So this is my second Office fic, and I hope I'm getting better with practice. Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated. Oh and I don't own these characters, as much as I wish I did. Enjoy!
Rain had been thumping against the windows all day and showed no sign of relenting. He smiled, watching her jump a bit in her chair at the clap of thunder. She looked over at him and blushed as she realized she'd been caught.
"Something funny, Halpert?"
"No, just a grown woman jumping at the sound of thunder, that's all."
Pam threw a jellybean aimed at him, but it veered off to the right, hitting Dwight square in the forehead. He picked the candy up, examining it closely.
"Who threw this? Who is disrupting the workplace by projecting candy in my general direction?" Dwight's eyes narrowed as he spat out the words.
Twirling in his chair towards his furious co-worker, arms folded, Jim replied "Call me crazy, but I suspect it was the receptionist, the one with jellybeans on her desk."
"I was aiming at Jim, I promise," Pam interjected, sticking her tongue out at Jim and giggling.
"Seriously Beesley, how old are we today? Scared of thunder, throwing candy, it's just too—"
Another loud clap of thunder echoed through the office, the fluorescent lights flickering above. Everyone started to peer up from their desks, looking slightly distressed at the effects of the severe weather.
Jim glanced over at Michael's office, eyes bulging at the sight before him. He gave an incredulous look to the cameras and motioned for them to capture on film yet another one of his boss's eccentricities.
"Hey, uhh, whatcha doin' in there Michael?" Jim asked with a smile.
"Glad you asked Slim Jim," he appeared from his office, breathing heavily. "Just taking some precautions against the storm, safety first! So I'm setting up some sandbags around the perimeter, in case of a flood."
"Michael, we're on the fifth floor," said Pam with a roll of her eyes.
"Yes, I realize that Pamela, but apparently you have not seen 'The Day After Tomorrow'. Fantastic film, Jake Gyllenhaal at his finest. Anywho, those floods reached the top of New York City skyscrapers."
"Those were special effects, Michael. That cannot happen here in Scranton," said Stanley in his slow drawl.
"You know what, whatever. We'll see who's laughing when you guys are up to your ears in water, and I am safely nestled in my office."
Just then, Kelly emerged from the break room looking panicked and out of breath. "You guys, I have the news on in there and they said there's no sign of the storm getting better. They're advising everyone to stay put and not try to drive anywhere."
"That settles it," Michael said, pounding on the reception desk. "No one leaves here tonight. I won't risk it."
The office groaned with mumbles of objection.
"Stay here? All night? Michael, that's ludicrous!" exclaimed Ryan, showing an unusual amount of emotion.
"If I stay here all night, and wake up to find myself sandwiched between Michael and Kelly…" Ryan trailed off during his interview. "It's not going to be pretty."
"I think it's entirely inappropriate," Angela said to the cameras with a scowl. "Co-workers sleeping in the same quarters creates a breeding ground for sin."
"Oh my God, I am so scared. Ryan, hold me!" cried Kelly as she buried her face into his chest. Ryan grimaced and patted her awkwardly on her back.
The lights began to flicker once more, before completely cutting out, leaving the office dark except for the dim light emerging from the various computers and the emergency lights overhead.
"Everyone stay calm!" Dwight shouted. "This is not a time to panic! We will survive if everyone agrees to cooperate with my commands." Dwight began to delegate various tasks to all of the employees, and most drudgingly complied. Jim was sent to find flashlights in the supply closet and Pam eagerly volunteered to help him. Backs to each other, they rummaged through the dark closet.
"You know what would make this search a lot easier?" Jim asked, breaking a long silence.
"Flashlights?" Pam offered with a giggle.
"You'd think they'd be in a better lit place."
"Well if it was lit then the flashlights wouldn't be needed. Did you ever think about that, Halpert?"
"Attitude, Beesley, is not appreciated."
"I think I found them!" Pam exclaimed, standing on her tiptoes with her hands feeling inside a box. She pulled the box carefully back before losing her balance and falling backwards. Instead of the thud of the ground she was so sure was coming, she felt herself fall into strong arms, the clatter of the flashlights falling echoing around them.
"Whoa, careful there," Jim chuckled at her clumsiness. "Guess we can rule out 'Grace' as your middle name."
"Jerk. Help me pick these up."
They fumbled around the floor collecting the flashlights, their fingers grazing each other's hands occasionally.
"Check to make sure they work," said Pam.
Jim flipped the switch of one, illuminating the once dark supply closet with an eerie yellow light. He held it up to his chin and attempted to make a scary face.
