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Story Notes:

 My personal Pam internal monologue cannon is that our beloved Miss Beasly was NOT so oblivious to her initial attraction. Just completely naive and in desperate denial. 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. 

Author's Chapter Notes:
Please forgive any typos or formatting errors. I'm new to this site and the line spacing is weirdly fiddly and won't translate. Also, I do not have a beta - unlike Dwight :)

Pam jiggled her tightly crossed legs under the desk and bit her lip, her unusual jitteriness lacking an outlet.  It was maddening, this juxtaposition of having too much energy and nowhere to put it.

The phone had rung exactly once since she sat down this morning. Her desk is now as neat as a pin. There were no spot fires to put out because Michael was actually working. Stuck in “Cell block lockdown.” as he called it, with an all day corporate conference call. Now and then he looked up and mouthed “help me”  through his office window, which Pam doggedly ignored. So the office was unusually quiet with everyone working towards the hope of an end of month bonus. Nothing new. Except for the New Guy.  

She’d tidied her top drawer, made a cup of tea which she didn’t want or drink, played 2 games of solitaire and shredded 3 documents a page at a time. She’d tried sketching, but couldn’t focus long enough. 

Sighing again, Pam spun in her chair and marched with feigned indifference to the copier, feeling awkward in the 9 steps it took to get there, finally raising the flap and slapping the latest sales figures report face down, all fingers and thumbs. As usual, the miserable machine refused to cooperate, creaking and groaning in protest towards producing a single smeared copy. Pam thumped the cheap plastic cover in disgust but it did little to disperse the strange buzzing inside her that wouldn’t budge. A now familiar snort of amusement emanating from the center of the room didn’t help. 

She blushed again for what seemed the millionth time and jerked the lapels of her favorite wooly pink cardigan together, fighting the urge to turn and look over her shoulder. She knew his eyes were on her. On closer reflection, they hadn’t left her all day. This time, she could actually feel his smirk. 

No, I won’t look at him again. I can’t. This is nuts 


Throughout the morning, she’d peeped over the lip of the desk and it was like he was waiting. Quickly turning from his spreadsheet and grinning at her as she ducked her head back down in embarrassment. But then Kevin or Meredith would say something ridiculous or shocking and they’d instantly look at each other in mutual amusement or exaggerated horror. 


The harder she tried, the more difficult it became. Like a silly little moth to the flame, she’d found herself surrendering again and again to the urge of fleeting, discrete glances, resting on a discombobulation of features. The smooth skin on the back of his neck, the sharp line of his jaw, the leather strap of his watch wrapped around a tanned wrist, a long leg stretched out from the side of his desk, and a pencil tapped in concentration against his upper lip. Now attuned to the timbre of his voice, she delighted in his easy, polite banter and calm assertiveness as he quickly got to know his office inmates while deftly navigating first day speed bumps.  

He had no qualms in being caught looking at her. He did it easily and openly and without her self consciousness, deliberately seeking her reaction or to share in a moment of delighted distraction. At times, when he thought she didn't notice, he watched her carefully, a slight twinkle turning up the corners of his mouth.

Puzzled but thrilled, she could feel his interest. While he was a friendly guy, he had definitely singled her out. Not in a Todd Packer leery kind of way. It was like he also found her the most fascinating person in the room. Quiet, mousy little Pam who could honestly say picking up Michael’s jeans from the dry-cleaners and organizing the supply closet was the most exciting part of her day. So invisible at times, Hank the security guy once turned off the lights and locked her in because he didn't notice her sitting behind her desk working late. 


Twice now, their gazes had synchronized, eyes locked for a blink in time, her breath catching as an unspoken recognition hovered between them. He broke these moment with the beginning of a slow and devastating smile as she wrenched her eyes away and looked for something, anything, to distract herself and regain her equilibrium. She found herself doing stupid things, like going to the break room and forgetting why or spending an inordinate amount of time adjusting her skirt and smoothing her hair back behind her ears before standing up and going to the ladies room because ....why? She wanted to look nice going to the bathroom?



Pam groaned and shook off her reverie, glancing around the room at everyone but HIM, to check if this was noticed before wrestling with the jammed and now chewed up second copy, this time kicking the side of the copier in frustration. Dwight looked up from his monitor and suddenly frowned at her odd behavior.    

