Pam dejectedly walked into her apartment, letting her coat fall to the floor as she shrugged out of it and headed straight for the couch. She'd had a headache for most of the afternoon, but that wasn't the real malady. What was hurting most of all was her pride.
She kicked her shoes under the coffee table and curled her legs up under her. She grabbed the oversized pillow from the floor and wrapped her arms around it tight as she leaned against the side arm of the couch. She wanted to disappear from the world around her, maybe slip under the cushions and find herself in another world where there was no Jim and no Karen and no kisses that apparently meant nothing to anyone but her.
She felt like crying, but her eyes remained dry. She'd been doing that for months now, and Pam thought that perhaps she was finally all out of tears. What was the point of them anyway? She hugged the cushion closer and tried to find some respite in sleep, but the images and conversations of the work day kept playing over and over in her head.
Never underestimate the power of a good night's sleep.
No, I'm sure you're right.
When I get eight hours, compared to like six hours, like, big difference....
Good Advice, Beesly......see you out there.
...Jim told me about you guys.
....It's just a kiss.
...Wait – you're not still interested in him?
Do you know who was totally flirting with Ben Franklin? Pam.
...any real potential there Beesly?
...God, I need a boyfriend.
“Aiii!” Pam groaned, throwing the pillow to the floor. She had achieved a trifecta of idiocy today, of that she was sure. When did she lose all ability to talk to Jim like that? And Karen? She didn't know what to make of Karen. If Pam was paranoid, she would believe that the whole kitchen conversation was Karen marking out her territory in no uncertain terms. But why would she even need to do that?
“I have to stop thinking,” she muttered to herself, leaning across the coffee table to grab the television remote. There had to be something that could distract her from her depressing life.
A quick flip through the channels made no impression, and she wondered if she'd have to put in a movie when she remembered something. Grabbing the VCR remote she turned it on and hit rewind. Because she had a class on Tuesdays, she knew she had at least one episode of House waiting for her. That brought a slight smile to her face for the first time since she'd come home.
As she listened to the whir of the tape spinning backwards, she grabbed some tortilla chips and a pot of guacamole from the fridge and settled back on the couch. Not the healthiest of meals, but exactly the kind of comfort food she needed. She also remembered the ice cream waiting for her in the freezer. If everything else in her life seemed to suck right now, at least she could eat her favorite foods and watch her favorite television show.
She was more delighted than perhaps she should have been when she discovered that she had two episodes taped, even if it appeared at that least the first one was a repeat. There was something so satisfying in watching Gregory House let out all the things he wanted to say, not caring how people reacted. Sure, Pam knew he was just a tv character, and that in real life such an insolent attitude could have consequences that House never seemed to have to deal with, but deep down she wished that just once she could be like that.
The magic of the food and the entertainent worked, and Pam finally felt herself relaxing. In fact she never even made it to dessert as she dozed off during the middle of the second episode.
It didn't seem like she'd been asleep for long when she felt something hitting her ankle. She was lying stretched out on the couch by this point, so she groggily moved her feet and turned over to face the cushions. Then she felt a harder push against the back of her thigh, like something was jabbing her. Irritated, she sat up to see what was bothering her.
She gasped in shock as she saw Dr. Gregory House seated in the armchair next to her, his feet crossed casually and resting on her coffee table. He twirled his cane – the object of her assault - slowly between his fingers.
“Do you know you're practically impossible to wake up?” He said in a bemused tone. “You might want to check into one of those sleep-study clinics. There's definitely something not right with you.”
Author's Chapter Notes:
The seeds of this story were first planted when Ben Franklin originally aired, but I never got around to it. This is going to be fairly short, with my intentions to finish it today. I'm posting chapters as they are written to keep me going. You'll probably enjoy this most if you watch both The Office (duh!) and House, MD - but as long as you have a sense who Gregory House is, you'll get it.
