Chapter title: Slow Down.
Chapter summary: He feels far too lonely to complain about it though.
Author's note: Sorry for the wait! I'll try and have all this posted by the end of the summer. Thanks for the comments and favourites. I appreciate them all greatly. The chapter title is from the song of the same title by The Academy Is… I would check it out.
Three weeks seemed like a decent amount of time. But two weeks comes too quickly and everyday he checks a square off the calendar. Ryan feels like vomiting.
She came over, like she said she would. She would stay late, sitting next to him on floor, sometimes not even talking, just watching a game or the news. He likes her presence, though. Her sweet smelling shampoo, her tan arms, her new, flirty dresses. The city changed her, but unlike him, it's for the better.
He texts her every night. She goes to bed earlier then he does, usually around 10 or 11. It's never profound, it's not like he loves her or anything. He just wants her to know he appreciates her company, even if she's just hanging around him because she feels bad for him, which she figures is the case.
He feels far too lonely to complain about it though.
When she comes over on a Tuesday afternoon, they're sitting on his bed, playing gold fish. There's a thud on the door and an envelope slides across the carpet. They stare at it before he crawls over the bed, looking down. His name is sloppily scribbled on the front. Sighing, he picks it up, then looks at her.
"Read it for me." Her mouth twitches, but she nods gravely, taking the envelope from him.
"Oh…" Her face falls slightly. "You're late on your rent."
He stops pacing the floor, groaning. "Fuck," he mutters, falling backwards on the bed. "I have to find a roommate." He punches the mattress, staring up at the ceiling. "I can't afford this place anymore. I'm going to have to move."
He rubs his knuckles into his eyes. "This is the last thing I need right now."
She curls up like a cat, looking over at him. "I could ask around at my school," she offers gently.
He peers at her. "Mind not mentioning that I'm probably going to jail?" he mumbles.
The smile on her face is sad but her expression becomes thoughtful. "What… what if I move in with you?"
It's quiet and he blinks a few times, lifting his head to look at her better. "Really?" And he feels hopeful for the first time in a few months.
"I mean… You need a roommate and PRATT isn't far from here. I make enough. Plus… it could be fun." She smiles, lifting her eyebrows.
"Pam," he says, reaching over and kissing her forehead. "I think I might love you a little bit right now."
And she giggles, a blush rising to her cheeks.
"Thank you," he says quietly, the usually small and gloomy apartment feeling bright and comfortable.
"You're welcome."
They start making plans shortly after.
She gets permission to leave her dorm before the semester ends. He puts her name on the lease. She packs up the few items she has. He sets up the futon, where he'll be sleeping. It doesn't bother him as much as it probably should have.
And she moves in on Saturday.
He makes sure the apartment is clean.
"So. Think this is going to work?" he asks as she sinks onto the edge of the bed.
She looks nervous, lifting her face towards his. "Mmhm."
"You all right?" he asks, sitting down next to her.
She lets out a breath, her hands palm down on her thighs. "Yeah, this is just… really new to me." Her gaze softens. "I don't regret doing this," she says firmly. "Honestly."
She sounds like she's trying to convince herself.
"Ok," he says nodding. He grins, patting her hand. "Don't worry, all right?"
And she nods, her body relaxing.
The first night in the apartment, she sleeps in his bed and he sleeps on the futon. He forgot that it's the futon from hell. He ends up curled at the foot of the bed by morning.
She doesn't say anything about it, because the next night, he's spooning with her on the futon. They don't talk about it. Sometimes they fall asleep on the floor in front of the TV.
Needless to say, Ryan was getting to know her better then he had known any ex-coworker. Even Kelly.
He's stretched out on the bed, aimlessly flipping through a magazine because really, if he sits still too long, he'll start thinking of the hearing next week. And that just doesn't really appeal to him right now.
He told Pam he was probably going out but when he started to walk out the door, staying in just seemed like a better choice. Really, though, the fear of seeing Wallace or Kendall even Hunter… it makes him sick.
He stays in tonight.
There's a girl living here, definitely. The sheets smell so much cleaner and fresher. His bathroom and kitchen are spotless. There's even food in the fridge.
And usually, the idea of his pad turning into freaking Bed, Bath, and Beyond would scare the shit out of him.
He doesn't mind it too much.
The game is on, as usual.
He falls asleep around nine.
-She's circling around him, wearing a deep purple dress and her eyes. God, her eyes. She's looking at him, laughing and teasing her hair, looking at him like he's a mirror, like she's getting ready to go out.
Her fingers graze over his skin, leaving a trail of goose bumps on his arm. And he tries to reach his hands out but they're bound together with handcuffs that feel so, so, so painfully familiar. And he looks down at his chest.
He's wearing an orange jumpsuit. And he feels nauseous, like he might pass out, but he keeps his eyes on her, like maybe she has a key to free him with.
But she's floating off, her face pale and she's soon replaced by metal bars and fuck, fuck, fuck she's gone and he can't see her anymore and he feels like Harry fuckin' Potter when his damn scar hurts and Ryan thinks his head is just splitting in two.