"That's just disturbing," she laughed. "Come on, let's get back. She turned the doorknob and found resistance. Frowning, Pam jiggled it a few more times, trying desperately to open the door but to no avail.
"Damn…" she says under her breath. "We're stuck."
"What?" Jim's face contorted with concern. "Let me try." He pushed his body into the door a few times resulting in nothing but a dull pain in his shoulder blade.
"Fantastic," he said, drawing out the word.
"So now what?" Pam asked with a hint of frustration.
"We wait till they realize how long we've been gone, then someone will come down here looking for us and when we hear them we bang on the door until they let us out," Jim replied in a matter-of-fact tone as he slumped down onto the floor, leaning up against the closet's shelves.
"It's going to be a long night, isn't it?" Pam asked as she did the same.
"I've never broken a bone," Pam said triumphantly, her hands splaying out eight fingers in front of her.
Jim put another finger down, leaving now six fingers in front of him. "Little League. I'm ten years old, sliding into home plate and the kid falls on my arm as he's trying to catch the ball. As I recall, I put a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles sticker on my cast. Okay, let's see…I've never been able to draw amazing works of art on scraps of Dunder-Mifflin paper while I'm supposed to be working the reception desk," he said with a sly grin.
Pam crinkled her nose with a laugh. "I'd hardly call a sketch of Dwight's bobble head collection a work of art." Jim smirked as he saw her relent and put another finger down.
"I've never been kissed in the rain," she said with a smile, thinking of the romance of it all. But the smile dissipated and red rushed to her cheeks at she thought over how it must have sounded, the heavy beat of rain above them making her statement even more awkward.
Jim stared at her for what seemed like forever before clearing his throat and putting down a finger. Pam looked at him curiously.
"Junior prom. We didn't know it was going to rain and had no umbrellas so we were running back to my car trying not to get wet. We were laughing the whole time because she had gone to so much trouble to do her hair. And somehow, I mustered up some courage and kissed her. Right there, soaking wet." Nostalgia washed over his face as he thought back to such simpler times, when the most there was to worry about was getting a rented tux drenched in the rain.
He heard Pam whisper something inaudible. Typically, he wouldn't push it, and yet something about her face illuminated by the yellow beam streaming from the flashlight against darkness pushed him to be brave.
"What was that?" he asked gently.
She opened her mouth to speak again, struggling to find the right words. She finally looked up at him, her eyes glistening. "I've never let myself be truly happy."
Jim began to speak before the door was suddenly thrown open by a suspicious looking Dwight.
"What are you two doing in here? And why are you wasting precious battery power?" he demanded.
Pam stood up and pushed past Dwight without a word, running back upstairs.
"We got locked in here, Dwight," said Jim gruffly, as he gathered up the flashlights. "We should call someone to fix the door."
"No need," Dwight said, pulling out a Swiss Army knife. "I can take care of it," he said stepping into the closet.
"Great, let us know when you're done," Jim said, patting Dwight on the back before stepping out and shutting the closet door.
Jim sprinted upstairs and found Pam at her desk, chin resting on her hands as she watched Michael "ration" out food from the vending machine.
"Hey," he said leaning on her counter as he had done countless times before. "You okay?"
She shrugged. "I'm just…tired." He could hear in her voice that it wasn't the end-of-the day tired, but a deeper and more sorrowful frustration. With a sudden determination, he blurted out, "Come on."
She frowned at him. "What do you mean?" He held out his hand, motioning for her to take it. Hesitantly, she placed her hand in his, feeling a slight dampness to it. Jim pulled her along, out the doors of the office hearing shouts of "Hey! You can't leave!" coming from Michael. He hurried past the elevator and bounded down the stairs, Pam struggling to keep up behind him.
"Jim, what is going on?" He didn't say a word as he took her down the five flights of stairs and finally out the main doors of the building. Jim squinted his eyes as pushed through the heavy rain beating down on them. He could hear Pam yelling shouts of protest though she gripped his hand tightly and continued to follow him.
Finally, he stopped in the middle of the parking lot and turned to face her. His work shirt clung to his skin while the rain had drenched Pam's once curly hair. She peered wide-eyed at him, yet he could see there was still trust in her big green eyes.
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with the intensity of the storm around them. He could feel her body tense with surprise and uncertainty, but soon she relaxed and enveloped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss with her own passionate force.
They slowly pulled away, gazing at each other with smiles that said what words never could.
"There," Jim said with a nod. "Now you can say you've been kissed in the rain. No more complaining, Beesley."
She giggled before saying in a mock-serious tone. "Yes, but, I've never been kissed in the rain twice." She flashed a devilish grin at him, extending an invitation to him.
Jim wholeheartedly accepted.