Story Notes:
Title is taken from Taylor Swift's song "Paper Rings".
"And I hate accidents
Except when we went from friends to this
Uh Huh
That's right
Darling, you're the one I want."
"And I hate accidents
Except when we went from friends to this
Uh Huh
That's right
Darling, you're the one I want."
Before she opened her eyes, Pam took in a deep breath through her nose, pulling the covers up over her shoulders as she did. The sheets smelled like fabric softener, but not the kind she usually bought. Her eyes squinted open as the pale morning light streamed through the crack in the curtains, casting soft shadows around the room. But it wasn’t her room. It wasn’t her desk, or her closet, or her sheets wrapped around her.
But those were definitely her clothes scattered on the floor.
Slowly, she rolled over, attempting to keep the mattress as still as possible. She bit her bottom lip as her eyes drew a line from the mop of hair on the pillow, down the smooth curve of his spine, and stopped where the sheet was draped low on his hips. A warm flush spread through her cheeks as she replayed the night before in her head. If he hadn’t been there, right in front of her, chest rising and falling as proof of his mortal existence, she would have thought she had dreamt all of it.
It wasn’t like her, sleeping with a guy on the first date. Of course, she hadn’t actually been on that many first dates, but that was beside the point. The point was that staying the night was never the plan, as manifested by the way her dry contacts felt plastered to her eyeballs from sleeping with them in. She never took them out, because she had never planned on falling asleep in someone else’s bed after the first date.
She felt the nerves pool up in her chest. In the veil of darkness after arguably one of the best dates of her life, things were easier. It was easy to get swept up, let the carnal instincts take over, release the tension that had been building all night. Now, in daylight, self-consciousness and reality set in, along with some other emotions that she couldn’t quite wrangle.
The body next to hers stirred and rolled toward the middle of the bed, running one arm beneath the pillow under his head. Pam resisted the urge to scoot closer and trail a finger along his bicep. Instead, she stared at him, taking in the features of his face and how different they looked when blanketed with sleep. He looked boyish, innocent. And peaceful, which is something she hadn’t noticed while he was awake.
Shifting again, he rubbed one of his eyes with the back of his hand before opening it to look at her. A warm smile spread on his face when he met her gaze, and the nerves she felt began to dissolve into something even less tangible. He brought his hand up to brush the back of his knuckles across her chin, then let his palm rest softly on her cheek. She covered it with her own hand and smiled back at him as he spoke, his voice deep and thick with sleep.
“Good morning, Beesly.”
Yeah, this wasn't just somebody.
"Morning," she whispered through her smile, burrowing herself further in the sheets.
He pulled her hand to his lips, delicately kissing the back of it. His eyes remained on hers and they laid in silence, as if they both couldn't quite believe it was reality.
"This is crazy," she finally whispered.
His eyebrows met playfully in the middle. "Good crazy or bad crazy?"
"Definitely good," she beamed. "But like...I'm in Jim Halpert's bed," she giggled.
He let out a breathy chuckle. "This is true."
"Naked," she blushed, biting her bottom lip with a smirk..
Jim scooted closer and Pam felt the mattress dip her body closer to him. "Also true."
"Crazy."
"Yep, we covered that," he laughed, then glanced down more seriously and began threading his fingers through hers. "Are you…okay?"
She gave his hand a squeeze before spreading a wide smile and nodding her head against the pillow.
"Good," he said, inching even closer. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body. Lowering his voice to a gravelly whisper, he lifted her chin slightly with his finger and searched her eyes with his. "So...does that mean I can kiss you good morning?"
She happily nodded again. Jim's eyes brightened with his smile, then closed as he pressed his lips gently against hers. It was nothing like the kisses they had shared the night before. Those were hungry and pleading. They had shed clothing as if doing so would strip away all the years of wasted time between them. Neither came up for air until they were too exhausted to do anything but sleep.
But now--now, this was different. It was quiet and comfortable and delicate. He pulled back and gently stroked her cheek with his thumb, resting his forehead against hers.
"For the record, I'm glad you're in my bed," he hummed.
"Me too," she smiled, leaning back in for another kiss, which was quickly interrupted by the sound of her stomach growling loudly. She felt his lips upturn against hers and his laugh brush through his teeth.
“Pancakes or waffles?” he chuckled.
She let her fingers glide through the hair behind his ears. "You're going to make me breakfast?"
