Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or The Office. No copyright infringement intended.

♥ 

"Happy anniversary!" Karen said, throwing her arm around Jim, and planting a kiss on the side of his neck.

"Happy anniversary," Jim echoed. He held her steady with one arm wrapped around her back, his hand in a fist. As they parted, she held out her gift to him. He took it and thanked her, but she insisted that he open it in front of her. Still standing in the parking lot next to Karen’s car, he put his messenger bag down on the ground, and unwrapped the gift. It was Call of Duty.

"I swear, I’m teaching you how to kick ass at this game. You’ll love it once you learn how to play," Karen explained. Jim smiled, and thanked her (complacently?). He held out a bag to her.

"From me to you," he said. Karen’s face glowed. She opened the bag, dug through the tissue paper, and pulled out a red wool sweater. It was beautiful and just her style, but she didn’t look too pleased.

"Jim, I’m really sorry," she said, putting the sweater back in the bag. "But I’m allergic to wool."

"What? Since when?" he asked.

"Since always. I’ve told you before, but I guess you didn’t remember." The last half of that sentence came out with the slight flavor of distaste.

"Oh, wow. I’m really, really sorry. Well, keep it, I guess. You can return it if you want or something. I’ll try to make up for it." Karen put the bag in her car, and they walked into the building together, a couple for six months today. As they passed through the glass doorway, hips swinging simultaneously, Jim thought of a gift Pam had given him for Christmas. The gift of a prank. And he couldn’t help comparing it to what Karen had given him.

♥

Jim and Karen entered the office, but something seemed to be going on. Everyone was huddled around Phyllis, Angela had a disgusted look on her face, and Kelly had her arm over Phyllis’ shoulder in a gesture of comfort.

"What’s going on?" Jim asked Pam.

"Someone flashed Phyllis in the parking lot," she said. She was making that face she always made when she was holding back a laugh lest she be caught in a rude faux pas. Jim wanted to laugh too, but he maintained decorum, only allowing Pam to see the humor in his eyes and no one else.

"Phyllis from Sales," Dwight addressed, coming forward with his hands gallantly placed high on his hips. "I shall dedicate myself today to finding the culprit of this heinous crime." He pulled a small notepad and pencil out of his shirt pocket. "Now, can you give me a description of the exposed phallus?"

"Dwight! C’mon, that’s gross," Michael interrupted.

"Well, it’s a common question in these types of proceedings. I know from my years as a Sheriff’s Deputy."

"Volunteer Sheriff’s Deputy," Jim corrected. Dwight glared at him in frustration.

"You know, Dwight, I actually spent some time as a Volunteer Police Sketch Artist," Pam said. "If Phyllis gives me a description of what the flasher looked like, I can draw a wanted poster."

"Ugh! Pam, what you do at home is your own business, but I for one do NOT want to see any erotic sketches of yours hanging around the office," Angela scolded.

"I think she meant a sketch of his face," Jim explained. Angela tried to glare him into submission, but turned on her heel and returned to her desk.

"That’s actually a pretty good idea, Pam. Phyllis, you tell her exactly what the perpetrator looks like, and I’ll dedicate my day to protecting the women of this office from anymore flashers. I promise, I shall find this criminal."

"You know what, Dwight? That’s actually a really good attitude," Michael said. "Because women are frail and defenseless. In fact, I think that we should spend the day appreciating the women of this office. Women: can’t live with them ... until... you’re without them."

♥

Michael swept the women off to a place where, in his words, they could run free: the mall. By noon, Dwight was already cracking down on the case of the parking lot flasher. He had plastered dozens of Pam’s police sketch all over the office, the warehouse, and the rest of the building.

Jim spent the morning thinking of a way to make it up to Karen for forgetting her wool allergy. He thought about having a bouquet of flowers sent to her during the day. Small gestures like that made her feel special, so that might help to mend the mistake he had made. But honestly, was it that big of a deal that he had forgotten she was allergic to wool? It couldn’t be any worse than getting someone a gift because you like it. No, he didn’t want to be harsh on her. It was the thought that counted...

He went to the kitchen to have lunch as he thought things over. He was looking in the freezer, not even thinking about what he was doing, and when he closed it, he saw a wanted poster taped to it. At that moment, Jim had to resist the urge to smile from ear to ear.

Pam had drawn a perfect portrait of Dwight for the wanted posters. She had taken the artistic liberty of adding a half-grown mustache to his upper lip and taking away his glasses, but it was still a spitting image. In large letters above the sketch she’d done, it read, "THIS MAN IS A PERVERT!" Had Dwight not even realized that the police sketch Pam made was of him? And now, he was hanging them all over the entire building. What a classic prank. She was so... great. But he held himself back a moment. Karen. Six month anniversary. Roy and Pam laughing with each other.

Caught in a jumble of thoughts and torn between his instinct of self-preservation and the equally powerful force of his feelings for Pam, Jim only managed to smile awkwardly, and mumble, "That’s really cool." He left the kitchen with his hands in his pockets, and returned to work.

The girls returned from the mall after three, and when they came into the office, Victoria’s Secret bags in hand, Jim realized he still hadn’t called to order those flowers for Karen. He thought of calling the florist and asking them to deliver some flowers tomorrow. He picked up the receiver and held it to his ear, listening to the unchanging pitch of the phone. He looked up at reception, Pam stuffing her Victoria’s Secret bag under the desk, and resettling herself.

