“Best Christmas ever.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thank you.”

Jim wrapped the stiff wool of his winter jacket more tightly around his body as the early December air nipped at his skin. His chapped lips still held the ghost of the chaste kiss he’d left his wife with under an hour ago. His half wave and short Love you! out the window of the cab wrapped their icy fingers around him as he did his best to keep warm.

He glanced out across the bus stop at patrons milling around. Several people shared the same cold, uninterested look; they only wanted to board their buses and reach their destinations before the winter blues could claim them first. When exhaust fumes mingled with the dead air, he looked on as men and women and families rose from benches, stretched out their stiff limbs, and wheeled suitcases over to the loading station.

But what struck him the most was a man coming off of a returning bus with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He looked worn down, whether by work or the weather or life in general. His eyes were grey and his hair fell flat and his shoulders drooped like the weight of the seasons was finally catching up to him and winning the race. But as soon as his brown shoes touched the concrete sidewalk, it was as if the winter sun was put back in its cage and springtime began to bloom all around him. The man’s smile stretched the expanse of his cheeks, and his spine straightened with skyrocketing height. Jim knew what was putting life back into the young man’s eyes without having to turn his head.

Still, he looked anyway.

A young woman, somewhere around the man’s age, was propelling herself across the sidewalk and into his arms. Jim watched as the man picked up his love and held her tightly to him as she buried her face into his neck, her hair flapping wildly in the wind. He spun them around twice before setting her down on the ground only long enough to cup her face with both of his hands, to smile widely and whisper something meant for only the two of them, to press his lips to hers in a way that sealed their love together at the seams.

Jim looked away, swallowing the small lump that had apparently been building in his throat. The image of himself and Pam in the parking lot flashed before him, and he kicked himself once more as their shy, timid goodbye left him feeling like he had an incredible hole in his chest. Without a passing thought, he picked up his own bag in the same moment that he pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed up the cab company that had just dropped him off. 

His knee bounced the entire drive back to Scranton Business Park and he bit his lip to keep from shivering. He took the stairs two at a time, anxious to see her, to hold her in his arms and whisper true I love you’s against her ear. But he slowed in the doorway, suddenly nervous as he assessed his own nerves and wondered for the first time what she was feeling in all of this. 

It was a simple enough transition, to bridge the tension with a joke to Dwight. His coworker’s timing was actually impeccable, and though Dwight’s hug cut his itching fingers away from finally reaching Pam, it was a small price to pay.

He watched her over Dwight’s shoulder, saw the deadened look in her eyes spark when she realized that he was here instead of there, watched the surprise grow timid though, like this was only temporary, like she knew he would be leaving again.

“What happened? Did you miss your bus?”

It pierced him, the thought that the only reason he would return was because of faulty transportation. So he did his best to let her know the truth.

“No,” he shrugged, trying to let out some of his buzzing nerves. “I just missed my wife.”

He kissed her this time like he meant it, like he was welcoming her into the home of his embrace. It was so clear in his mind, as he kissed her and felt her arms slowly wind around his shoulders, that picture of the man and woman at the bus stop. He had only been gone for a little over an hour and yet the touch of her hands, the feel of her lips, was like surfacing for air after he’d been on the edge of drowning. Because lately, he really had been.

He reassured her that he could catch another bus, that it wasn’t until five o’clock the next morning, as a way of showing her that they had time now.

It was all cut short by Dwight and the Belschnickle, the grounding of his heart again. But before he was pulled away to break the pig rib, he tugged on her hand, made sure that her eyes were trained on his gaze, and nodded slightly, enough that she understood. This was where he was meant to be. And he wasn’t going far.

Throughout the party, he kept his eyes on her, never straying too much from where she wandered, which wasn’t ever far, because she seemed to be doing the same, seemed to be attached to him all the same. He kept finding even the smallest of ways to catch her hand, to skim the small of her back with his fingers, to wrap his arm around her shoulder. She was playing along too, her fingers tickling the inside of his palm or her knee brushing against his pant leg just enough to let him know that she was there.

It was as if his body was chasing a high. They had been so distant lately after the initial spats about him going away to start his own company, so quiet and careful and tiptoeing along eggshells around one another that his body was missing simply being with her, without any implications. To be in her presence was all he really wanted, all he really needed to ground him. So he followed his instincts, and followed her wherever she went.

The party was still going strong, but his need to just be alone with her was so much more overpowering. When he threaded his fingers between hers and tugged on her wrist, the look on her face was calm, but backed with a shared intensity. They left early, hand in hand.

The drive home would have been categorized as mostly silent if it hadn’t been for the audible buzz in the air that charged between them. They spoke with subtle glances back and forth at every street light, every stop sign, as they passed the Rite Aid. He held onto her hand with a grip that would have been too tight had she not been craving the tattooing of his fingerprints against her skin. Despite their steady bodies and the chill of December air, their breathing was as heavy as if they’d been running a marathon.

