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crack_van2013-12-19 11:38 am
stars-inthe-sky.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2013-12-19 11:38 am
Entry tags:
“Week’s End” by Talkative (Mature)
Fandom: THE OFFICE
Pairing: Pam Beesley/Jim Halpert
Length: 7,722 words
Author on LJ: Unkwown
Author Website: MTT
Why this must be read: A sequel to yesterday's rec, "A Better Version of me," this is a generally canon-compliant look into the early days of Jim and Pam as Jim-and-Pam, complete with first-times, meeting parents, and the bits of laughter and awkwardness we've come to expect from these two crazy kids.
The clock on the nightstand said 8:44. Jim was on his right side, trailing his fingers in the rug next to his bed, and gazing at his closet door without really seeing it. They had fallen asleep sometime around 2, he thought, but he wasn't sure. On the other side of the bed, Pam was breathing quietly with her back to him, lying at an odd angle. Their bare legs were tangled together and the sole of her foot was pressing into his calf. When he woke up, he had carefully turned his head to look at her - a bare shoulder and her pretty, messy hair, half covered by the sheet. He wanted to wake her soon. How soundly did she sleep? Would it startle her if he kissed her? Maybe he should sneak away and make breakfast first. He tried to remember if he had eggs while he moved his finger in a wider circle on the rug and accidentally caught her t-shirt. It was thin, dark violet cotton. He let it dangle from his index finger for a moment before he dropped it back to the floor.
They had gone on six dates in the course of a single week - a movie, restaurants and bars, and one long, aimless Tuesday evening at a cafe, still in their work clothes, neither of them wanting to leave. Jim was playing at being the level-headed, brand-new boyfriend, paying for everything, holding doors, and kissing her goodnight. He was trying to figure this out, using their dates in public in the same way that he had used their friendship at work for years - as a way to draw a line that he was uncertain about crossing. It was almost funny - he had spent years wanting so badly just to be with her, but, now that he was, he had no idea what the rules were or what he really wanted. After that first date, at the end of a weird, long day that began in New York and ended with his mouth on hers, he decided that the only way he wasn't going to scare the hell out of both of them was by not really thinking too much about his motives and pretending that Pam was merely a nice girl that he wanted to have dinner with and maybe kiss a little. Four times. In seven days.
For their seventh date, he had suggested carry-out pizza and rented movies at his place. He told her to come over at 6:30, which gave him about an hour to clean his apartment. He opened all the windows, ran the vacuum cleaner, and did the dishes. He wiped up the bathroom, hooked up his iPod, and lit a candle that Karen had left behind. He stood staring at his bed for a minute, debating how much he would be admitting by changing the sheets. He stepped into the hall to dig through the closet when he realized that he had fucked Karen on those sheets two weeks earlier. He crumpled them into a ball and took them down to the basement, where he stuffed them into the bottom of a laundry basket. Back upstairs, he again stood staring at his bed, which looked like it had a plan. God,, he thought, I might as well answer the door in a smoking jacket. He messed up the pillows a little, rumpled the comforter, and hurried back into the hall. The bed was a bad influence. Granted, he did look a lot like the guy who dripped vanilla candle wax into the incredible curve of Karen's lower back last month, but, clearly, the bed was confusing him with someone else.
Pam brought wine, wore faded jeans and a soft purple t-shirt, and stepped out of her shoes just inside the door. She was barefoot in his apartment, helping to bring plates and napkins to the coffee table. Her shirt was so thin that he could make out the lines of her bra. Her hair was down and looked freshly washed. She inclined her head toward the stereo and said, "You played this for me once." He realized that he had, but it was two years earlier, and he wanted to kiss her for remembering.
Week’s End
Pairing: Pam Beesley/Jim Halpert
Length: 7,722 words
Author on LJ: Unkwown
Author Website: MTT
Why this must be read: A sequel to yesterday's rec, "A Better Version of me," this is a generally canon-compliant look into the early days of Jim and Pam as Jim-and-Pam, complete with first-times, meeting parents, and the bits of laughter and awkwardness we've come to expect from these two crazy kids.
The clock on the nightstand said 8:44. Jim was on his right side, trailing his fingers in the rug next to his bed, and gazing at his closet door without really seeing it. They had fallen asleep sometime around 2, he thought, but he wasn't sure. On the other side of the bed, Pam was breathing quietly with her back to him, lying at an odd angle. Their bare legs were tangled together and the sole of her foot was pressing into his calf. When he woke up, he had carefully turned his head to look at her - a bare shoulder and her pretty, messy hair, half covered by the sheet. He wanted to wake her soon. How soundly did she sleep? Would it startle her if he kissed her? Maybe he should sneak away and make breakfast first. He tried to remember if he had eggs while he moved his finger in a wider circle on the rug and accidentally caught her t-shirt. It was thin, dark violet cotton. He let it dangle from his index finger for a moment before he dropped it back to the floor.
They had gone on six dates in the course of a single week - a movie, restaurants and bars, and one long, aimless Tuesday evening at a cafe, still in their work clothes, neither of them wanting to leave. Jim was playing at being the level-headed, brand-new boyfriend, paying for everything, holding doors, and kissing her goodnight. He was trying to figure this out, using their dates in public in the same way that he had used their friendship at work for years - as a way to draw a line that he was uncertain about crossing. It was almost funny - he had spent years wanting so badly just to be with her, but, now that he was, he had no idea what the rules were or what he really wanted. After that first date, at the end of a weird, long day that began in New York and ended with his mouth on hers, he decided that the only way he wasn't going to scare the hell out of both of them was by not really thinking too much about his motives and pretending that Pam was merely a nice girl that he wanted to have dinner with and maybe kiss a little. Four times. In seven days.
For their seventh date, he had suggested carry-out pizza and rented movies at his place. He told her to come over at 6:30, which gave him about an hour to clean his apartment. He opened all the windows, ran the vacuum cleaner, and did the dishes. He wiped up the bathroom, hooked up his iPod, and lit a candle that Karen had left behind. He stood staring at his bed for a minute, debating how much he would be admitting by changing the sheets. He stepped into the hall to dig through the closet when he realized that he had fucked Karen on those sheets two weeks earlier. He crumpled them into a ball and took them down to the basement, where he stuffed them into the bottom of a laundry basket. Back upstairs, he again stood staring at his bed, which looked like it had a plan. God,, he thought, I might as well answer the door in a smoking jacket. He messed up the pillows a little, rumpled the comforter, and hurried back into the hall. The bed was a bad influence. Granted, he did look a lot like the guy who dripped vanilla candle wax into the incredible curve of Karen's lower back last month, but, clearly, the bed was confusing him with someone else.
Pam brought wine, wore faded jeans and a soft purple t-shirt, and stepped out of her shoes just inside the door. She was barefoot in his apartment, helping to bring plates and napkins to the coffee table. Her shirt was so thin that he could make out the lines of her bra. Her hair was down and looked freshly washed. She inclined her head toward the stereo and said, "You played this for me once." He realized that he had, but it was two years earlier, and he wanted to kiss her for remembering.
Week’s End