Hi! This is my first Office fic (US, Jim/Pam)...so I hope you all enjoy it. It's based on an question John Krasinski was asked in one of those NBC interviews--what would he write if he could write an episode for Jim. He mentioned a road trip and being snowed in...I just added Pam to the mix, hehe.
Disclaimer: If I owned The Office…
Chapter 1: Cleveland—The City of Light
"Jiiiim Halpert! Slim Jim! My man! What's crack-a-lackin'? And our lovely Paaaam!"
The two people in question must have looked pretty funny to anyone even glancing in their general direction, considering the incredible combination of nausea, anxiety, disgust, and just plain fear that was shining on each face. Then again, Michael Scott was talking. This was a normal reaction.
Jim was the first to recover, and leaned his back against the reception desk as he said, "Um, hey, Michael. What's…up?"
The camera zoomed in on Michael's face.
"Guess what?" he asked, as if he were five years old. Jim, for his part, looked like he really didn't want to know, but of course, he had to answer anyway.
Michael just clapped his hands together, like an excited child. Or a retarded seal.
"You have to guess!"
Jim looked very tired at that point in time, and the camera zoomed in on Pam's giggling face behind her desk.
"I have to guess…" He pretended to think. "Well, I'm gonna go with the 'you won the lottery' bit. It's been done before, but it's a classic. I don't wanna get my hopes up for a 'Dwight's being relocated to a remote area of Siberia' guess."
A snort came from behind the reception desk, but Jim's face stayed perfectly straight, and the insult went right over Michael's head.
"No, no!" he laughed. "Oh, I'll just tell you. You'll never get it, anyway." He paused, probably for dramatic effect, and then did a drum roll on his thighs.
"Well, Jimbo, since you're our best sales rep—" The camera cut to Dwight's glaring face. Obviously there was some disagreement there. "—corporate wants you to go to Cleveland on Thursday and personally close the deal with a big client there." Michael's grin widens. "And you know what that means? Road trip!"
On the last part, Michael pumped his fist in the air like a frat boy.
"With you?" Jim said, looking positively horrified. Another snort came from behind the desk. Michael deflated at this.
"No. God, I wish. Cleveland, you know. What a great city. I mean, birthplace of both rock-n-roll and Drew Carey. Music and improv comedy. God, it's like mecca for me."
The camera panned from Jim's raised eyebrows to Pam, who turned her back to "answer a phone" just so Michael wouldn't see her die of laughter. Of course, Michael was oblivious and went right on talking.
"Anyway, corporate says I can't go. Gotta stay here and hold down the fort." He leaned in to the camera. "These kids just can't get along without me." He winked, and the camera panned to the bored, tired faces of the Dunder-Mifflin workers.
"But, you know, Jim, if you think you're gonna be lonely up there in Cleveland, you could always take someone with you."
Suddenly, the entire office seemed to be looking at Jim, pleading with him, begging, please get us out of here, please, please…
"Oh, I know! You could take Pam here! She like, never goes out! The Pamster! Pammie! Pam-eee-laaa! Pam-a-ram-an-a-ma…"
He stumbled quite spectacularly over the last one, and her face shone a mixture of pity for his incredible stupidity and nervousness about what he just said.
"Wh-what?" she managed to say. Jim's face looked identical to hers.
"Yeah! Take our lovely Pam, give her a tour of the Little Apple!"
"The Little--? Michael, there's no such—"
"How about it, Pam? Come on, you'll still get paid. And hey, you could work on your tan."
"Michael, it's Cleveland. In March." He didn't hear her, of course, and she sighed. "Um, but, who'll answer the phones?" she continued lamely, though it was a valid question. Michael thought for a moment.
"Hmm…well, Ryan could do it. He's just a temp. Plus, this way I can keep an eye on him, know what I mean? Just playing around, Ry!"
Ryan looked like he wanted someone to shoot him in the face.
"So, you and Pam, Thursday, part-aay in Cleveland! The City of Light!"
"Michael, that's—never mind." Jim gave up and turned to Pam, ignoring Michael and pretty much everything else. "So, how about it? I'm, ah, game if you are." He said, almost shyly. Her mouth quirked.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay." They smiled at each other, and only the camera noticed Angela, severely scratching a mark on a purple notepad.