another later upload :/ sorry! 5th year is keeping me v busy.

title taken from: "We Might Be Dead By Tomorrow" by Soko :)

"We might need to have a small change of plans."

"Hm?" Jim looked up from his coffee, which he had been staring into for possibly the last 10 minutes.

"I thought Kelly was gonna be out tonight, but apparently she's going to stay in tonight to Skype her sisters back home."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She glanced down, quickly, just so she wouldn't have to make eye contact. She didn't want to see disappointment in his face.

"Well, I think Dwight's out tonight, too."

"Really?"

"Yep." He took a short sip of his drink. It looked hot. "He's going back to the farm."

"Farm?"

"Beet farm."

"Oh. Right." She wondered what Jim meant by telling her that Dwight was gone. Surely he didn't mean-

"So we could study at mines, if you want."

Oh. She didn't know what to say - she was grateful, of course, and she really did want to study with him; he made things fun and simultaneously was actually pretty knowledgable about the course - but at the same time, she wasn't so sure about going to his room.

(Not that she thought Jim would ever "try anything". It wasn't anything like that - but, she had noticed that he perhaps had a little bit of a crush on her. Maybe.)

"I don't know…"

"We could leave the door open," he offered, seemingly only half-joking. "It's fine if you don't want to. Like, I totally get it, it's just… I feel like it'll be better to study with a partner, y'know?"

"Okay." She surprised even herself. "That sounds fine. Sorry, by the way - about freaking out, sort of… Sorry."

"No problem."

"So…"

"Can I meet you somewhere beforehand? Only, I don't really know where your room is…"

"No, that's fine."

"Great."

"The canteen?"

"Sure!"

"Great."

"Great."

It was the first really awkward conversation they'd had in weeks. Pam just wanted to hide.

"Why are you packing up all your books?" Kelly asked from her place on her own bed. She wrinkled her nose in apparent disgust.

"Studying with Jim. I said I'd meet him in, like-" she checked her phone. "10 minutes."

"Oh." Kelly nodded understandingly, and went back to painting her toenails. "Studying." She added the last part in a way that probably would've used air quotes if her hands hadn't been otherwise occupied.

"Yeah. Studying."

"No, I believe you."

"Okay, then-"

"I'm just saying, Pam," she broke herself off with an exasperated sigh. "It can be really confusing when you say things like that. I mean, studying? Really? With a boy, in his room?"

"But I'm really not-"

"That could mean, like, anything." Kelly concluded.

"Well, not in this case." Pam replied, finishing packing all her History materials into the old, worn-out satchel she had prepared.

(She might have been acting little crazy, but Pam had to admit that Kelly did have a point. Well, maybe. She had grown to learn that "studying" with members of the other sex had certain connotations in college. Especially, it seemed, in the eyes of her roommate.)

"Hey!" She found Jim leaning against the wall of the canteen entrance. His hair was even more messy than usual, so Pam could assume he had been running his hands through it an awful lot. He seemed to do that when he was nervous, she noticed.

"Oh! Hey." He replied, startled. "Sorry. Didn't see you coming."

"Yeah, I'm notoriously good at sneaking up on people." She rolled her eyes.

"Absolutely." Jim looked around the empty hall once before asking: "Shall we?"

"We shall."

Jim took off in the direction of the elevators, with Pam close behind.

"You're the floor above, right?"

"Yep."

"Cool."

Jim pushed the button to call the elevator, shooting her one of his trademark grins when their eyes met.

"Isn't Dwight studying?" Pam asked, just to make conversation.

(Except she wasn't really sure whether she'd rather Dwight be in the room with them or not. The prospect of being alone with a boy - Jim? - in his room was rather daunting.)

"Yeah. He's back at the farm just now, left right after business. I guess he'll probably spend his time there to study."

"Oh."

"Yeah. I bet-"

He cut himself off as the elevator doors dinged open. "After you."

"Thanks." She stepped in, adjusting the strap of her satchel on her shoulder.

Jim followed suit, punching in the number of his floor - 4. He tapped one hand constantly against his side for the entirety of the short elevator ride.

After what felt like an eternity to Pam, the elevator finally came to a stop, and the old doors shuddered open.

