I
The first thing she noticed was that he’d started rolling up his sleeves again.
She’d passed it off on the unseasonably warm weather; by Easter weekend, it was already 70 degrees out. Their building’s heating system stayed on all day (some problem with the thermostat) and it was hot enough that Pam had stuffed her pantyhose in her purse by noon.
His sleeves were rolled up somewhere around his first break; he came back from the kitchen with a bottle of water, smiling humorlessly at her as he rolled up first one cuff, then the other, and loosened his tie.
“Hot enough for you?” she’d asked, immediately chastising herself for how her voice squeaked. He had such nice wrist bones. She was pathetic.
The next day, when he slung his jacket over his chair, the first thing he did when he sat down was push his sleeves up to his elbows.
II
The second thing she noticed was that drank grape soda again.
She’d been sitting in the break room, thumbing through one of Kelly’s discarded US Weeklies and swirling her spoon slowly through her container of Mixed Berry.
She heard the door open and close, the blinds clattering noisily against the window, and finished the little blurb about Britney’s shaved head (God, what had happened to that poor girl, Pam wondered) before looking up.
He was standing by the machine, contemplating. She smiled at the way he absently scratched the back of his neck before slipping four quarters into the slot, each one echoing as it tumbled through the machine.
His hand hovered over the water button, and Pam went back to her article. She heard the clunk of the drink, and the shuffle of fabric as he bent to grab it.
She heard the hiss-pop of the tab being opened, and glanced up sharply at the sound. Water bottles didn’t have tabs. She watched as he stared down at the drink, and then quickly up at her.
“I missed this,” he smiled slowly, pausing and looking her in the eye for a moment before taking a swig of his grape soda.
The next day, he did the same.
III
The third thing she noticed was that he stared at her again.
He’d switched back to his old desk not long after Roy had confronted him. She’d originally thought that it was because, as Roy had shoved him head-on into his desk, his chair had suffered a fatal blow, and the backrest had cracked and buckled under the weight of the two men hurtling onto it.
And then, she began to feel his eyes on her again. At first, it had only been every once in a while … a prickly sort of feeling crept up her spine, and when she’d glance up towards him, his head would abruptly drop, and his focus would train on his keyboard for longer than necessary.
One time, she glanced up when she felt him watching, and was unnerved when he didn’t look away. He held her gaze for seconds that felt like hours, and smiled a sideways grin that made her heart jump into her throat, and then looked back at his computer screen.
The next day, it happened two more times. And she started to let herself stare at him, too.
IV
The fourth thing she noticed was that he’d re-enlisted her for prank duty.
It was right around the time Karen left for a Regional Training Coordination position at corporate. She assumed he’d decided to call on her for help with his latest scheme because his former partner in crime (and apparent former girlfriend) was now moving to New York.
When he’d come up to her desk for his messages, she’d assumed that would be the end of their discussion. Until he leaned on the counter casually, grabbed a jellybean, and subtly slipped Dwight’s stapler onto her desk.
She grinned up at him, he beamed down at her, and they stared at each other for a moment longer than necessary before Jim leaned closer to her and whispered “Do you still have that Krazy Glue?”
She rummaged in her drawer for a moment before producing the tube. “You want me to distract?”
“Please,” he replied, his grin widening as she immediately stood and walked over to Dwight’s desk.
She managed to convince him that he was needed in the kitchen to dispose of a ‘hazardous material’ in the fridge. By the time Dwight discovered that there wasn’t anything remotely moldy in the vicinity of the kitchen, and had lectured Pam about the importance of time management and “double checking all food to make sure that it’s actually fuzzy before causing a panic”, Jim was seated at his desk as though nothing had happened.
It only took ten minutes before Dwight reached for his stapler and nearly fell over when it refused to budge from the surface of his desk. Jim glanced up at Pam with a smirk on his face, and she had to duck behind her desk to keep from laughing right out loud when Dwight started screaming about inappropriate office conduct and something about suing.
The next day, he explained his plan to empty Dwight’s water bottle every time he left his desk, and fill it with salt water. She giggled when he pulled out a bag of salt and winked playfully at her.
V
The fifth thing she noticed was that he had started to wait for her at the end of the day.
The first time it had happened by accident, or so she had thought. He’d come for a jellybean and leaned on her desk, watching as she poured herself a mug of tea from the green teapot on her desk. Then, they’d started talking about the merits of tea versus coffee.
His argument that coffee woke you up was quickly quelched by her argument that some teas had more caffeine in them than some coffees. He’d fired back with something about how coffee tasted better, to which she’d mercilessly responded with an argument about carcinogens and the roasting process coffee beans went through.
By the time they’d both glanced up, the office was empty. He laughed and said something about being such keeners that they never wanted to leave, and she’d smiled back at him as he held her jacket out to her. His hand brushed hers in the elevator, and she sighed when the doors opened. He told her to have a good night, and she drove home feeling the tingle where his thumb had stroked the back of her hand.
The next day, he sat at his desk, waiting for her to finish her faxes. Once she finished, she waited expectantly for him at the edge of her desk, and once she’d gathered her things, she followed him silently to the elevator.
His lips were on hers by the time they’d stepped out into the cool night, and her back was against the brick wall before she really realized it. His leg pressed between hers and their mouths broke apart and joined again, their breathing echoing off the pavement as her hands slipped under his shirt and up.
When she came (the second time, in his bed instead of against the wall in the hallway), she called his name and felt him push one last time before leaning heavily against her.
The last thing that she noticed (as she fell asleep, his arm securely around her waist, his breath against her neck) was that she finally felt complete.
Story Notes:
Just a little Five Things fic that came to me when I thought about how much I missed Jim's forearms. I'm hoping that he comes to his senses and starts rolling up his sleeves again.
I own no one. If i DID own Jim, he'd never wear anything, let alone shirts with rolled-up sleeves.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading! Reviews are nice :)
falldownmore is the author of 11 other stories.
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