He knew Jan had been impressed with how well he'd been overseeing Michael, and how many of the managerial decisions he'd ultimately influenced, but it was still a pleasant surprise to find that she'd rewarded him with a pay raise just six months into the new position as well as having his accomplishments openly praised in the corporate newsletter. Michael of course had decided that it called for a celebration, and much to Jim's chagrin had declared Friday to be Jim Halpert Day at the office. Dwight rolled his eyes at the announcement and the Party Planning committee met that afternoon to decide how best to celebrate. As usual the guest of honor wasn't consulted in the festivity planning, and a mint chocolate chip ice cream cake somehow ended up on the list of essentials.

Karen spent most of Friday afternoon's party time cajoling Jim into deciding where they should go on a vacation next month, now that he didn't have the excuse of poverty. As she begged him to get her out of Scranton, Jim wondered why the idea of a whole week of just the two of them didn't fill him with the same kind of excitement that she seemed to have.

It only took a glance across the room to know why. He hated himself for it, but it was a fact that would not be denied. He excused himself to use the restroom, knowing a reprieve from Karen's ongoing campaign was required, even if it was only a brief escape.

Later that day when he stopped at his desk to shut his computer down for the night, he was surprised to find a small package on his desk. He sat down and unwrapped The Little Black Book of Project Management. He tried not to roll his eyes at what was obviously Karen's idea of a motivational gift.

He was never going to be as dedicated to a career selling paper as she seemed to be. He was about to stick it into his desk drawer when front cover flipped open and he noticed the dedication inside. He felt a shock go through him when he realized it was not Karen's handwriting.

I am happy that you are being recognized for all the important things you do around here, and I'm sure this book has of lots helpful ideas on how to keep doing that. But it's also useful for pulling together the perfect pranks, and that's something I hope you never forget how to do either. I'm proud of all the things you are.

It was signed Love, Pam.

Jim tucked the book into his messenger bag, aware that his hand was slightly shaking.

It had been sitting on his desk when he walked in. A red bandana folded to form a makeshift envelope, held together by two wooden clothespins along the top edge. His name, cursively written on a white label stuck to the front, the handwriting aching familiar. He opened it gingerly, finding a square piece of heavy cardstock decorated with the scene of summer: green trees, flowering bushes, and laundry hung out to dry along a rope knotted between the trees. In the middle of the colorful sketch was the invitation:

Your presence is requested on the roof - Today at Noon.

Come alone. Lunch will be provided.

And that was it. No explanation, no signature. Karen had been gone a week, so that left only one person to consider. The same person he would have immediately thought of even if Karen was still in his life. He looked up and noticed she wasn't in yet. She must have left it on his desk last night. He wondered what in the world she was up to, and for a moment wondered if he shouldn't just tell her he has other plans. A business meeting. A dental appointment. Anything to keep them from having to face each other with no buffers. He'd gotten good enough in dealing with her with others around, enough that it looked like they were friends again. But he still didn't trust himself to be with her alone. It was akin to flying too close to the sun, even now. And no matter how good, how exhilerating, it might feel as it happened, the freefall that was sure to follow would still hurt too much afterwards. Yes, an excuse to skip this was just what he needed.

Except noon arrived and there was no Pam. She didn't come into work that morning so the email he'd sent went unread. He was truly confused now. He had no choice but to head upstairs, not knowing who or what he'd find.

He knew he shouldn't have doubted her hand in this as soon as he stepped out onto the roof. He was amazed by the scene before him. She was sitting at a round stone patio table, the table and benches covered in mosaic-tiles. She sat there shaded by a large green striped sun umbrella, its pole appearing to sprout from the center of the table. She was not in her usual office outfit, but instead a black and white polka dot dress that showed more skin than he'd seen since last May. Her hair was pulled back into a full ponytail, and as he walked toward her he noticed a matching black and white ribbon in her hair.

What has she done? was all he could think, and with her smiling nervously at him, he was absolutely certain he had never seen her look so beautiful. His smile to her was automatic, and for a change, totally sincere. He sat down on one of the stone benches across from her, taking his eyes off her face long enough to notice that the table was formally set for two, and a pitcher of iced lemonade sat next to the umbrella post. “What is all this?” He finally asked.

“I know today means something to you and I just wanted to share in it a little bit,” she said, focusing herself on pouring them both a glass of lemonade.

Jim furrowed his brow as he sipped the lemonade, trying to think of what she could be talking about. “This is really good,” he said, tilting his glass toward her. “It tastes freshly made.”

“It is,” Pam said, looking down at her own glass. “You said that was the only kind your grandmother ever made.”

Suddenly Jim knew what this was all about, and he was speechless with the implications. “You remembered?” He finally choked out.

“Do you honestly think I would forget that?” Pam asked plainly, her voice warm. “It meant so much that you shared that with me.”

Jim's mind seemed to jump back into two places at once. His first thoughts were of that day. The last day of sixth grade had brought a showdown with a bully who had taunted him for months, and even if it was a defensive attack and he'd proudly held his own, Jim was terrified that his parents would punish him for fighting. So he ran instead to Grandma's house after school. She cleaned the blood off his face with her ever present red bandana, and changed his shirt into one she had drying out on the line in the back yard. She called his parents and said he was staying to eat dinner with her, and never once mentioned the reason for the change in plans. From that day forward it was always their secret.

Just their secret until the day a bit over two years ago when he found out his beloved Grandmother had died, and he spend the work afternoon sitting up on the roof grieving. Pam had spent most of the afternoon with him, not caring that the phones were directed to voicemail or that she had no real obligation to be with him. She held his hand while he just sat there quietly, and eventually he told her about that day, calling it his favorite childhood memory.