Pam had never been on this floor before. All she really knew was that this was where the majority of the boys in the Dunder-Mifflin block lived - including Dwight, Jim, Ryan, and Kevin Malone.

Jim's room was around halfway down the hall. It was a little shocking - was that the word? - how similar their rooms looked, at least from the outside. The same boring grey wall; the same boring tan door.

(Maybe she just never pictured Jim that way.)

"Here lies my humble abode," Jim grinned, gesturing with one limp hand towards the door. The little plaque beside it read in block letters: "DWIGHT SCHRUTE and JAMES HALPERT." She thought about how the plaque she and Kelly shared was almost identical to this one, except where Dwight and Jim's names should have been, it instead proclaimed: "PAMELA BEESLY and KELLY KAPOOR."

"Very unique."

"Ah, yes. I'm sure you will be even more impressed with the interior, however." He pushed down the door handle carefully, opening the creaky door slowly, like he was afraid something might jump out at him.

The door opened the full way, and Pam was finally able to see the entire interior of Jim's room. The basics - the things that were in all dorm rooms, in all of the buildings on their campus - the twin beds and desks; closet, and the A4 laminated sheet of paper detailing the school rules concerning dorm rooms. Pam was pretty sure that they were breaking at least one of the rules at present.

It was pretty easy to tell which side of the room was Dwight's and which belonged to Jim. The right was pretty plain overall; beige sheets, textbooks neatly stacked on a shelf by the bed. The only thing that really stood out was the shelf above the headboard, which sat a seemingly countless number of trophies, medallions, and plaques. It was hard to tell what they were for, though she could make out the words, "Junior Fireman Assistant" on 4 of them.

The left side had more personality: pale blue bedsheets, a few colourful posters on the wall (The Decemberists tour poster being one of them, which she made a mental note to tease him about later), and two shelves full of an array of CDs, movies, and books. His textbooks were scattered haphazardly over the bed and on his (already untidy) desk.

"Everything okay?" Jim asked, somewhat nervously.

"Just taking it in." Pam replied, still looking around the room. When she had finished her survey, she turned back to her friend. "Have you got your books?"

"Yeah, yeah, just one sec." He rummaged through the small pile of books stacked on his desk until he finally retrieved the History books.

"So, how do you normally study?" Pam wasn't really sure where to sit, so she wheeled his desk chair closer to the bed and flopped down there.

"Um," Jim perched on the edge of his bed. "I'm not really sure, to be honest."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't really study," he began. Upon seeing her incredulous face, he stammered to correct himself. "I mean, I obviously did for finals, a little, you know? But that was mostly with the help of my mom and brothers, so…"

"So you've never properly studied? For anything?"

"I guess not." He shot her a sheepish grin, but at the same time didn't seem to be so sure of what her reaction could be.

"I suppose I can't really say I'm surprised…"

"Hilarious, Beesly." He rolled his eyes at her. "But are you gonna help me?"

"Of course." She nodded frantically, probably too many times, and lunged for her satchel, which she had abandoned by the doorwomen she came in.

Pam Beesly was always one of the pupils in school who over-prepared for some exams, and hardly studied for others. She was always hopeless at Maths, and so at some point she had given up completely on studying for the class tests, and ended up flunking the subject for senior year.

However she excelled at Art, and studied for weeks before the theory exams. She ended up getting an A.

For their study session, she had packed all the History textbooks she owned, her laptop (though she doubted that would be much use) and about 6 highlighters.

Jim, however, appeared to only have prepared a few textbooks, and a pencil.

"Okay, so we're going to study - properly - for 10 minutes, then have a break. That's always worked for me, and it's good to have short breaks every once in a while, you know?"

"Sure."

The first couple minutes of studying were actually going well, until Jim started to lose concentration.

"Would you mind if I put on some music? It helps me focus better."

"No, that's fine." She hesitated a moment before asking what she really wanted to know. "Do you have trouble focusing a lot?"

Jim shoved a CD into the small stereo balanced precariously on the edge of his desk. His finger hovered over the play button before answering: "Yeah, I guess. I kind of always have, though, so it's fine."

"Oh."

(It made sense. There were a lot of things that Pam noticed about Jim, with the main thing being that he was always moving. He couldn't seem to sit still. Usually he bounced his leg rapidly under the desk in class, sometimes he tapped his hand against his thigh, but he was almost never still.)

