A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus on all things fanfic-related... although, I was able to raise my grade point average by .34 by laying off the constant fic’age. Anyway, just as a quick heads up: not all thoughts, events, etc. are canon. Jim’s dislike of a certain food (I am, in fact, almost certain that he loves said food), a made-up family member of Roy’s... you get the idea. But we’re the ones that get to bend the rules, right? Thank you, Office marathon, for the inspiration boost!

Of Chocolate And Spiderman

Pam sat silently at the table and watched as Jim unfolded the corners of the bills he held in his hand, and then fed them into the vending machine. With a few metallic clanks, two candy bars fell to the bottom, and Jim reached down to get them, sighing as he realized the machine didn’t spit out any change.

Same spot, same time, almost every day.

She always offered to pay, and occasionally, he would let her. But usually, he beat her to the machine.

She accepted hers gratefully, and began to tear the edge of the paper. “You handled the, uh, Dwight situation really well.”

He smiled briefly, and set his candy bar in front of him, contents untouched. Something about Pam had changed, he decided. A change that occurred so swiftly that even Jim, the most vigilant of observers, had missed it. He thought, maybe she was just a little bit saddened at the realization that Dwight would be returning tomorrow. Not friendly Dwight- not the one who helped her buy songs at two cents a piece, or gave her a cover for her Prism Durosport. All-knowing, all-annoying Dwight K. Schrute would be returning. And, perhaps, would be lecturing everyone on proper CAT scan etiquette.

“Yeah, I guess I did. But we wouldn’t have made it there without Meredith’s van or Michael’s... well, Michael almost caused a three car pile-up and tried to bring metal into a room with a CAT scan machine.” He said, without so much as a chuckle, and then broke into a full grin.

“No, I mean it,” Pam said, swallowing a mouthful of Twix. “You have some serious paternal instincts.”

Jim shook his head disbelievingly. As much as he loved her compliments, they always made the faintest tint of pink appear on his cheeks. “As much as he annoys me, I couldn’t just ignore him. I’m sure if I ever ran my car into a pole, or was somehow accidentally super glued to Michael’s desk in some sort of attempt to permanently stick all of his desk toys upside down to his desk, Dwight would help me out.”

She tried not to laugh, and failed miserably. There seemed to be a button that he knew just how to push. No matter how serious she was trying to be, he could always break her.

It was silent for a few moments, save for the few employees who were actually making sales calls out in the main room. He could almost see the wheels turning in her head, as she took a bite of her candy bar. His still lay in front of him, wrapper intact.

He loved how she was always thinking, always formulating, mind always buzzing.

She was so much like him.

“Last month, Roy’s nephew came to visit.” She said, finally, crumpling up her candy bar wrapper. “He burnt his hand on the stove when he was helping me cook dinner.”

Jim’s face fell slightly. “Poor little guy. Four, right?”

“Almost five.” Pam replied, smiling at the recollection of the child’s last birthday part, and how he insisted on smashing his face directly into his Spiderman cake. “Anyway, he started to cry, and I... I didn’t know what to do. I ran some cold water over the burn for a few seconds, but he kept crying for Roy.”

Sitting patiently, waiting for her to finish her story, Jim finally opened his Twix. As he took his first bite, he looked into Pam’s eyes- distant, troubled eyes that had been, not three hours ago, full of laughter.

“So, what happened?” He asked, finally.

“Roy came over and, uh, messed up his hair, patted him on the back, and said, ‘Well, buddy, why don’t you fight fire with fire? Just stick your hand back over there- that’s what Spiderman would do, right?’ And then he laughed a little, and walked away. I know he was kidding, it just... it was a little scary, you know?”

“He told his nephew... to put his hand back in the fire?”

“Yeah.” She answered, sensing the laughter in his voice.

“Back... in the fire.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said, half-seriously. “Spiderman would never do that. He has self-healing powers.”

They both began to laugh, and Jim wrapped up the rest of his candy bar and slid it across the table to Pam.

She never really knew why he’d take one or two bites, and then give her the rest for her to eat later, at home, in front of another Friends rerun. But she never complained- she was, in fact, a self-proclaimed chocoholic.

“It was just... really nice, how you took care of Dwight. It was sweet.” Pam stood up, Jim’s candy bar in one hand, a bottle of water in the other.

Don’t blush, he told himself. Don’t blush. “Ah, it was nothing.” Jim said, quietly.

He stood now, too, and stuffed his hands into his pocket, and they walked back into the main room.

One of the few things he hated almost as much as Roy’s mistreatment of, well, most of the human population, was chocolate.