Jim hung up the phone, and walked up to her.

"Hey, Pam, I just wanted to tell you that I loved the wanted poster you made," Jim whispered quickly, leaning in closely to her from over her desk. She looked up at him, startled. Her cheeks turned a soft red hue before she laughed.

"Oh, yeah. I umm... thanks." She smiled at him. And he smiled back.

"Pam. Question," Dwight said as he approached the desk, staring down at the notes he had taken throughout the day on his notepad. "Are you sure that the man Phyllis described had a mustache? Because I’ve gotten one or two calls, but everyone says that the man they’ve seen doesn’t have a mustache." Jim snorted at Dwight’s oblivion.

"Oh, no! Did I give you the wrong sketch for the posters? On the first sketch, I made a mistake, and gave him a mustache by accident instead of glasses. I must’ve given you the wrong copy," Pam said. Her voice didn’t falter with the hint of laughter, and Jim admired how convincing she was.

"Well, thank you, Pam. That little mistake might’ve derailed my entire investigation, and I hope you’re happy," Dwight said. He walked away, his airs of sternness following him, and the pair burst out laughing as soon as he was out of hearing range.

"Impressive, Beesly," Jim said.

"Thanks." They exchanged smiles, and taking slow steps away, Jim sat back down at his desk. No, I won’t order the flowers, Jim thought. They’d have to go through Pam, and I don’t want to give the wrong impression... whatever the wrong impression is. Pam was too flustered with happiness to notice Karen glowering at the beaming smiles she had just shared with Jim.

♥

Just chill out, Filipelli, she thought to herself. But it stung. Pam had so easily coaxed that brilliant happiness out of Jim, and she couldn’t do the same without a sincere effort. Pam had gotten Jim to confess love to her without even trying, and she couldn’t get him to do the same when she confessed it first. Pam kept up with and added to Jim’s pranks without even talking to him, and she had to work hard just to be a step behind him. Why did she get the irksome feeling that Pam was better at being Jim’s girlfriend without even dating him? She shouldn’t have to feel this way, especially not on her anniversary. And what did Pam have that she didn’t? Pam wasn’t forward, honest, independent.

At the end of the day, she and Jim were waiting for the elevator, smiling to each other across the awkward silence. They still hadn’t gotten past this after six months? The elevator doors opened, and they stepped in.

"Please hold it!" a voice from the office called. Pam hurried across the hall, and jumped inside just before the elevator doors shut. The three of them stood, waiting for the elevator ride to be over. But Karen knew this was her opportunity.

"So what do you want to do tonight for our anniversary?" she asked, turning to Jim. She wished that Pam’s back wasn’t facing them, just so she could see her face. Although, her back did seem to tense under the weight of the comment.

"Oh... Um. Don’t really know," he said with a quick nod of the head.

"I can come over to your place. I’ll buy some flowers."

"Oh. You mean you didn’t get the ones I sent you?" he interjected. Karen was suddenly confused. He had sent her flowers?

"You... sent me flowers?"

"Yeah, to make up for forgetting about your wool allergy." Karen wished he hadn’t brought that up in front of Pam. "You didn’t get them?"

"Oh, no I didn’t."

"Shoot, wonder what happened." Jim looked up at the ceiling. Why was he acting like this? It was strange, almost like he was

"Well, it’s the thought that counts, and all that," Karen said sweetly, shaking the thought out of her mind. She hugged Jim’s arm, and he smiled down at her. The elevator doors opened, and Pam rushed out into the parking lot. And as the three of them went to their respective cars, Karen could’ve sworn she saw Jim look back over his shoulder at Pam, that helplessly hurt look on his face. A face of...

(a broken heart?).

♥

Was he sadistic? The term was used so loosely, he hardly knew what it meant anymore. While it had once been used in psychological fields to describe the appetites only possessed by those like Alex from A Clockwork Orange, it came to be known in contemporary vernacular as the general joy found in hurting another person. In almost all situations, no, he wasn’t a sadist. He’d feel like a complete asshole if he hurt someone like Darryl or Pam.

In the case of Jim Halpert? Well, Roy wouldn’t go so far as to call himself a sadist, but he couldn’t deny the demonic grin on his face every time he watched the fucking jerkoff squirm at the mention of his broken engagement to Pam or Casino Night. In fact, he relished so much in Jim’s discomfort over the subjects that he made a point of mentioning them nearly every time he got the chance to speak to him. Mind games to make up for the ones plaguing his own thoughts. Whenever he saw him, his mind flooded with memories of Jim and Pam smiling, talking, laughing– so blatantly flirting–, and he hated how blind he had been to lose Pam and how blind he had been not to see-through Halpert.

Whenever he saw Jim, he felt blind with all the blood rushing to his face, his fists clenched, and the burning need to strangle him parched Roy’s gut. So a little fiendish happiness received out of merely watching the guy writhe in the face of what he’d done? It hardly made Roy a sadist. Although, the anticipation that fueled him towards that perfect moment in which he’d finally be able to smash his skull into a wall– well, the promised reward of delight he would extract from that moment was a little sadistic. But until then, oh, how he loved watching Jim squirm.