i'd like to just preface this by saying: i know this situation doesnt really make a whole lot of sense in the au/world/whatever that's been established so far. i wanted to find a way to integrate the events of Booze Cruise somehow, because that arc is really important to their relationship and suff, especially in late s2/s3, and this seemed the most plausible way to put it into this au.
anyways, thanks as always for reading/reviewing. :)
title taken from: "Whistle For The Choir" by The Fratellis
It was only a few hours after his fatal mistake that Jim realised the true potential consequences of what he had just done.
Oh, shit.
It all started when Mr. Scott announced to his class that he was conducting free "therapy-slash-guidance-slash-brotime" after certain classes. (And Pam made a joke about how he was most definitely a murderer looking for his next victim and Jim had added some stupid tagline to that and she had held his hand when she shook with laughter and he didn't remember much after that and-)
Anyway.
He hadn't given much thought to it at first. It just seemed like the usual insignificant one-time-wonder things Scott pulled at least once a week. Dwight would probably go, and when their professor realised that Dwight K Schrute was the only student remotely interested in his stunt, he would give it up after only a couple of runs. It happened all the time, and this time was certainly not going to be any different.
Except, his best friend (who he was definitely not secretly in love with, not one bit, nope) was being extra chipper and - confident? - than usual. Except, this best friend of his was joking around and shoving him and laughing a lot more than usual. Except, he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take, if it was all bottled up inside.
(He felt like a shaken-up soda in a cheap plastic bottle.)
And it wasn't as though there was anyone else he could talk to about… Everything. Pam was out of the question, of course. Telling Kelly about all of this was potentially worse than blurting it out to Pam's face, considering how bad Kelly was at keeping secrets like this. And Dwight, well.
The idea (the stupid, stupid, stupid idea) didn't come to him until much later, although it was well on its' way to erupting.
"Tuna sandwich, again?"
Jim looked up from his aforementioned pathetic lunch, only to be met with the crinkled-eye gaze of Pam.
"I thought you weren't coming today."
"Plans changed. Roy cancelled, I think there's a game on." She shrugged it off, like she was used to this happening. "So," she half-sighed, clasping her hands together on the table, like a prayer, or a business meeting.
"So."
"Are you going to the therapy-slash-guidance-slash-guys-night-in with Mr. Scott?"
"Therapy-slash-guidance-slash-brotime, Pam." He corrected. "And, absolutely."
She laughed again, but was trying hard to remain composed. "Definitely. I'm glad to know we have a qualified therapist on campus."
"Yeah. Otherwise, all kinds of mental health problems might be activated."
"Somehow, I think more mental health problems will be activated with his help, rather than without."
Jim chuckled, conceding, and took another bite of his sandwich. He was probably a little too aware of Pam watching him from across the table.
"You should be revising your notes from today's classes."
"Maybe."
Dwight tapped his pen against his desk irritably. "Not maybe. Do you realise how important this class is?"
Jim had only just opened his mouth to respond when Dwight interrupted him.
"Actually, no, I doubt you even care about any of that. You're too busy with-"
"Dwight."
"-Pam."
"You're the worst. Also, incorrect. I do care about this class, I'm just not as stalker-obsessed with Mr. Scott as you are."
Dwight shook his head, continuing his frantic chicken-scratch across his notebook. After a moment, he scoffed. "That's ironic. You're calling me obsessed?"
Jim knew what he was getting at, and found it more advantageous in this moment to just keep quiet. Maybe the age-old advice, 'just ignore them and they'll stop', would actually work.
"I know what you wrote in her birthday card, last week." It was such a Dwight thing to do, to bring up the one thing he knew he had been hoping not to have to talk about. But his roommate's tone of voice had changed; it was softer now, almost friendly.
"Not relevant."
"Maybe." The next part was strained, but friendly, like a stranger trying to make polite conversation to the person sat next to them on a long airplane flight. "I don't get why you didn't give it to her."
If he was waiting for a response, he definitely wasn't getting one right now. "I'm going out."
"You better be back before floor curfew." Dwight warned, but Jim was already out the door.
He didn't realise where he was headed until it was too late. By this point, he guessed, he was just on autopilot.
Kelly had her back to the door, and practically squealed when she caught sight of him, walking towards her in what probably seemed like a zombie - eyes glazed over, no sense of direction, except for needing to get to the one thing he wanted most right now.
But.
"Shh, Jim, Pam's… Busy." Kelly let out, all in one breath, as per usual.
"Huh?"
"Roy, her boyfriend - oh, it's so cute I can't even stand it, Jim, really, I just can't believe-"
"Kelly."