And he's alone. He's alone. He's alone. He'sallalone.-
The doorknob is turning and he yelps, shaking himself awake, and falling off the side of the bed. "Fuck," he mutters, sitting up shakily.
And the door slams open and Pam's backing up into the wall, Jim on her mouth, and shit, maybe this is a nightmare.
His head throbs; Jesus Christ, he's certainly awake.
He stumbles to his feet, his shin ramming into the nightstand.
"Ryan?" Pam gasps, Jim jumps, and Ryan's bent over, clutching his leg.
"Ryan?" Jim's voice holds… disgust. And holy hell, Ryan's not in the mood to deal with this dillhole right now. "What's he doing here?"
"I live here," Ryan growls, straightening up carefully.
"He lives here?"
"No, Jim, wait--!"
"You said you moved in with a girl from school!"
"I know, but, I just though you'd be mad-"
"Mad? Mad? I'm furious!"
"Jim, come on, it's not what you think!"
"How do you know what I'm thinking? How can you comprehend how pissed I am? You moved in with another guy and lied about it!"
"If you'd let me explain-"
Ryan groans, managing to limp over to the futon. Shit, everything hurts right now. He's tense as fuck. Shit, shit, shit.
"Ryan, Ryan are you ok?" she asks, moving towards him, her face white and eyes red.
"Pam, what the hell? I'm talking to you!" Jim says gruffly, his voice exasperated, and a rush of cold fury surges through Ryan's gut.
"Hey, leave her alone," he manages, holding his head and glaring at the way too tall salesman from between his fingers.
Jim's eyes flash, and shit, maybe he shouldn't have said that.
"Excuse me?" Jim asks, his voice low and deadly sounding.
"Leave her alone."
And fuck the sky if his head wasn't hurting before. Jim's fist makes contact with his eye. He feels the uncomfortable futon underneath his head.
Crap, his head. It fucking hurts.
xxxxxxx
Her fingers are touching his skin once more, and maybe he's having a coma dream, or something. Maybe getting knocked out wasn't the worst thing ever…
"Are you smiling, Ryan Howard?" Her voice is sharp and he winces. "This isn't funny. You've been knocked out for half an hour, I've been worried sick!"
He forces his eyes open, the left lid pulsing in pain. "What're you worrying about me for?" he croaks, grimacing as he props himself up. "Don't you think I can take Halpert?"
She glares at him. "Oh yeah, definitely! After you and the futon got cozy, he ran for his life," she snaps sarcastically. She sighs, touching his jaw gently. And he feels goose bumps, feels his jeans tightening painfully.
He holds back a gasp, crossing his legs.
"I'm so sorry, Ryan," she says and she looks pained. Her eyes overflow. "I just… I wanted to help you out and I knew he'd be furious. He… he doesn't like you, really."
"Never would have guessed," he mumbles and she gives a watery smile.
"Do you feel all right?" she asks, biting her lip.
"Well, I'm pretty sure I have a broken shin and my eyes feel like they're pushed into the back of my skull. Oh, and my head feels like someone sliced it with an axe. Did I mention how shitty this futon is?" He scrunches his nose up, pursing his lips. "But I'm great, why'd you ask?"
She narrows her eyes. "You nearly had a concussion and you're being a smart ass? Brave."
He tries to wink but it ends up looking retarded.
"I'll be right back," she laughs, standing up and walking into the kitchen.
He pushes himself up, managing to shuffle towards the bed, helplessly hopping onto it.
Fuck, he feels like he just went through World War III. He's going to have a real nice shiner come tomorrow. Should look swell in court. His stomach knots up, and he buries his face in a pillow.
Her pillow.
He smells oranges. He sees her slipping oranges between her lips.
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck, his dick is hard.
He carefully turns onto his stomach.
She sits next to him, her hand on his back.
"Hey, turn around so I can fix your face," she says, prodding him in the side.
"Just- just give me a second," he says, words muffled against the pillow. He lets out a shaky breath.
Man, he needs to get laid. Like fuck, man.
"All right," he says, edging on his back and looking up at her.
"You're weird, Howard," she tells him, rolling her eyes.
And he nods as she places a rag over his eye. "Yes, yes I am."
He feels a bag of ice on his knee.
"I can't believe this happened," she breathes, her face solemn once more. "He just- I've never seen him so angry."
And he doesn't say anything because her hand is shaking over his eye and that unnerves him.
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you I never told him about you," she continues, her face looking tired and eyes weary. "I just couldn't leave you here alone. You're my friend." Her thumb rubs over his cheekbone.
"But he's your boyfriend. Fiancé." And the word tastes bitter on his tongue.
She inhales, closing her eyes. "If he doesn't hate me."
"No one could ever hate you, Pam."
She chokes out a laugh, her lids fluttering open.
"C'mon," he says with a sigh, scooting over, motioning her to him.
She smiles, crawling next to him, her head hovering near his shoulder.
The pain in his body lessens slightly.