“Mark, we replaced the propane tank on the grill, right?” Jim hollered.
Jim’s roommate walked into the room. “Yeah, man, did it yesterday,” he confirmed.
“Awesome, I think we’re set then. People should be showing up starting pretty soon. You ready to meet Dwight?”
“Sure. But really I’m ready to meet Pam.”
“Mark…”
“What? You said Captain Meathead isn’t coming with her, right?”
“His name is Roy.”
“I said what I said.”
“No, just her,” Jim shrugged.
“You ever going to tell her?”
“Not talking about this right now. Go start some hot dogs or something.” Jim chucked a couch pillow in Mark’s general direction.
Besides his sister Larissa, Mark was the only person he had opened up to about Pam. There was a night involving copious amounts of alcohol where he had spilled his guts (figuratively and eventually literally) to Mark about how he felt about her. That was also the weekend he learned that Mark’s super power was retaining literally everything he heard while drunk. Jim had to admit, though, that it was nice to have someone to talk to when his “rough day at work” had nothing to do with paper.
Slowly, his coworkers began trickling into his living room. Oscar, prompt as always, with an expensive bottle of wine. Kevin, with a box of Twinkies. Kelly, Ryan, and Stanley. Pretty soon everyone was there except Pam. He had to keep reminding himself that he was the host of this party and as the host he had to do more than just impulsively check the doorway thirteen times a minute to see if she was walking through it. Bowls were filled, coolers refreshed with beers, burgers flipped. Somehow, though, Pam still managed to sneak in and surprise him and he told himself that he had to figure out a way to stop his stomach from capsizing like that every time he saw her. She looked beautiful. She always looked beautiful. It wasn’t often that he got to see her out of her work clothes and it never disappointed.
He invited her on a tour of the house, but after seeing her slink off from the group, he cut the tour short and left the rest of them to find their own way back downstairs. Sucking in a breath, he stuck his hands in his pockets and made a few long strides back to his bedroom. The view of her standing there in his room nearly knocked the air clean out of him.
Think of something to say other than “You’re perfect.”
“See, I knew we lost somebody on the tour.”
From there, he let her take the lead with conversation because all he could think about was how many times he had pictured her here and those thoughts consumed him. Standing quickly, she spotted his yearbook peeking out from his bookshelf and made herself at home on the edge of his bed, the spine of it nestled between her legs. He watched her as a curl fell from behind her shoulder, her laughter echoing in his veins and finding refuge deep in the walls of his chest. It was like placing the final piece in a jigsaw puzzle. She fit. She completed.
Pam’s stomach growled loudly, snapping Jim out of his daze.
“Okay, Beesly. Message received. Want to head back down? I can grill you a burger.”
“How do you know I don’t want a hot dog?”
“Because you hate hot dogs,” he quipped, remembering the story she had told him about accidentally watching a hot dog eating contest while she had the stomach flu in 8th grade. She hadn’t had one since.
She shuddered. “You’re right.”
Of course he was. His brain could only retain so much, but there was not a single fact about Pamela Beesly that he had ever forgotten.
**********
During the party, Jim found every chance he could to occupy the seat Roy left empty with his absence. His pulse quickened each time his leg brushed against hers or her shoulder pressed against his. Even after Michael showed up and essentially deflated the entire party, she could smile at him and he would lift, no hope of being anchored.
One by one his guests started leaving and soon it was just Jim and Pam, both gathering empty bottles and carrying bowls of mostly crumbs into the kitchen. Even Mark had ducked out to take Hannah home, giving Jim an exaggerated wink before he left while Pam’s back was turned to him.
“You don’t have to stay,” Jim offered to Pam, hoping she would choose to stay anyway. “I’m sure you have to get back to…” he trailed off. Why was it so hard to say Captain Meathead’s name? “But...you can, if you want…I’m totally good with that…” How could she turn his brain to mush so quickly?
“I really don’t mind,” she shrugged. “I’d hate for you to get stuck cleaning all of this up alone. Besides, Roy is out late tonight. I have nothing else to do, so I’m happy to help. And you’ve been pretty busy with that huge sale the last few days too, so I feel like we haven’t been able to talk much.”
“Miss me, Beesly?” he smirked.
