* * *
“Hey, you! Give me just a second, ok?” Pam sounded positively chirpy, and Jim took the opportunity to disengage a shopping cart from the line in front of the grocery store. It came away with a harsh clang, and the bottom was still littered with day-old sale papers. He pushed it through the automatic doors, escaping the summer heat for the refrigerated relief of the supermarket.
“Sorry about that. I was in the library and I didn’t want people to start giving me dirty looks.”
“Not to mention it’d look pretty bad for you to be banned from yet another public place, wouldn’t it?” he teased, and was rewarded with a happy laugh.
“Jerk. I am never going to hear the end of that, am I?”
“Nope. Our grandchildren will be hearing this story.”
“Do you think if I went back and apologized nicely they’d let me back in?”
“Have you even tried to go back?”
“No,” she admitted sheepishly. “I’m too scared to try. What if they escorted me off the premises? I’d be so embarrassed.”
“I can see the headlines now - Scranton woman dragged kicking and screaming from local Chili’s.”
Pam replied dryly, “Nice of you to keep my dignity intact, Halpert. Kicking and screaming? Really?”
“I’m sorry, Pam. But we all know how cranky you get when you’re hungry.”
“You realize that I now sound like a three-year old,” she huffed.
“If the shoe fits…” Jim trailed off, smiling as he picked through the stacked mounds of fruit. He hefted an apple in his hand, waxy and contoured and a deep, deep red that made him think inexplicably of warm soil and baseball.
“You’re so mean! I’m not talking to you anymore,” she laughed.
“Oh come on, like you’ve got anything better to do,” he answered, grinning.
“As a matter of fact, I was in the middle of some very important reading when you called. Why did you call anyway? And where are you?”
“Supermarket. I was running low on Easy Mac.”
“Dork. So did you have an actual purpose in calling or are am I right in thinking you’re just bored?”
“Wow. I had no idea I was so obvious.”
“It’s ok, Jim. Subtlety is overrated. I like my men transparent,” she replied archly.
“No, Pam, you’ve got this all wrong. I am a very complex man. A man of mystery, if you will.”
“I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but you kind of wear your heart on your sleeve.”
“Very funny, Beesly.”
“No, seriously,” she insisted. “You’ve got your feelings written all over your face - .”
“Pam – ”
“ – in big block letters, –”
“Pam!”
“ – all caps.” she finished.
“I do not!” he sputtered, and then quickly blushed when shoppers in the produce section turned to look at him. “I do not,” he repeated, in a quieter voice.
“Yeah, you do,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Huh.” He paused, considering. Beside him a couple was arguing over cereal. “And yet you somehow missed the fact that I was head over heels in love with you for pretty much the entire we’ve known each other.”
“Selective blindness. Came with the engagement ring.”
“Did you have to pay extra for that?”
“Nah, they tossed in for free.”
“Nice.” He grabbed laundry detergent and fabric softener, making sure to grab his usual; she’d pouted one day when he came home with a different brand. He was used to being the more sentimental one, but she managed to pleasantly surprise him on a regular basis. “Is that why I’m so bad at poker?” He could hear her snickering on the other line.
“Halpert, you couldn’t put on a poker face unless we knocked you out first.”
“Hey,” he countered defensively, “I’m not that bad. I beat you sometimes.”
“Yeah, ‘cause I let you.” She was giggling now, and sounding for all the world like a carefree little kid.
“Whoa, that is not true, Beesly.”
“I’m sorry! It’s just that you make this sad puppy-dog face and I can’t stand it so I fold.” She laughed, bright and mirthful, and it crashed through him, ringing in his ears and making his breath stop short. He’d lose every game in the world if it meant her laughing with him like this.
“Oh my God. Those were all pity wins?”
“Poor baby. I wasn’t going to tell you.”
“I am such a loser.” He shook his head in disbelief, wheeling the half-filled cart to the next aisle. “Wait, so if I made that face would you let me win at Scrabble?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because you always win at Monopoly! It’s only fair.”
“Fine. Then I want a card game, too.”
“Uno?”
“Gin rummy.”
“Do we even play that?”
“We do now.”
“Alright. Let the record state that James Halpert will be the new gin rummy champion.”
“Thank you,” he said smugly. “And to celebrate, I’m getting pulp-free orange juice. Not your gross pulpy stuff. So there.” He scanned the cartons of juice until he found what he was looking for. The beige, speckled tile squeaked under his sneakers as he walked back to his cart.