When they arrived home, Jim opened her door and wound his arm around her waist, the charge in his step evident by the way he skipped up the concrete steps of their walkway. His eyes were wide and shining with intensity every time he glanced her way, but he met a similar fate in hers. Sydney, their fourteen year old neighbor who had been watching the kids, was startled when they arrived home early, but probably even more off put by the speed at which Jim haphazardly shoved a few bills into her hand and ushered her out the door with a stifled thanks.

The door sealed closed, and he let his head rest against the wood as he exhaled, his shoulders falling from their heightened state into a leveled home before he turned around. Pam was standing in the middle of the kitchen with a crossed look in her expression when he rounded upon the doorway: she looked as ready to jump as he was, but it was the slight hesitancy in her eyes, the subtle bite of her lip, that deepened the crack in his heart. She was holding back when in the past, she would have been across the room, had him backed up against the door already.

So he took charge, extending his hands forward to race the rest of his body as he crossed the room in two large steps, cupping her cheeks with a gentle force that he hoped would erase the pain that was evident in the deepening green of her eyes. His lips met hers with a gentle squeak that he couldn’t distinguish the source of, but he really couldn’t care less as he moved his arms to wrap around her as far as they could reach.

He sighed into her when she laced her fingers in his hair and held on like he was her anchor in a storm, moved to hug him under his arms and around his back and anywhere that she could reach. 

They kissed like they were each other’s oxygen source, as hands were meant more for feeling one another than coercing and teasing. He held her, only wanting to feel her body, to feel that she was here and alive and wanting. Whispered gasps replaced speaking or their typical bedroom whispers that had been practiced throughout the years of being intimate. Right now, words were unnecessary, as they communicated only with the desperation of hands and lips and tongues, with the fury at which clothes were literally torn and dispersed carelessly onto the kitchen floor. 

It was a frantic oddity, the pace at which their bodies tried to crawl inside on another, contrasted by the slow, guileless nature of their lips, refusing to leave each other. 

He picked her up effortlessly, the weight of his whole world in his hands, and set her on the counter, peeling his mouth away from hers for the first time since arriving home, as he ran his hands along either side of her face, smoothing the frizzed hair, feeling the softness of her cheeks as he peered into her eyes.

With lips parted, chests heaving, eyes wide, he did his best to communicate every jumbled thought inside his head, every unspoken worry and bottled up emotion that had been stuffing up his heart and his head for weeks now. The desperation, the longing that he saw in Pam had him pinching his eyes shut before he wrapped his body around her, pressed his lips to her neck, and did his best to remind her of every reason that they’d fallen in love.

It didn’t go unnoticed to him that she was clinging to his body for dear life as he drove them both home.

--

He carried her to bed, not bothering to shut off the lights or pick up their discarded clothing. She buried her body against him at the same rate that he pulled her into him, and a sigh of relief coursed through his veins to have her here, with her cheek at home against his chest, her fingers fumbling against the bare skin of his abdomen. It was her breath tickling his skin, though, that calmed him the most, that steadied his heart rate and allowed his body to sink into their bed for the first time in too long.

When their breathing had steadied and they had sufficiently tattooed their prints softly along one another’s skin, Jim shifted onto his side, keeping his hands firmly planted on her waist, not ready just yet to let her go. She followed suit, facing him on the bed as his eyes scanned her body, his hands clenching involuntarily on her skin as he did his best to gather the courage to say something that would make her privy to the swirling in his head.

Eventually, the ball in his throat got the better of him, and holding her was all his body cared to do. His bicep wrapped around her head in a bear hug as he bit back his emotions yet again; her arms wove around his middle, her legs threading between his. 

The silence broke in the form of her quiet, “What time do you need to get up in the morning?” He wished she wouldn’t have asked, that they could have stayed in their cocoon for just a bit longer. But when he finally glanced down, he noticed that she wasn’t looking at him, that instead, she was following the slow movement of her fingers through the soft hair that speckled his torso, not to tease, but just to touch.

Stilling her hand with his, he gently brought her fingers to his lips and kissed her knuckles softly before holding them to his chest in the hopes that she could feel that the beating of his heart was fueled solely by her presence. Tears brimmed in his eyes when he saw the look of hesitance on her face, knowing that he had put it there, knowing that there was little he could do to fix it.

“Hey,” she said suddenly, coaxing him gently from the downward spiral of his thoughts and emotions. She studied his face as her hand came to touch his cheek, almost like she was checking for a fever, and he closed his eyes against the sensation only for a moment. “Baby, are you okay?”

It was such a weighted question.

Was he okay?

