One for Sorrow, Two for Joy, The Office, Jim/Pam, PG
Title: One for Sorrow, Two for Joy
Fandom: The Office
Pairing: Jim/Pam
Rating: PG
Notes: Day 3! Playing catch up because I went home for the holiday. For 30_tears prompt #1: cry me an ocean.
It’s just a bad day.
That’s the only reason she has for breaking down completely at work, for bursting into tears the second she walks out the door for her lunch break.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just one too many references to her breasts made by Michael, one too many comments by Phyllis about life with Bob Vance and how wonderful it is, one too many times she’s spotted Karen leaning against Jim’s desk and him smiling up at her with that easy grin of his. Too many phone calls, too many pens running out of ink, too many paper jams.
It’s just a bad day.
And the only solution, Pam feels, is to have a good cry about it on her lunch break before washing her face, eating her cheese sandwich, and starting again in the afternoon in an attempt to turn a bad day into just a bad morning.
She finds a spot outside, somehow managing to elude the cameras, and she leans against the side of the building, and cries.
She doesn’t even care when she hears someone approaching, but then she considers that it could be Michael and his inability to say anything remotely appropriate, and she remembers the last time Dwight found her crying, and she takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself before glancing up.
When she sees him, she can’t help but crumple again, hiding her face in her hands. But Jim doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make eye contact, and somehow it’s easier, slightly less embarrassing that way. He leans against the wall beside her, his hands in his pockets, his arm just barely touching hers. And he just stays with her. No foolish attempts to cheer her up. No ridiculous comments about her PMS. No questions about what’s wrong that will only make her cry harder when she has to answer, “Nothing.”
Jim stays. And after another minute or so, Pam is able to catch her breath and wipe her face.
“Today sucks,” she says, and out of the corner of her eye, she can see him smirk a little, that commiserating Jim-smirk that is sometimes all she needs to get her through the day.
“You eat yet?” he asks.
She shakes her head and wipes her fingers across her cheeks one last time.
Jim bumps his shoulder against hers. “Come on. I’m buying.”
“But I brought--”
He shakes his head. “Today requires pizza.”
He pushes off from the wall and holds out his hand for a second, as if to take hers, and her breath catches in her throat for reasons other than tears, before he quickly covers up by gesturing with the same hand for her to follow him. She presses her lips together and lets a slow breath in and out before falling into step beside him, just a bit closer than she would most other days, the back of her hand occasionally brushing against his. He doesn’t move away, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees the ends of his lips curl up.
It’s just a bad day. Too much humidity in the air, making her hair a mess of frizz. Too many angry clients calling and being rude to her even though she has nothing to do with their problems. Too many spills in the breakroom that no one else will bother to clean up. But every bad day has to get better eventually, and as Jim holds open the door for her at Sal’s Pizzeria, she thinks that hers is looking up.
Fandom: The Office
Pairing: Jim/Pam
Rating: PG
Notes: Day 3! Playing catch up because I went home for the holiday. For 30_tears prompt #1: cry me an ocean.
It’s just a bad day.
That’s the only reason she has for breaking down completely at work, for bursting into tears the second she walks out the door for her lunch break.
Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Just one too many references to her breasts made by Michael, one too many comments by Phyllis about life with Bob Vance and how wonderful it is, one too many times she’s spotted Karen leaning against Jim’s desk and him smiling up at her with that easy grin of his. Too many phone calls, too many pens running out of ink, too many paper jams.
It’s just a bad day.
And the only solution, Pam feels, is to have a good cry about it on her lunch break before washing her face, eating her cheese sandwich, and starting again in the afternoon in an attempt to turn a bad day into just a bad morning.
She finds a spot outside, somehow managing to elude the cameras, and she leans against the side of the building, and cries.
She doesn’t even care when she hears someone approaching, but then she considers that it could be Michael and his inability to say anything remotely appropriate, and she remembers the last time Dwight found her crying, and she takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself before glancing up.
When she sees him, she can’t help but crumple again, hiding her face in her hands. But Jim doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make eye contact, and somehow it’s easier, slightly less embarrassing that way. He leans against the wall beside her, his hands in his pockets, his arm just barely touching hers. And he just stays with her. No foolish attempts to cheer her up. No ridiculous comments about her PMS. No questions about what’s wrong that will only make her cry harder when she has to answer, “Nothing.”
Jim stays. And after another minute or so, Pam is able to catch her breath and wipe her face.
“Today sucks,” she says, and out of the corner of her eye, she can see him smirk a little, that commiserating Jim-smirk that is sometimes all she needs to get her through the day.
“You eat yet?” he asks.
She shakes her head and wipes her fingers across her cheeks one last time.
Jim bumps his shoulder against hers. “Come on. I’m buying.”
“But I brought--”
He shakes his head. “Today requires pizza.”
He pushes off from the wall and holds out his hand for a second, as if to take hers, and her breath catches in her throat for reasons other than tears, before he quickly covers up by gesturing with the same hand for her to follow him. She presses her lips together and lets a slow breath in and out before falling into step beside him, just a bit closer than she would most other days, the back of her hand occasionally brushing against his. He doesn’t move away, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees the ends of his lips curl up.
It’s just a bad day. Too much humidity in the air, making her hair a mess of frizz. Too many angry clients calling and being rude to her even though she has nothing to do with their problems. Too many spills in the breakroom that no one else will bother to clean up. But every bad day has to get better eventually, and as Jim holds open the door for her at Sal’s Pizzeria, she thinks that hers is looking up.