A/N: My eternal thanks to the ever patient Ninja, who purchased this story in the September Support Stacie Author Auction and then sat quietly waiting until I finally cleared the docket enough to hunker down and write it. My list of excuses is long and varied, but the upshot is that I'll be submitting her name for sainthood. Ninja asked for a fluffy/smutty little story about why Jim secretly likes the glasses Pam wore in 'Did I Stutter?' This one turned out to be more fluff than smut, thus achieving the dubious title of smuff. I hope that you all enjoy it. Thanks!
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to The Office, and no infringement is intended in any way, shape or form.
There was a collective intake of breath, and then silence. It was a silence so ominous that suddenly the whole thing didn't seem even vaguely amusing anymore. The moment Michael ordered them to leave, Jim began gathering his things. This confrontation with Stanley was about to turn ugly, and Jim knew that this was one train wreck he did not want to witness.
"Come on, let's go," he murmured to Pam, watching as she groped blindly for her glasses.
"I can't find my glasses."
"Take my arm," Jim whispered.
Her hand closed around his bicep as she hiked her purse up onto her shoulder, and Jim glanced up at Stanley and Michael warily. As they began to move away from reception, Jim spotted her glasses atop a stack of files. "Hang on," he murmured as he made a grab for them.
"What? What's wrong?" Pam asked, looking up at him with wide green eyes, trusting him to be her guide.
Jim slipped the glasses into his pocket and shook his head. "Nothing. Let's go," he said, smiling slightly as she gave his arm a squeeze.
The silence that had enveloped the office followed them into the hall. Jim shared an uncomfortable glance with Phyllis as the door closed behind them, and then said a quiet goodnight as she headed for the offices of Vance Refrigeration. Alone on the elevator, Pam held onto his arm, pressing her cheek to his sleeve as she stared straight ahead, seemingly lost in the faux wood grain on the elevator doors.
"Do you think Michael will fire him?" she asked as the doors opened on the main floor.
"Nah," Jim said with a quick shake of his head. "He probably should," he added as an afterthought. When Pam turned to look at him he shrugged. "I mean, from a purely business standpoint. Anyone else anywhere else would get fired for talking to their boss that way, especially in front of a roomful of people."
"True," Pam conceded.
"But Michael loves Stanley. And Stanley, well, when he cools off a little he'll see that even if Michael is an idiot sometimes, he's still the boss."
They crossed the parking lot to his car, and Pam pulled up short as he reached for the door handle. Jim glanced down at his arm, immediately missing the warmth of her hand. Then, looked up in surprise as she asked him what had happened that day to upset him. Stunned by her ability to read him, he tried to backpedal, but when she persisted, he knew that he had fallen prey to the biggest pitfall in falling in love with your best friend. He told her what Ryan had said that day, trying to downplay the exchange as much as he could, but Pam jumped right on it. He couldn't help but smile as he gazed down at her outraged face, listening to her defend his honor and livelihood against the threat of a power-crazed former temp.
Pushing his hands into his pockets, he felt the forgotten glasses. Jim loved Pam's glasses. Yes, the frames were a little old fashioned. He had to admit that perhaps Kevin hadn't been too far off in his sexy librarian assessment; after all, Jim often had the same thoughts himself. As she ranted on, he pulled them from his pocket, his fingers closing carefully around them. He caught one of her fluttering hands, and placed the glasses gently in her palm.
"Would you just say, 'These are due back on Thursday,' for me?" he asked, his voice hoarse with affection.
Pam stopped mid-threat and gaped at the glasses in her hand. "You found them?"
"They were on top of some files."
Pam frowned as she unfolded the temples and slid the glasses onto her nose. She blinked up at him in confusion. "Why didn't you just give them to me?"
Jim smiled. "I like it when you hang onto me."
Her cheeks flushed with pleasure as she smiled at him shyly. "You do, huh?"
"Yeah, I do," he answered. Jim took a step closer to her, trapping her against the side of the car as he pressed both hands to the roof. "Just tell me now if I owe you a fine," he said as he ducked his head and brushed his lips across hers.
"Well, they are a little overdue," she said softly.
"Maybe I can get an extension?" he asked, peering through those thick lenses and into her bright green eyes.
"Renewal," she corrected.
"I don't care what you call it, as long as you stamp me," he said in a low, sexy voice.
Pam wet her lips and then whispered, "Let's go home."
"Home to your friend's house?" he asked teasingly as he pushed away from the car and reached for the door handle.
"Well, I couldn't very well say that I spent the night with a naked paper salesman, could I?" she asked with a cheeky grin.
Jim returned her smile as she slid into her seat and folded her hands primly in her lap. "Or that you were the one who got the paper salesman naked," he added soberly.
