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Story Notes:
I was in the mood to write, and thank God for the challenges, otherwise I would have sat with an open document on my 'puter staring at the blinking cursor.
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.






She would never admit to Jim, because it would probably just upset him, but while those first few weeks with him were exhilarating, they were also kind of awful.



Because Karen kept glaring at her, and Kevin kept snickering, and Michael kept implying things, and it was so new and wonderful, and so easily tainted by all of their co-workers.


She felt guilty about Karen, for maybe a half second, because then she remembered that Jim never actually belonged to Karen.


He was mine first, she reminded herself. He was mine long before he was Karen’s.


Not that Pam thought of Jim as a possession. She was reading this People magazine and there was an article about celebrity tattoos, and Posh Spice or whatever, she had this tattoo, in Hebrew, “Ani L'Dodi V'dodi Li.” I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine. Pam figured she was Jim’s as much as Jim was hers.


Pam really hated that she really liked a tattoo that a former Spice Girl had. She thought it was romantic, and she said it to Jim one night while they were lying in bed, and he had smiled this great smile and kissed her temple and teased her about being a closeted Spice Girls fan. But his smile was real, and he pulled her closer and she had run the words back through her head a few more times and loved the sound of them.


She was kind of sorry to see Karen go, because Karen was kind of cool, but she was also about thirty-eight different kinds of relieved and relief won. Karen took some of the staring and wondering away with her.


Their co-workers moved on to gossiping about other people and other things and Pam and Jim wrapped themselves up in each other and the summer moved like honey, sweet and warm and slow.


But as much as she didn't want to admit it, the guilt never really went away, and she wondered sometimes if they should have waited before starting to date. But Jim pressed his hot hands and hot lips against hers, and she knew that this was right, this was the way that it should be.


"I stole you," she whispered one night, finally voicing what had been bothering her. If she was going to be honest, she had felt this annoying, nagging guilt since she stood with her warm feet in the cool sand and told Jim in front of his girlfriend that she had called off her wedding because of him.


"What?" Jim asked.


"I took you from Karen. I broke probably at least fourteen different girl codes," she shrugged, hoping if she was nochalant about it, she could actually be nochalant about it.


"You didn't steal anything," Jim reassured her. "To steal something implies that it belonged to someone else first." He paused and tangled a hand in her curls, tugging gently on a loose one. "I was never anyone's but yours. Sorry. You're probably stuck with me for a while."


"That's what you think," Pam grinned in the dark. She saw Jim roll his eyes in the half light and she knew that she probably wouldn't ever stop feeling at least marginally guilty about this until she saw for herself that Karen was happy, because she totally deserved to be happy, but this, Jim, was enough to push the guilt to a tiny corner and lock it away, because this was amazing.


bashert is the author of 37 other stories.
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