Your hands on my cheeks, your shoulder in my mouth
I was up against the wall on the west mezzanine
– Anna Sun, WALK THE MOON

She’d surprised him with concert tickets that morning. Death Cab for Cutie was playing at a bar in Upper Darby that night and did he want to go? They’d shared a knowing smile while he pretended to think it over; her eyes dancing over her coffee mug when he said yes, obviously.

Years ago, a Death Cab song had been playing in her car the first night she’d agreed to teach him how to drive a stick-shift. It was also one of the first times he’d ever been really alone with her and because he was a nervous chatterer (who was very nervous around her then) he spent the entire hour talking about the band; unloading all the facts and songs from his brain into hers. She’d played along, indulging him until they were saying goodnight when she sheepishly admitted she only knew the one song because of a tv show about rich teenagers in Orange County.

Had it been anyone else he would have teased her for it - and rightfully so. But he wasn’t an idiot and he knew an opportunity when he saw one.

The next day he brought her a mixed CD, playing it off as something he’d just thrown together because she definitely didn’t need to know how many hours it had taken him to craft the perfect playlist for her.

Just like she didn’t need to know he already knew how to drive her car better than she did.

Music was the first “safe” thing between them that they occasionally blurred the lines between friends and more than friends. It had been so much easier to say hey I heard this song and it made me think of you instead of I think about you all the time.

And now here they were watching the band that started it all.

Fun fact about Pam: she was actually a good dancer. He watched her now; under the dim lighting, fueled by cheap beer and the sheer magic of live music, and the way she moved was absolutely mesmerizing. Nothing dorky to see there.

He wasn’t the only one who noticed. There was a group of guys standing to their left that occasionally turned to watch her.

One guy’s eyes lingered a little too long and in places that definitely crossed the boundaries of ‘just looking’. Pride quickly edged into jealousy and Jim reacted automatically, sliding one arm around Pam’s waist to tug her into his personal space.

She tossed a knowing smile at him over her shoulder before placing one hand over his now resting on her stomach and reaching the other one behind her to curve around his upper thigh, squeezing lightly as the band ended one song and started another.

Jim looked to the left out of the corner of his eye and saw that the guy with the staring problem got the hint and moved on to checking out a group of girls standing a few rows ahead of them. Satisfied for the moment, he debated letting Pam go but as he tapped her hip with his fingers, she settled more firmly against him instead of moving away. Cool. That worked too.

The song ended and Pam relaxed further into him. Her hands covered his, still wrapped around her arms and the back of her head fell comfortably against his collarbone. The lead singer was talking to the crowd but Jim had no idea what he was saying. He was too busy enjoying the moment.

That moment was ruined in the best and worst way when the band started back up. The intro to The Sound of Settling, Pam’s all-time favorite song by them, had her exuberantly scream-singing along. Jim found it adorable - just like she’d found it cute earlier in the night when he’d lost his mind over We Looked Like Giants. And then adorable turned into something else entirely.

Pam was still singing along, but now she was also bouncing on her heels in time with every “bop-ba” of the chorus. An innocent movement that had her grinding her ass directly onto his dick with every tiny jump.

By the third chorus, Jim grit his teeth and moved his hands so that he was gripping her hips instead. In a moment of desperate frustration combined with the need for her to stop, he held her still and pushed against her. Hard. Do you feel what you’re doing to me?

His sweet, beautiful, drunk on beer and live music fiancee didn’t stop. She didn’t even pause before pressing back against him with a slow, calculated roll of her hips.

He dropped his head to her shoulder, his cheek brushing against hers. “Tease,” he growled into the side of her neck. She knew exactly what she was doing. The not at all subtle shake of her laughter reverberated through him, turning him on almost as much as her ass against his dick did.

Almost.

Mercifully, the band again switched songs - something with less drums that reminded him of stolen moments in the car with her before they were them.

Maybe she remembered too. Without looking, she reached back for him; her hands trailing up the sides of his neck. Fingertips danced along his jawline and higher. She’d been after him for months now to grow a beard and the way she absentmindedly stroked his cheek now had him seriously considering it for the first time.

Every time she moved he was overwhelmed by another scent. He knew them all; had spent months committing each and every one to memory. Strawberry scented shampoo clung to her rapidly falling curls. A blend of sandalwood and vanilla hidden behind her ears and at her wrists commingled with his body wash, blatantly borrowed out of their shower that morning. He buried his nose into the soft skin where her shoulder and neck met, his fingers flexing possessively where they still held her. It was impossible to keep his lips from dragging across her shoulder, covered only by the two thin straps of her tank tops.

The hand that had been at his cheek curved smoothly to the back of his neck, pulling his head toward hers in a sideways kiss. He welcomed it; let himself enjoy it for longer than appropriate given their surroundings before reluctantly pulling back.

Pam had other ideas. She twisted in his arms, locking her hands firmly around his neck before standing on her toes and kissing him again, fully, recklessly even; sealing herself so tightly to him that he could feel every single incredible inch of her.

She tasted like cinnamon and beer and he was immensely relieved that she was the first to pull away this time because there was no possible way he’d have been able to.

“Let’s go.” Her words danced across his lips and he stopped caring one bit about the band on stage. He took her by the hand and they wound their way through the crowd and toward the exit. Jim was only a little ashamed that he acknowledged the guy with the wandering eyes’ knowing look with a faint smirk of his own.

Pam shivered as a cool breeze swept through the parking lot, goosebumps spreading across her arms and shoulders. He couldn’t help himself, stopping so suddenly that she almost tripped on the asphalt before his arm wrapped around her waist to steady her at the same time he dipped his head.

