Work Text:
Jim had no idea how he hadn't noticed it.
Dwight had been acting weird all day. For once, he was nice and pleasant to Pam, and his words weren't making sense at all. He even raised his hand without realizing it during the meeting.
Finally, Jim had had enough once he saw Dwight begin hitting his head on the desk.
"Uh, okay," Jim said to the office. "I think we need to take him to the hospital because I'm pretty sure he has a concussion."
Jim lifted Dwight up from his chair as the others began talking around him, with Angela primarily ordering Michael to take Dwight to the hospital.
Dwight wrapped his arm around Jim, and it was the closest that they had ever stood next to each other. Jim couldn't show it, but there was a burning concern for the man, a feeling that he couldn't let go of.
"Slowly, slowly," Jim muttered to Dwight. "Let's just get to the elevator."
Dwight's head lolled to the side, completely out of it. "Choo choo choo choo choo choo..."
Jim looked at him. "What are you doing?"
"Vietnam sounds."
Jim felt Dwight start to tip over, and Jim tightened his arms around him, keeping the man close to his chest. Nevertheless, the two tumbled to the couch together, with Jim on top of him to keep him from falling.
Dwight's eyes immediately closed, reaching out to Jim above him. "Tired..."
Wow, this concussion is worse than I thought. Jim pondered as he placed his hand on Dwight's arm.
"You can't lay down," Jim said softly. "Come on. Get up."
It took some coercion and the help of a spray bottle, but Dwight was soon in Jim's arms again, heading down towards Meredith's van.
Jim had told Michael that he could drive Dwight there on his own. Michael seemed to understand, and Jim was soon able to speed down the road as fast he could.
"Hold on there, Dwight," said Jim turning to the injured man. "How are you feeling?"
Dwight's head turned to the side. "Terrible," he moaned. "What happened to me?"
"Nothing major," Jim replied, a nervous tinge to his voice. "Unless you have brain damage."
"Oh. Great."
"That's all right," Jim chuckled. "Nothing you're not already used to."
Dwight huffed a laugh and laid a hand on Jim's thigh, the man turning to look out the window. Jim looked down at Dwight's hand in shock, where it rested casually on Jim's leg like it was the most normal thing in the world.
"This car smells like green," said Dwight, his speech muffled. "I think we need to get the vacuum."
Jim sighed, trying to calm his heart rate. He tried his best to keep his eyes on the road.
"Almost there, Dwight." Jim looked at him tenderly. "I'll get you there."
Filling out the forms was more difficult than Jim had thought.
Of course, it wasn't that he didn't know the information. In fact, it was almost scary how much Jim knew; he remembered Dwight's middle name in a heart beat, which is unusual for most sworn enemies.
No, what made it difficult was how many times Dwight kept trying to touch him.
"What product do you put in your hair, Jim?" Dwight asked loudly as he combed his hands through Jim's hair. "It's always so soft. I can't help but wonder why."
"Okay, do you have to do that now?"
"What would you rather have me do?"
"Be quiet, for starters, so I can do this."
"You don't want me to be quiet, Jim, not really."
"Yeah? You wanna bet?"
Dwight stared at Jim intently, which sprung chills on the back of Jim's neck. He could feel Dwight's intense gaze on him, one that Jim knew all too well from the office.
Then Dwight broke the silence again.
"I want a hug."
Jim slammed the pen down on the clipboard. "Well, I can't give you a hug right now, Dwight."
"Mmm, why not?"
"Because we're in the middle of the hospital, Dwight, and you have a concussion."
"Fine. Then how about you give me a kiss instead?"
Jim immediately froze as soon as the words were out of Dwight's mouth. "What did you just say?"
Dwight wasn't paying attention, though. "Zoom, zoom, zoom, zoom..."
"Dwight? What are you doing?"
"Don't you hear the bullet train? Chug, chug, chug."
"Do you know what you just asked me?" Jim's eyes were bugging out. "Dwight? Do you remember just asking me something?"
"I remember many things, Jim. I remember the rain."
"It's not raining, Dwight," said Jim, his voice slightly panicked. "Do you know what you just asked me?"
Dwight leaned forward. "It's not raining right now, Jim. It was raining outside the office two years ago, when you said you loved it when it rained hard like this. It made you smile. If you really want to know, that's what I remember."
Jim sighed, rubbing his eyes with his two fingers. "This is getting nowhere."
"Very true. That's why I moved on from you."
"You - I'm sorry, you what?"
