this is a pretty cozy spot (to curl up with you)
I'm fairly new to this fandom, and I actually have no idea what happens after episode 5x13 yet (at least, not in particular). I obviously love Jim and Pam- this story just appeared in my head and I needed to write it. Might be a tad too fluffy, honestly, but that's just how I roll.
Set between 5x07 - Business Trip and 5x08 - Frame Toby.
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Pam curled up under the sheet, wriggling her toes and breathing in the scent of the pillow. It was so familiar and reassuring and exciting at the same time, so Jim – her lips curved into a smile. The months in New York had been hard: Pam had felt terribly lonely at times, the phone calls and the sparse visits from Jim never long enough, never frequent enough, never enough altogether. But now she was back in Scranton, her loneliness wiped away, her head finally satisfied with the notion that she wasn't cut for the art business, her heart so full of love for her boyfriend – no, wait, fiancé.
Whose pajamas apparently required an extremely long process to get into. Honestly, Halpert.
Pam thought she might even close her eyes and pretend to have fallen asleep – just to mess with him, that is –, but the sight of him changing was too good to miss. And she had returned from the Big Apple only two days prior, so she wanted to treasure any moment spent with Jim.
Jim finally walked to the bed, but before he could lie down properly, Pam said «u-uh» and held up a hand in front of her. Jim froze in an awkward half-lying position, his left hand still clutching the sheet in mid-air. He scrunched his forehead and looked at her (man, was he cute), and Pam nudged his leg with her knee. «No way you're coming to bed with those ugly socks on».
Jim exhaled, and his lips arched in a lopsided smile. «I'll have you know this is my bed, and I can sleep dressed as I wish. Too bad you missed my floppy hat and woolen mittens», he said, looking at Pam with a mock-desolated face.
«Yeah, too bad, really», she concurred, and then added with a sigh: «Well, I guess I'll just have to go sleep on the couch, then».
Jim lay down on his side and propped his head on his hand. «Well?»
Pam looked at his questioning face and asked: «What?»
«Aren't you going on the couch?»
«Mmh. To be completely honest, Halpert, I think it would be polite if you went sleeping there, and left me your whole bed to sprawl onto. You know, beds in dorms are just so awful», Pam answered, hugging the pillow and playfully trying to push Jim off the bed.
«Yeah, well, not gonna happen, Beesly», Jim exclaimed and tugged at the sheets, leaving Pam uncovered. She sat up and shot him her best attempt at an outraged face, all the while trying not to erupt in laughter. God, she was so ecstatic she was back home and could be like this with Jim. She'd missed being in sync with him, being silly and flirty and sweet, looking in his eyes and seeing a sparkle, knowing the same exact mirth showed in hers – she'd missed all this so much.
«Okay, then. I'd like to point out, though, that if you are really taking the sheets for yourself, you won't be needing your socks», Pam said, matter-of-factly, and lay down again, mimicking Jim's position.
He looked at her challenging expression for a few seconds, before nodding. «Fair enough», he said, while removing his socks. They were nice, actually, light blue as the tee he was wearing, and Pam didn't really have anything against sleeping with socks – she couldn't miss the chance of messing with him a little bit, though.
«Right choice», Pam declared, nodding solemnly. Then they both erupted with laughter and lay down closer to each other. Pam adjusted her head upon Jim's shoulder, and they remained still for a few minutes, their breathing getting slower and the rhythm matching.
After a while, Jim asked: «Pam? Do you think this might be a good moment for our reading thing?»
Pam smiled and nodded – Jim reading aloud to her before falling asleep was one of their habits she'd been more eager to fall back into. Usually, Jim was the one to choose what to read, though let's be honest: Pam didn't really care that much for the story. Jim often picked out old mysteries or classic adventure books, and she loved his enthusiasm at the tangled plots, and the cute, funny voices he used for the characters. She loved it. She loved him.
Pam tilted her head and looked at Jim. «It's just… actually, I already have a book I'd like to read with you».
Jim inhaled sharply and exclaimed: «That's not fair, Beesly!»
«I'm sorry, I know we were supposed to begin Lord Peter Whatever…»
«Lord Peter Wimsey», Jim stated. « I'm just kidding, though. We can read anything you want, Pam: we've got plenty of time. The pages are not going anywhere, and neither are we».
«Cool», Pam said with a half-smile. «My book for this evening is… the one that's been picked for the next Finer Things Club's meeting», she deadpanned.
«Oh, no!» Jim cried, dramatically. «You won't exploit me for your classy country club!» Pam looked at him with her eyebrows arched, to which he responded: «On the contrary, I volunteer for this task», causing her to laugh out loud. «Which book is it, then?»
«It's 1984», Pam said, stretching her arm to grab the volume on the night stand.
«Mmh- the one with the Big Brother?» Jim asked, eyeing the reddish cover.
«Yes», Pam answered in a proud tone.
«A-ha, you see?» Jim exclaimed, «I might even come to the club again!»
Pam held up a hand, saying: «Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't think the others would appreciate».
Jim conceded with a nod. «You know what? During the next meeting, I'll be eating at the same time as you do, and if I notice the conversation faltering I'll ask politely if I can express my opinion on the matter».