His warm tongue on her sweat cooled skin had her shivering for an entirely new and more welcoming reason.

She pressed both palms flat against his chest with no real move to stop him or push him away. “The car is right there,” she reminded him.

Right. His car. He’d been annoyed earlier in the evening about having to park so far from the venue and away from the street lights but now, with Pam kissing him like they weren’t standing in the middle of an open parking lot and him wondering if she would let him bend her over the hood of the car; well, he didn’t exactly mind the location so much anymore.

Okay think, he begged himself silently. They were two hours from home and he hadn’t been smart enough to book a hotel room for the night. Their options were limited at best, and it was getting harder to think logically as all of the blood in his body was quickly rushing south.

Still kissing him, Pam turned their bodies until his back was against the passenger side door. She hooked her index finger into the front of his jeans, curling against the skin just under his navel and causing his already ragged breath to stutter. She tugged him closer, their hips aligning dangerously. She used her free hand to reach behind him and open the car door while the one already down his jeans worked quickly to unsnap them. “Get in.” The look in her eyes as she gestured for him to climb in was as mischievous as it had been that morning, with added layers of want and need that would make him do whatever she told him to.

Decision made. Between pushing the seat back as far as it would go and unzipping his jeans, he briefly considered that the backseat would have been the better option and also, why hadn’t he bought that bigger car he’d had his eye on the last couple of months?

But then Pam was climbing into the seat with him and his brain shut down again. “Hold onto these for me,” she murmured demurely against his lips. Her fingers tangled with his around the bit of lace she’d somehow taken off while he was thinking about buying a new car. They were both laughing as he reached over and slammed the car door shut seconds before they could be arrested for indecent exposure.

She was still trying to settle herself over him, straddling his lap with one knee wedged between the console and his thigh. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as she tried to balance, her hair falling in a curtain around his face as she leaned forward and gripped the headrest behind him.

He reached up, stroking her cheek with his thumb and her lashes fluttered as she moved her gaze to his. “Hi.”

He was rewarded with an easy grin. “Hey,” she whispered, just before his lips caught hers again. His hand spread low across her back as he shifted higher in the seat while guiding her up and back. Yeah, the backseat would have made things so much simpler for them. Jim knew if he suggested moving, the moment would be broken and he’d have a very uncomfortable drive back to Scranton. He made as many small adjustments as he could, which was nothing short of Herculean given his height, her inflexibility, and their shared lack of coordination. Finally, he pushed gently on her hip and they both exhaled as she slid down smoothly around him. It shouldn’t have worked and he had no other explanation other than their bodies would always find a way to fit perfectly together.

That’s where perfect ended though. It wasn’t like the movies. He nearly kicked a heel through the floorboards. She bumped her head on the roof of the car. For every gasped just like that and every moaned don’t stop there was laughter and a hushed apology when Pam lost the rhythm, bouncing a little too roughly and Jim smashed his elbow into the window.

He was already on the edge of coming before he remembered the condom in his wallet. “Leave it,” she whispered when he reached for his back pocket which was now somewhere near his knees. This wasn’t a new request from her; they’d been playing fast and loose with protection ever since she’d come back from New York. Both were well aware of what could or couldn’t happen and he always left the final decision up to her.

The diamond on her finger and both their names on the mortgage papers made the possibilities feel a lot less scary and a little more inevitable.

It was as sexy as it was clumsy; both wonderful and awkward, and so exactly them.

Pam stroked his face and kissed the top of his head. “We missed the end of the show.” Her voice was tinged with regret and possibly embarrassment as she no doubt remembered practically dragging him out of the club.

“Yeah.” He pressed his lips to her collarbone and then leaned back to look up at her and hoped his smile conveyed more than any words could. “We heard the best ones.”

“We did,” she agreed, her smile brightening until it matched his. He let his forehead fall back to her chest, losing himself in the way her fingertips traced lazy circles into the back of his neck.

They were pushing their luck on time. He pressed one last smacking kiss against her skin, reluctantly moving her tank top back into place. He couldn’t help giving her breasts one last squeeze and she rolled her eyes, slapping his hands away while at the same time opening the door to stand and telling him to fix himself before the parking lot was filled with people.

Despite their best efforts, her panties were lost to the abyss of his backseat. He’d find them later. “And frame them,” he said, making her laugh so hard she had tears in her eyes. It wasn’t that funny but maybe she was still drunk.

It was a two and a half hour drive back to Scranton but it felt like minutes. Silence stretched comfortably between conversations about everything and nothing. She held his hand the entire time; linking and unlinking their fingers, tracing the lines in his palm with the tip of her index finger, her thumb tapping out the beat of whatever was playing quietly on the radio.

He looked over at her every time he thought she’d fallen asleep and every time she’d be sitting there, her head turned sideways against the headrest. Clear liquor and cloudy-eyed floated through the car speakers but somewhere along the drive she’d sobered up, gazing sleepily at him now with eyes that were a kaleidoscope of green and gold and contented adoration and love.

Okay, maybe he was still drunk. He didn’t care. He just knew he wanted her to look at him like that always.

So now it was ten months later. Nine months? He’d read nearly every book on pregnancy but he still didn’t understand the math. She looked at him from across their desks the same way she always looked at him, except this time there was a growing panic and fear that dulled their shine in a way only he could notice. And he couldn’t have that.

Sure. He could have ended Michael’s stupid rant about their baby (they were having a baby! He needed to wrap his head around that still) being conceived in the office with the truth but not every secret needed to be shared. Not when he could tell a stupid joke and make her laugh. He needed to make her laugh. And so he grinned at her and turned back to Michael.

“That logic’s airtight but unfortunately it wasn’t conceived here. Burning Man. Port-o-potty.”