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Story Notes:
All standard disclaimers apply. I'm just too lazy to type them out.
Author's Chapter Notes:

Here's the link to the deleted scenes!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRyjmudWTvI 

“God damnit.”


“What’s wrong, babe?”


Pam entered the kitchen with a sleepy looking Cece, thumb in her mouth, all snuggled into her mother’s shoulder. Her husband was bent over in the pantry, the contents of yesterday’s grocery haul now sprawled on the kitchen floor. 


“Can’t find the peanut butter,” he mumbled, shifting a stray jar of salsa, a bag of French onion Sun Chips, and a canister of banana Puffs as he searched for the missing jar of Skippy Crunchy.


After reaching behind her husband’s foot to grab the Puffs, Pam adjusted Cece on her hip, poured some into her free hand, and let Cece grab hungrily at the pre-breakfast snack. She leaned her hip against the counter herself as amusement raised her brows and pursed her lips into an all encompassing I told you so. In the absence of a response from his wife, Jim pivoted on his knees. His hair was disheveled, his white undershirt untucked from his pants; he typically waited to button up his shirt and tie until after breakfast now anyway, with Cece flinging something or other onto him nine out of ten times as they ventured into the world of solid foods. 


“Are you going to help me or what?”


She grinned down at him, flexing her brows once more before she sighed and pivoted long enough to buckle Cece into her high chair. Once an ample amount of Puffs were spilled onto the high chair tray, she turned back around to face her husband, a Cheshire like grin curling up her cheeks.


“I already did.” She shrugged with her arms folded over her chest.


“You have literally done nothing but feed Cece,” he snapped back, a little annoyed with her smug grin, her lack of assistance, and with the fact that the damn peanut butter was still missing.


“I already did. Well, tried to anyway,” she repeated, chuckling lightly as she crouched next to Jim, making it seem so easily done in a pencil skirt and modest heels. She grabbed a jar in each hand--Campbell’s Chicken Noodle in her right, queso dip in her left--and set them back on the bottom shelf of the pantry before cocking her head towards her husband.


“Jim. Baby. How many times do I have to tell you that if you just put what you want on the grocery list, it magically appears in the pantry the next day?”


He rolled his eyes, clearly not in the mood to be belittled.


“I did put it on the grocery list. Last week,” he shot back, eyeing her sideways as a simmer of annoyance bubbled. “So I know it’s in here.”


Pam pushed a breath of a laugh through her nose and eyed him skeptically. 


Yeah. Okay, buddy. I did the shopping last week. I think I’d know.


Determined to find the peanut butter, he continued rifling through the pantry at a more aggravated pace as Pam readied Cece’s breakfast.


“You didn’t,” Pam continued, spooning a glob of cereal towards Cece. “Because you never do. We have this conversation every week. Pam, did you pick up my pizza rolls? Pam, where’s the Mountain Dew? Pam, didn’t you get ice cream? And I never do. Because it’s never on the list.”


Jim slammed the pantry door, more forcefully than he had intended to, and scrubbed his hand over his face, leaving behind the redness of his frustration.


“It was on the list. I promise you, I actually listened to you this time and put it. On. The list. Which is why it has to be here somewhere.”


Pam was growing more aggravated with her husband’s tone than anything. Her sweet Jim. He didn’t get like this. And over a jar of peanut butter, at that.


“Listen, why don’t you just have a ham and cheese today instead? We can stop on the way home and pick you up your precious peanut butter. I’m sure Gerrity’s will have some. It’s not like we’re in the middle of a zombie apocalypse or something.”


“Because. Kelly bought fluff for the work kitchen. I wanted a peanut butter and fluff today, but we only keep that organic crap in the office, so I figured I’d just make a plain peanut butter sandwich and bring it to work and do the fluff myself. But apparently, I’m not allowed to be happy anymore.”


