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Story Notes:
I had to try my hand at post-Weight Loss fic. I just couldn't contain myself.
Author's Chapter Notes:
The title is from the song by She and Him, and I want to be Zooey Deschanel when I grow up. For reals.
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.




On the way back down to New York, she can’t stop grinning, the glare off her ring catching her attention every time she makes a right hand turn, and she practices saying Pam Halpert out loud. She wanted to try it out, try it on, see how it sounded and felt when it rolled out of her mouth.



Turns out, like all things associated with her relationship with Jim, it’s natural. It feels good and right and solid coming out of her mouth. B is easily replaced by an H, and if it’s possible, she smiles wider.



Jim’s right, even with the impromptu, awkward backseat sex, she still makes it back to Pratt with plenty of time for her four o’clock class, but she can’t focus, her thoughts drifting back to Jim and the right blend of amusement and nerves when he asked her, “so?” and the way that his hand shook as he slid the ring on her finger, the rain whipping their hair around and mixing with the tears that were streaming down both their faces. He wiped away some of the rain with his thumb as they burst into laughter, and she could hear the edge of disbelief in both their voices.



Jim was right; the proposal totally kicked her ass. Totally and utterly kicked her ass, but she can’t help but think that maybe the proposal kicked his ass too.


Jim reassured her that he was driving up for the weigh in and then he would be back down to New York as fast as he could, and she nodded, pressing her lips and her hands to his face.



“Hurry,” she whispered against his neck, and she buried her head in his wet shirt, clutching it in her hands. He smelled like rain and Jim and home, and she wanted to say to hell with her class and abandon her car at the rest stop and drive back to Scranton with him. It takes a lot of convincing on Jim’s part to get her to agree to go back to school, and she finally agrees, reluctantly, and Jim waits until she’s safely in her car and on the road before he turns to head back to Scranton.



She slips into her seat right before class starts, and her new friends notice the new piece of jewelry right away. They know about Jim, know about her boyfriend in Scranton, but they don’t know about Jim, and while she happily shows off the ring, she hopes Jim doesn’t tell anyone at work until she can be there, because they would get it. Or at least most of them would get it, understand how huge this is. The epic-ness of the ring on her finger.



Jim sends her a series of text messages while she’s in class.



On my way, see you soon.



I’m passing our rest stop, what do you think it takes to make it a historical landmark?



I have seatbelt marks in my ass, I’m just saying. Still want to marry me?



Can we name our first child Fairview?



I was just kidding in that last one. Obviously we’re going to name our first child Dwight. Girl or boy.


I love you. I love you. I love you.



She’s the first one out of the classroom when the professor wraps up, grabbing her bag and her laptop and hurrying back to her dorm room. She calls her mother as soon as the door is shut behind her, and her mother starts crying immediately.



“I’m so happy for you,” her mother says, and Pam watches as tears drop down onto her jeans, but she doesn’t bother wiping them away.



Jim arrives twenty minutes later, and somehow he has evaded the cameras, and she ushers him inside quickly.



“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs wrapping his arms around her.



“I’m affianced now, you know,” she says laughing against his mouth. “It gives me a glow.”



They squeeze onto her extra long twin mattress, limbs tangled and her hair coiled around his fingers. He tugs on a strand and she turns her head to look at him, and this isn’t how she thought she would spend the first night of their engagement, but then again, this isn’t how she expected anything to go, and she’s pretty sure that no one in the history of the world has been this happy, and he whispers he loves her as he tightens his hold on her.



“I’m kind of hungry,” she finally says. “Someone promised me lunch and didn’t deliver.” And his laugh makes her feel warm, and content and loved, oh God, so loved.


She didn’t get fireworks, or Ferris wheels or fried Oreos, but her hair still smells a little like gasoline and their wet clothes are in a pile in the corner of her room, and this is better.



So much better.


bashert is the author of 37 other stories.
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