A/N: Can't quit it. Don't want to.
He's at the garden supply store today because it's the Friday before Mother's Day, and he…is an uncreative son.
Still, he reasons, he could have gone to the florist. This is—greener, or something. So, instead, he's here, wandering aimlessly amid rows of potted begonias and petunias.
Huh. If Dwight was a girl, he'd be named something like 'Petunia.'
Jim smirks at that, instantly storing it in his mental bank of Anti-Schrute Strategies. It's not getting him particularly closer to his goal, however, so he turns purposefully—
And nearly crashes into Pam.
She has a tank-top and shorts on, and her hair is down. He takes this all in, and it's—overwhelming.
"Hey!"
"Hey!" she says, at the same time, and they smile at each other for a few seconds.
"Mother's Day," he says, indicating the rows of plants with a vague gesture.
"That's great." She seems to think so. Her eyes are sparkling, she's still smiling, and he wants to believe it's for him.
"And you, Miss Beesly. What brings you here?"
"I want a new houseplant, actually," Pam explains.
"They're a lot of responsibility, I understand," Jim says, nodding gravely. "It's like raising a child."
Pam giggles. He loves when she does that, and he hates himself for being so easily drawn in. "I think you're thinking of dogs."
"I don't discriminate," he protests, pointing at a white marker in the soil. "Dog violets. See? The garden equivalent of a golden retriever."
"Seriously? I think that's more of a cocker spaniel," Pam argues, pretending to observe it with a practiced eye. They laugh together and then she sighs.
"I'm actually looking for some bleeding hearts," she says, pressing a finger against her lower lip. "They're my favorite."
He almost laughs, and catches himself. "Really?"
"Yeah." She's guileless. But then, he couldn't ask her to understand the irony.
"Bit morbid, aren't you?"
"Hey!" Pam rolls her eyes. "It's just a name."
"Right," is all he can think to return, but he does with a sweep of his eyebrows that will keep her from thinking he's anything but amused.
They chat on a little more. Jim tries not to be distracted by the curve of her shoulder, the golden dusting of freckles on her nose. He's—not very good at averting distraction.
They walk past roses, chatting about work. He wonders if she would take one if he picked it for her, just casually, pressing a kiss to it when she wasn't looking. He berates himself inwardly for being a hopeless sap.
Pam finds a bleeding heart. She tells him good luck about finding something for his mom. Roy's waiting outside. Her smile is apologetic, but she seems glad to have seen him.
Jim buys a petunia, and leaves as quickly as he can.