"Oh! Yeah, he called her up about a half hour ago, and they're Skyping right now. He's so sweet, just apologising and trying to make it up to her for missing her birthday last week. It's so cute, seriously. He's going to drive up here to pick her up for Thanksgiving. And after that, I just left, you know, because I guessed they would prefer their privacy…" She broke off into giggles, and Jim knew he probably wouldn't get anymore information from her.
"Oh." He needed to collect his thoughts. "That's… I mean, tell her for me, that's great that they've made up."
"Yeah, sure, sure." A thought seemed to strike her, and she physically jumped, as was her custom to do so in these circumstances. "What was it you wanted?"
"Nothing, really. Just passing through. On my way to-" (and the words slipped out before he even knew what he was saying, even paid attention to where his thoughts were heading) "-History."
And, there he was.
Standing outside Mr. Scott's classroom,wondering whether he had to write his name on the empty sign-up sheet hung on the back of his door, or if he could just walk right in.
(On second thoughts, he didn't really want anyone else to know that he had actually came here, so it was probably best to to just walk in and hope for the best.)
"Jim Halpert!" Scott seemed genuinely surprised that someone had actually shown up. He sat alone in the class, nursing a glass of what looked like gas-station wine in one hand and a book on psychotherapy in the other.
"Um, hey." He shifted from foot to foot, already regretting this decision. "I was just wondering if you could fit me in an appointment?"
"Of course!" He lunged forwards to grab a chair, dragging it towards him until it was directly in front of his desk. "Anything for my favourite pupil."
"Okay." He smoothed his hands down on his thighs and wandered over to the empty chair, wondering what exactly his chances of being murdered here were.
"So," Scott began, once Jim was settled. "I think I should start off by apologising for the lack of a couch, you know, like on TV - I asked for one, but staff says no - but I hope the chair will be good."
"It's fine."
"Let's get started, then!" He sounded way too chipper to be a supposed therapist. "Um," he paused to collect a clipboard and pen, "so, is there anything you really need to talk about?"
What am I doing here? He couldn't help but think. He craned his neck to look around the room, just for something to do to show he was thinking. The classroom looked a whole lot different at night. The sun was setting outside, and it made all the shadows in the room ominous, leering, creepy. The whole area was kind of desolate when there were no pupils there. Lonely.
And then, at the back. The desk. (Appearing to have been made to sit 4 pupils, rather than 2.)
And suddenly he was just full of the strange compulsion to just speak, to let it all out, because really, this had gone on for far too long and his reckless optimism that someday, maybe, she would finally understand, was running low recently.
"I have this friend." He began, speaking slowly so as not to get too carried away.
Scott made some approving noise, scribbling something down on the single sheet of paper.
"And things are… They're not great, because she has this boyfriend - long distance, but they seem really close - and he's, um, he's just not… Great." He finished lamely, but really, that was the only way to put it. He wanted to refrain from spending the entire evening ranting about his best friend's boyfriend.
"Anyway," he sighed, running a hand down his face and definitely regretting his decision to talk about this to Mr. Scott, of all people. "I'm honestly not sure how much more of this I can take."
Scott had apparently abandoned his goal of noting everything said in the meeting, as his clipboard lay untouched on his lap. He leaned forwards in his chair. "So, why don't you just, you know… Tell her how you feel?"
"I tried. I wrote her a card."
(It was going to be romantic, it was going to be a great moment. When he played it out in his head beforehand, he thought about how he could present it to her with a sort of flourish, and she'd read it and he could watch her reactions, and she would finally understand.
And maybe, just maybe, she would feel the same way. But he really didn't let himself get that far.)
"And?"
"I chickened out, of course. I don't know. She just looked really happy, and she mentioned that her boyfriend wasn't coming after all, which I know should have presented the best opportunity possible, but it was also her birthday party and I just…" He allowed himself to trail off, shaking his head. "If it all went wrong, if she got creeped out or whatever… That would've been her party over. I could've ruined the whole thing; she'd have to relive whatever horrible awkward moment I'd just caused whenever she thought about her 19th birthday, you know? And I don't - I don't want to lose her friendship, really, I don't want to lose that."
"Uh-huh." Scott nodded, pensively. After a moment, he furrowed his brow and asked: "So, you're talking about Pam Beesly, right?"
(Uh oh.)
What had he just done?
Mr. Scott was probably the worst possible person to confide in, especially about something as personal as this.
"Um, I need to go." He got up, wiping his hands on his jeans, mind whirring. "Sorry."
"Oh. Okay!" He followed suit. "Good session. I feel like we really were successful in unlocking all those… Memories…." It was obvious he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but that didn't matter to Jim, as he was already half-out the door.
Overall, it probably wasn't his best idea.
the next chapter is probably going to be building up to Halloween (i tried to make it somewhat seasonal, but unfortunately due to the pacing of this part of the fic I couldn't get it to match up completely.)