"We were getting nowhere, Jim. So I had to give up on my feelings for you." Dwight squinted, staring upwards. "Is that wall supposed to make that sound?"
Jim's heart was hammering. "Dwight, I swear, you better not be messing with me."
"Nothing to mess with, Jim."
"Oh God, shut up. Please shut up. Will you please let me do these forms?"
Jim could feel the blood pumping through his veins as he turned back to his work.
What Dwight said shouldn't hold any meaning to him. But it does. Jim should probably know that this is probably just Dwight's concussion talking.
But he doesn't. Not really.
As soon as the last box on the form was filled in, Jim stood up and made a beeline to the front desk.
It'd be best to just put this whole experience in the back of his mind.
Dwight needed to have a CAT scan.
Jim sighed as the doctor explained the situation, and what was about to be ordered.
Dwight was wheeled out in his gurney, his fingers wrapped around Jim's wrist as tightly as he could.
"I don't want to do this."
Jim looked down into his eyes, swallowing hard. "It's going to be all right. I'll see you when you get out, Dwight."
"You're not...coming in with me?"
"Uh, no. Nope."
"Oh..."
Dwight leaned his head back on the pillow again. His fingers didn't let go of Jim's arm.
Jim sighed softly, using his free hand to drift over the skin of Dwight's forearm. The nurse looked at him, her brows quirked up.
"You know," she told him. "If you want to go in with him, you'd have to leave all your electronics behind. No metal of any kind."
Jim looked around, feeling conflicted. Luckily, the camera crew wasn't here to see this; they had decided to stay on Michael, who seemed to want the attention more than Jim did.
Jim sighed again. "Okay. Yes. Yeah. I'll go in with him."
Dwight didn't make any noise, but his smile grew just a few centimeters on his lips.
"Right, okay," Jim said. "I just have to make a phone call first. Can I meet you inside?"
The phone at Dunder Mifflin rang loudly, and Pam picked it up. "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."
"Dunder Mifflin, this is Jim."
Pam gasped. "Oh my God, what is going on? Is Dwight okay?"
Jim let go of a breath he'd been holding. "Uh hmm, he should be fine, but, uh, they brought him in for a CAT scan."
"I can't believe he's getting a CAT scan."
"And he's been hitting on me."
Pam paused for a little bit, cocking her head to the side. "What did you just say?"
"I said Dwight's been hitting on me," Jim told her, quietly. "I don't know what it is. Maybe it's the concussion. But...he told me he remembered me smiling two years ago. That day when it was raining."
"What? Two years ago? That day outside of the office?"
"Yeah. And he wanted me to stay with him in the hospital room. And for the CAT scan." Jim took another deep breath. "And he asked me if I wanted to kiss him."
Pam exhaled in disbelief. "Well? What did you say?"
"I-I didn't know what to say," Jim breathed. "I mean, what can I say? I've been in love with him for...god, for years."
"Yeah, since before I met you."
"Right."
Pam leaned forward onto the desk. "So what are you going to do?"
Jim sighed. "I don't know, I guess just pretend it never happened."
"What? You can't do that!"
The nurse peeked her head from behind Dwight's door, waving him inside. Jim nodded at her.
"Okay great. Sorry, Pam, I have to go see Dwight."
"Wait! Jim!"
"Sorry, I'll talk to you later."
Jim hung up, leaving the dial tone ringing in Pam's ears as she put down the phone.
After a while, the doctor went up to inform Jim that Dwight had to stay overnight for additional observation.
"But he's going to be all right, yes?" Jim asked urgently.
"Yes, he'll be fine," said the doctor. "You can still see him, but he should be getting some rest soon."
"Okay. Thank you so much."
With that, Jim took off in a dash towards Dwight's room, not knowing why he was in such a hurry. The injury wasn't even that bad, and he knew Dwight was going to be okay.
He just had to see his face, for some unknown reason that he did not want to think about.
When Jim came to the door, he took a deep breath, and knocked softly on the door.
"You can come in." Dwight's voice called from the other side.
Jim walked in, and Dwight looked up, immediately becoming pink in the face. "Jim. I thought you had gone home."
"Uh, nope. I...just wanted to see how you were doing."
Dwight nodded. "I'm...I'm fine. I will be fine. Just still feeling a little woozy."
Jim chuckled. "I bet."
They both looked at each other for a second, then averted their eyes, not daring to acknowledge the energy in the room. Dwight looked up, clearing his throat.
