Pam is curled up half on top of Jim watching Ferris Bueller’s Day Off on basic cable even though he owns the special edition DVD and they’ve both seen the movie maybe a dozen times. They’re camped out on the well worn and ultra comfortable couch in his living room, and her ear is pressed to his chest and the steady thump, thump, thump of his heartbeat obscures half the dialogue, but that’s okay because every once in a while Jim quotes along with their favorite lines.
She’s only half into the movie, because she’s busy thinking a lot of busy thoughts and had been doing so pretty consistently since their oh-so-coy conversation where Jim all but threatened her with a proposal, like matrimony was a club he was going to beat her over the head with. She had no idea why she found that as charming as she did, but they certainly were a pair.
She was tired of speculating on how and when the proposal was going to come, and she was at the point where she figured the whole thing was like watching a pot of water boil or checking your voicemail over and over waiting for a message. She had moved onto figuring out how this whole thing was going to work. Like whose bed would they keep when they moved in together, and would either of them break down and start cooking regularly? They spend way too much money on take out as it is and she’s going to gain like a thousand pounds and need a scooter to get around pretty soon, not to mention the fact that its all fun and games until someone gets scurvy. She wonders how long they’ll stay at Jim’s place before they get something to call theirs, or maybe they’ll even look into owning something together.
When she had been with Roy, she spent years dreaming of white dresses and first dances, of flower arrangements and happily ever afters. With Jim, she dreams of home equity loans and filing taxes jointly, of getting covered in paint when they redecorate the bedroom on a whim.
She’s shaken from her musings by a deep, drowsy sigh from deep within Jim’s chest that shifts her head.
“Hey Jim?”
He hums sleepily in acknowledgement.
“Don’t propose,” she says simply. Her ear is still pressed to his chest, and she swears she can hear his heart skip a beat, which makes her smile but she quickly amends her statement so he doesn’t drop dead. “I mean. Hmm. When…if…you want to get married…” she hesitates and then trails off. She had all the words in her head but it was surprisingly hard to get to get them out without sounding presumptuous. “Let’s just do it. Get married, I mean.”
“Okay?” The question mark is a tangible thing; it’s definitely a question, a request for more information, rather than an agreement.
They are quiet for a moment and she props herself on an elbow on his chest and looks down at his baffled face. “It’s just—I’ve done the whole engagement bit—”
“Wait, what?” he interrupts wide eyed. “You were engaged before?”
“I know, right?” Pam played along. “It’s probably my best kept secret.”
“Jeez, I feel like I barely know you. You’re a tarnished woman!”
Pam smiles sweetly and digs her elbows a little harder into Jim’s chest until he winces. “Anyway, I did the whole months of planning thing, and I have to say, it wasn’t so great.”
Another long pause before he said, “It would be different with us, because I wouldn’t stick you with planning the whole thing by yourself. I’d help. It would be fun.”
“I know,” Pam said, tucking her head back under his chin. “If you’re really set on the whole pomp and circumstance deal, then I’m in. It’s just…” she trailed off again, waving a hand around dismissively. “Whatever.”
“Just what?” Jim asked, genuinely confused.
“One thing I took away from that whole debacle it is that the wedding? It really doesn’t mean much. It’s like a really nice paint job on a car. It’s all aesthetics. If there is nothing under the hood, what’s the point?”
“Are you saying we’ve got nothing under the hood? That we’re like a Yugo that needs to be pushed up hills?”
“No, we’re like a seventy six Nova with chipped paint and a big dent in the side, but a V8, and an all leather interior, and an exhaust system that would wake the neighbors.”
Jim chuckled and shook his head. “You know what? You’re not allowed to watch Monster Garage or Pimp My Ride anymore. In fact, effective immediately, I’m banning all of those chopper shows.”
“But do you see what I’m saying?”
“I think. You’re saying that we can get the car painted if I want, but you don’t really care either way what the outside of the car looks like.”
“Exactly,” Pam said, slapping Jim’s chest enthusiastically. “I’m just really confident in the performance capabilities of our car.”
He ran his hand through her hair, wrapping a loose curl around his index finger and tugging lightly. “What about our families?” Jim asked.
“Hmm. We could just have a party, like a laid back cook out kind of deal, and just hang out and enjoy ourselves in our own clothes.”
Jim was quiet for a few minutes. “Okay. I think I see
what you’re getting at here, but there are two major flaws I don’t think you’ve considered.”
“Oh?”
“One, you’d be voluntarily giving up the opportunity to see me in a tuxedo. Maybe the only opportunity you’ll ever have.”
Pam grinned and scooted up to press a kiss into his neck. “I’ll risk it. Plus, I can always con you into being James Bond to my Miss Moneypenny for some cheesy couples costume party.”
Jim shot her a baleful look and wrinkled his nose. “You talk a big talk with the car metaphors, but then you willing bring up the idea of matching costumes in our futures? I don’t know if I even want to date you anymore, not less marry you.”
“Oh!” she said, suddenly inspired. “Wait! What about a costume theme wedding? Like at the Renaissance Faire? We could have Dwight officiate!”
“And this is me breaking up with you,” Jim said seriously, turning back to the movie.
“Yeah right,” Pam snorted. “As if you’re going to do better than me. Moving on, what’s your second supposed flaw in my brilliant plan?”
Jim smiled slowly. “All this build up and you just want to skip the highly anticipated Jim Halpert Proposal Extravaganza?” Pam raised a brow doubtfully, and he continued. “See, I still don’t think you believe that I was already going to propose.”
She pursed her lips and lay back down, turning her attention back to the movie. “Yep, you’re right. I call shenanigans.”
“You call shenanigans?” Jim murmured, his face contorted with mock insult.
“Yes, sir. So maybe you should be happy I’m letting you off the hook. Now you don’t have to try and pull some fancy proposal out of your ass.”
Jim narrowed his eyes at her and sneered. “Okay, that’s it. Game on, Beesly. Off me,” he said, shoving her off his chest rather gracelessly and pushing himself up from the couch. He disappeared into his bedroom for a moment, reappearing a moment later. He flopped down on the couch and stretched out next to her before briefly holding up a jewelry box of a telltale size and shape. “Oh, if only I had a camera to capture that face,” Jim mused.
Story Notes:
So, I've had this written for a while, a pseudo-companion to my Toby piece 'And The Song Remains the Same'. Its been fermenting (like a fine wine?) on my hard drive for a while. Whatev, I have sunburn so bad I think my skin is going to pack up and move to a cave. I have no idea why I'm sharing that fact, but hoooooly crap.
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.
Chapter End Notes:
Okay, option time, dear readers. Are you happy with this as a simple one shot, or would you like to follow Jim and Pam through their nuptial related shenanigans?
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