Title: His and Hers
Disclaimer: The Office does not belong to a seventeen year old Jewish girl. Life is not that cool.
Summary: Pam's a stalker. But only for Jim.
Pairing: Jim/Karen-ish Jim/Pam
Spoilers: Somewhere in-between the beginning to middle of the 3rd season.
Notes: Not totally sure where this is going, and turned out different then where it began, but I still like it. Also, I couldn't remember how to spell Pam's last name, so please correct me if I'm wrong. Thank you.
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What is it people call this? Gimp? No, lanyard. Both names sound strange, and have no connection to the colorful plastic that's woven together to form a rectangle, or if you're really creative, a cylinder. Pam drops the shinny blue and silver plastic key-chain when she sees two people come in. Hand in hand, the distance between them is so naught it's positivity sinful. The man brushes a strand away from the other's face, and Pam unconsciously brushes her own hair away from her cheek. She moves behind an aisle, telling herself it's because she suddenly has an undeniable need to bake a cake. In reality she wants to see them without anyone's notice.
Especially Theirs.
Peering over the top of Betty Crocker's Double Fudge, Pam sees The man pulls out one of those huge carts you'd expect a soccer mom use, not two late-twenty to early-thirty couple who live no more than two blocks from each other and go shopping every Tuesday night together because Veronica Mars is on then, and they can't possibly mock a show without snacks, can they?
One good thing about the new seating arrangement in the office, Pam can overhear a lot more conversations than she used to.
She moves over to the fresh produce, grabbing a grapefruit, because, damn it, she does like them, even if no one else does, and she figures that until her stomach stops dropping every moment she looks up from her desk, she's entitled.
The woman grabs a banana, and reenacts some movie scene. The man is doubled over in laughter, leaning against the apples. Pam can't help but remember the only time she was the only one to make Him laugh like that. And her insides squeeze like someone is pouring unsweetened grapefruit juice down her throat.
She moves over to the lettuce, pretending like this decision can make or break her sandwiches, while she really wonders why she keeps on coming: this store, this day, this time. Why she has to watch them like this, so carefree and happy. Why she tortures herself over and over.
Because it's what Jim went through. She suddenly realizes. It's been why she's been torturing herself these past weeks. Why she keeps coming. She feels indebted to Jim, and she's trying to repay him. But it's killing her. It's killing her and she can't stop.
Is this how he always felt like? She can't help but wonder. But it couldn't have. He didn't act like it. Awkward was Jim and Roy but they weren't friends, didn't really know each other. It made sense they wouldn't be friendly. It made sense for Jim's eyes to narrow when she talked, was with Roy.
Sometimes she's so good at pretending, she doesn't even notice it anymore. She does, however, notice that she can't find The couple.
She moves over to the cereal isle, with the great advantage point for the magazine/book rack, where the woman always drags The Man over to, so they can mock the romance novel covers. Her time is off though, or the ritual has changed, because when she reaches the Cheerios, The woman is alone. And suddenly she knows He's behind her. With a sharp spin, her back is to the bright yellow box, and she's looking at Him. See's Him. And He's smiling at her.
"Hey there, Pam." She doesn't want to say anything, wants to turn around and run out the store. Quit jobs, move away, and then do something impulsive, like join the circus. Instead, she smiles.
"Hey."
"I've seen you here late-"
"My apartment's just five minutes away." If you add ten minutes to that amount. He's still smiling, and Pam feels like she should just confess. Tell Him she's been watching them, knows His favorite brand of cheese, that He grabs food from the back just like her, and He likes to push the cart by Himself. Instead she smiles again, it feels so uncertain.
"What're you buying?" She holds up her basket to Him, and gives Him a nod to root around in it. With a smile He moves the food around, picking up the grapefruit. "Really Beesly." She gives Him a real smile while He shakes His head disapprovingly at her.
"I like them."
"They're sour."
"Not if you put sugar on them. And," A fact pops in her head she's pretty sure is true, "half a grapefruit a day is known to increase brain function."
"And where'd you get that bit of information from?" He's tossing the fruit between both hands, and she has to work hard not to get distracted from it, not to let her eyes drop...
"The grapefruit people." It's so easy, this feeling He gives her. Like how you can say anything and not feel idiotic.
"You're too trusting Beesly, what if the Grapefruit People were lying?" The laughter bubbles out, unintentionally, because it feels so good to talk to him, like they used to, no awkward pauses, no unanswered questions, just easy answers and quick wits. She wonders (for the infinite time) why she didn't realize earlier that He was the only one who could make her laugh at grapefruit. He joins in, his laughter a chuckle, and she has to go and ruin it.
