* * *
“Hey, honey.” Jim answered the phone as casually as possible, loosening his tie as he tossed his messenger bag on the couch before plopping down next to it. For a minute he waited for her to answer, and opened his mouth to speak when he was cut off by the sound of her giggling.
“Jim, that sounds so weird coming from your mouth.”
“For your information, it’s a term of endearment. Most of women seem to like it when their fiancés refer to them as such.”
“I know, I know, but it just…doesn’t quite fit. It just sounds like you’re trying too hard.”
Jim waited for a fresh wave of giggles to die down before protesting, “Oh c’mon, it wasn’t that bad, was it? I thought it came off pretty casual.”
“Oh my god, you totally practiced that didn’t you?”
“Don’t be ridicu-“
“You did! You totally did! You are such a domestic dork, Halpert.”
“Shut up, sweetie.” From the sound of it, Pam wasn’t even trying to keep from laughing this time. He held the phone away from his ear until her loud guffaws died down. “Ok, so not ‘honey’ or ‘sweetie’. ‘Baby’?”
“Ugh. Too close to ‘babe’.”
“Ouch. Agreed. ‘Sugar’?”
“I hate to break it to you, but Scranton is north of the Mason-Dixon line, Jim.”
“’Pumpkin’?”
“You sound like my dad.”
“’Sweetheart’?”
“Too formal.”
“’Beautiful’?”
“You are never going to be able to say that a straight face.”
“Why are you making this so difficult?”
“Why do we even need to do this?” she countered quickly, amusement still bright in her voice. Jim stretched out flat on the cushions, trailing his hand down to sweep across the cold, word wood floor. “I mean, what’s wrong with what we call each other now?”
“Do you want me to keep calling you ‘Beesly’ forever?”
“I certainly don’t mind.”
“What about when we’re married? Would I have to switch to ‘Halpert’? Or do I keep calling you Beesly? Wouldn’t that confuse our kids?” He swung his torso back up, pulling his legs up and stretching them back out until they were perched on the edge of the coffee table.
“Jim, can I tell you something?”
“Shoot.”
“I love it when you call me Beesly. Adore it. It gives me the warm fuzzies every time because you say it just the right way and it’s so much better than anything else you could ever come up with it.”
Jim leaned down to untie his shoelaces, loosening each shoe with his heels. “You’re not just saying that because I suck at pet names?”
“No, Jim. Just say what comes naturally, ok? And if that happens to be ‘Beesly’ or ‘Halpert’ or ‘you’, that’s all I need, because you’re going to be the one saying it.”
“How about ‘dork’?” He grinned, pulling his shoes completely off and letting them fall to floor.
“Don’t push it, mister. And don’t leave your shoes in the middle of the room.”
“How did you-?”
“Just don’t, ok?”
“Please, it’s not like you’ve got room to talk. I know what the inside of your closet looks like, and it is not pretty.”
“It’s a contained chaos, Halpert. Plus my shoes aren’t the same size as the rest of our furniture.”
“Low blow, Beesly.”
“Maybe we better rethink this, Jim. Our kids are going to be giant freaks. Do you really want to be responsible for unleashing those genetics on the world?”
“Or they might turn out to be wild-haired midgets.”
“Maybe it’ll cancel out and they’ll be normal?”
"Not a chance," he teased, reaching for the remote. The high-pitched buzz of the television set filled the room before settling into a distant hum. A blare of fevered voices seemed to shoot into every corner, cut through by the clean intensity of an announcer’s voice calling out plays.
“Ignoring me for sports already, Jim?” he heard her say, even as he scrambled to lower the volume.
“Need I remind you what an excellent multitasker I am?”
“Oh my God, we’re already turning into an old married couple.”
“What?”
“I’m nagging you about not leaving your shoes on the floor, you’re drowning me out with ESPN. The only thing we need to do now is figure out whether we want our kids to do soccer camp or get cello lessons.”
“Soccer camp, definitely. But you have to promise not to get upset when you hear some other dad call his wife ‘honey’. Because I’ll be too set in my ways to call you something new by then.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
“So fickle.”
“Woman’s prerogative?”
Jim laughed softly, wondering if he could convince her to elope in the very near future. “I seriously cannot wait for us to be an old, boring married couple.”
“Can we still prank Dwight if we’re old and boring?”
“Absolutely.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I think I’m set for life.”
Jim grinned in the semi-darkness, marveling at the certainty that a lifetime of arguing over housework with Pam Beesly would be more than he ever thought he could hope for. Maybe he wasn’t asking for much, but he couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted more.
* * *
Author's Chapter Notes:
This has become my favorite way to procrastinate. The title is from Pablo Neruda's "Your Feet".
Chapter End Notes:
The lack of true JAM interaction in Season 5 makes me feel like I'm in a long distance relationship.
