on the cooperation of many proud Americans to have any hope of being successful. While we are unable to reveal details of this operation to anyone outside of the agency, we are pleased to report we have achieved the objective of this operation thanks in large part to the information you gathered and passed along to us.

In the course of this operation we are aware you were required to destroy your cellular phone to protect the integrity of the mission. While this was a necessary precaution, we do sincerely apologize for the action. As an amends and thanks for your service, we have provided you with a new cellular phone.

Though Operation: Rendezvous has concluded, we do hope you will stay on as an informant. We are in the preliminary stages of a new operation examining counterfeit goods within agricultural circles. If you have noticed anything suspect in your dealings with other farmers please contact us at the electronic mail address which you will find in the first correspondence on your new cellular phone. 

On behalf of the agency and Americans everywhere, thank you for your service.

He felt the corner of his mouth raise up into a smile, especially at the request for information about suspicious farm activity. The brussel sprout farmer next door had been a nuisance for years. Your time has come, Ruger, he thought with a grin.

“So, who is it from?” Angela said, reminding Dwight she was still right there.

Dwight folded up the letter quickly and stuffed it back in the envelope. Thanks to his height advantage she wasn’t able to see any of it, but now he had to think of a believable answer. “It’s from Michael.”

“Michael,” Angela said, eyebrow arched.

“He must have had it delivered.” Dwight stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He ripped open the gift wrap to reveal a colorful box with a photo of a cellphone. Dwight feigned surprise, “Wow! I had told Michael about losing my phone, he must have gotten me a new one.” He could only pray Angela would buy the story.

With her lips screwed to the side, she looked at the box and then to Dwight, “Well, good you only lost the phone because he made you come in after-hours.” Her mouth shifted to a smirk and she took a step towards him. “Now what was this about hiding your pickle in my Christmas tree?”

“Yeah, you ready for that?” Dwight said in a low tone. Angela looked at him smirking with heavy lidded eyes until he shoved the cell phone box into her hands and retrieved the bag in his pocket. “Okay, don’t come into the living room until I say so,” he said, pushing passed the speechless Angela and running into the living room.

Dwight’s key to hiding the pickle was not to put it in the last place people expected, since that in turn became the first place people would look. He would strive to find the most medium place people expected, and this year he decided the bottom bough, not too far back was a good, mediumly suspicious spot. After placing the ornament, he stood and straightened out his clothes, calling Angela in. “Alright, Monkey, now it’s time to find the pickle, you have sixty seconds to-”

Angela tilted her head down. “It’s right there on the bottom branch.”

“Wha- how did you...” He looked to the branch only to find a cat swatting at the ornament. “Dammit, cat!”

Angela walked over and squatted down to get the glass vegetable out of the reach of the black cat with white markings. “Milky Way, stop playing with Dwight’s pickle.” She stood, ornament in hand, and arched an eyebrow at Dwight again, “Only I get to do that.” She started down the hallway, and with one look over her shoulder, Dwight let out a salacious laugh and followed her.

* * * * *

“Okay, here we go,” Pam walked into the living room with two mugs of cocoa and set them down on the table. She crossed the room to her shelf of DVDs and studied the Christmas section. “We already watched 34th Street and A Christmas Story.” She looked to Jim, “So, Muppet Christmas Carol, or It’s a Wonderful Life?”

“Is that even a question? Muppets, obviously,” Jim with a half grin.

Pam giggled and slipped the disc in, almost skipping to the couch and snuggling up to Jim until he put his arm around her. She couldn’t quite believe it. If anyone told her three days ago she would be here with Jim, playing pranks on Dwight, sipping cocoa and watching Christmas movies, she would have said going to Sandals Jamaica with Michael was far, far more likely. But here he was, and she finally was able to touch him, to smile at him as brightly as he always made her feel. The only thing she couldn’t do was look at his lips too long, because the memory of all the places those lips were last night made her blush too wildly.

A muffled ding sounded, and Pam looked to Jim, “You wanna check that?”

Jim shook his head, “That wasn’t me, I think came from your purse.”

Pam’s brows met as she leaned forward to look inside her bag on the coffee table. It didn’t sound like hers either. “Oh!” She pulled out the phone that was going to her mother tomorrow morning. “It’s the CIA tip line.” She had sent a message from this phone to the pre-paid phone Jim bought requesting confirmation from Dwight that he received the package and letter. 

“Now your mom will be getting texts from Dwight? I’m not sure that’s the Christmas present she wanted.”

“No, I wrote in the message this number would expire in 24 hours, and I’ll block his number before I give it to mom for good measure.” Jim nodded his head, seemingly impressed at Pam for covering her bases and she began to read Dwight’s text. “Mobile phone acquired. P.S. much information on the brussel sprout farmer next door. Will email details later.” 

Jim watched her, clearly waiting for Pam to elaborate on the details but she couldn’t stop giggling. “I’m hoping you’re going to explain some of this to me.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I told him the next mission was to observe and report anything suspicious going on at neighboring farms.”

Jim raised a brow, “So you’re saying we’re about to learn more than we ever wanted to know about the transgressions of Wyoming Valley farmers.” 

Pam shrugged, “Merry Christmas?”

Jim gave her a skeptical look before it morphed into a big brilliant smile and he pulled her towards him, kissing the top of her head. He started speaking softly, “So, after gifting me this great prank, multiple great pranks now, I realize I never really asked you what you wanted for Christmas.”

Pam rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, focusing on Jim stroking her arm, feeling his body move as he breathed in and out. She smiled, “I already got it.”

Chapter End Notes:

Thank you for reading! This goes out to my secret santa recipient ... from two years ago (>.<) but I hope it was worth the wait.

My "7 elements" were: baking cookies, slow dancing, mistletoe, the dark, traditions, competition, and giving in. I got the first 5 in there and I would say I arguably got in the last 2 as well.

The pickle thing came from me trying to Google Pennsylvania Dutch traditions and finding this German-American tradition of hiding a pickle ornament on the tree, which as you can see worked perfectly, love those little moments in fanfic research XD 

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all!



NobleLandMermaid is the author of 22 other stories.
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This story is part of the series, Secret Santa Fic Exchange 2018. The previous story in the series is Christmas Visitors. The next story in the series is If the Fates Allow.

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