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I do not own The Office: U.S. Version.

I've watched it enough though.

Free For Dinner

Sandwiches and Clown Cars

"Jim Halpert, price check on fabric softener."

Most mornings she woke up thinking about him.

"Thank you, Delegate from Iceland."

Just as most nights she went to sleep thinking about him.

". . . spy on people and we may build a fort."

It was actually kind of nice. To be independent. On her own.

". . . hide and wait somewhere."

And very lonely.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Jim."

But she had been making it work.

". . . like, second drink."

Because she needed to be independent.

". . . one kitchen . . ."

Without a man.

". . . bonus gifts."

For once.

". . . hole punch version of Jim."

Until the right man came along.

" 'I do not think that is funny.' "

Or back.

"Hi, I'm Jim. I'm new here."

Either way . . .

"Alright, then. It's a date."

. . . here he was.

I've been trying to get ahold of Karen all morning. She won't answer her phone or my texts.

Well, sort of.

I think she knows.

Kind of.

What should I do?

Right there.

Have lunch with me.

Close, anyway.


But not close enough.


"Wow, Beesley, you were right, you do only have one kitchen! I thought that was just an urban legend."

She was giving him the royal tour.

" . . . bathroom. But at least there's hot water."

"Yeah, I always appreciate functional plumbing too."

Which took about six seconds.

And remembered . . .

". . . not going to be awkward at all."

. . . taking the tour of his pre-Stanford apartment.

" . . . is prohibited . . ."

Enveloped by his presence, pleased to see stuff that . . .

"Oooh, yearbook!"

. . . personally belonged to him.

And now . . .

". . . daffodils in the winter."

"Always special."

. . . he was seeing hers.

Her bedroom did not have a home office in it, for example.

Just a dresser and a nightstand.

And her bed.


Ahem, moving on.

Her kitchen was not full of beer for a party.

But there was . . .

". . . famous grilled cheese sandwich."

. . . the makings for some sandwiches.

She did not have a game system in the living room.

Only . . .

"Wow, Pam, these are good."

. . . her stool and easel set up.

She shrugged a little.

"They're just rough drafts. But I'm getting there."

Jim grinned.

"They're great. I'm just glad you decided to go ahead and take the art classes."

Other than her parents, Jim was the only one who had really encouraged her to follow her dreams.

Do anything just for herself.

She grinned.

"Me too. I love it."

I love you.

Jim turned to look out the window.


"Well, I can see why you're shelling out the big bucks for the rent. The view's amazing."

She rolled her eyes.

The parking lot. Complete with dingy dumpster.

"Yeah. The raccoons certainly add to the nightlife."

Jim grinned again.

"Actually, I do think it's great. You're on your own, making your own decisions. I'm really proud of you, Beesley."

And they shared a smile.

Then Pam swiped a hand across her face.

"So, lunch?"

"Yeah. Whaddya got?"

She put on her straightest face.

"Filet migion and lobster thermidor, naturally."

Jim gifted her with a lopsided grin.

"Ham and cheese sandwiches?"


They worked easily together in her tiny kitchen.

Of course, it was only bread and deli meat and cheese.

And as they worked, they talked.

"So, I was thinking, for our big office announcement we have a parade?"

Jim nodded sagely, discarding the mustard-slathered knife in the sink.

"Maybe call the local news station?"

"Hire dancing clowns."

"Stage magicians."


"Lion tamers."

"Trapeze artists."

"Hang on, is our relationship turning into a literal circus?"

"Sounds like it. Which is great 'cause I've always wanted to feed a peanut to an elephant."

"You know, that's actually supposed to be bad for them?"

"Hey, don't stomp all over my dreams, Halpert."

They sat at her tiny kitchen table, grinning and eating sandwiches and sharing potato chips.

All was quiet for a few moments.

Then Pam spoke up.

"I actually don't want to tell anybody in the office yet. I mean, can you imagine Michael?"

"Or Dwight?"

"Or Meredith?"

"Or Angela?"

"Or Kevin?"

They both grimaced.

Kevin Malone would giggle himself silly.

The pointed looks. The pointed phrases.



"I don't think we can date in the office."

"Me neither."

They sat and chewed and thought.

"What are we going to do?"

"Run off to Niagra Falls and get married?"

"No, we'll save that for later."

"Good idea."

It was a good lunch.

Chapter End Notes:
Hello again! I'm really to see some people interested in this little story. Thank you for reading whether you reviewed or not.

That being said, I do find it important to thank people I can name. Thanks to warrior4, DoomGoose, Maxine Abbott, and darjeelingandcoke for so graciously reviewing!

And oh good lord, this jellybean thing is to die for! Thank you, darjeelingandcokeDoomGooseepj27grc73Maxine Abbott, and warrior4

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