In a sense, he was about to embark on one of the most epic adventures of his lifetime, one that wasn’t marriage or becoming a father. It was the first real step into making a better life for his family, and the pressure that had begun to wrap around his heart and fill his head as of late made him want to burst. He couldn’t fail them.

But he couldn’t tell her that, either. 

The fight that they’d had on Halloween almost broke him. He hated seeing her upset. Usually, he was her comfort and her confidant. But this time, he was the cause, and instead of reassuring her, they were on opposite sides of the kitchen with red faces and biting words until it was time to get the kids ready for trick or treating. This year, their couple’s costume was “two people pretending to be happy.”

Of course, the giggles and candy-stained faces of their children in matching costumes brought out softer sides, and eventually they kind of sort of talked things through. But even after a round of make up sex and having her spooned to his front, he still felt like there was a small hole inside of him that had yet to close.

But he so desperately wanted it to. He wanted her to reach in and patch it up, wanted to erase every look of doubt that had lingered since he uncovered his lie. He thought that coming clean about the company would take the weight off his chest, when in reality, it only added more.

And here she was, lying in his arms, asking him to lay it all out on the line. She was his wife, the mother of his children, the love of his life, but most importantly, she was his best friend. He could tell her these things, was supposed to tell her these things. She was asking him to, with her words and with that look in her eyes that brought him years back to You look like you want to tell me something. You look like you have something really important to say and you just can’t for some reason. 

Come on, you can tell me. Jim. You can tell me anything. 

The giggle, the twinkle in her eyes, was long gone this time. But the feeling of being jinxed, his voice box locked with the key thrown into the Pacific Ocean, was there just the same.

He could go for it, he realized, as his thoughts mistified into potential reality.

“I don’t know Pam,” he began, avoiding her eyes as he let his fingers nervously tick up and down her arms. “I’m...so excited, don’t get me wrong but...I hate that look on your face.”

He met her eyes, waiting for the walls to come crumbling. His fingers gripped her more tightly in preparation for the inevitable moment when she would pull away.

Strangely, the world stayed in place. Her lips furled sideways before twisting into a sly grin.

“Oh, you mean the one that I get when I’m lying in bed naked with my husband? You hate that look?”

Her lips were grinning and there was low laughter in her voice, but her eyes told a different story. It was a defense mechanism and he could see it from miles away.

Mostly because back before she was his, she did the same with Roy, and even then, he could see that she was hurting inside. The fact that she was doing it here, with him, positively killed him.

“Hey, come on,” he pleaded, suddenly needing to bare it all as the words charged in the back of his throat like vomit waiting to spill out. “Don't do that.”

He stilled his shaking hands by placing them under her chin, directing her now transparent gaze of fear and sadness towards him. He felt more than saw her curt nod, and touched their foreheads together, breathing in deeply before he began.

“I know this is scaring you, Pam.”

It was a good start, because while her voice wasn’t saying it, her eyes certainly were.

She opened her mouth to defend herself. He could see it in the way that her eyebrows met in the middle as parted lips geared up to retort. But he caught her, shook his head from one side to the other before admitting, “I’m scared too,” in a whisper that barely registered above the quiet whir of the heater.

He was letting himself be vulnerable for the first time, the wetness in his eyes spilling over a touch. He heard a small whimper in her throat in the same moment that her fingers gripped onto him more tightly. It was all in her eyes, the reassurance that she was here and she was listening and she wasn’t going to leave him. Her fingers laced through his and she dragged his hand to rest on her sternum, squeezing his hand lovingly.

“I love you so much,” he started, because it was the truth. “And I want to do right by you. I want to do right by our family. But I’m afraid to mess this up. I’m afraid to mess us up, Pam.”

He could feel her trying to meet his gaze but wasn’t strong enough to look down and focused on the curl of her hair instead, which brought images of Cece to mind.

“I hate fighting with you. I hate that I put that look on your face. I hate that you’re scared and sad and that it’s all my fault.”

Tears were escaping at a quicker pace now, but they kept even keel with his words.

“But I want this, too,” he admitted. “I want this company to be successful. I feel like...I’ve been stuck at Dunder Mifflin for so long, and I’m not going anywhere, and I, I just feel like this company could...I don’t know, bring me out of this...this rut that I’m in.”

This was the part that had him worried. Admitting to this feeling of stagnancy. He didn’t want her to think that she wasn’t fulfilling him, because she did so much more than that just by existing. But he wasn’t sure how to tell her that, in other areas of his life, he felt like he was stuck in a sand trap, his shoes weighted down like concrete, with nowhere to go.

Her reaction terrified him.

But he was on a mission now, to try to get her to understand where he was coming from. 

“And I don’t want you to think that it’s you, because Pam, you’re...god you’re...just, everything.”