"Did it hurt?" He looks momentarily confused by that statement (she couldn't possibly mean) and so comes to an unlikely conclusion,
"Naw, a grapefruit couldn't hurt me."
"I meant watching Roy and I. Together." The grapefruit drops to the ground, but neither lean to pick it up. Neither even act as if they heard it drop.
"Pam." So much longing in that voice.
"Because it hurts me. When I watch you and Karen. I feel like I'm breaking when I see you together." The basket seems so heavy in her arms, she wants to put it down, run away, but she keeps in her arms instead. Intent on staying for this. And it's keeping her anchored.
"Then why do you come every Tuesday?" She never understood books when they said they could see emotions in peoples eyes. Eyes are just that. Eyes. But Jim's, His were expressive. She prided herself on finally being able to understand what all those romance novels were talking about when she looked in His eyes and saw (still can see) humor, happiness, and now, painful longing. It makes her look away.
"Because." And the tears are beginning to pool. She blinks them back, tries to, but they're too fat, too big, and some slide down her cheek. "Because I hurt you. Right? Unintentional. But there it was."
"Pam."
"And I'm sorry. More sorry than when I cut off all my hair in the tenth grade. More when I first started driving and backed up into a pole. More so than when I told you that swaying wasn't dancing. That's why I didn't call you after I canceled the wedding. Because how to you apologize for that? How do you apologize for falling in love with someone and not realizing it? And then I missed you so much when you were gone. No buffer for Dwight, Michael, no companion, no best friend that understood me so completely and I never realized it. I never realized it. Months past, and I couldn't seem to work up the nerve to call you. And then I thought I was being tacky, telling you in September that I ended my marriage in June. Trying to explain something that I'd run through my head so many times I was sure it'd sound rehearsed." Her voice is choking on the tears, the emotions, but she goes on, she needs to get this out. On the cereal aisle of WinCo she needs to confess it. "So then you were coming back, and I was so happy. I could explain it. Explain my behavior, ask your forgiveness, get you back. I wanted you back."
"Pam." His voice sounds a bit urgent, but she can't stop. She can't stop.
"But you didn't want me. You know that quote, absence makes the heart grow fonder? It seems like absence has the opposite affect on you." She feels a small insane chuckle gather at the back of her throat, but she pushes her down, trying to finish what she apparently must say, "We were broken, and I didn't know how to fix it. So I waited and I watched. I'm still waiting, still watching." She meets his eyes for this. She needs to. "And I'm going to continue to wait. To watch. Until you fall in love with me again. I don't care how long it takes. I'll get you back. I'm going to get you back." His voice is horse when he speaks, but there's no malice.
"And so watching my shopping habits is going to help you with that?"
"Remember when Kevin was waiting to see if he was going to be diagnosed with skin cancer so we went off to buy him gifts?"
"Yeah."
"I miss stuff like that. This reminds me of it." Pam is tired and unsure of what she's accomplished by this declaration and so sort of does a half-turn, looking for the grapefruit she realizes isn't in Jim's hands. He finds it first, and when Jim bends down to pick it up, she wonders if she can't dump her basket somewhere and make it to her car before she begins sobbing. Jim is suddenly right next to her. Grabbing her basket and dropping the grapefruit into it. Her arms feel like they're floating without the extra weight, and Pam wonder abstractly why He's placing it on the floor. She doesn't have much time to think about it however, because the distance between them shortens into nothing, and His hands frame her face. She doesn't mind.
"I miss stuff like that too." And then He kisses her, it's not like the last kiss they shared. Not as soft, but not rough either. She isn't being pushed into the cereal poxes, her shirt isn't being ripped open, but her hair is being combed though, her neck massaged, her tongue being used in a way that hasn't been in so long. And then she stops thinking altogether. Oxygen is one of those tricky things you forget about until you don't have it anymore. And it was probably the only reason those two parted.
"So this is what it's like to get seduced by Pam." He said thoughtfully, His thumb stroking her cheek. Her laughter bubbles, and she has to fight for breath.
"It wasn't my intention, I assure you."
"Well that's good to know." Karen said.
And Pam felt her happy, light, soaring heart, fall.
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WIP.
Hey, you know what you should do know? Make yourself a snack. And then review me and tell me about it. And if you feel like it, after you're done talking about the food, you should tell me what you think about this story. But ONLY after you talk about the food. Because THAT's what I want to hear about. :)