Closing the door on her laugh, he hurried to the other side of the car, tossed his bag into the back seat and then turned to look at her as he settled behind the wheel. "I don't want you to wear your glasses to work anymore, it's too distracting."
Jim nodded as he started the car. "Yeah."
"How are they distracting?"
"Well, I'm usually the only one who gets to see you in them. I know what you look like when you take them off and put them on the table by my bed," he added with a pointed look.
"And that distracts you?" she asked coyly.
"It distracts me," he stated without argument.
"What does it make you think of?" she asked as he pulled out of the parking spot.
"You really want me to tell you?" he asked, glancing over at her in surprise.
Pam bit her lip for a moment, and then nodded. "Yes, tell me," she said in a breathy voice.
Jim's hands tightened on the wheel as he turned left out of the parking lot. "It's different with your glasses off," he said at last.
Jim nodded. "When you have your contacts in, you're different."
"It's hard to explain," he hedged.
"Try," she coaxed, genuinely curious.
Flexing his fingers, he did his best to concentrate on driving while visions of Pam warm, soft and naked in his bed flashed through his head. "Well, everything is blurry for you without them, right?"
"Well, you're different when you can't see clearly."
"Different good or bad?" she asked cautiously.
"Good. At least, I think it's good." Jim turned right, and then pressed the accelerator as they shot down a side street. "You let yourself go more," he said at last.
"When you have your contacts in, you're more in control, I guess."
"How do you mean in control?"
Jim sighed as he searched for the right words. "One's not better than the other, it's just different."
"You're still not telling me anything," she said impatiently.
"Take them off," Jim said as he spared her a glance.
"Take them off."
Pam slid the glasses from her nose and carefully folded them in her lap. Reaching over, he took her hand, entwining her fingers with his and pressing their palms together tightly. "I heard you telling the camera crew that it was better without your glasses on. How everything is blurred and fuzzy, you don't have to see anything disturbing or ugly," he said gruffly.
Pam's brow furrowed. "You like me without my glasses on because you don't want me to see you? You're hardly ugly, Jim. As a matter of fact, I like looking at you. A lot."
"No, it's not that," he said with a laugh. "But, thanks." He squeezed her hand gently and then released it as he turned onto his street. "Like I said, you're just different."
Pam rolled her eyes as she put her glasses back on. "Fine, don't tell me," she muttered as they slowed to a stop.
Jim shook his head, chuckling at her pouty tone as he climbed from the car. When he reached her door, Pam arched one eyebrow and said stiffly, "I don't need you, I have my glasses."
"See? My point exactly," he muttered as he followed her to his door.
"You want me to need you?" Pam asked as she waited for him to sort through his keys.
"Sure I do," he said easily as he unlocked the door.
He pushed it open, and then motioned for her to precede him. Glancing demurely back at him as she passed, Pam waited as he lifted his messenger bag from his shoulder and dropped it to the floor of the entry. When he looked up, she smiled and said in a soft, husky voice, "These will be due back on Thursday."
"Oh, Beesly, you're asking for it," Jim murmured as he closed the distance between them, pulling her to him and then walking her back into the wall as he kissed her hungrily.
"Yes, I am. Different how?" Pam asked breathlessly as he began to kiss his way down her neck.
"Softer, sweeter," he murmured between kisses. Raising his head, he kissed her ardently again, parting her lips with his tongue as he pressed into her. "Slower," he said raggedly.
"You think?" she asked as she tugged at his tie.
"I know. Oh God, I know, Pam," he said, as he slipped his hands up under the hem of her sweater. "You don't think I'd know? I know everything there is to know about you," he murmured as he kissed his way along her jaw. "Just like you don't need to see me to know."
"I love you," Pam whispered in a rush. Her fingers attacked the buttons on his shirt, pushing them through the tiny holes impatiently in her haste to get to him.
Jim groaned as he wrapped his arms around her lifting her off of her feet and pressing against her, pinning her to the wall with his body.
Pam wrapped her legs around him, arching away from the wall, desperate to get closer. "You want me to keep them on or take them off?" she asked as she yanked the tail of his shirt from the back of his pants.
A low growl hummed in his throat as she raked her nails over the thin undershirt he wore beneath. "On, for now," he said as he drew the soft skin just below her ear into his mouth and sucked hard.
"Don't make me fine you," she hissed the warning as she pressed her head into the wall.
"Mine," he muttered as his soothed the afflicted spot with his tongue.
"Yours," she answered.
"You can reprimand me all you want."
"Take me to bed."
"Too far," he grumbled as he pushed back.
He cradled her bottom in his hands, holding her against him as he stumbled away from the wall. Getting his bearings, Jim lurched in the direction of the couch. They tumbled onto the cushions in a flurry of breathless laughter.
