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“The Office” Fan Fic

“Jump the Hedges First”

Title is from lyrics to “Sweet Thing” by Van Morrison

 

While Jim and Pam might be headed towards cutesy togetherness, they’re going to have to deal with more than a few obstacles along the way.

 

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.

 

This fan fic takes place immediately after the end of “The Job” season finale. Pam’s still gazing into the camera with a delighted grin spread across her face.

 

“Wow,” she manages, stumbling for something intelligent to say, well aware that she’s on camera. “That, uh … that’s pretty unexpected. I, uh, I should get back.”

 

Jake, the camera guy, flips off the record switch and finishes off the rest of his cold coffee. He can see that she needs a moment to compose herself. And he’s taking tomorrow – Friday – off, heading up to Lake Erie with his old frat brothers for a well-needed long weekend. Kurtz has been running him ragged for the past few months – making him follow the D/M crew all over the tri-state area, it feels like. To the beach, back and forth from New York … he needs some serious R&R, and he’s ready to clock out for the day.

 

“No problem. You two have fun on your date.”

 

Pam’s cheeks burn. “Um, you’re not … not coming with us.” It didn’t sound like a question; it was more like begging.

 

Jake’s already packing up his camera supplies; mentally, he’s already ten, fifteen miles away from downtown Scranton. “Oh, nah – I have to get going. Going out of town this weekend.”

 

“Oh, okay then.” Relief spreads across her face. This helps to calm her down. “That’s great, actually. Nothing against you … it’ll just be nice to, you know, not have everyone know everything.”

 

“Totally. Right.”

 

Pam takes a deep breath, tries to steady herself, and gets up, heading towards the door. She hesitates, squints, and pulls the cord to open the blinds in the conference room – where Kelly, Angela, Dwight and Phyllis are standing. Dwight somehow has a bucket of movie theater popcorn. Kelly’s fists are curled into excited little balls and she looks ready to burst with excitement. Phyllis’ eyes are shining a bit, and Angela – well, Angela’s pretty much expressionless. As is Dwight, who is happily chomping away on his popcorn. As Pam looks on, he wipes his buttery fingers across his matching yellow shirt.

 

Openmouthed, she hurries past them, across the office and into the women’s bathroom. The expectations on their faces bother her, make her much more nervous. Probably because those expectations match her own – the ones she doesn’t want to admit that she has. There’s a lot of pressure – on what tonight means, what will be said, what happened between Jim and Karen in New York – and while she told Jake and the camera that she’s okay with things, that she just wants Jim to be happy – that’s just what she was settling for. The possibility that maybe things might work out between the two of them – it’s something that, up until five minutes ago, had seemed impossible.

 

She leans forward, gripping the sides of the bathroom sink with her hands. She looks down – oh, she should’ve worn nail polish today. She bites them. And her hands are sweaty. Maybe Jim would be holding them later? Looking into the mirror, another massive smile appears on her face – and this time, she has an opportunity to see how happy the thought makes her. She doesn’t want to get her hopes up, but –

 

A foul stench wafts across the room, and Pam’s nose crinkles. The toilet in the corner stall flushes, the door opens, and Creed walks out, looking quite proud of himself. “Hey, Phyllis,” he says.”

 

“It’s, uh, it’s Pam.” She takes an involuntary step away, then two – then nearly runs from the bathroom.

 

 

* * *

 

“I’m baaaaack,” announces Michael, as the entire office staff – minus Karen and Jim, who’s nowhere to be found since his dinner invitation to Pam – sits in the conference room, looking bored. Pam glances up at the clock impatiently. It’s 4:49, and even on an uneventful day her motivation would have been long gone by now. About a half-hour after Pam’s run-in with Creed, Kelly had pulled her by the arm back into the women’s bathroom (it still smells) and burst into tears.

 

“He broke … up … with … me,” she sobbed, burying her face on Pam’s shoulder.

 

“Umm… I’m really sorry, Kelly,” Pam responds, patting her a bit awkwardly on the head. “Hold on one minute.” She walks over to the table and chairs and lights one of the verbena Bath & Body Works candles. “Somebody should really talk to Michael about Creed,” she mutters.

 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she replies. “So, what happened?”

 

Kelly sniffles. “I’m really sorry to do this to you, Pam. I know you have your big date with Jim tonight.” She pauses. “Do you need condoms? Because, believe me, I won’t be needing them anymore.”