“Don’t flatter yourself too much,” she chided with a grin. “One can only hear so much about Angela’s cats before it starts getting to you.”
“How is Sprinkles?”
“She’s good, Angela said she--” Pam caught sight of the look of amusement on Jim’s face, knowing he successfully baited her. “Hey! It’s a sad life I lead when you actually have to work, Jim.”
He grinned and grabbed the empty bottles from Pam’s hands, feeling a current run through him when his fingers brushed hers. Looking at her, knowing she held his universe in her hands, he searched all the rooms in his brain for a solution to keep her here longer.
“You want one more beer? I can just make Mark clean the rest of this up in the morning. He owes me for getting him out of Dwight’s Dungeons and Dragons invitation.”
“I’d like that,” she beamed.
He popped the caps off of the bottles and handed one to her as they made their way to the couch in the living room. The lights had been turned off at some point that night, so they were just lit by the string of lights above and Jim couldn’t help but admire how she seemed to glow beneath them.
“So,” he said, taking a swig of his beer. “Fill me in on what happened in Beesly-land over the last three days. I nailed that sale, by the way.”
“I heard, big shot! Nice job. Um...not a whole lot. I beat my FreeCell record.”
“What?! That’s huge!” He mocked playfully, eyes wide.
“I know!” She laughed, tucking one of her feet up under her other leg. “What else? Went grocery shopping.”
“Always exciting.”
“Yes. And I had to inform Michael that the word ‘fetish’ does NOT mean an aversion to something. He kept trying to say he had a fetish for women with facial hair and at first I thought the mistake was funny but it got awkward, real fast.”
“Oh. Oh no.”
“Yeah,” she winced. “Anyway, anything going on with you besides the giant sale you closed?”
He squinted his eyes. “Mmmm...nope. That’s about it. That, and this party. That Michael ruined.” His arm draped over the couch behind her and suddenly he was struck with how close they were sitting and how intimate it felt.
“I think people still had fun.”
“Maybe. Oh well. At least Mark knows Dwight is a real person now.”
“Well, I definitely had fun. I mean, I have the mental image of High School Jim up here now,” she tapped her temple, “so what more could I ask for?”
“Wonderful,” he droned sarcastically.
Their chuckling subsided and they were both quiet for a beat.
“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m really glad you could make it tonight.”
“Me too.” Her smile could put him six feet under. “I never have this much fun with—“ she stopped and shook her head, slightly. “I’m just...glad I could come.”
Something shifted in her face and Jim couldn’t read her expression—all he knew is that he didn’t want her to stop. She looked as if she had words dangling on the edge of her tongue (stop thinking about her tongue, Jim) and he knew he had words of his own that had been banging at the door, wanting to escape for longer than he could remember. The look she was giving him nearly unhinged that door, causing them all to spill out. He took a breath, bracing for the outpour he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop, but she cut her gaze before his storm of words flew out. Now they just swirled in his chest, threatening to burst his rib cage.
“I should probably get going,” she said softly.
“Okay,” was all he could muster with a half-smile.
They stood up simultaneously, now standing only inches apart. She didn’t move and neither did he. Instinctively, he put his hand on her shoulder and slowly slid it down her arm, giving the middle of her upper arm a gentle squeeze. He had never intentionally touched her this way, but the way she softened under these dim lights, and the warm hue of her cheeks, and the way she was looking at him—it was inevitable.
“I think my purse is in your room,” she choked out in a shaky whisper.
He removed his hand and shoved it in his pocket, terrified he had crossed a line with her while fighting the urge to continue crossing it. “I’ll go grab it for you.”
He slowly took each step, knowing that the sooner he brought her things to her, the sooner she would leave, and the sooner he would be left, once again, with nothing but a mental image of her rather than the real thing. So often had he envisioned her in his room. But now he had seen it, Pam so comfortably displayed in his space, on his bed--the same bed in which he spent so many nights tossing and turning, wrestling with the pit in his stomach, aching so badly to have her body warm against his. Sure, he had imagined what every curve of her body might look like as it was lit by only stars, moonlight, and his pure adoration of her, but more than that, he just wanted to know her presence. He wanted to know what it would be like to not feel as if he had to strangle every last drop out of their interactions in order to sustain himself until his next trip to the reception desk. Though they were the very thing keeping him afloat, these fleeting interactions had also begun to feel like the bricks tied to his ankles as he desperately tried to tread water.
