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It takes three Signature Christmas Cocktails for Jimmy to realize he might be overdoing it. Not with the amount of alcohol he’s consumed in the last one hour period, no, but with his selection. Variety is the spice of life! He decides that his next drink will be an espresso martini.
Like every year, HHM has gone above and beyond for their annual Christmas party. The already extravagant lobby has been decked out in red, green, and gold. Long, thick strands of shimmery tinsel wrap around the handrail of the staircase. There’s a tall artificial Christmas tree in one corner in front of the wide glass windows. Besides it there’s a large table covered with various shapes and sizes of wrapped presents from HHM associates and employees, to be donated to the Albuquerque Salvation Army just in time for the holiday. There’s a band in the opposite corner, a small group playing classical covers of Christmas songs. The reception desk has been transformed into a makeshift bar, where the bartenders are mixing the three different cocktails on the custom drinks menu. Cocktail tables are scattered about the space, covered in red and green tablecloths and cluttered with condensation-rimmed cocktail napkins and forgotten business cards. Event staff walk around, serving drinks and small, bite sized appetizers. HHM employees from all departments and walks of life are milling about, laughing and eating and talking shop, even on a night off.
And then there’s Jimmy, leaning against the side of the staircase in the one suit he owns and a kitschy Christmas tie printed with strings of lights. He’s nursing his fourth drink of the night and waiting, patiently waiting, to see if Kim will honor him with her attention.
He’s only really here for her, anyways. Sure, he needs to show up at least briefly so Chuck knows that he’s still taking this mailroom job seriously, like the last three years of showing up to every shift haven’t been enough. But he’s stayed because Kim’s here, and although he’s friendly with everyone in the mailroom and a lot of the lower-level employees, they’re not really his friends. Only Kim is, and he’ll take any time with her that he can get.
Yet it’s been two hours, and he’s only seen her once. Towards the beginning of the night, she had found him as soon as she walked in. She stalked to where he was standing with no hesitation, like she just knew where he’d be.
Kim had explained that with the bar exam coming up in a few months, she really needed to pay her dues and mingle with the first and second year associates, making stronger professional connections and reaping any studying and test-taking knowledge she could sow. So with an affectionate squeeze to his shoulder, she was off to network her ass off, leaving Jimmy alone.
Jimmy gets it, really, he does. But does he wish that Kim would come over and sit on one of the benches with him instead of standing around a cocktail table with some nameless first years and Douchebag Dan from accounting? Of course he does. He would be able to really make her laugh, the type that causes her to snort and cover her face in embarrassment, not her fake work laugh that makes her voice pitch abnormally high. It’s bad enough that she only has a few more months in the mailroom with him, until she passes the bar and moves on up the HHM ladder. Jimmy just wants as much time with Kim as he can manage.
He takes another long sip of his martini and glances to his right, catching sight of Kim. Tonight, she’s wearing a silky cranberry red dress, with long sleeves and a hemline that reaches right past her knees. Her hair is pulled back into one of those tucked in twist hairstyles, the one she always does when she wants to look classier. He knows those types of things about her. It shows off her earrings, which are medium-sized gold hoops, a deviation from her normal triangle earrings. She’s really trying tonight, he reflects. Putting her best foot out there.
It’s unnecessary, though, Jimmy thinks. Anyone who doesn’t immediately look at Kim or listen to her talk for a minute and think she’s beautiful and brilliant is probably stupid or ugly or both. Fucking idiots. They don’t value her like he does.
Okay, maybe he has had too much to drink. He can usually tell once his thoughts about Kim veer off into un friend-like territory. Like how he’s looking at her now, watching the way her red lips curl upwards softly into a smile. The thought appears in his brain reflexively: I want to kiss her so badly. That’s all the sign he needs to decide to pack it up and head home.
Jimmy downs the rest of his martini in one gulp and places it on an empty cocktail table before walking over to Chuck to briefly say thanks and goodnight. He doesn’t get very far, though, because there’s a light tap on the back of his shoulder. He turns around, and there’s Kim.
She has an uncharacteristically wide grin on her face, red lips stretched from the force of her smile, showing off her teeth. Jimmy can’t help but match her face, smiling big and not even understanding why.
“Hey,” she’s stage whispering for some reason. “Wanna get out of here?”
Who is he to say no? “Lead the way.”
She grabs his hand and then they’re off, speed walking through crowds of people, weaving in and out, exchanging quick pleasantries as they pass through. She’s got an awkward hold on his hand— her right hand gripping his four fingers, leaving his thumb sticking out. He tries to wrap it around her palm as tight as he can.
They make it to the elevators, and Kim lets go of Jimmy’s hand to press the P3 button and then leans back against one wall of the elevator. Jimmy does the same on the opposite end, so he’s facing her, arms crossed casually.
He takes her in: her chest is heaving like she’s run a marathon, cheeks flushed a light pink. A few pieces of hair have escaped her twisted up style throughout the night.
“How many drinks have you had tonight?” He asks mock-accusingly.
“Uhhhhh,” Kim’s mouth drops open. The index finger of her right hand taps thoughtfully on her chin, and her left hand rests lightly above her hip. “I got a new drink at every table I stopped at to mingle, soooooooo. Maybe five?”
“Whoa, Kim Wexler, getting down with it at the HHM Christmas Party!” Jimmy exclaims dramatically. “What would Hamlin and Mini Hamlin think if they saw you?”
The elevator noise goes off and the doors open to their level of the parking garage. Kim answers as they walk out.
