“There is no greater privilege in life than to kiss someone as they fall asleep.”

- WJL

“Ooookay. Here we go. Ready? Aaaand jump.”

Two heavy footsteps crunched into the snow. 

“Whoa. I’m an ice skater.”

Pam giggled. 

So did Jim. 

They walked through the darkness towards the  welcoming warmth of their new home, the cozy colored lights of their tree beckoning through the living room window. Jim’s arm was over Pam’s shoulder, hers around his waist, guiding him up the sidewalk. She watched him closely as they trekked through the icy weather. 

“I cannot believe you drank that much.”

“Shhh it was Meredith’s fault,” he whispered. “Don’t tell my wife.”

Pam gave his side a tight squeeze and rolled her eyes playfully, snowflakes sticking to her eyelashes. It had been snowing for hours. They slid up the steps to the door, taking shelter next to the welcome mat. Pam patted her pockets. 

“Do you still have the keys,” she asked nervously. 

“Uhhh, you shouldn’t have keys when you’re drinking, Pam. It’s unsafe,” Jim smiled, laughing too hard at his own joke. 

Again, Pam rolled her eyes, smiling all the same. Alcohol accentuated her husband’s goofiness. 

“I know that,” she mocked. “Now arms up. It’s freezing.”

Jim lifted his arms straight up and Pam frisked him, digging through pants pockets, shirt pockets, and coat pockets until she felt what she was looking for. 

“Here they are,” she said, turning to unlock the door. Something heavy hit her from behind and she grunted. 

“I just love you,” said a voice in her ear, and long arms draped over her shoulders. 

She hugged them tight. 

“C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s freezing.”

Jim did not move easily, but allowed himself to be dragged into the living room and deposited face first onto the couch. Pam watched as the colored Christmas lights reflected off of his lanky frame, face smooshed into the pillows and legs folded awkwardly in the air. 

“I don’t feel so good,” came the muffled voice. 

Pam sat next to him, smiling to herself at how childlike he looked, like a little boy ready for Santa. She peeled off his coat, rubbing her hand a few times over his back. 

“Maybe I should lie down,” he slurred again. 

“Or maybe,” she said gently, “Next year you shouldn’t let Meredith make you drinks.”

“They were so good,” she heard him whisper. 

“Oookay,” she consented. 

She stood, patting his back again and busied herself with her usual nightly things. She slipped on her fuzziest pajamas, brushed her teeth, and, just in case, set a glass of water and a trash can next to Jim, who was silent and unmoving on the dark couch. 

In fact, he’d been quiet for so long that she’d assumed he’d finally fallen asleep...or passed out, whichever came first. That is, until she went to go to bed herself, and a groggy voice caught her from across the room. 

“We can’t go to sleep yet,” it said. 

Pam turned to see that Jim had finally lifted his head and was staring at her with heavily lidded eyes. 

“What,” she asked softly. 

“We can’t go to sleep yet,” he repeated. “It’s Christmas Eve.”

She made her way back to the couch. Jim turned onto his side, allowing her just enough room to slide down next to him. She pushed his hair away from his eyes. 

“What would you like to do then,” she asked. 

Ten minutes later Jim had also adorned matching fuzzy pajamas that Pam’s mother had bought them on Black Friday. Even drunk, he was reluctant to wear them, but Pam was eventually able to persuade him with the promise of Christmas cookies. 

When she returned to the living room, she found Jim on the floor in the glow of the Christmas tree, the game of Clue spread out before him. 

“Okay,” she said, handing him a steaming cup of instant hot chocolate. “The cookies are in the oven. You have everything set up?”

Pam scanned the board. Everything looked surprisingly in place. Good job, drunk Jim. She looked up, watching as her husband swayed precariously, sipping his hot chocolate. She silently prayed he wouldn’t drop it. 

“Are you ready to lose,” she smiled. 

“I am ready to solve a Christmas murder.”

They played for several minutes until Pam heard the kitchen timer go off. She left Jim alone with the board to check the oven, returning moments later with a plate of sugary warm cookies, a green elf hat stamped in the middle of them. Jim accepted one with a grin. He picked out the elf ones himself. 

“I think Professor Purple-“

“Plum.”

“Purple Plum did it in the kitchen with the tiny rope.”

Pam took a bite of cookie. 

“So you accuse yourself,” she asked. 

“It’s a bold choice, but the law doesn’t care if it’s Christmas, so...”

Pam giggled again. Jim ate his cookie whole, chasing it with a sip of hot chocolate. They played on for several more minutes until, before Pam’s eyes Jim’s head began to nod. He sat down the chocolate drink and pushed away his cookie, his face turning a green tinge even in the colored lights. He ran his hands over his face and sighed. 

“Those drinks catching up with you, babe,” she asked him. 

He didn’t respond. 

Pam stood up and turned on the TV. 

“C’mon,” she whispered, patting his back. “Let’s watch a movie.”

She helped him up and he, again, crashed face first onto the couch. It’s a Wonderful Life was already playing on the current channel and, sensing that sleep was close for the both of them, Pam left it alone. 

She slid under him until his head rested in her lap, rubbing his back gently as the movie droned on. Just as sleep had almost consumed her, Jim jumped suddenly, reaching for the trash bin Pam had placed beside him earlier. He hovered there for several seconds before crashing back down onto Pam’s lap. 

“You okay,” she asked, still rubbing his back. 

“False alarm,” he mumbled into her leg. He sighed and settled back into her thigh. “I love you,” he mumbled sleepily. 

“I love you, too,” she whispered, running her hand through his hair. 

Pam sat for several minutes, maybe hours, or even snowy days, staring dazedly at the Christmas tree, letting the soft, colored lights hypnotize her with their lullaby until her head started to nod and droop. 

The end credits began to play softly in the background, bringing Pam back to reality. She leaned over sightly to see Jim’s eyes, closed and peaceful. She ran her hand through his hair once more then, carefully, and very, very slowly, slid out from under him. He sighed and rolled over onto his back. 

“I love you,” he mumbled in a whisper. 

Pam knelt down beside the couch so that she was inches from his lips. 

“I love you, too,” she whispered back. 

He reached up and twisted his finger around a strand of her hair. 

“I love you,” he whispered, again. 

Pam leaned in and kissed his lips. They were soft and familiar. 

“I love you, too,” she whispered back, again. 

His hand dropped to his side and his eyes fluttered heavily. 

She kissed him again, and again once more, whispering heartfelt, “I love you’s,” in between each one until, at last, he finally drifted off. 

The final kiss was placed lightly on his forehead as she stood, watching him momentarily to make sure he was really sound asleep. 

He was. 

Then finally with a, “Merry Christmas, Jim,” she left the room in the capable hands of Santa.