A/N: Hi and welcome. This is my first story for The Office. My big goal in this was to try to accurately portray Jim and Pam's humor. Hopefully, I got that across. Also, I'm not sure/I can't remember whether they have talked about the actual documentary being filmed, but I included it in this story either way. Enjoy!
Category: The Office
Pairing: PB&J
Genre: Romance and humor
Warnings: Light smut. Very light, actually.
Title: The Documentary
"'The eyes are the groin of the head' is way funnier."
"Shut up, Halpert. You can't use that one. We're not there yet."
"Oh, right, I'm sorry. I didn't realize this had to be official."
"Well, it does have to be. There are official rules you have to follow."
"Official rules, huh? Well, give me some of them."
"Umm… okay. Thou shalt not interrupt a Dwight and Angela scene. Umm… Thou shalt honor thy 'you laugh you lose' agreement and buy the winner dinner if thou laughs during one of Michael's monologues. But most importantly, thou shalt not use quotes from episodes we have not seen yet to win an argument."
"That was beautiful. What was that from? Leviticus?"
"Yes, it was right after the part about – no, wait a second here. I can't even make the joke. I was making an obvious play on the Ten Commandments here. Leviticus? Really?"
"Well, I, uh, I didn't know I was talking to Angela here. You may want to give Dwight a heads up and warn him that I'm taking his woman."
Jim raised his eyebrows and pulled the corners of his lips straight to the sides, staring at the window, before turning back to his wife. He was so used to a camera being around that he sometimes forgot himself and tried to find one to make contact with.
Pam scoffed at his obvious search for the camera lens and looked into his dilated pupils. It was dark in the room. The entire house was dark, except for one light blinking from the baby monitor, which was emitting the quiet static of their daughter's room, and the television, which was paused with an image of Dwight on the screen talking about his overall superiority.
"No, I'm not the freak here. This is basic knowledge. The Ten Commandments are from Exodus!" she exclaimed, tilting her head to the side, her hair flowing over her shoulder and onto the back of the couch.
"Isn't there a commandment that says 'Thou shalt not make fun of this list?'" he joked, smiling warily.
"Oh my God. You've never read the Bible, have you?" she asked, her jaw dropping, her eyes glittering mirthfully from the blue light of the screen.
Pam lifted her right leg up from the floor and sat criss-cross facing Jim.
"Alright, you've got me. I've never read the Bible," he admitted, pursing his lips. "I should just burn in hell now."
"Jim," Pam started, but he cut her off.
"No, don't even try to console me. It's too late for me. Satan already has me in his clutches."
"Jim," Pam started again, and sighed deeply, taking both of his hands into her own and clapping them together into a pseudo-praying position. "I think I can still save Cece if you just leave right now. Go away to the mountains. Live on the Schrute farm for a year. Consult with a Rabbi, a monk, and a pastor, and then write letters to the Vatican asking how many Hail Marys you need to say to be forgiven, and then maybe you can be back in time for Cece's college graduation."
He looked at her face, saw how serious she was, and played off of it. His brilliant wife. His witty wife. What a fantastic woman. "I don't know. If I go to the Schrute farm, I may never be able to escape. Maybe I can have Angela baptize me and then have Michael take me under his wing. He's a religious man, isn't he?"
"Yeah, considering he committed adultery, he's probably very familiar with the Ten Commandments," she teased again, reaching over to take his cup of orange juice and downing it.
"Hey, that's mine. Why do you always have to take my juice?" he asked, trying half-heartedly to snatch the cup away from her before she drank it.
"Yours always tastes better. Tastes like victory," she said, setting the cup back on the table and shifting so that her back was half against Jim and half against the sofa.
He didn't argue. He simply put his arm around her and pushed play on their DVR. He had no idea why they'd never watched this show together. It was a documentary about them, and there were so many amazing moments in the episodes. Even though both of them lived it, Jim had never paid close attention to what happened when he wasn't there and was especially excited for the interviews.
