At first, Jim was downright comfortable. It had only been a couple of nights back that he had come clean to Karen.

Well, maybe clean was an exaggeration. Partially clean. He told her that he had a ‘crush’ on Pam, that she didn’t feel the same way and then he transferred, and he had ended his explanation with a shrug as if trying to convince himself that a passing, innocuous crush was all that it had been.

That he hadn’t completely fallen in love with an engaged woman, with his best friend. That he hadn't felt so suffocated and strangled at watching her plan her wedding to another man that he had to make plans to fly to another end of the world, quite literally. That he hadn't stopped sleeping and tasting food and felt so trapped and finished that he had jumped at a promotion at a company he saw no future in, just to run away from a feeling that swallowed his being. That he hadn’t been so smitten and desperate that when he had gone up to tell her about the transfer, he had found himself hoping once again as he looked into her bright eyes, and that he hadn’t told her he was in love with her with such conviction as if that was the only thing that mattered in his life.

As if his transfer was not a point-blank escape from watching everything that was important to him slip away in front of his eyes, dressed in white and satin.

As if the first few weeks in Stamford hadn’t been only an effort to let go of her, to let go of himself, to reinvent and evolve in a person he would stop recognising.

As if, even after all these months, even after having switched to bottled water and a relationship that wasn’t defined by pining, even after having moved on, the mere mention of her name, the very sight of her didn’t ignite a weird mix of hope, regret and longing in the pit of his stomach.

No, he had told Karen it was just a crush and hadn’t been able to reach out to hold her when he had said that he was really happy that she was here.

So yes, it was pretty uncomfortable to watch Karen and Pam laugh and prank and plot and be buddies in front of him. He wasn’t sure what was worse- that Karen didn’t seem to mind Pam at all or that Pam was all friendly with his girlfriend.

Shouldn't she be a little jealous?

He didn’t let himself dwell upon which of the two women he wished to be jealous.

But as the afternoon went by and the two parties merged and the Christmas cheer inevitably left the air a little warmer and fuzzier, Jim found himself smiling as Pam and Karen chatted away. Maybe because Pam was laughing this freely for the first time since he had been back. Something about just seeing her happy made him feel less of a façade.

When he had watched her face fall as he had refused to prank Dwight with her, it had taken every ounce of restraint in Jim to not reach out to her and say yes. Because he knew that once he did, it would take him not more than a nanosecond to see all his defences dissolve under her presence. But now, with some rum-ridden punch inside of him and just the loosely merry atmosphere of the office, Jim was walking towards Pam and his girlfriend.

“Hey, so, I was thinking about an ice cream social for Dwight and his CIA buddies?”

Pam beamed, Jim’s heart soared, and he explained Karen the grand prank Pam had set-up, feeling a little less guilty about the warmth that bubbled within him after centuries as he huddled at Pam’s desk and the three of them composed an official text message for Dwight.

For a few seconds, leaning over Pam and peering over her computer, breathing in her proximity, Jim could pretend that it was all back to normal, that he wasn’t standing next to his girlfriend, that he hadn’t ruined the one friendship he most dearly cherished, that he hadn’t had his heart broken by the only girl he had ever fallen in love with, that it was back to pranks and laughter with his Beesly in times when ignorance was absolute bliss.

“This is so cool, you guys.” Karen’s chirpy voice brought him back.

“Yep, this is our personal best.” Pam laughed as she finally sent the message to Dwight and jumped excitedly in her chair.

Jim laughed along with her. He couldn’t understand how, even now, little things like this happened to be enough for him to keep going on.

Sometime later, with one more punch down his system and a slight buzz hitting his head, Jim found himself sitting next to Michael and consoling his poor boss about the date he lost, the date he had just met and thought that she was the one.

When Michael told him that he couldn’t even tell this ‘the one’ from her friend, Jim had to snort. His boss was absolutely crazy, but at times, endearing. Jim would never let that thought enter his head if he were sober.

But when Michael asked, in almost a begging tone, why he feels like crap, Jim felt an unusual empathy for him. Ugh, wasn’t he an ace in feeling crap and heartbroken. He could give Ted Talks on that stuff.

“You just had a rebound”, he found himself saying, the words slipping off his mouth as if a practiced mantra.

“Which, don’t get me wrong, can be a really fun distraction, but, when it’s over, you’re left thinking about the girl you really like, the one that broke your heart.” Invariably, his eyes found the red sweater and the bright green eyes and pink cheeks hovering over the karaoke machine. He almost forgot he was speaking to Michael, and the distinct pain that heartbreak and loss and emptiness produce, which feels like a small hammer hitting the tiniest of nails around the circumference of your heart, made its way to Jim’s body as his own words echoed in his mind.

He got up and fixed himself another punch, letting Meredith spike with a lot more rum than required.

He was supporting himself against the doorframe of the conference room, buzzed enough to not fully trust his legs. He had just exchanged gifts with Karen, and now she was up singing some song in the middle of the bullpen which he hadn’t really heard before.

