He expected fury. He expected to have another conversation. Instead, he was met with stony silence for the entirety of car ride home. He watched her carefully from the corner of his eye as she glared at the road.

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to think about Pam too loudly. He knew he was failing. The silence roared with the thoughts of her. The air was thick with everything left unsaid.

He gingerly swapped the ice from his jaw to his ribs, a groan slipping from between his lips. Karen – his girlfriend, he reminded himself as he rolled the way Pam had said his name over and over in his mind  –  swung her gaze to him momentarily and sighed. Her expression softened as her eyes roamed his swollen face. He tried to smile, but his heart wasn’t in it and she knew it, her eyes drifted back to the road.

She pulled into his drive and made no move to open the car door. The ultimatum that he’d felt lingering loomed heavily over their heads. He waited her out for a few moments, before tentatively pushing his door open. Has she pressed him even yesterday, his chips may have fallen her way. But now… He rose from the car. His pain was a double-edged sword. Each step caused him to grimace and each twist of his lips set his jaw on agonising fire.

Despite this, he took the few extra steps to open her door. It seemed to jolt her out of the impeding conversation that had her rooted to her seat. She slowly shook her head, her hair slipping from behind her ears to drape over her eyes. He extended a cautious hand and neither missed the way she pretended she didn’t see it as she climbed from the car.

His hand dropped limply at his side. “I’m sorry?” he offered and winced as he heard the question radiating from his words.

“Are you?” she murmured. “What for?”

Loving Pam, his mind whispered. “Umm,” his mouth added helpfully.

Karen laughed harshly. “Sorry that the girl you had feelings for, has feelings for you and told the guy who has feelings for her in front of the girl who has feelings for you?”

Jim gaped at her in response.

Karen eyed him carefully for a moment. “I hope I don’t regret this this,” she breathed.

“Don’t,” he choked and hated himself a little for the lie in it. He didn’t want to have the fight, he wasn’t sure what he was fighting for. Pam called off her wedding for you churned over and over in his mind as Karen levelled him with a look that spelled the end.

“Jim. I really like you, but I’m not sure I can stick around for this high school drama any longer. There’s one too many people in Scranton and I think that the one might be me. I’m going ask Wallace if there are any positions open in any other branches.” She paused and eyed him cautiously, “if you want to ask too, I’d like that,” her face fell, “I don’t think you will though.”

He took a deep breath that hinted at regret, but the aftertaste was pure relief.

“Karen,” he pleaded weakly.

“No,” she stated fiercely. “Don’t lie to us both. I’m not your first choice. Don’t try to fix this if you’re not serious about it.” Her face fell ever so slightly as he made no further attempt. He hung his head, ashamed at how little he wanted to work things out with Karen and how obvious it was.

She pressed his car keys back into his hand and pulled her own set from her bag. “I can’t be your rebound any longer, Jim.”

“I.. you’re… I’m sorry, Karen,” he mumbled, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck contritely – her statement cut to the heart of their relationship, there was no point denying it any longer. She hummed a reply and settled into her car. Moments later the engine roared to life and she was gone.

Jim was left standing in his drive clutching his keys in one hand and a soggy ice towel in the other. His gaze swivelled from his keys to his rapidly melting ice and back again. Everything ached – his head, his chest, his arms, but it all paled in comparison to the frantic thudding of his heart.

It slammed into his ribcage over and over again, drumming out a resounding reminder of its presence. It took him a few minutes of staring at the keys in his hands to hear the message it was pounding out. It called him to action.

He shuffled his way to the drivers seat and retraced the path he had travelled with Karen earlier that evening. He drove on autopilot, huffing a heavy puff of frustration to find Pam’s car gone.

He didn’t know her damn address.

Jim felt the momentum that had been fuelling him deflate. He didn’t know where she lived and had lived for months. If that wasn’t the ultimate slap in the face letting him know just how horribly out of touch he’d been recently. She’d called off her wedding for him and he had been icy and distant at best. His best friend and he didn’t know a thing about her life now…  

Short of calling Toby and begging for her address which was bordering on creepy, he wasn’t sure what to do. He settled back into his seat and inched the accelerator down.