They were now a couple of hours in, and they were arguing about who their favorite characters were. Pam tried to claim that Michael was her favorite because he was the funniest on the show. He'd legitimately thought that there was a show called Queer as Fuck. On the other hand, Jim was thoroughly convinced that Dwight was funnier.
Their least favorite characters? Jim and Pam. Those people were boring.
Secretly, Jim's least favorite 'character' was Roy. And that much was emphasized in the next scene when Roy and Pam were together, talking about their wedding. Or something. Whenever Roy was on the TV screen, Jim tuned out. Yeah, Roy had her first. Yeah, Jim had kind of screwed Roy over instead of the other way around. Yeah, Jim would have deserved a full-blown punch. However, it was a far greater injustice, in Jim's eyes, that the man could take away the woman he loved for so many years without realizing that it was Jim and Pam that belonged together.
He clenched his teeth as the slightly younger Pam and the always obnoxious Roy kissed. He looked away and cleared his throat, his old AC/DC shirt rubbing against his chest as Pam repositioned herself, her pajama shorts riding up to show the pink skin of her thighs.
"Jim, this doesn't still make you uncomfortable, does it?" she asked, drawing patterns on the back of his hands.
"No," he lied.
"Really? That's good, because I just wanted to rewind so I could see the part before again," she said, grabbing for the remote next to him.
He was faster than she was.
"Alright, yes. It still bothers me," he answered truthfully, setting the remote back down on the cushion.
"It shouldn't. You know that during this time I was already in love with you, right?" she asked, grabbing for the remote again and pausing the show. She turned in his arms and sat in his lap, facing him.
He considered the question before turning the tables on her. "Are you saying that when we get to the part where I move to Stamford that Karen won't bother you at all?" he challenged, his arms around her waist.
"We were talking about you, but nope. Won't bother me at all," she answered haughtily.
"Great! Because Karen's in town, and I thought it might be nice to invite her to dinner?" he questioned.
"You still talk to her?" Pam accused, before catching herself. He shot her a triumphant look. "Alright, you're right. I'll probably hate it."
"Your own fault. We could've been together instead of me leaving," Jim said tilting his head and raising his eyebrows again.
"Yes, I know," she mumbled, looking away and into their dark hallway.
"Fantastic. Now that we've established everything wrong ever was your fault, you have to make it up to me," he said.
"I'll give you sex any way you want it," she said, turning back toward him and giving him a sultry smile, trying to be as sexy as she could while she was wearing a Dunder-Mifflin Race for Rabies 5K run shirt.
He snorted and furrowed his eyebrows, pursing his lips. "Madness. I get that anyway."
She pulled her body away from his and raised one eyebrow, a dubious expression on her face. "Not with that attitude, Halpert."
"Alright, Halpert. I'll take it then, and all will be forgiven," he replied.
"Fantastic. And just so you know, I'm kind of tired from all the sales calls so nothing fancy tonight," she amended, taking the bottom of her shirt and lifting it clean off her head, exposing herself to him.
He blinked numerous times, willing himself not to look down at her breasts. "That's not fair is it? That's not however I want it, is it?"
"Oh, alright then Jim. Let's go to the rodeo and have sex on a bull."
He took off his shirt.
"That could be fun. Or maybe while skydiving."
She wiggled out of her shorts.
"We'll have to time the release of our parachutes perfectly. How about we just star in an episode of 24 and we can do it in the closet of a building that's about to be blown up by terrorists."
He took off his plaid PJ pants.
"You've never seen 24, have you?"
She looked at the tent in his boxers and was considering whether it was their banter or her full breasts that was turning him on.
"No. Am I in the ballpark, though?"
He considered the question, bouncing his head back and forth, excited at the prospect of not having to trade sleep for sex, since they had time for both know that Cecilia started to sleep through the night.
"Yeah, pretty close."
Before the words had even completely left his mouth, his lips crashed into hers. Her lips felt chapped, and he was pretty sure that his were, too. She had drunk all his orange juice, after all, and he didn't care what her excuse was. His tongue probed her mouth, and he relished the sweet taste of her. It was sweet, a kind of sweetness that had less to do with her beverage and more to do with her.