Jim rolled his eyes and continued his useless futile search while Pam rolled her eyes at her husband’s dramatics and finished feeding Cece. As she wiped the last glob of cereal from their daughter’s cheek and unbuckled her from the high chair, she turned towards her husband once more before heading upstairs.


“Just make sure you make a list, baby. Don’t forget anything important.”


She winked, and though she could almost see steam coming out of Jim’s ears, she turned on her toes and headed up the stairs. As Pam changed Cece into an outfit for the day, she marveled over just how much of a boy her sweet, goofy husband was. He was a slob--granted, they both shared that trait, but at least her socks typically made it into the laundry basket. He often left every light in the house on. He could get lost in the headset of his video games if he went unattended for too long.


And he never. Ever. For the love of Totino’s. Put what he wanted on the damn grocery list.


“Oh well. He’ll learn the hard way, won’t he?” Pam cooed down at their daughter. The most perfect human being in the world that was half her and half Jim. She was so damn lucky.


“Babe, are you almost ready to go? Mom said she wanted to take Cece to some class at the library this morning, so she’ll be here in like two minutes--”


She stopped dead in her tracks. There, sitting on the counter were three things. The first, a crumpled piece of a legal pad. The very same that she used to make her grocery lists. He must have dug it out of her purse. Her face reddened as she recognized her husband’s handwriting, even from the doorway of the kitchen.


Peanut butter--the crunchy kind please!!! :)


Sitting next to it was the aforementioned jar of peanut butter, it’s royal blue lid seeming to mock her from the counter where it had become unhinged. And lastly was his treasured peanut butter sandwich, ready and waiting for the fluff that Kelly had bought. As soon as she took in the sight before her, Jim stuck his finger into the jar, pulled out a hearty scoop, and sucked it right off of his finger, leaving behind nothing but a smug grin.


“It was under the sink. Next to the new bottle of dish soap. Anyone could have gotten confused,” he supplied when words failed her, his cheerful voice a complete turn-around from the harsh tones he’d taken with her not minutes ago.


Screwing the lid back onto the jar, he made a show of putting it on the correct pantry shelf and popping it closed with his hip before leaning slyly against the wall, his arms crossed triumphantly over his chest.


“Something you wanna say to me, Beesly?”


“Nope,” she replied immediately, her cheeks flushed, pushing past Jim to grab Cece’s bottles out of the fridge and pack them into the cooler pack in the diaper bag. Jim pushed himself off of the wall with his shoulder, his grin spreading as he reached over her head to grab the last bottle and slip it into the bag.


“You sure? Nothing like, oh maybe I’m sorry baby, you were right, I’ll never doubt you again?”


“What’s Pammy sorry for this time?”


Helene strode in, making herself right at home as she lifted Cece from Pam’s arms and cooed at the baby while Pam’s cheeks reddened and Jim’s smirk grew along with it. 


“Oh, nothing,” he chuckled, zipping the diaper bag before lofting it onto his shoulder to carry out to Helene’s car. When his mother in law eyed him suspiciously, he nudged Pam with his elbow. “Why don’t you tell her, babe?”


By the time Jim made it out to Helene’s car with his daughter’s bags, switched the carseat from their Subaru into Helene’s car, and made it back inside, he had stumbled in on his wife trying to defend herself to her mother. For a moment, he was transported back in time to what might have been a teenaged Pam.


“He never does, Mom! So what if I assumed it wasn’t on the list? It usually isn’t! I wasn’t wrong to assume.”


“But you were wrong, darling. Just say you’re sorry and move on.”


“Yeah, Pam. Just say you’re sorry and move on,” Jim chuckled from the doorway, highly amused by the scene in his kitchen. His wife looked all out of sorts, and despite her growing aggravation, she looked damn cute when she was flustered. 


But rather than apologizing and moving on, she threw her head back, grunted, and took Cece out of Helene’s arms as she stomped out the front door. Jim shrugged, sharing a rare moment of humor with his mother in law before grabbing both his lunch and Pam’s, and following out the front door.


