A/N: Someone needs to find a cure for writer's block because I've had the worst case of it! So here is what has come out after a serious drought of creativity. You have no idea what this one-shot means to me. But it doesn't want to do that; it wants to be more than that. So if you like it, give it the right encouragement by way of reviews and perhaps it can be turned into something bigger. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own any companies specializing in frozen food. Or these characters for that matter.
"Does it hurt?"
Jim shook his head. "Nah, only when I eat, or talk…or breathe…" he laughed before wincing in pain and gingerly rubbing his jaw.
Pam rushed to her kitchen and rummaged through her freezer.
"What the hell? How am I out of ice?" she yelled in frustration.
"Pam, it's okay, you don't have to—" he bit back a laugh as she reappeared from the kitchen holding a Stouffer's frozen meatloaf box in one hand and a box of Eggo's in the other.
"Okay Halpert, meat or waffles?" She waved the boxes near her head, her face trying to remain bright amongst the worry in her eyes.
"I'll take the Eggo's, thanks," he said as he gave the best smile he could given his swollen jaw.
She pulled the plastic wrapped waffles from the box and lightly pressed them to Jim's jaw. He winced again but gave a small sigh of relief as the cold began to ease the pain.
"Does that help?" Jim looked up to see Pam in close proximity, her eyes searching his face for any more injuries to tend to.
"Yeah, it does." Though it wasn't the manliest thing to admit, she had saved him that night. Roy had confronted him in the parking lot after work and swung at him before he had even said a word. Had it not been for Pam stepping in front of them, the fight would have progressed, and Jim might have been in even worse shape than he was at the moment.
"I know you told me to stop apologizing, but still I am so so sorry."
"It's okay. This was not your fault," Jim placed his hand on top of hers, which was still holding the waffles to his chin. The physical contact made her eyes jump from the floor to his and they sat there for a minute till Pam finally broke the silence.
"Are you hungry? I don't have much, but I could whip something up really quick."
Jim paused a moment.
"Mac and cheese?" he asked meekly.
"Do you seriously not trust me enough to make something more complex? I'm not that bad of a cook," she said defiantly.
"Need I remind you of the Great Tiramisu Disaster of '05? I've never seen someone so liberal with rum…"
"Alright, alright, you've made your point. Mac and cheese it is," she shook her head and gave him a wink.
Jim watched her shuffle around the kitchen, opening cupboards and pulling out the few ingredients needed to make his meal. The domestic look suited her, and this was an image he had often played in his mind in hopes that the future might someday bring it.
She looked over her shoulder from the stove and caught his eye. He blushed and cleared his throat, turning his attention to the painting on the wall.
"Nice painting."
"Jim Halpert, are you blushing?" Pam feigned shock and Jim felt his cheeks redden even more.
"Men don't blush," he said defensively.
"The red in your cheeks says differently."
"Come on Beesly, I'm in enough pain as it is."
Pam giggled and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. Jim allowed himself to look at her once more until curiosity finally got the better of him.
"Why?"
Pam turned around to look at him. "Why what?"
"Why—why did you tell him what happened?"
The question made her turn back to the stove, letting out a heavy sigh as she did.
"I really thought we could make it work. But in order to do that, I thought I should be honest. For once in our relationship, just be truly honest. And I knew he wasn't going to take it well, but I never imagined—" she shivered at the memory of shattered glass.
"And you have to believe me," she continued. "If I thought he was going to hurt you in any way, I never would have said anything."
"Don't worry about it. I mean it's just me." Jim shrugged in a defeated way.
Pam stopped stirring and whirled around, facing him with a stern look. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just that things are different now. A lot has happened and I don't expect you to look out for me."
His tone made Pam let out a gasp of incredulity. "Don't act like you don't mean anything to me."
"Do I?" he challenged. They stared at each other for a while, each daring the other to continue when they were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
Pam moved to the door and when she opened it, Karen stormed in, brushing past Pam without even a hello.
"Oh my god, Michael called me and told me what happened. Are you okay?" Karen knelt by Jim's side and ran a hand through his hair.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. You didn't have to leave your sister's," Jim said, eyeing Pam over Karen's shoulder.
"Please, like I was going to leave you alone. You're not as tough as you think you—what is this?" Karen took the bag of waffles from Jim's hand and looked back at Pam.
"I'm out of ice," Pam mumbled awkwardly, shrugging her shoulders and attempting a smile.
Karen forced one back before turning back to Jim. "Ready to go?"
"Oh, umm, see, here's the thing…" Jim stammered.
"He was hungry—"
"Mac and cheese—"
"Nothing fancy—"
"But still thoughtful." Pam and Jim stammered back and forth, Karen standing between them with arms folded. Pam smiled inwardly as she thought that this brought a whole new meaning to the term "Pam Pong".
"Pam, I hope you don't mind, but it's probably best that we just head home." Karen's tone was sickeningly polite and Pam had to bite her lip to keep from retorting back.
"Oh, right, of course…" she nodded and forced a smile.
"No, wait, she went to all that trouble," Jim interjected, looking utterly torn.
"Really, it's fine. More for me," Pam joked, though her voice was soft and disheartened.
Karen grabbed Jim's coat off the couch and moved to the door.
"See you tomorrow," she called over her shoulder as Jim followed behind her, looking pitifully at Pam. He mouthed, "I'm sorry" before walking out.
Pam closed the door behind them, leaning up against it and holding back tears. She was tired of that feeling; the feeling of suffocation every time she watched him walk out a door with her. And the one time honesty could have resulted in something other than a trashed bar, she held back and let opportunity slip once more by. Opportunities to be honest with Jim were few and far between these days, and Pam began to suspect that there would come a day when they would cease completely. She would be forced to suffer in silence while she watched him move on arm in arm with Karen.
She scooped the slightly burnt macaroni and cheese into a bowl, and not long after she sat down at her dining room table, buried her face in her hands and began to cry.