They rolled over onto the remote, his hands on her bare back, and the video started playing again. This time, Toby came into view, as Jim turned the TV off and tossed the remote onto the floor.
"You know that Toby had a thing for you, too, right?" he questioned, kissing her neck.
"Jim?" she asked, her hips grinding against his hardness.
"Mmm?" he questioned, intent on giving her a hickey like they were fifteen years old.
"I don't want to talk about work right now," she said, rubbing his arms, and groaning as she felt the sting of an oncoming bruise on her shoulder.
"Fair enough," he answered, his lips connecting to hers once more, his childish mission complete.
The thrill of this was twofold. He couldn't remember the last time they had sex somewhere that wasn't their bedroom, so it was exciting to do it on a couch, where he would know what transpired every time he sat on it. The second part had to do with the fact that the window was cracked open, and the curtains were completely undone. Sure, it was dark in their house, but anyone who looked into the window would still be able to see their naked bodies from the moonlight.
And yet, this wasn't doing more for him than usual. The truth was that every time he made love to his wife, he felt more excited than before, cherishing the way her soft, lotioned skin rubbed against his. He loved the way she smelled like berries and baby powder. He loved her silky hair and loved the way it fell around her in a pattern that was different every time. If he were honest, he'd loved it before more, when her hair had wild and slightly unruly curls. But what turned him on more than that was her confidence since she started styling her hair differently. And honestly, he loved the way she glowed, even post-pregnancy.
And the woman could prioritize better than he could. What was he thinking, bringing up work, when he had this brazen woman in front of him, willing to give herself to him?
He couldn't help but touch her everywhere. They didn't do this as often as they used to, but it was starting to increase again over time. He ran his hands up and down her back and moved them toward her bosom when he laid her down below him. He didn't dare do more than graze over her erect nipples. Those weren't his anymore. But the rest of her was, and he had no trouble letting his hand trail downward and tangle into her chestnut curls.
She moaned almost inaudibly when he touched her folds, bringing her hips upwards. Her arms were clawing lightly into his back. She let him paw around her nether region a few moments more before she brought his head down for another kiss.
"Jim?" she asked again, her breath tickling his ear.
"I can't wait anymore," he answered in a low rumble, giving her goosebumps.
And then he slowly lowered himself into her waiting heat, beginning their familiar rhythm. He didn't need anything fancy. She was tired, and honestly, he was, too. Regardless, he wasn't about to turn this down, and besides that, this was perfect the way it was. Her small frame fit perfectly against his, the swell of her belly grazing against him every time he pushed forward, slowly beginning to meet him halfway.
Her arms clasped around his back, and his hugged the outside of her curves. His hair swung freely as he let his head fall, his mouth emitting quiet sighs from deep in his throat.
"I love you," he said sweetly.
She didn't say anything in response, but he saw the smile that grazed her lips.
When they were done, he sat up and reached over the end of the sofa to give her the shirt that she had tossed there. When he looked back over, he saw AC/DC pressed against her breasts as she inhaled and exhaled, a wicked smile playing on her face.
He sighed, tossing the shirt back over the side of the couch and grabbing his pants, glad that it wasn't a chilly night out.
"You know I can't ever wear that shirt again, right? I'll get your cooties," he teased, his eyes meeting hers after she came back up with the remote and pushed play.
"Really? I thought it had more to do with this looking better one me than it does on you," she quipped, a small smile playing on her face as she cocked her head to the side.
Who was he to argue with that? His beloved AC/DC shirt would be forever hers now. Just like she was forever his.
A/N: I know, it's very fluffy. But, it's the way I wrote it. I wrote this to try to get me out of a post-semester slump. I've been vegging and watching TV, and I hope that this will be a gateway into getting back to my original works. If you want any info on those, feel free to contact me. I know it's not the greatest thing I've written, but it's served its purpose. Hopefully, you've enjoyed it. I'd appreciate any feedback, just so long as it's not telling me to try a beta reader or expecting me to edit this story for any kind of mechanical mistakes. Editing takes quite a bit of time, so I don't really do that for fan fiction. However, any comments will help me learn for future stories.
Thank you for reading!