"If you'll let me."
She couldn't recall the last time anyone had offered to make her food. Well, that wasn't exactly true. With visions of rooftops and lawn chairs and grilled cheese sandwiches, she realized she couldn't recall the last time someone other than Jim had made her food.
"Waffles, then," she said happily.
Jim gave her another soft kiss. "Waffles it is. Take your time getting up. I'll just be in the kitchen."
"Okay," she said quietly.
Jim turned and sat on the edge of the bed. It was strange for her, being here like this, completely able and free to admire the pull of his muscles as he slipped on some sweatpants. Not that she wasn't elated, and excited, and over the moon to be there. She was all of those things and more.
But as she watched him leave his bedroom, looking back with a wink as he did, it occurred to her that she rarely saw him outside of work before this. She didn't really know what he dressed like when he wasn't in a button down and slacks, or what his favorite menu items were at any restaurant. She didn't know what radio stations he had preset in his car or what time of day he preferred to go grocery shopping. They were best friends--had been for years--and she felt like she knew him better than most people, but there was still so much to learn. And boy, did she want to learn. She just needed her brain to catch up to what her heart so deeply felt. He was no longer just Jim: a friend from work. He was Jim: the man making her breakfast in the next room while she laid in his bed, her clothes on the floor, her body humming with merely the thought of their night together.
Their night together. She reached over and pulled his pillow to her chest, taking in his smell and the warmth that still lingered on it, and relaxed into the memories from last night.
After he had interrupted her interview in the office, he fled the scene. She had found a note on her desk telling her to be ready by 7:00 and to text him her address. Her fingers ran over his jagged handwriting while her stomach flipped and twirled and she counted the minutes until she could escape.
She had laid out three outfits on her bed, standing back to assess each one, but ultimately went with the emerald blouse and dark wash jeans. She fussed with her hair until it finally laid how she wanted it to, and wondered subconsciously if maybe he would be the one to mess it up.
He had been prompt, early even, to pick her up. She didn't mind. When she opened the door, his shoulders relaxed and he cocked his head slightly to the side with a quiet, "Hey." He wrapped his arms around her tightly, lingering, and she could feel the quickened pace of his heart beating right along with hers.
The car ride was made up of stolen glances and coy smiles that peeked through their nervous demeanors. He opened her door and she worked up the courage to grab his hand on the way into the restaurant. They quickly slipped back into easy conversation that was sprinkled with laughter and sarcasm and banter. She knew she missed the old Jim, but didn't realize just how much until he was back.
They sat at the table long after their plates had been cleared, Jim's long legs occasionally brushing against hers. When they eventually left, he placed his hand on the small of her back as he led her out to his car and it sent a current through every part of her body.
He invited her to his apartment with the preface of "I don't want to sound presumptuous, but I'm also not ready to say goodnight." So she found herself comfortably perched under his arm on his couch as they watched That Thing You Do and he traced lazy circles up and down her arm.
The movie ended with Guy asking Faye about the last time she had been decently kissed. Truly, truly, good and kissed. Jim turned to her and asked her the same question, jokingly at first, but growing serious as she quietly replied, "You should know. You were there."
Before the date, she had one foot on the brake, solely in the name of self preservation. She didn't want to get her hopes up, or assume anything. Really, she didn't want to get hurt. But now as he melted into her on the couch, kissing her neck, running his fingers through her hair, she eased off the brakes and floored the gas instead. She let go of any inhibition and gave into every desire she'd tried to suppress before now.
Soon she was straddling his waist, his hands grasping under her thighs as he carried her to his bedroom. There was giggling and awkwardness as they navigated waters they had been charting in their minds for years but had never ventured into. But they fell into an easy rhythm, literal and otherwise. Their kisses grew deeper, more passionate. He attended to every inch of her body with his mouth and his hands while she branded his skin with her fingernails and teeth.
As they came down from their shared high, he had held her close, limbs still woven together, and she couldn't remember ever feeling so safe. She fell asleep to the sound of his heart and the feel of his skin, as she drew figure 8's around a freckle on his chest, wondering how she had survived an entire 28 years without him next to her.
The smell of waffles floated in from the kitchen, bringing her to the present. She could hear Jim cracking eggs and humming to himself and she almost couldn't believe that this could be her normal. Smoothing her hair with her hands and running her fingers under her eyes to wipe any stray mascara, she sat up in his bed, then wrapped a blanket around her and shimmied over to Jim's dresser.