Her coat, scarf, and purse lay on the bed. He ran his fingers over them and muttered under his breath about what a coward he was and that he should just tell her and that she needed to know. He picked them up. Even feeling her things on his fingertips gave him a jolt that was quickly followed by the familiar ache of knowing that he’d probably never be the one to take her coat while on a date, or hold her purse for her while she tied her shoes, or pull her closer with that scarf to plant a kiss on her lips as the winter air spun around them.
As he turned around, he was startled to see Pam standing in his bedroom doorway. She was playing with her fingers and her shoulders were hunched, which was a dead giveaway that she was nervous about something. Her eyebrows furrowed and she shifted on her feet before finally looking at him.
He slowly walked forward, her belongings outstretched in front of him. She grabbed them feebly, but as she tried to take them from him, he tightened both his grip and his gaze.
“Jim…”
“Stay.”
Her head tilted, the mental tug-of-war written on her face.
“Jim…”
He inched closer to her, closing the gap between them. His body seemed to be a step ahead of his brain and he just couldn’t seem to stop himself. Now his hands were on her shoulders and he felt her melt under the weight of them. Slowly, he rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes.
“Just...stay here with me,” he pleaded quietly. “Tomorrow we can go back to whatever we were...are...whatever. Just tonight...I need you to stay.”
Of course he knew there would be no going back, but he felt the gravity of what he was doing and needed them both to believe it could be possible.
She exhaled out with almost a whimper, followed by the muffled sound of her coat hitting the floor. She put one hand on his cheek, the other at his side. His hands slid down her arms and settled on her waist.
“How long…” Pam swallowed hard, voice trembling. “...how long have you felt this way?”
“Always.”
“Why haven’t you…”
“Pam, you know why.”
Their foreheads were still together, their lips just inches from each other. He could feel her heavy breath mingling with his, delaying the inevitable. Slowly, she brought her lips to his, just barely, as if to test the waters. He could taste the beer on her lips and his head felt like it would lift straight off his shoulders as she ran her fingers through the back of his hair, pulling him further into the euphoria he felt. She deepened the kiss, her tongue just barely grazing his bottom lip, unraveling every one of his seams. He wrapped his arms tighter around her. Their kisses were still chaste, but there was a burn deep down low in his abdomen and his jeans were getting increasingly tighter. She put a hand on his chest and gave him a slight push to break them apart.
They stared into each other’s eyes, silently trying to figure out what this meant, what they were becoming. Jim’s head was spinning, wanting nothing more to crash back into her, but also knowing the implications if he did. She was engaged. He should stop, but it was her, in his bedroom, kissing him first. There was not enough self restraint in the world.
His hand ran through the hair behind her ear and he peered deep into the eyes of his best friend. The same eyes he was constantly seeking from across the office. The same eyes that squinted just perfectly when he got her to laugh. He brought his other hand to her face.
“Pam, I’m in love with you.”
He thought he heard the faintest gasp escape her lips.
“I’m sorry if that’s weird for you to hear, but—“
She cut him off by pressing her lips firmly to his again, this time with more fervor and purpose. Her tongue was hot against his and her hands weaved and tugged at his hair. There was no time to come up for air, but if this is how he died, so be it.
They stumbled toward the bed and he sat down when the back of his knees hit it, breaking their kiss. She stood, looking down at him with a confident smirk on her face that sent waves through him, crashing and swirling and begging for more. He pulled her down to his lap, her legs straddling his as her lips trailed down the stubble on his jaw, under his ear, down his neck. He threw his head back, a deep moan escaping from somewhere inside him. The feel of her warm skin on his fingers as he ran his hands under the back of her brown henley shirt made his mind nearly disintegrate.
He kept waiting to wake up, to see someone pop out and say, “Gotcha!” because this was something he had resigned himself to believing would never happen. But she was on top of him, he had a fistful of her hair, her tongue in his mouth, and if it was a dream, let him sleep forever.
One hand slid behind her neck, the other nestled on the bare skin on her back, and now worked his mouth down her neck, amazed at how soft her skin felt against his lips. He trailed down her collarbone, moving a curl out of his way, and started down the valley of her chest when he heard her speak, feeling the vibration of her voice against his lips.