 

Pam looks like she might die of embarrassment. “Umm… “

 

Kelly keeps right on going. “Who am I kidding. You won’t need them. I mean, he just broke up with Karen. He’s probably all broken up about it. He’s not going to want another relationship. He’s a guy. He’s probably going to want to sleep around, like all guys do, ‘cause they’re dogs. You know?” And then, immediately switching topics: “I mean, I should’ve known. Ryan has been SO weird lately. He never calls me in the middle of the night anymore to protect him from psycho killers, but I thought that was because he just got one of those new home security systems, where if someone breaks in it calls the police? So like, he gets this phone call.” She starts welling up again. “And he gets this like, evil smile and tells me we’re done. He’s got to be seeing someone else.”

 

“Why would you think that?”

 

“He’s transferring to New York. He’s moving. He says there’s going to be a lot of changes around here. And he says we’re done,” she wails. “I really think he might be seeing someone up in New York.”

 

“You’re going to be okay,” Pam assures her.

 

“Seriously, what am I going to do with all of the new Vicky’s stuff I just bought? Do you want it? It’s mostly unused.”

 

“Um, I’m good, thanks.”

 

“They’re probably too small for you. Well, the bottoms, anyway.”

* * *

“So, as I was saying … I’m baaack. And here to stay.”

 

Pam blinks. It’s now 5:57. Michael’s been talking for nearly ten minutes about – well, about something, but she’s been running back Kelly’s words in her mind. He’s probably all broken up … he’s not going to want another relationship. And where was Jim, anyway? Seriously. She found herself feeling a little annoyed – not to mention worried. Where were they going? What time? Should she go home, or were they going straight from work? And, even worse, what if he’d changed his mind and driven back to New York?

 

And then, the bombs dropped.

“Unfortunately, not everyone’s staying here in Scranton,” Michael adds, suddenly sounding pained. Pam glances at Ryan, who looks a bit uncomfortable, and a little smug. Across the table, Dwight is taking furious notes. “We’ve got some changes in staff, and, according to corporate, two new positions are being created.”

 

Suddenly, everyone’s paying attention – even Stanley, Creed and Meredith – who’s sipping from a mysterious-smelling 7/11 Jumbo Slurpee.

 

“Changes in staff?” Angela demands to know. She’s sitting with Kelly, who’s on the far end of the room from Ryan, a tissue still in hand. She’s also changed her clothes, and is wearing all black, as if in mourning. “What changes in staff?”

 

“Apparently…” Michael, awkward, trails off and looks to Ryan for assistance.

 

“I’m going to be moving to corporate,” Ryan says. “I’m taking Jan’s position.”

 

“That’s what she said.”

 

“Wait,” says Stanley, slow to comprehend. “You’re going to be Michael’s boss.” He raises a furry eyebrow.

 

“Yes.”

 

Stanley laughs. Dwight looks outraged. “Wait, so this – this temp – who’s never made a sale before – he’s going to manage you? Michael Scott?”

 

“Moving on, let’s talk about these two new positions. First, we are going to be getting a new intern. Stanley’s daughter. Too bad you won’t be around to molest her, Ryan.”

 

Ryan says nothing; Stanley looks like he’s going to snort fire from his nostrils.

 

Michael laughs. “Okay, it’s not really Stanley’s daughter. Her name is Cassandra, and she came very highly recommended. She’s very interested in paper. She’s just going to work part-time, because she is a student at Scranton University. She’s in the art program.”

 

Oh. Pam feels a slight tinge of jealousy, even though she’s never met this Cassandra person. She’d really wanted to go to art school; there just hadn’t been money, and the associate’s degree in business administration she’d gotten at the local community college, of course, didn’t include any art classes. Her parents and Roy had convinced her that business was a more practical career to pursue. Then she was working, and the longer she waited to go back, the less likely it seemed. Sure, there was the painting class she had taken at night, which she’d enjoyed, but she still had a lot to learn before she could actually do anything with it professionally. It really was too bad kids didn’t like her; otherwise, maybe she could be a teacher.

 

There was that graphic design program that Dunder Mifflin was offering … but that was in New York, and too much was swirling around inside her brain to give it a second thought.

 

“Pam, you’ll probably need to train Cassandra,” says Michael, clearing his throat. “The second position is being created to oversee all sales and administrative staff.” Pam looks at Michael quizzically. “Well, Ryan’s first move in his new position is that, with all of my many responsibilities, someone be placed as an intermediary manager between myself and all of my employees.”

 

Ryan now looks very smug, Pam thinks.