He joined Pam at the back door to Helene’s car as she buckled in Cece, keeping a cautious distance as he overheard his wife telling their daughter, “You’re the only one on my side today,” before she kissed Cece’s head and stood. Though her body was parallel with his, Jim noticed how quickly Pam tensed and sidestepped him carefully as if he would burn her. He cocked his head and tried to catch her eye, but came up fruitless as she turned to remind her mother of Cece’s feeding schedule and to Please make sure she naps, Mom; she didn’t the last three times you had her and honestly it’s throwing us all off. She’s going to start reverse-cycling soon.


Which was totally true. Jim hadn’t gone more than two solid nights in a row without Cece waking up ready to go for the day at three AM. If any positive could come out of today, that had to stop.


Bending down in front of his daughter’s car seat, Jim caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, smiling as her attention drifted towards him.


“I made Mommy mad today, huh?” he chuckled. “Don’t you worry. I’ll have her back on Team Daddy by the end of the day. I just don’t think she likes being wrong.”


He squinted, watching his daughter blow bubbles and squeeze at his fingers before she slid two of them into her mouth. He chuckled, bent to kiss her forehead, and whispered, “Daddy loves you, little girl,” before sealing the car door shut. By the time he had waved Helene down the driveway, off of their street, and out of the neighborhood, he figured Pam would have cooled down. 


Wrong.


The inside of their Subaru oozed steam when he opened the driver’s side door to take his seat behind the wheel. His wife was sitting with straight legs and her hands crossed in her lap. For a second, just a second, he was reminded of Angela Martin. But he didn’t dare voice that thought aloud. They made it to the first stoplight before anyone finally spoke.


“Wait, are you really that mad at me?” He was dual parts incredulous and hurt. He hated fighting with Pam. They didn’t do it often at all, but after everything they’d been through, the thought of being back to a place where they weren’t open and honest with one another was a scary place that he didn’t even want to think about heading towards. 


“Yup.”


She didn’t move to face him, didn’t turn to stare him down with daggers in her eyes. Her curt Yup with eyes trained forward was enough. Despite the fact that he had been right about the damn peanut butter, he felt like he was suddenly on the losing end of things.


“Hey, Pam, I was just...I’ll let up, alright? But the peanut butter was on the list. It was in the--”


“I don’t care about the damn peanut butter, Jim!”


She finally exploded, and as he pulled up to a stop sign, Jim chanced a glance at the pain-stricken face of his wife, with red cheeks and glassy eyes all over a damn jar of peanut butter.


“You didn’t have to...in front of my mom.”


His shoulders drooped a bit, following the way Pam’s voice tapered off. He’d only caught the tail end of their conversation when he came back in from the kitchen. Had Helene really reamed her out that badly?


“You don’t always have to be right, okay? You don’t always have to prove a fucking point, Jim. You could have just...made your stupid sandwich and packed up the car. You didn’t have to get my mom involved.”


She was quiet for the rest of the ride, with unsaid words on her tongue and unsaid thoughts in his head that he knew needed to remain there until she cooled down. Until he could sneak away from his desk long enough to call his mother in law and find out exactly what she’d said that had sent his wife into this miserable tailspin.


They ignored each other all morning, all day really. She logged into her computer and set straight to work, not bothering to look up when his phone rang like she always did--always curious to see who was on the other end even though she knew it had been a long time since that person was often Karen Filippelli. She didn’t bring him coffee when she got up for an unannounced break and returned with her own mug of tea. Hell, when he had interrupted her conversation with Toby in the break room, she made it a point to slip past him cooly without so much as a Hello. It was his own karma that the goddamn marshmallow fluff container was super glued on too tightly for him to even open it. More karma, he assumed, when he was trapped by Kelly Kapoor’s endless quest for love. He heard Pam giggle, even though he could tell she was trying to keep it private. If anything, that was his consolation prize for the day.


