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title taken from: "Hero" by Family Of The Year :)


"Have you noticed that Mr. Scott's been hanging up casting audition posters round the halls?"

"You're not serious."

"Dead serious. There's one just outside the canteen, if you want proof."

"Sure." Pam granted him her signature grin before standing up from her stool and flouncing out the canteen door.

Jim walked slightly behind, unable to stop his own grin from forming.

(It had been a week since the fateful party, and of course, neither of them had mentioned it since. He couldn't really say he was surprised - Pam was great, but she didn't seem like the type of person to confront important things head-on. Jim knew she was more of a people-pleaser; that she tended to put others first.)

"I cannot believe this." Her laugh broke his from his thoughts.

Pam stared up at him, giggling and shaking her head. Her curls bounced around, but Jim certainly did not notice that.

"Believe it, Beesly. Great Scott Productions is creating a movie."

"Do you think there's actually anyone else on his production team?"

"Um…" He pretended to think for a moment, before saying matter-of-factly: "Absolutely not."

Pam squinted at the small, black-and-white poster, apparently reading the details. "Threat Level Midnight. Looks like it's a spy thriller, or something. He's asking for anyone to audition; seems like there's a variety of parts."

"We should audition."

"Oh my God," Pam scoffed. "No. Never."

"It could be fun," he tried to persuade her. If they both auditioned, it would buy him at least another half hour of time with her. "Who knows, we might even run into Dwight."

"He'll be auditioning for the Bond girl character, definitely."

"Ah, yes."

Pam sighed. "This is kinda sad. I don't think anyone's gonna show up."

"Which is exactly why we should go."

Pam raised an eyebrow, but finally conceded. "Okay, fine, fine. But only because it'll get me out Kelly's daily hour-long Ryan session."


They met outside Scott's classroom - although the posters called it his "office" - 5 minutes later than they were supposed to, but since there was nobody else waiting, Jim guessed it didn't really matter. He held the door open and they both walked in, unsure of what exactly to expect.

As it turned out, Dwight was, in fact, there. A group of blue plastic lab chairs were sat in a circle in the middle of the room, with Scott at the head and Dwight sitting in the chair beside him, practically crawling into his lap with how close he was.

"Are the auditions still going on?" Pam broke the silence.

Scott looked up from the clipboard in his hands and seemed shocked to see them standing there. "No, no! Still going. Still going strong. Strong like a ship, like a friendship, like…" He shook his head, thankfully stopping himself from rambling for any longer. "We've had few good auditions so far, so there's a little competition. I hope you can handle it."

"I think we can." Jim answered, trying not to laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"You think?" Dwight piped up, intently giving Jim the once-over. "Or do you know?"

"I think."

"Anyway!" Scott called, interrupting Dwight from whatever he was going to say next. "Mr. Halpert and Mrs. Beesly…"

"Oh, actually I'm not mar-" Pam began, but Scott just talked over her.

"Is it okay if I call you guys James and Pamela? I just feel like that sounds more friendly, you know. It sets the mood a little better."

"Sure."

"Good! We can get going, finally." He turned to Dwight, stage-whispering for him to "retrieve the actors the scripts." Dwight somehow understood what he meant, and handed Jim and Pam a stack of paper each.

"The whole script," Pam whispered, gleefully. Jim only nodded in response.

"Take a seat." Scott gestured to the seats next to him, but Jim and Pam chose to sit as far away from Dwight and their professor as possible.

"So, James can read the part of Goldenface." Scott began, seemingly thinking hard about the process of the script-reading. "And Mrs. Pamela… You will be reading for the part of Catherine Zeta Jones."

Jim shot her a raised-eyebrow kind of look: is he for real?

"I will be reading the action commentary, as well as Agent Michael Scarn, and Dwight… Dwight will be reading the role of Samuel L. Chang."

"Thank you, sir."

Dwight nodded curtly to Pam and Jim before flicking to the first real page of the script, a good 10 or so pages in due to the "ideal cast list", drawings, and terrible photoshop creations at the beginning.

"Agent Michael Scarn is sitting in his office with his feet propped up on the desk, as Catherine Zeta Jones enters…"


"So, do you think we got the parts?"

"Maybe. I think Dwight was very professional when reading for his role, though."

"Mm-hm. I think Michael should be given an award. That screenplay was certainly… Something."