“So I hear it’s a Dwight and Angela duet next up.” Jim jumped a little as Pam’s voice appeared out of nowhere, but then was grinning wide. She looked happy.

“Cannot wait”, he slurred.

“To get out of here?” she quipped.

“Absolutely”, he laughed, and she giggled along.

It baffled him, pained him, always caught him off-guard at how easy it was with her, how effortless, how natural, how meant to be.

“Hey you guys!”

Jim turned to see Michael calling out to them form somewhere in the bullpen, shouting over the singing and the chatter.

“Mistletoe!” It took Jim a few seconds to register before he looked up and noticed that Pam and him were standing under the mistletoe that hung from the conference room door. He noticed Pam laugh sheepishly as she shook her head, her eyes flitting between him, Michael and the floor.

He felt a similar sheepish grin grow on his face, but his eyes remained stuck on Pam. She had turned slightly red, her bright cheeks glowing under his gaze.

“Michael, no”, she mumbled.

“Come on guys! Be a sport. It’s Christmas.”

Jim vaguely heard a couple of people support Michael’s insistence, and Pam looked at him and shrugged. She was smiling, grinning, blushing, her body waving slightly as if not sure which way to move.

Honestly, Jim could have easily told everybody to shut up and walked away and it could have all ended there. But the rum, the Christmas mood, and well, her. His body remained pinned right there, his eyes fixated upon her as his brain easily forgot everything else and instructed his shoulders to shrug back, instructed his body to lean a little towards her.

He was still aware enough to not jump at her lips, but just to tell her that he wouldn’t mind.

Of course I would not mind. It’s Pam. It’s Christmas. It’s a mistletoe.

The next few moments happened in slow motion and fast forward all at once. Pam tipped up on her toes and for a second her face was right under his, her breath paused and warm over his lips, her eyes greener than he had ever witnessed, shining like he had never witnessed, and then she turned her face ever so slightly and Jim’s eyes closed involuntarily as he sucked in a breath at the way she smelt and her hair ticked at his jaw.

Her hands lightly touched his arms, trembling a little, as she pecked him on the cheek, and Jim could swear he felt her smile there before she walked away.

Jim didn’t know how long it took him to regain his normal heart rate back.

Who could have thought a fucking peck on the cheek could make him feel absolutely wrecked and aroused?

When he opened his eyes, all was the same, people chatting and singing, and for a second, he thought maybe he was dreaming as he slowly walked into an empty conference room and sat down, still in a daze.

Could he have really dreamt that?

But then Karen walked in, sat beside him as she looked far ahead, her face cross and miffed and lips drawn in a thin line like the way when she had asked him if he ever had a thing for Pam.

At least this confirmed that he wasn’t dreaming.

“You closed your eyes.”

“What?”

“You closed your eyes, under that mistletoe, when she…”

She was looking at him now, her eyes searching his face for answers he himself wasn’t aware of.

To any normal person, that peck was just a mistletoe thing. But to someone who is trying to build a relationship with you, Jim realised, it was a lot more.

Of course it was a lot more. His palms were still a little sweaty and he felt pathetic about that.

But he didn’t know what to tell Karen. His mind was fuzzy, what with the rum and the smell of Pam lingering on him like a stubborn perfume you just cannot wash off.

He couldn't tell her it was nothing, because in that moment, it felt like everything.

So he blankly stared back and resorted to a shrug.

But Karen wasn’t an escapist like him. She knew what she wanted, and Jim saw her sit up straight and square her shoulders as she asked, looking away from him again, “do you still have feelings for her?”

He automatically felt himself nodding.

Jim could mess around, dodge and duck, and do all of that when the world around him was dodging too. But to sit here, in the aftermath of a day that left him frazzled and confused, and to be directly asked the one question he knew he had no confusion answering, Jim didn’t feel like dodging anymore.

Or maybe it was just the rum and the heady feel of Pam so close to him that made him say, almost whisper, “yes.”

Karen took a moment before she got up and left.

Soon the conference room was filled with people again, saying goodbyes and cleaning up stuff. Jim walked over to his desk to find two Bridget Jones DVDs lying there, and a small note from Karen that said she was going to her parents and that it was over and that she will call him when she feels better.

Jim slumped back in his chair. A small part of him was relieved that this happened, that before he could continue deceiving himself and Karen anymore, this façade ended, even if it were because of a mistletoe.

At that, his brain suddenly perked up again and he looked around for Pam. The little peck and all the electricity he had felt? That couldn’t be just him, right?

I mean, Karen saw it too.

But he couldn’t misinterpret things again. But he had to talk to her, too.

So he frantically moved around the office as people started to leave, not finding Pam anywhere.

He was coming back from the annex, thinking of asking somebody about her, when he saw her coming back from the main door and sitting back at her desk.