Popping her head into the kitchen, she held up one of his shirts. "Hey," she said playfully. "Can I borrow this?"
Jim turned around and grinned, spatula in hand. "Hell yes."
She raised her eyebrows and stuck her bottom lip between her teeth before retreating to the bedroom to change.
She came back into the kitchen, wearing her jeans from the night before and Jim's t-shirt tucked slightly in the front of them. There wasn't much she could do about her hair or her makeup situation, but somehow she knew Jim wouldn't mind and she loved feeling like she didn't care either. Any nervousness she had been feeling liquefied upon seeing him.
Jim put a plate of waffles and eggs in front of her, then bent down to give her a kiss.
"You look beautiful," he whispered against her lips.
Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink as she plucked the fork from his hand with a smile. Jim stood and plated his own breakfast and joined her at the table.
With the end of her fork, Pam gestured to his bare upper body. "Aren't you cold?" she said with a playful smirk.
Jim took a bite of eggs and looked down at his chest, then back up at Pam.
"I mean," he shrugged. "I could take the shirt you're wearing. Definitely wouldn't mind that."
"Jim Halpert," she laughed, slightly surprised. "I'm a lady."
"I mean...if we are going off last night…" he started, but he was promptly cut off by a piece of scrambled egg being hurled toward his face.
"Oh!" Jim remembered. "I forgot I have some orange juice in the fridge. Want some?"
"Sure, I can get it!" she said, standing.
She walked over to the refrigerator, running a hand along his shoulder as she did. As she grabbed the handle, she noticed a note on the freezer door, held up by a souvenir magnet from Connecticut.
Jim--
Picked up your dry cleaning. You can thank me later. ;) Love you!
--Karen
Pam's heart dropped when she saw the name at the bottom of the paper, but not as much as it had sunk seeing the words "love you" right above it.
She stared at it, suddenly sitting with the stark realization that not 24 hours ago, Jim was with someone else. Someone who picked up his dry cleaning, and left him notes, and...loved him?
Of course she knew Karen was a very recent part of Jim's life. She stared at the back of his head every day while he faced toward her now, left with her, laughed with her, all while Pam hung on the outskirts of a story she used to be a part of.
She knew they were together, but the scribbled "Love you" taunted her from the fridge. Did Jim love her too? And if he did, what did last night mean? They never mentioned Karen or New York or anything about their past on the date. She had wondered, but also didn't want to disrupt the little bubble they had formed around themselves over the course of their date. But it was glaringly obvious to her now that they needed to pop it.
She opened the fridge, grabbed the carton of orange juice, and sat back down next to Jim, avoiding eye contact. Suddenly, it felt like she was intruding on something. The chair underneath her felt like Karen's chair, not hers, and a deep, unsettling feeling crept in. With her appetite drained, she forced a smile and looked at Jim.
"Hey, uh, I just remembered I need to help my friend Isabel with something this morning. I should probably get going."
Jim stopped mid-chew and furrowed his eyebrows. "Everything okay?"
She forgot he still knew how to read her every expression. Looking down at her plate, she slowly nodded her head. "Yeah. I should just...probably go."
Jim ran a hand through his hair. Pam wanted nothing more than to stay and pretend there was no history to mend, to pull him back to his bed and get lost in the sheets again. But there was a pit in her stomach and an unexpected feeling of uneasiness. They needed to talk and she knew that, but she also needed to sort out her thoughts somewhere away from his perfectly mussed hair and sly smiles.
"Okay…" he said through a confused expression. "I guess...I'll go get a shirt and shoes to drive you home."
She had forgotten she didn't have her car. But before she could refuse his offer to drive her home (she could get a cab or call a friend) he was already turning away from her, heading toward his laundry room for a clean shirt. She slipped into his bedroom to grab her own things.
She felt guilty leaving, but somehow she knew she would also feel guilty staying. Guilty that she had jumped head first into something with Jim less than a day after he got out of a relationship that was seemingly much more serious than she had thought. Guilty that her confession at the beach a few days prior could have been the catalyst for him breaking up with Karen and he might regret the decision later. So, she chose to leave so she could let her brain catch up and figure out if this was the right way to do this. She wanted him. She knew she wanted him. But like always when it came to the two of them, the road wasn't exactly smoothly paved.