It wasn’t long before he pulled back into his drive – again.

He was met with an eerie sense of deja-vu as he pushed his front door closed. His thoughts were interrupted as his phone sprung to life and of course it’s Dwight again because why wouldn’t it be.  

“Jim,” there’s no preamble with Dwight. “Pamela, who resides at 103 Maple Drive, phoned to tell me that she is concerned the oaf from the warehouse will cause her trouble. She requires male protection. So, she called me,” pride swells in Dwight’s tone. “Unfortunately, I am now also indisposed. You must take my place.” The calls ends before he has a chance to respond.

He’s back in his car before he even thinks to set his keys down.

His heart once again reminds him of its existence as he parks parallel to the curb. He swallows it back down as it threatens to escape from his chest. His feet carry him to her door. His mind has been reduced to a useless mess, still somersaulting through all the information it had soaked up over the evening.

“Oh, you’re not Dwight,” Pam answers her door with a muted gasp.

“Thank god,” Jim flashes her a crooked, careful grin.

She responds with a smile that stretches her cheeks. “Thank god,” she finally echoes after a few too many beats have passed. The rims of her eyes are slightly pink and he has to explicitly instruct his hands to remain at his side and not reach for her.

There’s another pause. “You’re not potato salad either,” she murmurs. He quirks his head at her gently and she shakes her own. “Something Dwight said,” she adds.

“Elaborate, please?” His tone is light and he kind of hates that they’re talking about Dwight because this conversation feels monumental.  

She shrugs her shoulders a little. “He said he might have trouble making it because Michael made him eat the potato salad to prove to David Wallace wrong.”

Then again, he might love that Dwight being an idiot is the catalyst to rekindle their easy conversation. Somehow, the way they’re talking now is less guarded than every other interaction they’ve had recently. Even so, it’s not quite as comfortable as it once was… There’s a hesitation behind her gaze.

Jim gapes at her. “I’m not sure what they were proving,” she wrings her hands nervously and it stings a little that he can see the question she’s not asking, why are you here?  

“Pam,” he twists his lips upwards in the making of an almost genuine smile. “I know what they were proving.” He’s suddenly conscious that they’re having the most inane conversation in her doorway and she’s worried enough about Roy to call Dwight. He’s looking for the least intrusive way to say let me in and lock the door behind us when he realises that she must be thinking the same thing.

She shuffles to the side of the doorway a little and ushers him in, “well, you have to come inside and tell me.”

He tries not to brush up against her and tries to brush up against her because he just can’t help himself all in the same movement. It leaves him jerkily stepping over the threshold, throwing his hands out in a what-can-you-do motion, “I’m afraid this sordid tale will surprise you and not surprise you all at the same.”

“I live in anticipation,” Pam deadpans. And it hits him how much he’s missed this, just talking to her about nothing. They’re certainly had their fair share – nay, far more than their share – of conversations about baffling things that their co-workers from the office have done.

“Michael managed to get the cocktail party cancelled.”

Pam nods like this information is no surprise. He’s struck by how hard he’s been fighting to turn it off. The switch has defaulted back to on now that he’s no longer hiding behind Karen. It hits him anew. He loves this girl standing before him with tired eyes and a worn t-shirt. He drinks her in for a moment before remembering that he’s supposed to be talking. He drags his eyes from their steady perusal of her body to rise back to her face. Her cheeks pinken with the hint of a blush as she watches him watching her. God, she’s beautiful. He just –

She clears her throat gently and he shakes his head and blinks slowly in an attempt to refocus.

“How you ask?” he pauses for dramatic effect this time, not because he can’t tear his thoughts away from the girl in front of him, although that’s still at play. Pam steps further into the room and gestures to the sofa settled against the wall. Jim unceremoniously plants himself on it. “Michael gifted David Wallace with food poisoning,” his face crinkles as he grins.

“In the form of potato salad,” Pam supplies. “Oh, Dwight…” her hand drifts to her mouth and she shakes her head.