 

Dwight’s panicked. “So will I still be your assistant?”

 

“Your position won’t change,” Michael assures him. “None of your positions will.”

 

“Michael, doesn’t that make your job sort of … unnecessary?” Pam ventures.

 

The entire room falls silent.

 

Michael laughs awkwardly. “Silly Pam. I think maybe when you walked on those coals, the fire spread to your brain. This person will report to me, and I’ll oversee everything they do. I’ll still sign all the monthly reports, do all the hiring and firing, and all of that.”

 

“Do we know who this person will be?” asks Stanley.

 

“We’re on the verge of making a decision, and corporate wants this person put into place right away. We want it to be someone who’ll be fair, smart and not let their, er, personal life get in the way of their job. I guess they felt like that was the issue with Jan and me,” says Michael, a bit embarrassed.

 

Suddenly, a flash of motion from outside the conference room. Pam looks up from her notes, where she’s been doodling – and there’s Jim, still dressed in his outfit from the interview. He’s holding her coat in sort of a “let’s go” gesture.

 

“Anyway, guys, go have a nice evening. And feel assured in the fact that I, Michael Scott, who is and will always be the manager… of your hearts … is not – going – anywhere.”

 

Rustling of chairs, papers and coffee cups as everyone gets up, Kelly flees. Michael hadn’t seen Jim come back from the interview earlier, Pam thinks, and so Michael doesn’t realize that Jim’s skipped his all-important meeting.

 

She takes her time collecting her things until everyone’s gone. Jim peeks his head in the door.

 

“Well, sorry I missed that,” he says with a sly smile. “It looked thrilling.”

 

“It was. Michael says he’s going to start be a more hands-off manager.”

 

“I’ve been hoping he might,” Jim says with a chuckle, holding Pam’s coat for her as she steps into it. They walk towards the door.

 

“So where were you,” she asks, hoping she doesn’t sound as worried as she felt.

 

“Well … driving back here at 90 miles an hour wasn’t exactly how I had planned today would go,” he says, and for the first time she looks at him and realizes he must be exhausted. It’s been a long day for him. “But I wanted us to do something cool, so that took a tiny bit of prep time.”

 

She smiles. “You didn’t have to do anything special.”

 

He looks back at her with a half-smile, and the pair walk outside. It’s a remarkably chilly night for June, but the sun is still bright in the sky. “Why don’t we take my car,” Jim says.

 

“Okay,” Pam says, suddenly feeling nervous and quiet. No one’s around now to distract them, and it makes her a bit uneasy.

 

They get into Jim’s car and he starts the engine; “Little Razorblade” by the Pink Spiders – an indie band that Pam had discovered and had introduced Jim to, back in the day – was in the CD player. He drives for about five minutes, in a mostly comfortable silence, when she decides to speak.

 

“So where are we going?” she asks with a smile. “Is it a surprise?”

 

Jim grins, and she knows he’s got something up his sleeve. Some of the nervousness falls away, and she can see the old Jim, the way he was before. “You know, I think we might need a map.”

 

“A map?”

 

“Yeah, why don’t you check in the glove compartment. I wouldn’t want to get us lost.”

 

“Okay.” She leans forward and pops the glove compartment open – and a wrapped package slides out onto her lap. There’s a little note on it that has her name on it. “Jim – what…”

 

Jim feigns surprise, making a goofy face. “What is that? Where are all my maps?”

 

She tears open the wrapping paper. It’s a set – a really nice set – of watercolor paints. Like, one that she knew cost $40 or $50 bucks. She’d always wanted one, but she’d really had to watch her pennies since the new apartment.

 

“These are awesome, Jim. I … I don’t know what to say.”

 

They made a left at the last stop sign before the highway exit ramp and Pam realized they were in Jim’s apartment complex.

 

“I wanted to thank you,” he says, looking over as often as he can while still safely driving. “I realized how good a friend you’ve been, and you deserve it.” He gets out of the car, leaving her sitting there, staring down at the paint set. Friend. Huh. She nods slightly, trying not to let any emotion show.

 

He’s walking around to her side, and opens the door for her. She pulls her lips together in an obviously put-on smile that feels plastic. They walk to the front door of his apartment in silence. He goes to put the key in the lock, and then turns around.

 

“That came out wrong. I’m not saying the right things here.”

 

Pam looks at him, doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t know what to say. He laughs, but not the normal easygoing Jim laugh – it’s nervous, uneven.

 

“I’m not good at this, Pam.”