Pam was impressed (and gleeful he was making such an effort). «I think it might be okay… given you have something intelligent to say», she replied, nonchalantly.
«Beesly! You hurt me!» Jim exclaimed, mock offended. «Might you be suggesting that not everything I say is infused with wisdom and gravity?!»
«Oh, Halpert, did you forget Angela's Ashes?» Pam asked, suppressing a laugh.
«It was completely intentional».
«Yeah, of course», Pam snorted, nudging his leg with her foot. «Anyways- I have to be sure you at least know the names of the characters».
«Sounds fair», Jim conceded, a wide smile on his face. «Now if you'll excuse me, I have a story to read». He moved slightly to get more comfortable, all the while pulling Pam even closer to himself, and opened the book.
"It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. Winston Smith, his chin nuzzled into his breast in an effort to escape the vile wind, slipped quickly through the glass doors of Victory Mansions, though not quickly enough to prevent a swirl of gritty dust from entering along with him."
Pam had closed her eyes, a little smile on her lips and her mind floating. She was in the utmost perfect spot to both listen to Jim's smooth voice and feel the light rumble of his chest while he spoke. He was rubbing circles on Pam's shoulder with his thumb, while she moved her fingers gently on his chest, absent-minded, feeling the fabric of his pajamas and the steady up-and-down of his breathing.
"The hallway smelt of boiled cabbage and old rag mats. At one end of it a coloured poster, too large for indoor display, had been tacked to the wall."
It took Pam a handful of seconds to register that Jim had stopped reading. She opened her eyes and tilted her head to meet his gaze – he was staring at her with a wistful expression. «God, I missed you», Jim said, breathing in the scent of her hair.
«I know, Jim. This is like the fifteenth time that you've told me today», Pam replied giggling. «I missed you, too».
«Well, you can't blame a man in love for wanting to be with his own fiancée».
«No, I'm just blaming you for being obnoxiously cute», she said, wrinkling her nose.
«Well, thank you». Jim kissed the top of her head and added: «Fifteen times, though? That can't be right». He began counting on his fingers. «First, I told you this morning as soon as you woke up. Then I told you again, as you nearly spilled all your milk and cereal on the table. Third time has been when we met Darryl in the parking lot, and then I…»
Pam wasn't really listening to him, though. Yeah, fifteen had probably been a hyperbole – she was just hoping he would talk a little more. She closed her eyes and smiled into his t-shirt, snuggling inches closer to him.
«…so this number seems… Hey, is everything alright?» Jim asked, squeezing Pam's shoulders.
«Yeah», she said breathily. «I just- really, really like the sound of your voice».
«Mmh?» Jim looked down at her smiling, and Pam stretched out at gave him a peck on the cheek.
«That was kinda the point of keeping a phone call going on for 8 hours straight», she admitted.
«Oh, really?» Jim said, making a surprised face. «And there I thought it was because you needed to stay up-to-date with all the office gossip!»
«Well, that goes without saying», Pam added. «But again, constantly hearing your voice was good, too».
«Yeah, ditto», Jim said under his breath, stroking her hair. «It was a tiny bit like you were here, and I even managed to not feel utterly miserable because I was missing you…»
«Sixteenth time!» Pam exclaimed, snapping her fingers and snickering.
Jim mimicked her laughter, but almost immediately shot her a somber look. «Please, Pam- never leave again for so long».
Pam smiled tenderly and hugged him. She intertwined her fingers with his, and then snuggled as close as she could get; his heart was beating right beneath her ear, in synch with her own. «I promise I won't. I'm pretty confident saying that any future long trip will be alongside my husband».
«Wait. Do I know him?» Jim asked, a quizzical look on his face. Pam smacked him playfully on the chest. «Ouch.Thanks, anyway. I haven't gotten used to it yet».
«To what?»
«To the fact that I'll be your husband- I mean, I've been dreaming about it for so long, that actually being married to you- thinking about it still blows my mind, sometimes. I also feel the urge to pinch myself at times, to be sure it's not all just a dream…» Jim trailed off.
Pam looked at his face and his smile with so much fondness that she felt like she was on the verge of tears. She wanted to say something witty – or at least equally articulate –, but she only managed to emit a little sob. Jim's forehead wrinkled in worry. «Hey, why are you crying? Was that something I said?» he asked, on edge, and looked slightly hurt when she nodded.
«I love you so much, Jim, and we've been through so much to get to this point… I don't think I could be happier, and I'm really looking forward to being called your wife». And wow, were there a lot of words together. Nice shot, for someone only inches away from bursting into tears.
Jim's shoulders relaxed and his face cracked into a smile. As he started laughing, his chest rumbling again under Pam's head, she thought she really was the luckiest woman on earth.
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So, this is my first attempt at writing these two. I really, really love them in the show and I constantly want more.
As for the literary genres of choice, Jim looks to me like the person who'd appreciate Jules Verne and Conan Doyle beyond measure. Pam likes literary fiction (mostly classics) and well-written romance novels. They obviously have read and love books like Harry Potter and Tolkien and Bradbury… but they try not to let Dwight know.