Please don’t wake me up, Pam.
“Jim—”
Don’t do this.
She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “I can’t,” she whispered.
Shit.
He closed his eyes, a lump forming in his throat. “Yeah…”
“You have no idea…”
“C’mon…”
“...how much…”
“Pam…”
“Jim, look at me.”
He had torn his eyes from hers, unable to watch her rip this away from him.
She gave him a tender kiss on his lips. “You have no idea how much I want to do this.” She slammed her eyes shut. “Holy crap do I want to do this right now.”
“But you can’t.” He looked down.
“I can’t…” she pulled his head to hers again. “Yet.”
He furrowed his brow. “Wait. Yet? So you mean...there’s...what do you mean, yet?”
A small smile spread on her face as she ran her hand down his cheek. “I want to do this right and I can’t do that with this ring on my finger.”
He understood. “You’re not that girl.”
“And you’re not that guy.”
He laid his head on her shoulder. “Can I be that guy?” he chuckled miserably into her hair.
Her arms wrapped around his neck and she laughed softly. “Not tonight. But you’re the guy, Jim. I can’t believe I never saw it. I mean, I think I saw it but I tried to ignore it because it’s what I was supposed to do. I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”
They sat like that for a while, locked in each other’s embrace. She was intoxicating and while he surely wanted more of her, he marveled at how complete he felt simply being in her grasp, armed with the knowledge that she wanted him back. Eventually, they broke apart and she climbed off his lap. He grabbed her coat and helped her into it, handed her purse over, and tugged her closer with her scarf. He laid a gentle kiss on her forehead and wove his fingers through hers.
Silently, they made their way down the stairs and to the front door. She turned to face him. She looked happy, content, but he also knew her well enough to see a glint of something else in her eyes.
“Hey,” he offered softly. “You okay?”
She smiled and gave a simple nod. He pulled her into a hug, stroking her hair as she laid her head against his chest. Barely audible, she whispered.
“Just a little nervous.”
“About Roy, or…”
He felt her head bob against his chest.
“Pam,” he pulled her away so he could look her in the eyes. “You’ve been with him for a really long time. I want this more than you could possibly begin to imagine, but I want you to be sure. I want you to be happy. That’s all I ever want, is to see you happy.” He could see her eyes beginning to gloss with tears. She sniffled and wiped her eyes with her sleeves.
“You make me happy.”
He smiled and ran his thumb across her cheek. “Back atcha, Beesly.”
She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a slow, lingering kiss. “I know what I want, Jim,” she said against his lips and lowered herself back down, sniffling. “And for once in my life, I’m going to go for it. I don’t know, I feel...I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for 10 years and now I can finally...breathe. This isn’t me getting caught up in the moment. This is me finally sticking my head out of the clouds and doing what I should have done years ago.”
Once again, he wrapped her in a tight hug. He knew he didn’t imagine the last half hour, but somehow it still didn’t feel real.
“I don’t want to let you go,” he whispered in her ear. She squeezed him tighter.
“You’re not.” She broke away, grabbing his hands in hers.
“If you need time after, I understand—“
“Jim,” she spoke firmly, a look of reassurance on her face. “I’m going to come back.” She put her hand on his cheek. “I promise.”
He closed his eyes and turned her hand over, kissing her palm. “I only accept pinky promises.”
Her head lowered to his chest as she laughed, then she stuck her pinky finger straight up in front of him. A grin spread across his face as he took her little finger with his and wiggled it. She tugged on his hand and he leaned down to kiss her.
Breaking apart, she reached for the door handle. “Bye, Halpert.”
“Bye,” he whispered.
He closed the door behind her and turned around to press his back against it. Laughter bubbled from his chest as he sat with the disbelief of what had just happened.
Pam asked him to wait for her. Luckily, that was something he had perfected. Only this time, it came with the promise of an ending and a beginning, all rolled into one.
He could wait, one more time.
Story Notes:
“All this love we feel needs no conversation...”
Chapter End Notes:
Hope you enjoyed this little diddy! Reviews always welcome. :)
WanderingWatchtower is the author of 23 other stories.
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