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Story Notes:
The title is from the song by The Postal Service. It's one of my faves. I couldn't help but write something about this episode, because gah! Seriously. So this is my tiny little contribution.
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.






They don’t even change out of their clothes as they tumble onto their bed, hands intertwined and wearing wide, matching grins. They stretch out on their backs with her hand, his hand, her hand on her stomach.


Pam giggles a little bit at nothing, and Jim rolls to his side, propping himself up on an elbow as he watches her.


“Can you believe it?” Pam says for what Jim figures is at least the tenth time since they left the hospital. “A baby. A baby.” The awe is evident in her voice, and Jim wants to run his fingertips over her smile, wants to save this moment, put it in a jar and keep it forever. He settles on just leaning forward and placing a kiss on her lips.


“A baby,” he repeats. A baby that is half her and half him. A baby with her nose and his crooked smile and their shared sense of humor.


“I didn’t know,” Pam says again, and Jim would tease her about being a broken record, but he’s too damn happy to do anything but smile.


Pam has not stopped smiling since the doctor wrapped her ankle and released her into Jim’s care. Jim’s phone would not stop ringing and he knew it was Dwight to yell about not coming back to the game, but the game feels like it was fifteen years ago, and Jim thinks about sending Charles a thank you card for making him take Pam to the hospital.


They agreed not to tell anyone for a little while, because this was theirs, only theirs, and so few things were just theirs that they wanted to keep this one to themselves. Jim asks the camera crew not to say anything, and they agree easily, promising not to tell anyone back at the office.


They throw out names back and forth on the drive home. It starts serious. Sadie, maybe, if it’s a girl. Jack, if it’s a boy, but it quickly becomes a battle to one up the other with absurd names. Ermintrude and Archibald. Helga and Igor.


This was so not planned, but Jim is starting to realize that the best things to ever happen to him are things he didn’t plan. Planning has never really worked out for him. He thinks about Casino Night, his confession and her response. He thinks about Toby’s goodbye party, the fireworks and the Ferris wheel going to waste. But all he has to do is think about a certain gas station halfway between Scranton and New York, think about her smile and how it lit up her face as the rain and the wind whipped around them, and it’s all worth it.


Because she’s going to marry him. And they’re going to have a baby.A baby.


“I’m happy, so ridiculously happy,” Pam whispers, almost as if she’s afraid to say it out loud. “Do you think it’s possible to be this happy, for like ever?”


“For like ever? How very poetic,” he teases, and she responds by smacking him in the face with a pillow.


“Don’t tease me Halpert, I’m carrying your child,” and she can barely get the words out before another giggle escapes, and she presses a hand to her mouth and suddenly she’s crying. “A baby,” she sobs happily. And Jim pulls her to him, and his long legs are tangled with her short legs and he can’t stop touching her, and she can’t stop crying, and she blames the hormones, which just makes her cry harder.


“Are you going to be like this for the next nine months?” Jim teases as he wipes tears from her cheeks. “Because I think you should warn me now.” And Pam hits him again with the pillow and he moves so that his head is resting on her stomach and they lay quietly for a while.


Tomorrow, he thinks, he’ll probably start to panic. Tomorrow he’ll remember that he has no idea what to do with a baby, and that his only experience with babies have been his brothers’ and he handed them back to their parents when they started to cry. Tomorrow he’ll think about how they’re going to need every minute of the upcoming nine months to figure out how to feed and change and not kill or seriously damage the baby. Tomorrow he’ll have the freak out that he knows is coming, but not today.


Today he is deliriously happy. Today all that he can think about is Pam and this baby and how awesome it is.


“I love you,” he whispers and Pam doesn’t know if he’s talking to her or the baby but she runs a hand through his hair and responds,


“We love you too.”


bashert is the author of 37 other stories.
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