She didn’t look up from her computer once. Not when Michael announced that he had herpes. Not when Andy coaxed them all into the break room to show them photos of STDs over lunchtime pizza. Not when Andy tried to put a condom on a pencil, and Meredith was calling him Pencil Dick. It was instinct now, like the biological foundation of his body, to turn to her and smile, to turn to her and laugh, to whisper a private joke in her ear. But today, that wasn’t happening.


The only communication they had all day was when someone had the audacity to call Cece a mistake, and even then he could only catch her eye for a second, over Darryl’s lap, before she was back to her sullen self, arms crossed and frustration painted in the creases of her forehead.


He no longer thought it was cute, his wife being flustered. Frankly, it was kind of unnerving.


It brought him back to the day that he admitted that he had complained about her planning her wedding at work to Toby. The way she didn’t only ignore him, but did it with such cold intent that he’d gone home looking for a way to warm himself up. They weren’t going back there, were they?


It was god awful to have the camera crew notice. The Are you guys fighting? so blunt and intrusive that he had the momentary urge to yell back, “Are you fucking serious?” before remembering that he had signed up for this. 


With the chance to sneak away after lunch, he called Helene from the stairwell.


“Oh, Jim, sweetie. I just told her to knock it off. She was being dramatic. I told her to get over it.”


“And you’re sure that’s all you said?” he asked desperately, pinching the bridge of his nose.


“Yes. I told her that I used to nag her father all the time, and look where it got me! Pammy just needs to lighten up and learn to take a joke.”


And there it was. In big bold flashy neon letters.


He had the urge to run back upstairs and scoop Pam into his arms and remind her that they were not her parents, that they would never find themselves down that road ever. But at the same time, he knew his wife better than anyone. She was stewing right now. Going over every probable and improbable reaction to their conversation that morning. More than likely, she knew that she was wrong. She would have apologized in her own time. Probably would have bought him a cart full of Skippy Crunchy to make up for her brain fart. Might have even given him an apology blow job later tonight, too. But now, with her mother in the mix, she was stewing over all of the wrong things. She was questioning every eyebrow raise, every degrading tone, every smirk of victory he had directed at her today. That was the train he needed to derail.


So he set to work. 


First, it was a text message.


You’re the peanut butter to my jelly.


He watched discreetly from his own desk as she craned her neck to read the message without so much as lifting her fingers from her keyboard. She lifted her brows, but that was it.


Next, he sent her an email.


You must be peanut butter, ‘cause you’re making my heart jelly.


This time, she rolled her eyes. Not at him--at the computer. But it was progress.


The hits just kept on coming.


You’re my butter half.


I’m nuts about you.


Nut feeling so good? Sorry I was such a goober. Thanks for sticking with me. I hope this smooths things out for you. From one nut to another. 


Don’t make me bust my nuts to get you to crack open a smile.


At that one, she finally let the smallest of giggles escape. It was this short, high pitched little sound that only his trained ears could find. But it was there. And when she glanced over the top of his computer, their eyes did all the talking.


I’m sorry? A quirked eyebrow.


Is that a question Beesly? His, quirked in challenge.


Ugh. I’m sorry. Her eyes, rolling up and down quickly.


It’s okay. Not really a big deal. His shoulders shrugging, his lips in a little shrug of their own. Don’t be so hard on yourself, okay? It’s just peanut butter. A warm, genuine smile this time.


Okay. Her eyes, soft and bashful, before turning back to work. 


By the time they finally strode to the parking lot, her cheeks were a lighter pink, and her lips weren’t curled into a scowl. Taking a chance, he waited until Michael and Dwight passed, and swatted her on the ass. There was a second when the look that registered across her face was sheer anger. A I can’t fucking believe you actually--


But before her eyes could finish the sentence, a grin curled into her cheeks around the rosy pink color. Her front teeth bit over her bottom lip in a failed attempt to release the sheer hilarity of the entire situation out with her bubbly giggles. He raised his shoulders in a sore attempt to contain his own laughter. Before they climbed into the car, they peered synchronously over the roof.


