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Author's Chapter Notes:
Surprise! A fast update since this one was practically all the way written in my head when I posted Part 1.
Day two of the field trip went pretty seamlessly. They let the students decide which of the Smithsonian museums they wanted to see most and then split them into groups. Jim, Michael, and Dwight had a group of about 25 students who were interested in seeing the Air and Space museum. Oscar and Jan took their group to the Museum of Natural History, while Pam and Angela took a group to the National Portrait Gallery.

Besides not seeing Pam for much of the day, needing to babysit Michael, and just having to physically be around Dwight, it was a pretty fun day. He had always had an interest in space and even thought he wanted to be an astronaut for a while until he learned how much math they had to know. So the museum was interesting and very enjoyable for him.

Evening came and the group met back for dinner at the hotel, since the school had offered to cater one meal in the hotel ballroom. Pam found Jim and apologetically explained that she had promised some girls from her museum group that she would eat with them, so she wouldn’t be sitting with him for dinner. He understood, happy once again that she seemed to have made an impression on some of the students.

Later that night, after having ensured his students were in their rooms for the night, Jim heard a tiny knock on his door. He had informed Pam he needed to fill her in on his latest prank and to stop by when she was done with her students rooms.

“Darn, I thought you were room service,” he said jokingly as he opened the door.

She rolled her eyes playfully, checked both sides of the hallway, and stepped inside his room. She held up a pink box. “Better than room service.”

“Those better be—” he lifted up the lid. “They are! Georgetown Cupcakes. Oh, if I didn’t already love you.” He liked being able to use that word and use it so casually, as if he’d been saying it for years. “History is cool and all, but these are always the best part of D.C. trips, if you ask me,” he said, half of a red velvet cupcake already in his mouth.

She was grinning. “I convinced our bus driver to go grab some for me while we were all at the museums. I just had to promise her I would sketch a picture of her yorkie.”

Jim shoved the rest of the cupcake in his mouth. “Seems fair,” he mumbled through the frosting and cake in his mouth.

Smiling, she rubbed a spot of frosting off his cheek with her finger and licked it off. She set the box down on the desk next to them and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I missed you today, Halpert.”

He swallowed the remains of his cupcake and kissed her. “I missed you too. How was your day?”

He listened as she told him about the visit to the portrait gallery and how she could have spent four more hours there and how she bonded with a group of three girls that were with her.

“They’re pretty fond of you, Mr. Halpert,” she said slyly.

He raised his eyebrows and put his finger to his chest as if to say, Who, me?

“Oh yes,” she continued, pushing him backwards until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat down. “They think you’re ‘soooooo cute’ and ‘soooo funny’ and your hair is ‘soooooo perfect’...”

She straddled him, her knees touching the bed on either side of him. She ran a hand through one side of his hair. “And ‘oh my GOSH’,” she exclaimed, mimicking a teenage girl, “‘when he wears that argyle sweater!’”

He felt his mind going hazy as he ran his hands up her thighs, finding her hips. “It’s a good sweater,” he said against her collar bone, kissing it softly as his hands snaked around her waist. “And it was on sale.”

She let out a low chuckle. “You really know how to talk dirty to me, Halpert.”

He brought his lips up to that spot under her ear. “50 percent off, baby,” he whispered against her skin, then kissed her. She let out a small, contented hum, and brought her lips to his as she pushed him to lay down on the bed. They scooted up toward the pillows, lips never parting, and he ran both his hands up the back of her shirt, feeling her warm skin against his hands, silently thanking Jan for insisting they all have private rooms this trip.

Pam sat up and crossed her arms in front of her, grabbed the hem of her shirt, and pulled it over her head. Jim looked up at her, convinced he would never tire of the sight in front of him. He quickly flipped her over onto her back and trailed his way down her jaw and neck with his lips as she sighed with contentment each time his lips met her skin. Then he propped himself up on his elbows and hovered inches from her face, looking into her eyes.

“I’m so in love with you,” he breathed softly. “You are absolutely perfect.”

Her lips crashed into his fiercely. From there it became a race as to who could remove articles of clothing the fastest. Hands and lips explored, as they desperately tried to prove their love, eventually reaching a synchronous high, names escaping each other’s lips with gasping breaths.

Jim sunk into the pillow next to her, his legs and limbs weak but still intertwined with hers and he kissed her forehead and threaded his fingers through hers.

She sighed happily and planted a kiss on his bare chest. “Is it weird to thank someone for sex?” Pam hummed against him. “Because I definitely feel like I should thank you for that.”

He let out a chuckle and stroked her curls with his fingers. “I think I should be thanking you.”

She smiled and hugged him closer to her. Within a matter of minutes, they both fell asleep comfortably in each other’s arms.