She hastily tugged her wrinkled blouse over her head and neatly folded Jim's t-shirt. Pausing, she thumbed over the fabric and brought it up to her nose. She closed her eyes. It smelled like him.
"You ready?"
Pam looked up to see Jim at the bedroom door, a solemn look on his face that nearly made her heart crumble. She walked over to him and held out his t-shirt.
"Here's--"
The rest of the sentence died in the air between them. Jim held on to the t-shirt with her until she finally looked him in the eyes. He lifted his other hand and ran it down her upper arm, giving her bicep a light squeeze.
"Just…can you stay? Tell me what's going on, Pam," he whispered with pleading eyes and a small laugh that was laced with more confusion than humor.
She stared at him, her words lodged in her throat because the last time she saw that look in his eyes, she had chosen the wrong words, the wrong man, the wrong direction, and she couldn't risk screwing it up again. So instead, she placed her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him tightly.
Barely audible, she whispered.
"Did you love her?"
With her ear against his chest, she could hear the air leave his lungs in one huge gust.
"What?"
She felt tears sing her eyes. "Karen. Were you in love with her?"
Jim was silent for a few seconds before she heard his deep voice echo through his chest. "Let's go sit down."
She followed closely behind him with her hand tucked in his as he led her to the couch in his living room. Resting his elbows on his knees, he ran his palms together, then turned toward her.
"I wanted to be in love with her."
Pam sat silently, unsure of how to respond. Luckily, Jim continued.
"I don't know, I think I figured if I could convince myself I loved her, that would mean I could finally get over you."
Regret, a familiar friend by now, surged through her. She didn't know if she would ever forgive herself for how she hurt him in that parking lot one year ago.
"She said it first, which made it easier for me to go through the motions and try like hell to get my heart to match up." He shrugs, "And it almost worked. I thought I was finally getting to a place where I could be with someone else. Where I could choose someone else, like you had."
She winced. "Jim--"
He held up a hand to stop her. "Hold on. You asked me if I loved her. The answer is no." He flicked his eyes up toward her. "Kind of hard to be in love with two people at once. And I realized it wasn't at all fair to her to keep kissing her and pretending it was you."
Pam sniffled and ran her sleeve along the corner of her eye to catch a stray tear as it escaped. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand in hers.
"I chose wrong that night," she whispered in a trembling voice. "And I regret it every single day."
Jim ran his thumb over her knuckles. "Then can I ask you a question?"
Pam nodded.
"Why did you go back to him?"
She knew they needed to have these difficult conversations, but this one seemed to catch her off guard. She let out a shaky breath.
"I was so…lonely, Jim. I felt like I had screwed up any chance of having you, and had also seemingly ruined our friendship in the process. Roy was familiar and there and it was a complete mistake. I know that now."
Jim looked in his lap and nodded slowly. "I won't lie, it hurt. I know I was with Karen, but man did it still hurt."
She lowered her voice. "I seem to be pretty good at that."
"Hey," he said gently, scooting closer and basically pulling her into his lap. She buried her face into his shoulder. "Hey..." He held her tightly and ran his hand against her hair as hot tears fell down her cheeks.
"I just don't want to mess this up again," she uttered as a small sob escaped her chest.
"Listen. Just because I had a broken heart doesn't mean I don't understand why you did it, okay?"
She sat back up to look at him, trying her best to compose herself. "I just...I don't want you to regret jumping into this so quickly. I'm ready. Believe me, I am. But I want to make sure you are too."
His eyes locked onto hers as he wiped the tears on her cheeks away with his thumbs. He gave her a half smile that instantly put her at ease.
"I don't think it counts as 'jumping in' when I've had one foot in the water since the day I met you." He kissed her gently on the forehead. "I'm all in now."
She threw her arms around his neck and dissolved into him completely. Feeling as if a giant load had been lifted off her shoulders, she let her final wall down.
Bringing a hand up through his hair and placing a soft kiss on his temple, she fluttered her eyes shut. "I love you," she whispered in his ear.
His arms tightened around her even more holding her impossibly closer, before relaxing and bringing her forward to look at him. His hand brushed a loose curl behind her ear and his eyes glistened.
"You have no idea, Beesly."
Chapter End Notes:
A very happy birthday to emxgoldstars!! Hope you caught the little easter eggs I left for you in this. :)
WanderingWatchtower is the author of 23 other stories.
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