Truce? He raised his brows.


Truce. She nodded.


They waited until they were tucked safely into their car, until Jim reached the first stop sign away from the cameras, before they busted out laughing. It was like a wave of release, their entire pent up day flooding the Subaru. He reached for her as she reached for him, their hands clasping over the center console.


Jim came to a stop at a red light before turning to cock his head in Pam’s direction. He brought her hand to his lips and lingered his kiss there as he watched the blush creep up her cheeks. 


“You’re my butter half? That’s all the game you had today babe?” she giggled.


“Hey! Cut me some slack here. It’s hard to come up with this stuff on the fly without your partner in crime.”


She tilted her head and leaned across the center console to press her lips chastely to his.


“I just realized I never kissed you good morning,” she whispered between them before sitting back down in her seat, the belt tugging at her chest.


“Well, you might have to make up for it later,” he teased, raising his brow as the light changed to green and he slowly accelerated through the intersection. He kept her hand in his, kissing her knuckles as he continued to wade through traffic.


When she giggled again without context, he glanced over questioningly.


“Nothing,” she laughed in response, closing her eyes. “I just...don’t make me bust a nut made me laugh. I’m still thinking about it.”


She chuckled, her eyes pinched in laughter as Jim hummed against her knuckles.


“Busting my nut is funny, Beesly?”


“No.” This only spurred her belly laugh into something heartier, and she bent at the waist in the front seat, shucking tears from her eyes as she righted herself. “It’s not. It’s...actually, I…”


It was like the flick of a switch, the way she went from giggling like a schoolgirl to climbing over the seat to kiss his neck, not quite registering the way the car jerked, the way he yelped Shit as she palmed his crotch. As soon as they came to another red light, Jim turned, cupping her cheeks as he tried to take control of the sloppy, errant kisses, the way that her tongue was devouring him from the inside out as she fumbled with his belt buckle. She had his hardening cock free from his boxer briefs around the same time several cars behind them honked their horns. 


Jim was more startled than she was, snapping his gaze back on the road as he linked their fingers together, trying to stop her torturous stroking. But she wasn’t having any of it. As soon as he’d restricted one hand, the other was wrapped around him. Her lips sucked and nipped the column of his throat. With one hand still on the wheel, he really had no other choice but to simply surrender.


“The Kohl’s on 5th is still closed for renovations. Hang a right at this light and pull into the parking lot,” she mumbled wantonly into his ear before biting the lobe, before her head disappeared and her lips reappeared as they wrapped around the head of his cock.


“Jesus, Pam, fuc--”


She was bobbing steadily in his lap before he had the chance to finish his sentence. He unclasped her hand from his to thread his fingers through her hair and take control of the situation before he violated any more traffic laws. By the time he found a spot in the Kohl’s parking lot behind the building, he was about ready to come down her throat.


He picked her up under her arms and was surprised that the sight itself didn’t finish him off in his own lap. Her hair was a mess, all tangled from his fingers and falling in messy waves about her face. Her lips were shiny and plump. Her eyes were lidded with desire, one that said she’d growl if he didn’t let her finish the job. But he had other ideas.


No sooner was he in the back seat with his pants around his knees than he was pulling her into his lap, tasting himself on her lips, and squeezing her tits in his hands.


“Take your panties off. Now,” he demanded before burying his nose between her breasts and licking her pert nipples over her shirt. As she kneeled over him, he lifted her shirt enough to expose her belly; no inch of that skin went unkissed, unsucked, untouched. It didn’t take her long to slide her underwear off and onto the ground, and by that time, she was already slipping herself down over his length. They both cursed, but she adjusted quickly and began a steady rhythm, rising and falling in his lap as he laved her neck with his tongue and teeth. 