*******

They startled awake at the sound of knocking on Jim’s hotel room door. Jim rubbed his eyes and looked at the clock to see it was 8:00 in the morning, thirty minutes before they were supposed to go get the students from their rooms.

“Jim!” Michael called from the hallway. “I need your help!”

Jim and Pam looked at each other, eyes wide. He grabbed his t-shirt from beside the bed, handed it to Pam and pointed to the closet. Understanding, she threw it over her head, kicked her clothes from last night under the bed, and shut herself in the closet quietly.

“Just a minute!” Jim called back, trying to hide the nervousness in his tone.

He slipped on his pants, rifled for another shirt in his duffel bag, and pulled it over his head. He cracked the door just enough to see out into the hallway.

“What’s up, Michael?”

Michael held up two t-shirts, each displaying “Washington D.C.” on the front in big, colorful letters.

“Which one of these says, ‘I know you said it was just a casual thing that we shouldn’t ever talk about, but I still might be in love with you?’”

Jim fought extremely hard to suppress a smirk. He cleared his throat and pointed to the one on the left. “That one. Definitely that one.”

“I knew it,” Michael said confidently. “Dwight’s an idiot.”

Jim nodded. “Can’t argue with you there. Need anything else?”

“Nope! Thanks Jimbo!” Michael called from the hallway as he walked away. “See you in thirty minutes!”

Jim shut the door and let out a giant sigh of relief as Pam stepped out of the closet.

“Jim, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep and spend the whole night in your room! I was going to go back to mine. That could have been—“

Jim stopped her by pressing his lips against hers.

“What was that for?” she asked with a smile as she pulled away.

“Nothing,” he said, brushing a loose curl from her face. “You just look really hot in nothing but my t-shirt,” he smirked. “But you should probably hurry back to your room. We have work to do today.”

She agreed and quickly got dressed. Before she opened the door, she turned and faced Jim.

“Wait. Did Michael just ask you for advice on what souvenir to buy Jan who is on the trip with him?”

“Precisely,” Jim nodded.

She shook her head slightly. “Incredible,” she whispered, then inconspicuously slid out into the hallway and back down to her room.


*******

“It’s done,” Pam whispered in Jim’s ear as the group stopped outside the White House. She had faked a fall while walking behind Dwight and successfully grabbed his cell phone off his belt when she ran into him. Once he had continued walking, she pulled it out, changed his contact list, then returned it to him, claiming it must have fallen out when she tripped over him.

Now it was Jim’s turn. He needed to make his presence known so Dwight would suspect him less.

“Hey, Dwight.” Jim squinted in the sun toward the White House. “I’m thinking of starting a band, but only using air instruments. I’m looking for someone who does primarily air guitar, maybe some air bass guitar...are you interested?”

Dwight scoffed at him, refusing to answer Jim’s question.

“I’ll take that as a maybe,” Jim said, patting Dwight on the shoulder. “Thanks, buddy.” Then he slipped away out of ear shot and dialed Dwight’s number.

Jim grinned as he saw Dwight’s brow furrow when he read “CLASSIFIED NUMBER” pop up on his cell phone screen.

“Hello?” Dwight said tentatively.

Jim disguised his voice. “Is this Dwight Kurt Schrute?”

“Yes, who is this?”

“This is the secret service. We have word that you are approaching the premises.”

Dwight spun in a slow circle, looking around cautiously.

“How do you have my number?”

“We’re the secret service, sir. We know everything.” Jim covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. “Listen, sir. We have it on good authority that you may pose a threat to the President.”

Dwight brought his fingers to his forehead. “Is this about the homemade bazooka? Because my cousin Mose—“

“No,” Jim interrupted. “I can’t disclose the information we have, but I need you to do one thing for me.”

“Okay…”

“I need you to lift up your shirt to show us you aren’t wearing a wire.”

Dwight looked around again and lifted his shirt up halfway before pulling it down.

“Higher, sir.”

Dwight lifted the shirt up to his chin.

Jim didn’t know how much longer he could keep going before giving himself away. “Okay, now turn around. Twice.”

Dwight spun in two circles as groups of students and passers by looked at him quizzically, laughing under their hands.

“Thank you, sir. You’re cleared. Have a nice day.”

Dwight closed his phone, tucked his shirt back in, and glanced each direction as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Jim walked back over to the group and stood next to Pam, whose face was red from suppressing laughter.

“You’re really good at this, Halpert,” she muttered under her breath, looking straight ahead.

He looked over at her and flashed her one of his famous smirks and shrugged.

“It’s a gift.”
Chapter End Notes:
I, too, love argyle sweaters.

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