"Miss Beesly," he whispered with a wicked grin.
"What am I going to do with you, Mr. Halpert?"
"Anything you want," he answered as he began to push her sweater up over her stomach.
Giggling as he struggled to push back onto his knees, Pam sat up and whisked her sweater up over her head. "Better?" she asked as he eyed the pale pink bra she had pulled from her bag that morning.
"I've been thinking about you all day," he said, tracing the edge of one lacy cup with the tips of his fingers.
"I think about you all day, every day," Pam said as she fell back onto the cushions once more.
Jim's breath rushed from his lungs as he stared down at her, taking in the red-gold tumble of her hair, her pink flushed cheeks, and her lips red and swollen from his kisses. Glancing down at his loosened tie and half-unbuttoned shirt, he reached for his collar and pulled both shirts and the tie up over his head, desperate to feel her skin against his. Once he freed his arms from the tangle of fabric, he lowered himself onto her, humming his appreciation as the lace of her bra rasped against his chest.
Sliding is hand under her as he kissed her; Jim nimbly opened the clasp of her bra. When the fabric gave, he rocked back, pulling it from her body and then quickly covering her again as his lips sought hers.
Pam moaned into his mouth as the taut tips of her breasts brushed against the soft hair on his chest. Their labored breathing fogged the lenses of her glasses as she moved beneath him, her body arching into his, searching for that now familiar rhythm.
"So beautiful," he whispered as he tore his mouth from hers.
Pam opened her eyes and he peered down at her, slowly reaching for her glasses and removing them gently. He placed them on the coffee table and turned back to her, only to find that he was right, everything did change. She searched his face, and in that moment, Jim knew exactly what it was.
"You're looking for me," he whispered.
"With your glasses off, you have to look so hard just to see me," he said softly, bracing his elbow beside her head as he brushed her hair back from her face.
"Is that good?"
"I don't know," he replied with a chuckle. "I think so."
Jim shook his head slowly as blinked, trying to keep him in focus. "With your contacts in, you don't have to try so hard."
He gave her a sheepish smile. "I like that you have to look for me, really look for me."
"But I don't have to see you to know," she reminded him.
"No, you should always know," he agreed gruffly.
Jim nodded and his voice cracked as he said simply, "I hope so."
Pam blinked at him slowly and then whispered, "Kiss me."
He kissed her sweetly, sighing as he pulled away to push up onto his knees. Pam stared at him solemnly as he reached for the buckle on his belt, and he smiled, knowing that he was nothing but a beige blur to her at the moment. Scooting off of the couch, he stood up to shed the remainder of his clothes, and then began to undress her.
When she lay bare on his couch, Jim smiled again, pleased with his work. "I can see every bit of you," he said in a low, husky voice.
"Jim," Pam admonished as she automatically reached to cover herself.
"Uh uh," he said as he caught her hands, pressing them to her sides as he knelt on the couch. He stretched out over her, pulling her hands up over her head and pushing them into the arm of the couch to keep his balance as he leaned down to kiss her softly. "I don't have to see you to know how you feel," he whispered. "I've memorized every inch of you, Pam. I know every sweet spot, every place that's ticklish, and exactly where to kiss you to hear you moan."
"Jim," she said again, unable to mask the ache in her voice.
"No one will ever know you the way that I do, Pam, and no one will ever know me like you."
"No," she whispered.
"You feel incredible," he told her, closing his eyes and relishing the feel of her skin against his.
"I want you."
"Oh, it's pretty much a given that you're gonna have me, Miss Beesly," he said with a low laugh.
"I want you now."
Jim kissed her and then shook his head. "I need to check some things, make sure I haven't missed any spots."
Drawing her legs up, Pam wrapped them tightly around him, smiling as he all but choked on a groan. Those soft green eyes focused on him, and only on him, as she whispered, "I want you," again.
Wordlessly, his lips sought hers. Jim kissed her ardently, his tongue tangling with hers as he rocked against her, unable to resist the siren's song of her body. "Are you trying to distract me, Miss Beesly?" he rasped.
"Is it working?"
"Wow, you are a naughty librarian, aren't you?"
"I'm a naughty receptionist, will that do?"
"Even better." The tip of his nose brushed against hers as he shifted up a little higher, his knees digging into the couch as his feet hung over the arm. "Maybe this isn't the best place," he muttered.
"You never learn."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
"Or we could call it what it really is."
"Oh yeah?" she asked, bowing against him as he pressed into her.
"Love," he hissed as she drew him in.
"Yeah," Pam sighed, her fingers sliding over his smooth back and looking down at their joined bodies. "That's what it really is."
"Can you see me?" he asked as he began to move slowly inside of her.
Pam's smile was brilliant as her eyes met his. "You're all that I can see," she answered truthfully.