“Pamela. May I offer assistance with the copy machine? It requires superior knowledge and dexterous handling of its particular mechanical foibles to operate.”  

Pam registers a muffled snort of laughter punctuated by a pen being dropped, then a swivel chair creaking as it's pushed back. She honestly can’t resist. It's like she was born for this role. 


“Um, thanks Dwight. I’m not sure. I think it’s possessed. Do you know how to perform an exorcism?” This time there is a distinct chortle. Her lips twitch in traitorous response. 


“A Xerox machine is an inanimate object without a soul and therefore cannot be possessed. I believed you to be an educated female but you have just proved me wrong.” 

“Hang on Dwight. Didn’t you know? Beesly has a BA majoring in Wicca." 

Pam felt yet another secret thrill at hearing her newly bestowed nickname. For her  entire life her one nickname had always been “Pammy”. Which she hated. 

Dwight’s eyebrows disappeared towards his receding hairline as his right eye spasmed with a rapidly building hatred for his new desk mate. He actually snarled. 

“Unlikely, Beta. I suggest you focus on observing how it's done by the alpha around here. Besides, you only met our receptionist  this morning and haven’t had time to exchange more than benign pleasantries.” 


He was right. It was strange, she’d barely spoken to him since he arrived but from the moment he entered the room, so calm and affable, she felt she knew him. 

“Yikes. There's an alpha in the room? Who would that be?” 

“I believe it is obvious the alpha in question is me. Imbecile.”

 “Wow. Nice.” 

Dwight imperiously inclines his head away from the newly perceived threat to the office pecking order, focusing his daggers elsewhere, not noticing his stapler being stealthily pocketed.


“MISS Beesly, unless you have a more sensible request not involving pagan rituals, I will now focus my attention on closing my tenth sale today - and counting.” Summarily dismissed, walking back to the circulation desk seemed to take an eon, as she was highly aware of 'The Threat' leaning back in his chair, trying to catch her eye while a hand rubbed the place where hairline meets neck in what she now recognised as bemusement. She sits with a heavy thump and throws the forgotten, useless second sales report copy in the trash, stubbornly refusing to succumb.   


One more interminable hour until lunch. Even lunch was boring these days. That was it.

She was just - bored. It was just another boring day at Dunder Mifflin…wasn’t it?

Oh who was she kidding ? She wasn’t bored. She was….bothered.

Bother, bother bother! What is WRONG with me? 

“Um, so don’t get me wrong, present company excluded of course, is it just me,

or is this place full of weirdos?” 

 Pam’s heart promptly skips a beat. That was something else that had started happening this morning. Her heart skipping, jumping or stopping. She can resist no more. Momentarily admiring two large, beautifully shaped hands casually draped over the polished countertop, Pam finally allows herself to look up and into his laughing eyes. He is so close it's like the desk between them has disappeared. She can now see they aren’t actually brown, they're a combination of gray with a tinge of hazel. Her breath hitching again, she practically whispers “It's just you.”


For a moment they both say nothing and just smile until he breaks their magnetic eye contact by nonchalantly slouching and leaning on one arm on the divider while rummaging through her jelly bean stash. Was it only 4 hours ago she met him?

It was supposed to be an average, very dull Dunder Mifflin day, nothing special. But then HE arrived this morning and smiled down at her and the world sort of tilted on its axis. It was like someone finally turned on the lights and music at the party and the world was now lit up in all its brilliance.  



“Hi, I’m Jim Halpert, the new guy.”

“Oh!  Hi, I’m Pam Beesly. The secretary.” 

“Hi. Nice to meet you.” She's mesmerized by his smile. It’s the best smile she’s ever seen.

“Nice to meet you too. Welcome to the madhouse.”

He’s tall. So tall she has to tilt her head right back to see all of him. Shoulders broad. An oversized shirt disguises a long and lean body.  

“Wow. Madhouse? But you seem normal.” 

A deep, almost rumbling voice, but friendly and approachable as he chuckles slightly to put her instantly at ease and chuckling too. 

“There is no normal here.”

“Great, I like challenges.” 

She can tell he’s serious. But this is a guy who doesn't preen or take himself too seriously.

“Well, I think I’ll let you enjoy your blissful ignorance for just a few more moments.”