The stereo whirred for a second before playing the first track. It was a song Pam didn't recognise, beginning with a drum beat and twang-y guitar.

"Our children will always hear

Romantic tales of distant years

Our gilded age may come and go

Our crooked dreams will always flow…"

The singer continued, though Pam couldn't make out any more of the lyrics. His voice was soft and smooth; calming, even.

"What song is this?"

Jim looked up from his textbook. "Heaven, I think. By The Walkmen?"

She shook her head. "Never heard of it. It's really good, though. I like it."

"Thanks." When he grinned at her, her stomach did a funny little flutter.

(Maybe she shouldn't have ignored it.

She did.)

"I am going to die of boredom." Jim declared. They had only been studying for about 40 minutes, but even Pam was starting to feel the effect.

The song was now a gloomy, soft one - the only lyric she could make out was "I'll sleep inside your chest" but nevertheless she liked it.

"Do you want to stop?" She offered, flipping the pages of her notebook. They gave a satisfying "floop" noise.

"Do you mind? I know you wanted to be prepared."

She sighed through her nose. "Not really. I think we've done all we can do, considering he didn't give us a study guide or anything." She started to gather up her things - over the course of the evening, all her textbooks had been spread out across the floor, and she was pretty sure that at least 2 of her highlighters had found their way under Dwight's bed.

"Need some help?"

"Sure, thanks."

Jim crouched beside her, grabbing the outlying books and placing them on the little stack she had made on the floor. He reached out one arm under Dwight's bed, grimacing comically as he did so, and managed to retrieve the lost highlighters.

Pam stuffed her things into the satchel and was just adjusting the strap on her shoulder, getting ready to go back to her room, when Jim asked her to wait.

The song had changed, now, to some strange song with what seemed like a banjo playing the melody. The singer's voice soon joined in:

"Baby, you've been going so crazy,

Lately, nothing seems to be going right

Solo, why'd you have to get so low?

You're so - You've been waiting in the sun too long…"

"I have something for you," Jim held up one finger, indicating that he would only take a second. Pam waited patiently, and the song emerged into the chorus:

"But if you sing,

Sing,

Sing, sing, sing, sing

For the love you bring won't mean a thing,

Unless you sing, sing, sing, sing…"

"Got it," Jim pulled out a pink garment from over the back of his suitcase. It took Pam a minute to realise what it was he was showing her, but then it clicked.

"My pink hoodie!"

"Yeah," he laughed, nervously. "I meant to give it back ages ago, but I forgot, and now I guess I've kept it for a while…" He offered it to her, one-handed.

"Thank you." She took it - it wasn't in any bad shape; just looked as if it was brand new. She couldn't resist teasing him about it, however. "You got it smelling all boy-like, though."

"Sorry."

"It's okay." She folded it over her arm. It was so soft.

"I'll see you around, then?"

"Yeah." She rocked up onto the balls of her feet and back again a couple times, waiting to see if there was anything else he wanted to say. It seemed like there might be.

(There never was.)

"I'll see you tomorrow." She offered, politely.

"See you tomorrow." He stuck out his hand.

(What she done next surprised even herself. Later she would blame it on her tiredness, and the fact that she had just spent 40 minutes studying for a test she was given no material for, and, yes, that he was her best friend.)

She impulsively wrapped her arms around him.

He was soft, and smelled of fabric softener - the cheap, off-brand kind - and dust. Once he realised what was going on, he slowly rested his arms around her back, so gentle that she probably wouldn't even know he was there if not for the tingly feeling she got whenever he touched her.

"Hey," he said softly, and she felt the vibrations of his chest. "You okay there, Beesly?"

She said nothing, only nodding her head minutely.

The hug lasted longer than usual platonic friend-hugs usually did. Both were aware of this fact, but neither mentioned it. Pam resisted the urge to apologise for what had happened, but she knew that would only make things even more weird.

The last few chords of the song struck out into the room.

"Bye, Jim."

The look on his face as he wished her goodnight gave her the same strange fluttery feeling in her stomach again.

(When she realised what it was, she absolutely repressed it.)

(And so did he.

For a while longer, at least.)

as always, thank you for your continued reads/views/reviews :) it seriously means a lot.