“His loyalty to Michael certainly comes at a cost.”

Pam scrunches up her face. “All his bodily fluids?” she guesses.

“Pam. Please. That’s not an image I want,” he cringes theatrically. “Ouch,” he adds as the movement flares his swollen jaw back to life.

His wince seems to jolt Pam back to the reality of the evening. She sighs and eyes him carefully. He feels some of the carefree tone of their chatter slip away. He quietly watches on as she drifts to the kitchen and rifles through the freezer. After a moment she emerges with a bag of peas that she wordlessly hands to him.

He presses the peas to his face and grimaces a little. She settles on the edge of the sofa. He can’t help but notice that she’s careful not to touch him. He doesn’t know what that means. How she’s still a mystery to him after all this time baffles him somewhat. He wonders if he’ll ever feel like he has her completely figured out. He certainly wants the opportunity to try.

They sit in silence. Pam stares intently at the edge of her rug. He takes a moment to run his eyes around the room. It’s very Pam and he kind of loves it. It’s neat and simple, but perfect at the same time. There’s a watercolour of a teal green teapot over her kitchen sink and as his eyes lock on it he finds his nerve.

“I’m sorry, Pam.”

She snorts. “I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s all such a mess.” She crushes her head into her hands. His treacherous fingers beg to reach out and brush her back, he stuffs them under his knees to regain a little control.  

He’s hit with a wave of uncertainty, that maybe she’s sad that Roy ended things with her? Despite how many times he’s also cycled through the words she uttered in the bar, he momentarily forgets that she is the one who uttered this is over.

“It’s stupid. I was trying to be more honest. Have more courage. I think I was honest with the wrong person,” her eyes drift from her floor to his face.

He waits her out and hopes she can’t hear the way his heart is pounding out in unsteady desperation. “I should have been honest with you, Jim,” a soft sigh follows her words. “Months ago… I should have reached out when I called off the wedding.”

He shakes his head. “Maybe,” he manages to choke out. “It wasn’t fair of me to leave like that. I wish I’d given you more time.”

She chuckles. It’s an empty humourless noise. “Yeah. I didn’t say I didn’t…” she trails off, “just that I couldn’t,” she adds softly.

“I messed it all up.”

She waves her hand in gentle dismissal. “I miss you, Jim. You haven’t really come back from Stamford.”

He hangs his head. “Yeah,” he mutters. “I want to… I – ” he clears his throat, “I miss you too.”

“Can we,” she hesitates, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, “can we go back to being friends?”

He recoils. It’s tangible, the taste of rejection swells in his throat. His eyes prick with hot, angry tears. His head drops. He can’t look at her.

She curses. “Dammit, Jim.”

He wants to glare at her. He wants to yell. He wants to storm out.

“You have a girlfriend,” she hisses. “I can’t. I can’t ask for more than that when you have a girlfriend.”

It’s a slap in the face and a welcome relief all at once. That’s what he had done last May. He’d asked for more when she couldn’t give it to him. But now –

“I don’t,” he manages to grit.

“Oh,” pops from her lips.

He drags his head from where it has dropped into his hands to chance a glance at her. Her eyes are bright, cheeks deliciously pink. As he watches her face splits into a grin. He carefully meets her gaze and her smile spreads further still. “What do you want, Pam?” he begs.

“You,” she answers without hesitation. “I want you.”

He’s been rolling with the punches – literally in this evenings instance – so often lately that it takes him a moment to register that this is what it feels like when something goes his way.

Pam is looking at him with hopeful, wide eyes. He pauses for the briefest of seconds to commit the lilt of her face to memory. His gaze settles on her lips and they part ever so slightly as he watches, a sliver of pink darting out to moisten them.

It’s enough to set his pulse racing. His stomach twists in delightful anticipatory knots. He shifts towards her, his knees pressing into her thigh as he turns his body on the small sofa. His head drifts forward and apparently that’s the invitation she’s been waiting for. Her small hands are suddenly wrapped in his hair and her lips are locked with his.