His shiny hair is a little long and unkempt. It curls over his ears. It suits him.


“Oh yeah?” 

Lovely, expressive but kind eyes. He’s genuinely amused and interested in what she has

to say. She feels her energy rise and sing. 

“Why's that Beesly? Should I be worried and call my mom?”He calls her 'Beesly'. She likes it. And she likes him straight away. He's fun. He's funny. It's so easy. 


“Well, brace for impact because you can never go back to this moment before you meet your desk mate, Dwight.”




“So…..according to the company rule book which I have of course read cover to cover, my designated lunch 

break is in one hour.”  He's now looking a tad nervous and Pam instantly becomes nervous too. “How about you?” 

He’s asking to spend lunch with me. Oh! 

It's flattering. Nobody ever seeks her out like this. Especially someone like Jim. 


Of course, he’s new to Scranton and needs a work buddy. I can show him how to use the left side of the toaster  oven because the right burns everything, and not to use dimes in the vending machine, and how the coffee machine works. We can eat together and I can ask him about where he grew up and …well lots of things. 

“I was thinking you could tell me all the goss about my coworkers. Maybe help me do a few background checks?” 

We're already friends.  She likes the idea so much that she finds herself nodding. 

“Um, sure.” 

Jim's face lights up. “Awesome. Prepare for lunch to kick your ass. See you soon, Bees.” 

With a slight tap on the top of the counter, and one last grin, Jim turns and saunters away looking happy and satisfied. 

Roy won’t mind. He'll probably work through lunch so he can leave early for Poor Richards, anyway -  It was then that Pam realizes with a start that she hasn’t thought of her fiancé once all morning, until now. 


Jim is now smiling at his screen, madly typing something. He is looking so pleased with himself and is sitting differently, like he is floating a few centimeters above his chair. The familiar sound of the IM ping rudely demands her attention. With fumbling hands over the mouse Pam clicks on her newest message:  


Tick one:  


  • uncheckedThe Olive Garden 

  • uncheckedSchrute's Beet Farm 

  • uncheckedCugino’s 




Pam peeks over the protection of the counter top for the 100th time today. Jim is of course waiting, but this time he doesn't look away. His face has transformed from boyishly fun and funny to.... an adoring man. An entirely different look from all previous examples, it roves leisurely over the lines and the flow of her face and hair, flicks down briefly to her lips before returning to gaze into her eyes with open admiration. With a long forgotten flutter deep down in her feminine heart, Pam can see absolutely everything he is thinking written across on his handsome - yes she'll finally admit that -  his handsome face, in ten foot letters. 


I like really you. 

I want to know you.  

I think you're so pretty.  

I can't wait for our first date.

I want to kiss you.


No one has ever looked at her like that , no one ever will again. So for just a self indulgent second, before she allows a horrible sinking feeling of guilt and shame and confusion to seep in, Pam bathes in his shining beauty and honesty. The phone mercifully intervenes and she  drags her eyes away and eagerly snatches the receiver up.


"Dunder Mifflin this is Pam." 


"Hey Pammy, I have to cancel lunch. Me and the boys - "  A cold sweat breaks out across her brow.


" - going to Poor Richards. You're okay by yourself. Oh by the way - "   


What do I do?  


" -  I thought I'd go fishing with Kenny this weekend. You can stay home and do some art stuff...."  


Jim is relaxing in his chair, one hand propping up his chin. A finger tapping restlessly on the space bar of his keyboard and a surreptitious check of the clock on the wall is the only indication of what he is thinking.


“ -  so I’ll sleep over. Everything is good huh? You're the best babe. Love ya. Be good - haha!” 

The phone is now droning because Roy has hung up. Pam looks down at the ring on her finger. The band is dull and thinning badly and the stone has spun around, hidden from view. She can't remember the day she put it on.

Drawing in a deep breath and willing away the ache in her throat, she forces herself to read Jim's message again. How can she possibly reply?  


  • uncheckedI like you too

  • uncheckedI want to  

  • uncheckedI ....can't

All at once, the ache feels unbearable and she wants to cry.


Oh Pammy. Now look at what you've done.



Chapter End Notes:
I'll keep on with this story until I run out of ideas and/or puff. Suggestions and feedback are always welcome. 

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