It was really her own fault. She had insisted on renting Shaun of the Dead even though she knew the zombies would give her nightmares for a week. Maybe if Jim hadn't smiled that little smile or made his eyes twinkle when she had suggested it, they would be watching Once or some other zombie-free, Pam-approved movie. But to Pam, that smile and twinkle was a dare, a challenge, an unspoken test.
They had settled together on her couch with his feet on her coffee table and her body firmly tucked under his left arm. The movie had started off nicely enough with a few laughs and Pam's statements of "It's not so bad."
Jim had just smirked and said, "Just you wait, Beesley."
He was right. Ever since that lady zombie fell on the pole, Pam had gone through different combinations of white-knuckled hand-holding, slight whimpering, face-covering, and shallow breathing. Jim had offered multiple times to turn it off, but Pam had stubbornly refused, claiming it would be worse to not know how it ended. Even though she never said it, they both knew that she just needed to see that Shaun and Liz would be all right.
As the credits rolled, he looked down to check if she was okay. Pam tried to reassure him that she was fine and had even liked it, but Jim saw the gears in her head still whirling. They had tidied up the living room and kitchen in silence and readied themselves for bed.
After a relatively chaste kiss goodnight, they climbed into bed. Pam heard Jim's breathing become slow and steady, gently whistling through his nose as he slumbered. She shut her eyes and tried to think happy, non-zombified thoughts. To her dismay, flashes of rotting corpses and bloody viscera interrupted those thoughts. Pam was struggling to refocus when she heard the noise.
In the rational part of her brain, she knew it was probably a tree branch from the oak outside scratching her window as the wind blew. But with her heightened senses and overactive imagination, Pam imagined one or more ashen-faced corpses reanimating and trying to get in. A shiver ran cold down her spine as she quickly turned over towards Jim.
"Jim," she whispered. No response. "Jim!" she hissed, emphasizing the urgency with a poke in the chest.
"Whhuu, huh?"
"Jim, there's zombies outside." She said it matter-of-factly, with only a hint of panic in her voice.
He sighed and slowly blinked his eyes. He smiled sleepily. "Pam, there's no zombies. S'ok. Sleep."
"Jim, I'm scared." He looked at her face and saw the terror in her eyes. His expression softened.
"Hey, don't be scared." He pulled her close and kissed her hair. "You know that zombies aren't real, right?" She muttered something into his t-shirt, and he stroked her hair. "But you know that even if they were, I wouldn't let them get you," he said in his most reassuring voice while rubbing soft, slow circles on her back.
She pulled away from him slightly and looked up at him. "But..." she trailed off. "But what if you can't, Jim? What if you're at your apartment and can't get here or on a business trip or what if we bre-"
"Pam." He saw her getting worked up, and the tears in her eyes made him ache with the need to protect her. "There is nothing that could ever stop me from getting to you. Not zombies, earthquakes, floods, monsoons, Scarlett Johansson, Schrute family reunions..." He tried to lighten the mood, but noticed the attempt had failed miserably.
He took her pale hand and brought it up under the soft, worn cotton of his Radiohead shirt till it rested over his heart. He looked deep into her eyes and then spoke carefully. "Do you feel my heartbeat?"
Pam nodded as Jim pressed her hand more firmly to his chest. "As long as this heart beats, I will be here to protect you." He let this settle in and then kissed her softly.
"Oh, Jim." Pam sighed and snuggled closer. "I love you."
"I love you too, Pam." They got comfortable, and just before they both nodded off, Jim said, "I guess watching Dawn of the Dead tomorrow is out of the question, huh?"
Pam nodded and replied, "Shut up before I tell Dwight that you've been leafing through casket brochures again."
Story Notes:
This little idea popped into my head one day and decided to set up shop. So instead of paying attention in class, I wrote this up pretty quick. I didn't have a beta, so I don't know how good it is.
Title is from a Sufjan Stevens song.
I don't own Pam, Jim, Sufjan, Shaun of the Dead, or anything else. So you can't sue me!
Title is from a Sufjan Stevens song.
I don't own Pam, Jim, Sufjan, Shaun of the Dead, or anything else. So you can't sue me!
Chapter End Notes:
That's all. It's sort of silly now that I think about it, but whatev.
Reviews to me are like striped ties to Andy Bernard.
Reviews to me are like striped ties to Andy Bernard.
Kit Fearsome is the author of 0 other stories.
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