This kiss is nothing like casino night. She pushes past the seal of his lips to slip her tongue into his mouth. She tastes eager and excited. The contrast is steep. It was sharp on his tongue the last time, a swirl of bitterness and fear radiating from her lips. This time it’s sweet. There’s no tang, there’s no pang of regret, it’s all sunshine.

His mind hands control back over to his wayward arms. They’re free to do what they’ve been longing to do since he laid eyes on the soft and open version of Pam framed by the doorway. His fingers trace delicate patterns over her back, her shirt rides up as she cants towards him and he finds his hands drift under the hem to grip her hips.

She shivers under his touch and utters this delightful little moan that sets him on fire. He wants her. He presses her closer and she comes willingly, pliant in his arms. Her hands drop from his hair to caress his sides. She tugs his shirt from his pants and then her cool hands are on his skin and he’s dying in the best way possible. Pam’s hands grip his bare shoulders and his heart jolts painfully in his chest.

She rips her lips from his. “I love you,” she pants. “I’m in love with you, Jim,” and her mouth is back on his and he’s seeing stars. He hasn’t known happiness until this moment. It’s everything.

He wakes tangled in her sheets. Her arm is draped over his chest. He’s feeling ridiculously sappy. He has to bite down on his lip to keep the tears that threaten to spring forth in. It’s just too much. He doesn’t deserve to feel this joy.

It takes him a moment to realise he’s awake because she’s tracing lazy patterns on his skin. “We have work,” she murmurs, sensing him stir.

He groans, but it’s less about the prospect of work and more about all the other parts of him she’s woken up with the gentle press of her fingertips painting his body. He feels her grin against his arm as she registers the impact she’s having. “Shower?” she suggests brightly.

“Mmm. Let’s do out bit for the environment?” he presses his lips to hers in greeting.

She hums agreeably. “Conservation is important.”

It’s funny, she doesn’t seem so keen to conserve water after all as they spend more than the environmentally friendly allocated time under the steam. It’s only when the hot water runs out that they emerge, eyes shining and smiles wide.      

They’re late for work.

Jim walks into the breakroom to find Kevin in the midst of a dramatic retelling of their Thursday night. His friend winces as he takes in Jim’s purpled jaw.

“You think this is bad, you should see the other guys fist,” Jim shrugs with a chuckle.

Dwight rounds on him with a huff. “Dammit, Jim. I should have been there. I would have defended you. I always, always carry pepper spray.”

“Sure, Dwight,” Jim murmurs as he shares an exaggerated eyeroll with Kevin.

Dwight glares at him and strides from the room with a dismissive headshake, muttering to himself about Jim’s foolishness.

Jim meets Kevin’s eyes. “Dwight and pepper spray,” he shakes his head, with a mock shudder.

“Yeah,” Kev laughs, “I doubt you would have been better off with Dwight around.”

“Can you imagine?” Jim scoffs. “Thanks for having my back, man.”

“So, Pam, huh?” Kev’s brows rise.

Jim feels a smile spread. “Yep, Pam.” He gets a little lost in his thoughts, only to be dragged kicking and screaming back to reality to find Kevin miming breasts over his own chest and nodding his head approvingly.

Kevin shuffles away, maintaining his stance until he hits the breakroom door. Jim hears him chortle and murmur, “niiiice,” as he drifts back to his desk.

He’s still groaning when Pam steps into the breakroom. She wordlessly pours him a mug of coffee. She hands it to him, her other hand brushing between his shoulder blades soothingly. “Dwight just gave me a can of pepper spray,” she whispers in his ear.

“If he offers you potato salad, pass.”

A laugh escapes, before her expression turns serious. “Jim, it would be rude not to accept.”

“I’d much prefer Dwight think I’m rude than the alternative,” he punctuates his words with an exaggerated shudder.

She pauses for a moment and when she answers her tone is light, but her eyes twinkle with genuine warmth. “I’m glad David Wallace had better manners than you.”

His face splits into a crooked smile. “Me too.”

The more he thinks about it, the more it makes perfect sense that of course it’s down to Dwight and Michael’s inherent Dwight and Michael-ness that his life falls into place.