"Actually, Jim," Dwight began. "About what I said before -"
"Hey, don't worry about it," Jim dismissed. "I get it. You...you weren't thinking straight. It's going to take more than that to rattle me, Dwight, don't worry."
"No I know, but -" Dwight paused. "I still apologize if I said anything else that you might have regretted hearing. I just think we should...keep it professional."
Jim tried to shove down the hard pang of disappointment. "Well, you won't have to worry about that with me."
Dwight remained silent after that. He looked up at Jim, as if expecting him to say something else.
"So," Jim said, looking away. "I guess I'll pick you up tomorrow."
Dwight nodded. "Sounds good."
For some reason, Jim couldn't move. He knew that he should leave, but there was something keeping him there, telling him not to leave this room.
"Do you..." Jim said. "Um, do you need anything else before I go? Are you thirsty?"
Dwight thought for a moment. "No, I'm good."
"Okay great. Because I hope you meant what you said."
Dwight froze. "What?"
Jim backtracked. What did he just say?
"What?" Jim asked.
"You just said something. Tell me what you said."
"Oh, I don't..." Jim chuckled. "I don't think it was that important."
"You said something. I know it. It about what I said earlier."
Jim felt frozen where he stood. He had very few choices, and he had no idea which one to pick.
"Uh..."
"You just said you feel the same way. Now, Jim, if this is another prank, I swear I will-"
"Okay, Dwight, just shut up."
Jim took two large steps towards Dwight Schrute's bed and kissed him, hard on the mouth with a firm grip on the other man's face. Dwight inhaled sharply, promptly closing his eyes to feel the soft press of Jim's lips against his.
The moment lasted for exactly two seconds. Jim pulled away almost immediately, feeling his heart hammering away in his chest with the blood rushing to his face.
"I know you want to keep it professional." Jim breathed. "But I honestly don't."
Dwight swallowed. "You don't?"
"No. I don't. I want to be with you. And I was worried about you today, and I wanted to kiss you in the waiting room, but I didn't know if you were even aware of what you were saying, and there were just so many people around. But. I guess what I'm trying to say is...I don't care anymore and that I want to be with you. So...so there. Take it or leave it, Dwight."
Dwight sat there for several seconds, as if trying to process everything that Jim said.
"Well I...I never wanted to be professional with you, either."
"But you said..."
"No, you idiot, it was only because I thought that's what you wanted! God, I don't care what anyone else thinks, either."
As if to punctuate his point, Dwight sighed and pulled Jim down by his tie, returning the kiss just as enthusiastically as Jim had minutes before.
Caught off guard, Jim drew his palms up to Dwight's shoulders, drawing himself in closer to feel the other man against him.
Dwight's hands make his way to Jim's hair, combing his hand through the locks like there something hidden in there. Jim chuckled, remembering back to Dwight's comments on his hair in the waiting room. It must have been something rather unconscious of him to say.
Dwight pulled away, looking rather suspicious. "What are you laughing at?"
"Nothing, it's just-" Jim laughed. "I like the way you enjoy my hair."
Dwight paused for a second and the laughed, sending Jim into laughing fits as well.
Soon, the two had completely forgotten that they were still in a medical building and they kept laughing. It might have been because they were so comfortable with each other, or that they were so happy to have gotten together. Either way, it was hard for either of them to calm down.
After what felt like ages, Jim felt like he had enough breath again to peck Dwight on the lips, smoothing the man's brown hair from his forehead.
"Why don't you come home with me tomorrow?" Jim asked him. "I can make you breakfast, or...something. I don't know."
"Don't you have work tomorrow?"
"I can call in sick."
Dwight grinned. "Really?"
"Really. Seriously, Dwight, I'll be here. We can spend the day together, if you want."
The implications in Jim's voice was enough to make Dwight blush bright red in his cot. "Yes. That sounds good."
"Good?"
"Yeah."
"Okay. Great."
Jim kissed him again and again, already becoming addicted to Dwight Schrute and his kisses. Jim had no idea how he was going to last until the morning.
"Okay," said Jim finally. "Okay, I have to go. My stuff is still at the office."
"Okay," Dwight muttered against Jim's lips. "Okay, go."
"Mmm, fine."
Jim pulled away, using all the strength he had to put distance between him and Dwight. He waved, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
"I-I guess I'll see you tomorrow," Jim chuckled. "I can't wait."
Dwight smiled. "Me neither."
Jim waved again, walking out into the hall.
Dwight sighed, lying back into his cot.
He'd have to wait until tomorrow to see Jim again. If he can wait that long.