Pam laughed, unable to keep the joke running any longer. "I'm sorry, but that was just terrible."

"God, I know. They were getting so into it, too… I feel bad for them, honestly."

Pam adjusted the strap of her shoulder-bag and shot Jim a glowing smile. "Do you want to know a secret?"

"Sure." They stopped walking, and Pam leaned her back against the grey-speckled wall behind her to rummage about it her bag.

"I kept mines. As a souvenir." She retrieved the script and held it in front of her face, triumphantly.

"Beesly, you are a genius." Jim shook his head in wonder of what she had done. Michael - or, at least, Dwight - would certainly realise that the copy was missing at some point; it took guts to take it.

(Even though she was wonderful, Pam just wasn't the type of person Jim would call "brave." She spoke quietly all the time, even in crowds, she didn't seem to have many other friends outside of their group - not that Jim was complaining, as it gave him more time to spend just with her - and he had seen for himself the way she spoke to and about Roy. Moments of pure bravery, without over-consideration of possible consequences to her actions, were rare with Pam. Jim treasured them for that very reason.)

"I know," she grinned, stuffing the script back into her bag. She was still smiling, Jim noticed, even as they walked down the hallway and got into the elevator to take them back to Pam's floor.

Neither could be sure who the noise came from, but the sound of a rumbling stomach broke the comfortable silence they had been in since getting on the elevator. The both agreed that they were pretty hungry - it had been a while since lunch, after all - and Jim somehow persuaded her to let him use the communal toaster in her floor's utility room to make his "world-famous" grilled cheese for them both.

"Are you sure they're world famous?" Pam flopped down into one of the only two chairs in the tiny room, her hair bouncing.

"Positive. I've received numerous commendations."

"Ah, of course."

"Seriously, though. They're good." The toaster popped, and Jim carefully picked out the first sandwich, dropping it on the plate when it burned his fingertips. "Try it. I'll bet you 10 bucks that it's amazing."

"I'll accept that bet." She swung herself up from the chair, and leaned against the counter above the grilled cheese, imitating Jim's pose, instead of heading back to the table.

"Smells good, at least. I'll give you that."

"Thank you." He replied sincerely. The toaster popped for a second time, so he turned his attention back to pulling the sandwich out and setting in down on his own plate. "Hey, um…" He started, surprising even himself. "This guy in class, Darryl, showed me this place, on the roof. It's pretty cool, y'know, and I was just wondering… Would you like to go up there with me?"

"Right now?"

"Um, yeah." He ran one hand over his hair, not caring that it messed everything up.

"Sure!" A small smile seemed to be playing at her lips. She picked up her plate, with the grilled cheese on top, still steaming with heat.

"Really?" He reached for his own makeshift dinner.

"Yeah, 'course. Where do we go?"

"Oh, um. I'll just show you, it's easier than explaining." Moving past Pam to the door proved a little awkward due to the narrowness of the small room, but nevertheless, he was soon leading the way down the hallway, up in the elevator, and into a room on the highest floor of the building marked "ROOF".

He managed to jiggle the door open (Darryl said although it wasn't technically meant to be accessed by students, the door was so old that by putting enough pressure on the handle and frame, it would eventually open anyway.)

It opened into a bleak-looking room with a lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, some rickety, old wooden stairs, and not much else. Jim flicked on the singular light by the lone switch on the wall, not that it really made much difference.

"I can carry yours, if you want. Just, 'cause, it might be a little tricky to get up the ladder while you're holding the plate."

"But then you'd be carrying a plate in each hand." She giggled, as if he was an idiot. He guessed she was probably right.

"Okay, I didn't think of that."

"Yeah, 'thought so."

He carefully stepped onto the bottom stair. It emanated a pretty scary creak, but after testing it gently with both feet, Jim determined it would still hold his weight. He slowly limbed the stairs, balancing the plate in one hand and holding the railing or dear life with the other, until he reached the top.

It was a worn-out little trap-door, with a hole to the left side. Darryl had showed him how to shove it with just the right amount of force to let it open. He did as he was taught, and thankfully managed to get it open and pushed to the side without dropping his plate.

"It's open." He called down to Pam, who upon his instructions had not begun climbing the stairs yet.

"Okay, I'm coming!"

Jim scrambled up the last stair, finally climbing out into the open air.