“See, Halpert? This is why you couldn’t cut it in the Finer Things Club.”
“You are just not going to let up on me today, are you?”
“Aw, did I hurt Jimmy’s feelings?”
“I’m hanging up on you now.”
“No, you’re not. You miss me.”
“Not a chance.” he scoffed. “I get to push the cart without hunching over. Come to think of it, now that I don’t have to bend over and talk to you all the time, my back’s been feeling pretty good.”
“I could say the same about my neck.”
“Well maybe you shouldn’t have turned down dinner with Ryan, then. You two are pretty compatible in height.”
“Let’s not talk about Ryan. That makes me sad.”
“Ok, so we’ll get you a pair of platform shoes.”
“Jim, I can barely make it through the day in my Keds. I’d probably break my neck.”
“Forget it, then. We’ll just have to live with a little joint pain and early-onset arthritis.”
“Will you still rub Bengay onto my neck when we’re old and decrepit?
“Only if you do the same for my back.”
“Better stock up, then.”
“Will do.” He pulled out his grocery list, mentally checking off the things he’d gotten. “Hey, what’s the red stuff you sprinkle on that baked chicken you make?” He looked at the never-ending rows of spice jars, replete with muted colors.
“Chili pepper?”
“No, it’s a little grainier.”
“Paprika?”
“Yeah! That’s the stuff.” He reached down for a small bottle, inspecting the label before placing in the cart next to the Doritos.
“You’re not getting all fancy on me, are you? I thought we decided you should stick to things you can microwave.”
“You are not as funny as you think you are.”
“Seriously, though, what are you going to do with paprika?”
“Not telling.”
“Jim.”
“Pam,” he mocked her pleading tone. “This is what you get for being mean to me.”
“I’m pouting. You can’t see it but I am.”
“Then it’s not quite as effective now, is it?”
“Please tell me. See how sad I sound now?”
“You mean ‘listen’. I can’t ‘see’ how sad you sound.”
“Now you’re just being difficult.”
“I love you.”
“You are not going to distract me, Jim.”
“Like, a lot.”
“Jim, stop it,” she protested laughing.
“Stop what? Stop loving you? ‘Cause it’s a little too late on that score. You’re never getting rid of me now.”
“Can we get back to the paprika?”
“First tell me you love me.” A middle aged woman with a basket of soup cans overheard him and chuckled. Jim gave her a proud grin and mouthed ‘my girlfriend’, to which she mouthed back ‘good for you’.
“You dork. Of course I love you.”
“Now promise to be nice to me for the rest of this conversation.”
Pam gave him an exaggerated sigh. “Fi-ine. I promise to be nice to you for the rest of this conversation.”
“Call Dwight and tell him you think he’s hot.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Okay,” he conceded. “It was worth a shot, though.”
“Jim, are you going to tell me or not?”
“Jeez Beesly, after all that build up it sounds kind of lame. I just wanted to practice my cooking skills, you know, try out a few dishes, impress you when you come visit this weekend.”
“That’s not lame, Jim, that’s really sweet.”
“I was hoping you’d think so.” He beamed.
“I do! Now I’ve got something to look forward to.”
“What, I wasn’t enough of an incentive?” Jim pretended to be offended as he pushed the cart to the checkout.
“Trust me, you are more than enough. I’ve spent this entire week resisting the urge to hop on a train back home.”
“You’re just saying that because you promised to be nice to me.”
“Am not, you goof. It’s making me crazy being away from you.”
“Really?” he asked.
“Really,” she repeated, and he smiled crookedly as he stared past the blur of tabloid headline.
“Sir?”
Jim snapped to attention at the voice of the cashier, a young woman with a streak of hot pink in her bright blonde hair. “Sorry,” he apologized as he began to stack the groceries on the conveyer belt. “Hey Pam, let me call you back, ok?”
“Sure thing. Love you.”
“Love you, too” he said, before snapping the phone shut.
“Girlfriend?” asked the cashier, smiling as she rang up his things.
“Yep. She loves me,” he couldn’t resist adding.
“Well, lucky you,” she grinned, and Jim looked down fondly at the phone before grinning back.
“Yeah,” he agreed, “I really am.”
* * *
Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter's for Ellie and lisahoo. Thanks for being such great reviewers.
Enjoy!
Enjoy!
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading!