“That’s why I’m down here with you. By the time I realized I had had too much, it was too late. Needed to get out quick enough to save face.” She slides her purse off her shoulder and unzips it, pulling a single cigarette out of her pack and her usual black lighter.
“That’s the only reason you’re with me now, then?” Jimmy asks. “To save your reputation in front of the partners?” He only half means it.
Kim rolls her eyes. “No, stupid. Of course not. You’re the one I actually want to spend time with here anyways.”
They share a small smile between them, and then Kim’s placing the cigarette between her lips and lighting up. She takes a few long drags before handing it to Jimmy.
Kim begins to talk as they pass the cigarette back and forth. She’s rambling a bit, something she really only does when she’s been drinking. Alcohol seems to loosen up whatever’s inside of her that stays so tightly wound. Jimmy likes when she’s like this, she’s a little sillier and a lot more open, but truly, he likes her always. Whatever version of Kim that she is. They’re all her.
She works her way through explaining each group of people she hung around tonight and what they said to her and what advice for the bar they offered. Normally, Jimmy is a very, very good listener. But tonight, he’s zoning out on Kim’s voice because he’s zoning in on everything else about her. Her legs encased in sheer black pantyhose. Her small, closed toe heels. The curve of her ass highlighted by the smooth red silk of her dress. The long line of her neck. Her arched, sardonic eyebrows when she recounts an instance of someone talking down on her. Her hair, pulled tightly into whatever style that is but starting to fall away a little bit.
Jimmy’s thinking about fucking lucky he is to be able to be around Kim when she’s like this when she stops talking and waves her hand in front of his face.
“Hey, Earth to Jimmy. Are you even listening to me?” She’s not really annoyed though, when he looks at her face to check. She’s wearing a small, affectionate smile, the corners of her lips turned upwards slightly.
“Yeah!” Jimmy lies. “It’s just…. Uh, what’s the name of that style, you know, that your hair is in tonight?”
“You want to know the name of the hairstyle I’m wearing?”
“Yeah?”
“What, are you training for beauty school, Frenchie?”
Jimmy laughs. “I’m just curious!”
“Always curious,” she says softly, passing the cigarette to him and then using her hand to reach back and touch her hair lightly. “It’s called a French twist.”
“French twist,” Jimmy repeats. Another piece of the Kim Wexler puzzle clicks into place: the name of one of her hair styles. He wonders how she learned to do it, ‘cause it looks kind of complicated. Did her mother teach her? Did she see it in a movie and replicate it? He wants to know everything about her. God, he loves her.
Jimmy’s not drunk, but he’s had enough to drink that he doesn’t shove this thought away immediately. Those cocktails have eased his mind. He lets it sit with him (I love her), soaking in the way it warms his entire body up. Normally, when he feels weird or awkward, he talks furiously to fill the space, but not right now. He just looks at her silently and takes another drag. When he exhales and glanced down at the cigarette in between his fingers, he can see where her lipstick has left a stain.
He passes it back to her, and she looks at him inquisitively. “What?”
Jimmy just shakes his head, Nothing. The feeling will pass, he thinks. It always does.
“You’re being weird,” she comments.
“It’ll pass.”
She snatches the cigarette from his grasp. “You know you can just say it.”
Jimmy’s dumbfounded. “Say what?”
“That you want to kiss me,” she states matter of factly.
Uhhhh. Fuck. Jimmy stays silent. Kim keeps smoking. Their cigarette is almost gone.
“I’ll take that as a yes then.” She’s smug.
“C’mon,” she speaks again, challenging him. She’s got a devious look on her face. “Just do it, if you want to so badly.”
Jimmy sets his jaw tightly. He makes a decision, and reaches over to pluck the cigarette out of her mouth while she’s mid drag and throws it aimlessly to his right. Then, he grabs her face in both hands and kisses her, hard. She tastes like smoke on his tongue, thick and heavy.
Kim moans into the kiss instantly, and her hands fly up to grasp his shoulders tightly. He can hear her purse fall haphazardly to the ground. They kiss and kiss and kiss. His tongue is in her mouth but then hers is in his and she’s nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him even harder than before.
Eventually, they break apart, needing to catch their breath. Kim’s smug look is gone. She just looks… out of it. Jimmy, on the other hand, doesn’t even know what planet he’s on.
Did that really just happen?
“You said that out loud,” Kim points out.
“Oh. Shit.”
“But, yeah, that really did just happen.”
Jimmy slumps down against the wall and sits, arms resting on his knees, feeling like he’s just jumped so far over a line that he shouldn’t have crossed. But, God, it felt so right.
Still. “We shouldn’t have done that.” He looks up at where Kim is still standing. Her face is half veiled by the darkness of the parking garage.
She kneels down to sit beside him, so close that their thighs are touching. She places her right hand lightly on his shoulder and rubs her thumb back and forth over the thick material of his suit jacket. He can still feel it.
“Why not?” Her face looks hurt by the suggestion that what they did was wrong.
This surprises him. Jimmy always thought it would be her who wouldn’t want this to happen. That she would be the one to push him away when he kissed her and tell him that it was a mistake. That she’s not looking for a relationship. That they’re best friends, and they can’t do anything to risk it.
But maybe he was wrong about what Kim wanted. Maybe she wants the same thing from him that he wants from her: more Kim, all of Kim, in whatever form she’ll have him.
He doesn’t answer, at least not in words. Instead, he just kisses her again.