It was a nice change from the stuffy, dusty air of the little room he had previously been in. Although it wasn't completely dark outside, yet, but the sun was definitely beginning to set, and so the landscape in the distance was covered in a dark blue, not-quite-dark-but-getting-there kind of light.

There were a few cheap yellow fold-out chairs sat out, just a couple of feet away from where he was standing - pretty much every student in the years above knew about the roof, and the stoner kids went up there to get high, sometimes. Fortunately, the place was deserted.

Except for he and Pam.

(And it just felt right. The sense of independence, like they were a couple of 10-year-olds discovering a clearing in the woods for the first time. The roof seemed like it was theirs, even though, rationally, he knew they were obviously not the first people to go there.)

"Oh, it's pretty."

Pam had managed to clamber out onto the surface of the roof. She was clutching her plate of grilled cheese protectively with both hands, and was wearing a broad smile on her face, and Jim just really, really wanted to kiss her.

"I think I love you," he said, but instead it came out as, "I know."

"Hey, there's seats out here and everything. This is fancy."

"Yeah. Yellow fold-outs. The epitome of class."

"So witty today, Halpert." She moved to stand next to him, lingering for a moment before pulling two of the fold-outs further from the others, moving them a just a little closer to the edge, sitting them next to each other.

"I try." He made his way to where she presently stood, as if she was waiting for permission, or something. Waiting for the go-ahead.

Jim sat down with his plate in his lap, and Pam followed suit, and then there was just silence for a moment.

(But it wasn't awkward. It could have been, if it were anyone else sitting next to him. But things were hardly ever awkward with Pam, now, not even when his impulses to hide or kiss her or tell her everything that ran through his head were so strong he was actually afraid he might do them.)

"I concede. This is, in fact, probably the best grilled cheese sandwich I have ever eaten in my life."

"Told you so." Jim grinned at her, and guessed it was probably time to start on his own dinner.

"So, uh, how's Rick? Your cousin?"

"Good, I think. Haven't spoke much since we last saw him, though."

"Huh."

"What?" He managed to disguise his confusion with a short laugh.

Pam chewed pensively for a moment, deep in thought. Eventually she replied, "I just thought you were closer."

"Oh."

"Yeah. Just, from the way you hung out at his party, it just seemed like… I guess it just seemed like you were the type of person who was close to his family."

"I don't know. I mean, we're pretty close, I guess. We keep up with each other's lives through Facebook, at the very least."

"Yeah."

"What about you?"

(He just really, really wanted to keep talking to her.)

She hummed and set her sandwich down on the plate, carefully balancing it in her lap once more. "I don't really have any cousins, or anything. I guess, out of everyone, I talk to my mom the most often."

"Who else is there?"

"In my family?"

"Yeah. You hardly talk about them; I'm curious, Beesly."

"It just never comes up." She glanced so quickly at him; Jim almost missed it. "Well, there's my mom and dad, who… They're married and everything, but they're pretty bland." She laughed, nervously. Jim wanted to hug her. "And then there's my younger sister. She's still in high school, obviously. Sophomore."

"Do you miss them?"

"Of course."

The night was starting to get cold. Jim focused on eating his already lukewarm grilled cheese before it froze.

"What made you want to take Business Management?"

Honestly, he was surprised Pam would want to continue the conversation like that. She wasn't usually one to ask questions, to really engage.

"I wanna be a business manager someday."

"Ha." She rolled her eyes. "No, but really. Why'd you take it?"

"It's interesting. I didn't get to study it in high school, and it's always something I've found pretty cool… And I really do want to be a manager someday. When we were 16, my friend and I said we were gonna start our own business as soon as we left College."

"And are you?"

He let out a short, humourless laugh. "No."

Pam seemed to understand the meaning behind his short response. "I'm sure you'll get to be a manager someday. You seem good at leadership."

"Thanks." He couldn't help but grin at her compliment. "But what about you? Why'd you choose Art?"

"I love art. I really like to draw, and some people have said I'm good at it." She shrugged. "I think I'd like to have a career out of it, someday."

"You will." He knew this for sure. Pam was the most remarkable person he had ever met.


sorry for the pretty late update! our wifi's been quite bad recently (though we're getting faster connection on the 21st!) but thankfully i managed to get it up here before midnight :) thanks for reading!