Author: aphrodite_mine
For: hopelessfangirl [for the Office Rare Pair exchange, ipod_ovenmitt]
Info: Michael/Pam, Andy/Kelly, fanmix with story
Rating: PG
*sorry to “Pam’s Art” who I stole the background from. Thanks Google!Track List:
1. Memories - Eisley
2. Dissolve – Jenny Owen Youngs (Daytrotter Sessions)
3. Night – Belle & Sebastian
4. No One – Aly & AJ
Download: http://www.mediafire.com/?mjyi1zyon
--
Pam is trying not to listen to what anyone is saying as they pass by her display, because, honestly she’s terrified of overhearing something like “tacky” or “waste of time.” And she already embarrassed herself by following Angela for ten minutes ten minutes too long just to be certain that her muttering under her breath of “eggs” really was some bizarre notion she was saying to herself; a reminder for a grocery list, or perhaps some other notation that Pam has no interest in pursuing further. But certainly not a commentary on Pam’s art, or at least, after ten minutes of no further utterances and frequent glances, and finally “Is it your intent to follow every patron this evening, because I’m quite certain that isn’t the best way to get positive reviews,” causing Pam to smile, sheepish, and fetch another flute of champagne.
She shouldn’t have invited the office people in the first place. Or anyone. But her teachers are right: part of being an artist was showing, and showing involved being vulnerable. So, her parents are in the next room, and Jim is being awesome and Jim-like and keeping Dwight from scaring away the actual art people who have come for the actual art (Pam still can’t think of her art as actual art, because, well. It just isn’t. No matter how many times Michael says it is). But without her parents or Jim, Pam is left on her own to fret and pace and not-listen to everyone not-talk about her not-actual-art.
Which isn’t working out very well.
“Hi Pam,” Kelly says. She is tugging Andy behind her (holding two glasses of champagne and Kelly’s purse). He looks as if he doesn’t mind.
“Hi Kelly,” Pam replies, knowing this is a formality. That Kelly will continue the conversation whether or not she is given permission. Pam takes a long swallow.
“I like that painting. It reminds me of the dress that Amy wore to the Julie & Julia premiere. Very upscale and ruffly.” Pam doesn’t know any Amys, and when she looks at the painting she assumes Kelly is gesturing to, it is the one of a teacup. Hmm. “Also, there was one in the other room, I don’t know if you’ve been in the other room, Pam, but Andy and I, did you know we’re dating now? Andy and I were walking in the other room and there was a painting that had the funniest face.”
“Hi-larious.” Andy grins.
“No, like, it was the funniest face I’ve ever seen.”
Andy crosses his eyes at Kelly and Pam feels compelled to take another drink.
“Stop it, Andrew. You’re going to make me laugh, and then you know what’s going to happen.”
He winks at Pam. At Kelly. “Oh, I think we all know.”
Kelly actually blushes, takes his arm. “Anyway Pam, cool art. I just wanted to tell you about the dress. And you know, I think that Julia Child would like this art. Or, I mean. Meryl Streep.”
--
Jim stops by briefly to let her know that Dwight seems intent on harassing the other two artists showing tonight, so he might not be around much. They could kick him out, but it seems like overkill. When he heads back to the other room, things slow down in Pam’s section of the gallery. She tries not to read too much into it, but like everything else tonight, she’s going all prickly with feeling after only a second of dead air.
She’d like to leave the room, take a breather in a back hallway. But it’s important to be close for your first few showings; show appreciation to those who show up, be available for questions. Third glass of champagne, maybe fourth.
“Pamelah.”
“Oh!” She tenses, but doesn’t scream. Doesn’t drop the glass either. Two breaths and she’s fine. Ish. “I don’t think this is really the appropriate venue for your Silence of the Lambs impression, Michael,” she says, turning around to see him breathing slowly through a mask of fingers. Unable to resist, he makes a quick slurping noise and then drops the act and his hand, grinning.
“Hi.”
“Hello, Michael.”
He takes a step away from her and nods to one of her newest paintings. To be honest, calling it a painting is generous. It’s mostly pencil and pastel work, with watercolor done in sections along the center. Experimental. Looking at it for too long makes Pam nervous. “This is new,” he says.
Pam holds the champagne flute by the lip and dangles it by her side, bites her lip. “Yeah.”
“It’s different.” He turns back to her, twisting his mouth into another character. “I’m not sure eets youuu.” He twists an imaginary mustache, then takes her chin in his hand and looks into her eyes.
Too long.
“It’s me,” Pam says, swallows against his hand. “There’s more you haven’t seen yet.”
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