disclaimer: It all belongs to the geniuses behind The Office and NBC.
summary: Yeah, I’m The Office’s bitch.  And Jam owns my soul.  So look! Yet another post-Casino Night ficlet.  
rating: PG-13

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So Close and Yet…

She looked at him.  He looked at her.  They both looked away, neither knowing what to say or where to begin or even if they should.  He wanted to say something.  Something so magical and awe-inspiring that it would instantly thwart any negative feelings she was having about their kiss.  But his mind was too full to come up with one coherent thought or idea or action.

There were only two things that he was positively sure about and the first was that he wanted to keep kissing her.  The second was that he couldn’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t. 

He still couldn’t believe he kissed her.  He had officially gone insane.  This place had finally driven him crazy.

He knew it would be that good.  There was no way it couldn’t have been but it didn’t stop him from wondering what she thought.  He looked at her again and he could see on her face that panic was beginning to set in.  That she was definitely going to –

“Don’t freak out,” he told her softly.

“Oh, okay!” she yelped and it made him wince.  “Don’t breathe!”

He pushed down the chuckle he felt in his throat.  That would have been really bad.  He didn’t know what to say or do so he repeated himself, as if that would do anything.

“Please, just don’t freak out.”

“You keep saying that and it’s funny how much it isn’t helping.”

She pushed him away and turned her back to him.  He watched her back rise and fall with each deep breath she took. 

She said something but her voice was muffled and he moved closer and asked her to repeat it.

“I can’t believe you,” she said more forcefully and she whipped around to face him.  She smacked him on the chest and he moved back a step.  “How could you do this?  Why would you do this?  What were you thinking?”

“I, uh, I kind of wasn’t, for once,” he answered with a shrug of his shoulders.  “I’m sorry.”

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think?  It’s already done,” she finished, quietly.  Her hands covered her face and he looked at the ring on her left finger.

He shook his head.  He felt like such an ass.

“I think maybe I should go.  Are you okay?”

She moved her hands from her face and he saw the tears that were in her eyes and the words “flog” and “punish” popped into his head. 

He was an ass.  He was…Dwight.

“No, Jim, I’m not ‘okay’!  I’m on the verge here.  And it’s your fault with your ‘I’m in love with you’ speech and that kiss…that kiss which was just so…No, I’m not okay!”

He shifted from one foot to the next and stuffed his hands in his pockets.  What could he even say at this point?  He didn’t even know if he should attempt to smooth things over.  Would it even be –

Wait, what about the kiss?

“Why do you look like that?” she asked.

“Like what?”

“You have your ‘deep concentration’ frown in place.”

“I have a ‘deep concentration’ frown?”  He smiled a little at that.

“Shut up,” she said as an answer and ducked her head to hide her own smile.

He took a deep breath and asked, “You were about to say something…earlier…about the kiss.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Oh, okay.”  He sighed, letting some of his agitation through and not caring if it bothered her at the moment.  He was trying so hard, too hard, to remain calm and he didn’t know how much longer he could continue to be careful because she might break.

“What do you want from me?  I can’t –”

“Yeah, I know.  You’ve said as much already.”  This was a risk, he knew it but he had to take it.  “It didn’t stop you from kissing me back.”

Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened and she looked like she had been struck down in her spot.

“I…it was…you…,” she stammered, unable to come up with a logical reason quick enough. 

“It was me?  What does that mean?”

“No, you!  You’re the reason why I kissed you.”

His brow furrowed at that.

“You know what I’m saying,” she said, her voice full of exasperation.

“You kissed me because I’m me and you wanted to?”

“No!  Now, you’re just being difficult.”

“Yes.”

“You started it and –”

“And what?”

“And what was I supposed to do, Jim?”  Her lip started to tremble and a tear rolled down her cheek.  “What was I supposed to do?”

He stepped towards her and wrapped one arm around her and then the other when she didn’t move away and he held her as she cried.

“I didn’t mean to do this.”

“Yes, you did,” she said, sniffling.  She rested her head against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Pam.”

“No, you’re not.”

Jim didn’t say anything to that because it was true.