And it was the truth. Speaking it made him catch himself, because suddenly he was smacked square in the face with every reason that he shouldn’t be afraid. She was here. She was his anchor. There should never have been a doubt in his mind that he could talk to her about these things, because getting through life together was the only way. He let himself rest with his forehead against hers to center himself.

“I just...I feel like I’m stuck. I want to...to do something more with my life. Selling paper, it was never...I never wanted to make that a career, you know? I wanted to get some experience, sure but…”

She was being so good with him, so kind and patient, her eyes bright and free of judgement as he hesitated on the brink of everything that was building under the surface. Her hands were warm and reassuring, ticking softly up and down his arm as he spoke.

When he finally peered down and saw the openness in her eyes, how grateful she was that he was baring it all to her, the love that had always been there, he opened the tap and let the rest run out.

“Pam, having you and being with you and having our family has been my biggest dream. You and Cece and Phillip are my world. And I just, I get scared that chasing after all of this makes it seem like it isn’t enough, and I don’t want you to think that. Because everything I’m trying to do right now, with this company, is going to be for us. And I know it might not seem that way right now, but I’m asking you to trust me, and trust that I can make this happen for our family.”

“I’m so scared that this isn’t going to work, that I’m going to put in all of this time and money and effort for the company to go under. I’m scared of going to Philly every week, and being away from you. Having you next to my desk all these years is what keeps me sane, because even in my worst moments, I can look up and you’ll be there. And now, you’re not going to be right there every step of the way, and that terrifies me.”

He could tell that she was aching to interrupt him, could see the words on the tip of her tongue as her lips parted. But she continued to hold back, and held on tighter to him instead, biting the tears that threatened in her own eyes.

“I know that I’m asking you to make sacrifices that scare you, and they scare me too, Pam. I hate thinking about you home alone with the kids while I’m in Philly, and I know I’m asking a lot out of you, but...I’ve been wondering, you know, if...if you’re holding out on me, too.”

He paused, stealing the breath that mingled between them, as his deepest fears came to the surface. Above all else, above his company failing and long weeks of travel and spending time apart, it was this that scared him the most.

“Because...you’re being so, so good about all of this, and you’re so supportive, but...baby I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me just because you’re scared of what I might say. I...I can’t do this without you. And if you’re too scared to talk to me about it I...I can’t fight with you like that again.”

His words mingled with snot and tears and the bundle of emotions that was finally beginning to unravel. She whimpered, too, and he held onto her for dear life.

“I can’t lose you for this,” he whispered. “I can’t...you’ve gotta talk to me, Pam. Because you...Cece, Phillip...I’m doing this for you, but if I can’t, if I can’t have you then...none of this will…I don’t want to get a couple of months down the road and...hate each other. I can’t...”

Her lips melded to his chest as she pulled their bodies impossibly closer, her arms stretched across his back as her nails dug comfortingly into his skin. 

“I love you so much, Jim,” were the first words she had breathed since he began, and that alone settled the rapid beating of his heart as his own body wrapped around her, the feel of her heart beating against his finally bringing the world to a standstill. 

But as nice as it was, the thought of his confession dissolved just as quickly as it had manifested. He was still in their bed, was still shaking subtly against Pam’s timid touch, was still under her waiting gaze as the words stood still on the tip of his tongue, waiting for orders to move or retreat.

Was he okay?

He took a breath, sealing his lips into a line as he decided that tonight wouldn’t be another fight. Because in all reality, the thought that scared him the most was her reaction to the monologue he hadn’t given. He couldn’t stand seeing tears in her eyes, didn’t want to feel her body grow apart from his, even in the smallest, the subtlest of ways. He could imagine her response in his head all he wanted, could give Dream Pam a script to follow, but in the end, he didn’t control her reactions. Tonight, he wanted her here, in his arms, every single reminder of why he was alive in this world.

So he maneuvered his large hand from her waist to her back, pulling her flush against him as he mustered the best smile that he could manage.

“No, I’m...everything’s good. I’m just nervous. And a little tired.”

He chuckled, ducking his head to brush his nose against hers as his fingers ticked up and down her spine.

“You wore me out, Beesly.”

It was a whisper against her lips, impending danger as he felt her leg drag even farther between his. She smiled against his lips and pressed a chaste kiss there before resting on his shoulder, her breath tickling his throat with a light giggle.

“You’d better get some sleep then,” she offered, her voice more quiet when she added, “Big day tomorrow, huh?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, trying impossibly to tuck her farther into his body. “Big day tomorrow.”

She fell asleep, lightly clinging to his body as her breathing slowed and her limbs sunk against him like a welcomed weight. But despite her apparent calamity, despite his entire world at rest around him, the spinning in his stomach, in his head, in his heart, didn’t slow at all. The small hole that had started with his lie began to widen.