Jim took a deep breath before he walked out, the nervousness he had felt only a few months back in the parking lot creeping back. But somehow, for her, he was willing to do it all over again.

She looked up and gave him a huge grin as he neared the desk, and Jim knew that stupidly enough, he would bear another ten years of wallowing in exchange of that one smile.

“So”, he slurred in a hushed whisper, instinctively leaning in, his arms resting on her desk, a posture he had perfected over the years. “Dwight must be waiting for his helicopter.”

She giggled, propping up her own elbows. “Hmm, for how long should we test his patriotism?”

From the slight slur in her voice, Jim could make out that she was a little buzzed too.

“No time is enough to test patriotism, Beesly. It is a lifestyle.”

She laughed in a way where her shoulders folded upon her, her body shaking like a tiny ball. Jim’s favourite of all her laughs.

But then she stopped and tilted her head. “It’s snowing outside, and it’s late, and you know, Dwight’s been kind of nice to me lately.” She smiled a little. “Let’s not be too hard on him.”

Jim couldn’t help but smile with adoration at her, not caring if his eyes revealed how hopelessly he loved her, how it warmed him every time she did something so Pam, like how she had suggested merging the parties earlier today. He wanted to kiss her right there, but instead cleared his throat quickly, “so abort mission?”

“Abort mission.” Pam snapped back to her computer to text Dwight the same, and quickly added that he should destroy his phone. “I mean, it’s still Dwight, no matter how nice he has been to me.”

Jim shook his head and laughed again, taking full advantage of the fact that her eyes were on the computer so he could openly stare at her.

God, I could marry here right here right now.

Then they grabbed their coats and headed towards the elevator and Jim was thinking of ways to start the conversation he had originally planned, but words failed him and he was tempted to just stay friends with her because losing her again would render him a madman.

Pam came to his rescue as the elevator reached the lobby and they exited. “Shouldn’t we check on Dwight once, make sure he isn’t freezing out in the open all night?”

Anything to spend more time with her, hopefully muster some courage while he did that, so Jim nodded, and they circled around the parking lot to get a good view of the terrace from behind a line of trees.

They were hunched next to each other as they saw Dwight throw off his phone with a grunt and leave. Pam was laughing, now sitting on her knees, her mouth covered with her hand to control the noise lest Dwight would hear.

Jim couldn’t help but laugh along, and he suddenly felt so light as if he were floating. From the small holes in the fence they sat behind, he could see the spot in the parking lot which had turned his life upside down a few months back, and felt a weird symbolism as they were right there, in the same place, and yet separated from a fence and how things were different now. She was different.

Things could be different, they could start over, start again, with no fiancés and transfers and, hopefully, no more I can’t.

Yes, he felt hopeful, sitting at almost the same spot where it all ended, to go back to the start, and do it right this time.

So he sat on his knees and straightened his back and took her hands in his and she stopped laughing and the way she looked back at him in that dimly lit sidewalk was enough to tell him that this time, he wasn’t misinterpreting anything.

“You didn’t really do the mistletoe thing right, you know?” He tried his best to add a little humour to his strained, shaky voice.

She stared at him blankly for a second before her face broke into a mischievous grin as she straightened up herself and looked him right in the eye. “Really now? And what would you say I did wrong?”

This was why she was it.

“Well, you kiss, not peck.”

“I could make up for it.”

“No mistletoe anymore.”

“Why did Karen leave?”

“We broke up.”

“Why?”

“She saw what we both are too stupid to see.”

“Talk about yourself, Halpert.”

She slowly bent towards him, tightening her fingers around his hands as she touched his lips with her, pressing them there deliberately and carefully as if she were fixing a piece of a puzzle.

Jim slowly moved his lips against hers and felt her smile. He deftly wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted them up. Her hands, as if on cue, went around his neck and in his hair as if they did this everyday.

They were standing now, bodies pressed, lapels of coats getting mixed up, as they kissed each other slowly and patiently, their tongues savoring the other's like water to parched throats.

She pulled away a little, her hands settling at his nape, his forehead bent against hers, as she whispered in a rasp voice. “Is that enough to make up for the mistletoe?”

“This will never be enough.”

“Can we go back to the start?”

“Take me.” Something inside him snapped back into place.

“Hi, I am Pam, your best friend, and I am in love with you.”

His universe sanpped back in focus. 

“That’s funny, Pam, because I love you too.”

She pulled him towards her and kissed him again, laughing as she did, and Jim found his new favourite laugh of hers.

“Oh, I am Jim, by the way.” He mumbled in between the kiss.

“Hi Jim.” She sighed, then kissed him again. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

A year later, when they were shopping for Christmas supplies to decorate their apartment, Pam suggested they get a mistletoe to hang on the front door as a token of what helped them get back to the start.

Jim agreed. For the days that the decoration was up, he made sure to kiss her every time they entered or exited the apartment. Mistletoe was definitely his favourite tradition now.

***