 

She takes a deep breath and continues to look at him.

 

“It’s okay,” she responds finally. “I’m not really either. Why don’t we go inside and talk.”

 

He smiles, relaxing a bit. “Okay.”

 

The apartment looks different than the last time Pam was here – for Jim’s party, which seemed forever ago. Everything’s clean and quiet, but the living room seems especially – big. Or empty. Or something.

 

“Are you moving?” Pam blurts out. Jim laughs.

 

“Why don’t we go out there,” he says, gesturing to the little patio off of the living room. He slides the door open for her and she immediately realizes why the apartment seems so huge. The couch is now on the patio, which is listing slightly to the right and which would have worried her immensely had the apartment not been on the ground floor of the building.

 

Pam sits down on the couch, still carrying her beautiful paint set. She doesn’t want to put it down on the couch next to her since she feared Jim might read that as a “stay away” sign. Connie, her best friend in high school (who was now married to a dry cleaner and had two babies) had always admonished her that she gave out “stay away” signals. That was before she met Roy, anyway.

 

Jim slides the screen door closed and steps next to a small round barbecue. The barbecue and the couch basically take up the entire balcony. But it’s nice. It’s nearly full dark now, and there’s a nice breeze wafting by. There are a few potted plants on the ledge of the balcony, Pam sees, that look like they could use some water. But it sort of reminds her of the garden balcony she’d always wanted. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the way she’d pictured it. Her daydream didn’t include the scent of burning barbecue coals and the distant sounds of cars speeding down Route 76. But that was okay. Because the dream had always included someone like Jim.

 

With this realization, she squeezes the paint set tightly and waits nervously to hear what Jim would say or do next.

 

“Hungry?” he asks, lifting the lid off the barbecue and spatula-ing something onto a paper plate. She smiles, unable to speak; he smiles back and hands it to her, then disappears into the house, returning with two Cokes and a candle. “To keep the bugs away,” he says, lighting it and placing it on the balcony next to the plants. He sits down next to her, and for the first time she looks down at what he’s served her. She grins.

 

“I know it’s not fancy, but at least we both know I can very successfully make grilled cheese,” Jim says sheepishly. They both take a couple of bites. Pam sort of wishes that the Cokes were beers, but suspects that probably wouldn’t be the best idea.

 

She puts her plate down. “Is this weird?” she asks. “I hope this isn’t weird.”

 

Jim’s chewing; he holds up his hand for one minute, then swallows and clears his throat. “I’m sorry if I’m a little quiet. It’s been a weird day. This is actually, probably, the least weird part of my day.”

 

She blushes. “Good. So … do you want to tell me about it? Your day?”

 

Jim smiles a bit. “Not yet. But I will.”

 

Pam nods, serious. “Are you back? Are you moving there?”

 

It seems like an eternity before he answers. “No, I’m back.”

 

“Good.” She’s happy, but torn between feelings that it would just be nice to sit here with him, watching the candle flicker and light up the plants and the half-empty parking lot of the apartment complex; and the feeling that they had waited long enough, why couldn’t they be together, or at least say or do something that made the situation more clear? “I’m glad.”

 

He doesn’t say anything, but Pam can tell that he’s not upset; he’s thinking. “You must be really tired,” she says. “Maybe I should go?”

 

He looks at her for a moment, analyzing her face. “I think you should stay.”

 

She nods. “Okay.” In her head, she hears herself asking, Jim, can I ask you a question? I know you’re tired, and it’s been a long day, but I’m wondering – is this a real date? She’s desperate to ask these words, but just isn’t brave enough.

 

Jim suddenly chuckles a little. “What?” she asks.

 

“Oh, nothing.”

 

“What?”

 

“Karen would be very pissed off at me,” he says, and at first she thinks he means she’d be pissed because he left her in New York. “Like, every time we hung out, we had to do something, go somewhere, to some fancy restaurant or some important movie.” He glances at Pam. “Don’t get me wrong, I really enjoy … doing stuff … but like, any time I wanted to just talk … or not talk … and just hang out, she hated it. She’d be sitting on the couch with her arms crossed, tapping her foot, rolling her eyes … you get the idea.”

 

“Yeah,” Pam says, a bit saddened that Karen is still clearly in Jim’s mind.

 

“This is… different,” he says, looking at her, searching her face for words, any words.

 

“Yeah,” she repeats, once again feeling nervous, but unable to look away. Change the subject, she thinks, panicked. “I lied,” she blurts. “I liked your hair better the other way. All messy. It looked good.”