“Ohhh god, Jim,” she whined, tucking her face in his neck. He picked up his speed then, pounding up into her from beneath as she clung to him for the ride.


“That’s it baby,” he encouraged her, squeezing her breasts together as he took them in both hands and thumbed across her nipples. “Come for me, Pam. Come on, baby, come all over me.”


When one of his hands left her tits to rub furiously over her clit, she exploded around him in a string of Oh shit, oh shit, fuck Jim, don’t stop, her fingernails digging into his skin as her thighs squeezed his hips. Her muscles had barely stopped contracting around him before he toppled over with her, holding onto her shoulders as he shot his release, groaning her name and his own string of curses into her hair.


She slid into his lap, her body surrendering like jelly. Her head rested on his chest as her hands fell to his abdomen. He let his arms slip down her spine, wrapping loosely at the small of her back where he clasped his hands together. He rested his chin atop her head, tucked her snugly against him, and felt at home for the first time since waking up.

 

"Damn, I'm kind of upset that the renovations aren't finished on this Kohl's yet," she said, breaking the silence. "I have like $30 bucks in Kohl's cash I need to spend."

 

"I just...we just...and you're thinking about Kohl's cash?" he chuckled incredulously.

 

"Baby, Kohl's cash is like gold! I can't let it expire."

 

They laughed, getting back to normal, getting back to them


“I’m sorry,” she mumbled into his shirt. “For not believing you about the peanut butter. And then for acting like a brat all day.”


They didn’t really do this--the whole apology thing. Not since Roys and Karens and misunderstandings. But this was growing up. So he let her apologize.


“I shouldn’t have let my mom get to me like she did, either. I just...the thought of losing you, like she and my dad...Jim, I…”


She squeezed his shirt in her balled up fists, and that was his cue to gather her up in her arms and get her to see him.


“Hey. Hey hey hey. Slow down.” He waited until her bashful eyes finally flickered up to meet his gaze. “We are not them. Understand?”


She nodded and bit her lip. He brushed her hair off her forehead and tucked a strand behind her ear.


“You cannot let yourself get so upset about a jar of peanut butter--”


“Jim, this had nothing to do with the peanut butter--”


“I know,” he chuckled, sighing as he trailed the back of his fingers along her cheek. “I know. I love you so much. You know that, right?”


She nodded, avoiding his eyes. “Of course I do.”


“Okay. Then talk to me next time. Tell me to knock it off,” he chuckled, tipping her chin towards him with his thumb. She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Or tell me that your mom pissed you off and that you need space. Don’t freeze me out though. Please. We’re in this together, Pam. Like--”


“I swear to god, Jim Halpert, if you say like peanut butter and--”


He silenced her with his lips, with his hands lightly scratching her back. By the time her cell rang with a call from her mother, he was already hardening inside of her again. 


Jim resituated his pants and found Pam’s discarded clothing on the floor while she talked with her mom. It was hard not to eavesdrop in the backseat of their car, but he did his best, only smiling when he caught the tail end of her conversation.


“...actually, Mom, would you mind keeping Cece tonight? Yeah, we’re going to…talk.”


She beamed at Jim then, the secret smile that only he knew.


After stopping at Gerrity’s for a jar of fluff, they headed home, and once they had dressed in lounge clothes and created a pillow fort on the floor of the living room, they did just that. They made up for all of the lost ground from the work day. Michael’s herpes. Andy’s pencil dick. The huge account that Jim closed just before lunch.


And, yeah. A dollop of marshmallow fluff ended up on Pam’s collarbone. Which lead to clothes being shed and the pillow fort being demolished and a lot of sticky clean up in the shower afterwards. But in the end, as they made sleepy promises to always keep talking, they both realized that it really was about so much more than peanut butter.

Chapter End Notes:

I rewatched this episode for "research." Still laughing about pencil dick.



agian18 is the author of 25 other stories.
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