 

Jim grins. “I knew it. Well, I’m growing it back. I look like I’m like, twelve years old.”

 

Pam laughs. “You don’t look twelve.” Okay, enough, she thinks, enough worrying about time or looking stupid or having grilled cheese breath. “You look … you look like Jim.”

 

He laughs, moving closer to her. “Well, that’s a good thing.” His thoughtful face just a few inches away now, he takes a deep breath. “I want this to happen, but slowly, okay?”

 

She presses her lips together again, but this time to try and prevent the goofy grin from appearing on her face. She understands, and even agrees. “Okay,” she whispers, and they kiss. Pam can feel the warmth of the candlelight and of Jim’s hand on the side of her face, and beneath his sweater she can feel his heart pounding in time with hers. It’s not a sloppy, drunk, lusty kiss like the first (or second) one she shared with Roy, whose breath always smelled of whisky and whose hand seemed to instantaneously be up her shirt. It was amazing how this was so different, so … respectful, patient even after all these years, yet still feel so … important. Like something big.

 

They pull back at the same time, and he touches his forehead to hers, letting out a deep breath that sounds relieved and relaxed at the same time. She doesn’t prevent the smile from lighting up her entire face, and she’s glad when he sees it and smiles back.

 

“I’m really glad you’re back,” she says.

 

“Me too.”

 

“I was nervous,” she says, putting her arms around him. “Like, ridiculously nervous.”

 

He laughs, reciprocating the hug. “Not me. You should’ve seen me at the interview in New York – I was Mr. Smooth.”

 

Suddenly, from behind them, comes the flash of a camera light.

 

“Nice, Jim!” They both recognize the voice immediately; it’s Michael. “Can you move to the left a little? This’ll be perfect for Myspace!”

 

Jim jumps up, their mouths drop open.

 

“Let’s, uh, let’s go inside,” he says, shutting off the grill.

 

“Good idea,” she agrees, following him, shutting the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jim and Pam roll into the office late, like 25 minutes late, both of them carrying giant cups of Dunkin’ Donuts coffee. She was wearing the same outfit as yesterday – but whatever, it was casual Friday. I know what they’re all thinking, Pam thinks as she hangs up her jean jacket and sits quietly at the front desk. And you know what? Let them think whatever they want! Triumphant and still giddy from the previous night, Pam replays everything in her head as she starts up her computer. They’d been up all night talking – about everything. She’d slept in his bed with him, but no funny business. She liked that. It was totally different than with Roy. It was nice, though, to wake up a little before him, and just listen to him sleep, his arm curled around her waist.

 

Back at his old desk, Jim wore jeans and a dark blue hooded sweatshirt, his hair free of gel. Even devoid of sleep, he felt as if he were running on adrenaline. Last night, as he told Pam more and more about the interview, about seeing her medal, about Karen, about hearing about her calling off the wedding – about everything – he felt lighter and lighter. And he thought, as long as they took things slowly and took time to reconnect, things could really work. As slowly as possible, which might not be all that slowly, he thought with a grin. He took a sip of his coffee. Even Dwight wouldn’t bother him today.

 

He was halfway through writing Pam an e-mail about crashing at his apartment after work when Michael walked out of his office (the door had been closed) – with Karen, who was clad in a business suit, and looked extremely bright-eyed and, oddly, okay. Jim fought the urge to pull his hoodie over his head and slump down in his chair. Instead, he reached for his phone and did what he so often did when he saw Michael coming – he pretended to be on the phone. Pam watched as he did so, realizing how obvious the whole thing looked – their rumpled clothes, huge cups of coffee, and massive smiles at each other.

 

“Hello everyone,” Michael said, and the members of the office looked up, only semi-interested. Ryan was busily packing up his desk (which, by the looks of his cubicle, wouldn’t take very long). “I want to introduce you all to your new manager – I think you all know her well – Jim especially. Karen Fillipelli, ladies and gentlemen.”

 

Pam shot a look of panic in Jim’s direction, but he was busily chatting it up with an invisible client. A look in Michael’s direction didn’t help either, and Karen’s icy stare made her worry very much about what was to come. What would be her first order of business? No office relationships?

 

“Karen will be working very closely with me to …”

 

Michael’s voice faded off into the distance, and Pam decided the best thing to do at the moment would be to follow Jim’s lead. Picking up the phone, she tried to keep the shaking out of her voice.

 

“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam … ”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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