“And today's her birthday,” he mused. He took another drink from his glass. “Thank you,” he said as their eyes met. “I might have forgotten if you hadn't brought me up here. I've been too busy thinking about stupid things.”

“I'm not done,” she smiled. “I did say lunch would be provided.” She turned slightly and dragged the cooler closer. She presented two already made up plates of food, as well as small red cookie tin.

“I wonder if you can tell me what this all is.”

Jim looked at the plate and began to smile. “You did not make this.”

“Don't look so surprised. I can cook a little bit.” She laughed. “Well, I can mix things together, at least.” On the plate there was a chicken salad sandwich on oatmeal bread, and homemade macaroni salad.

“Did you remember her secret ingredient?” Jim asked.

“You mean the tarragon in the chicken salad?” Pam said. “I absolutely did, and I have a baggie of leftover tarragon in my fridge to prove it.”

Jim took a bite and nodded appreciatively. “This is perfect. It tastes just like I remember it.”

“Good,” she said softly.

When he finished the sandwich he pointed to the tin. “Are those what I think they are?”

Pam grinned and slid the tin over to him. “Depends what you think they are.”

He lifted up the lid. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” he said, then laughed slightly. “Sorry. I just haven't had double stuft Oreos in ages.”

“They're all yours.”

He took four out of the tin and handed them to Pam. “No, we definitely have to share.” He stared at her for a moment, letting himself just relax into all the good feelings she'd managed to stir up with seemingly no effort at all. She smiled and took the cookies, and they each took turns displaying the correct way to eat an Oreo Double Stuft.

Jim quizzed her on the patio furniture and her absence that morning, and Pam explained how she'd been gifted the set from her mother's house, and had the guys from Vance Refridgeration get it up to the roof just today. “So between mixing up the food and moving stone furniture, I couldn't quite fit in work, too,” she grinned, her good humor infecting him with laughter as well.

“Now what are you going to do with them now that they're here?”

She shrugged. “I guess I'll start sneaking up here again to eat my lunch on nice days. I don't think I was up here once last summer.”

“Not even to get away from Michael?”

She shook her head. “No. It hurt to think about being up here alone.” Jim felt a pang of guilt at her honesty.

“I think it's time to start coming back up here,” she finally said, tidying up the table.

Jim stood up, helping her put everything away. “Sounds like a good idea, actually,” he replied, watching for her reaction.

She caught his gaze. “You're always welcome to join me.”

Jim nodded, not really trusting himself to say anything more. He knew this time together had marked a shift in their relationship, and while he knew it could only be a good thing, he was still to anxious to truly hope.

The lemonade finished and the food remains packed up, Jim and Pam grabbed their things to go back downstairs. As they walked toward the stairwell door, Jim hesistated. He didn't want to ruin the moment, but he had to know.

Why did you do this?” He found himself asking.

“Because you matter,” she replied, and continued walking.

There was no denying it. It was definitely getting hot. Pam ran her hand over her brow, and then undid her barrette to try and clip up even more hair off the back of her neck. Jim had already taken off his tie so he could undo the top two buttons of his shirt, and his sleeves had been rolled up for the last half hour. And there wasn't any sign of things getting better soon.

It was nearly two hours ago, shortly after eleven, that the entire Scranton Business Park office building lost power. Pam swore under her breath because she was on target to beat her best sudoku score on the hardest level as her monitor went black and her computer fan stopped spinning. The lights went out, and most depressingly on this hot June day, the air conditioning system died as well.

Jim and Pam immediately looked at each other with amused, if incredulous looks. Jim had moved back to his old desk shortly after their first rooftop luncheon, and since then it was as if time had backpedaled a bit. The ease between them felt more natural, even if awkwardness still could be found in the silences between them. And even that awkwardness was starting to morph into a more pleasant sensation, one that neither could bring themselves to deal with just yet.

People were starting to talk about heading home for an early weekend when Michael came out of his office and insisted that everyone stay. He said the power would be restored shortly, so there was no need to leave. So with nothing else to do Pam found a deck of cards in her drawer and pulled a chair up to Jim's desk, where they spent the time playing games. They played rummy for a while, but as the office's temperature started to rise they settled on War. Jim had just won his third game in a row when Pam practically threw her cards at him.

“Okay, you win again. You win forever,” she sighed, dropping her head on her folded arms that were resting on the edge of his desk.

“That's a little dramatic, Beesly, don't you think?” He grinned. “I mean, I know I am a winner...”

“Shut up,” she groaned. “I'm too hot to listen to your boasting.”

“Do you want another glass of ice water?”

“I took the last of the ice cubes earlier. I'm not sure the new ones are frozen yet.”

“We could run out and get ice.”

“If Michael lets me walk out the door, I'm not coming back. Besides,” she grumbled, “Dwight suggested going to get ice and Michael wouldn't let him. I feel like a prisoner.”

Jim swept up the cards from his desk and put them back in order. “Any other game you want to play?”

Pam frowned. “How can you remain so cheerful in this heat and stuffiness?”

Jim smiled. He wasn't about to admit that just being with her like this was enough to keep him happy in any temperature extreme. “Someone has to balance out your grumpiness.”

Pam laughed in spite of herself. “Give me the cards,” she demanded, holding out her hand.

Jim pulled them out of her reach. “Manners, Beesly?”

Pam signed. “Please?”

Jim put them in her hand. “That's better,” he said. “What do you want to play?”

“Well, I'd suggest Old Maid but that cuts a bit too close to home for me,” she replied.

“Hardly,” Jim snorted. “You'd got at least another year before you earn that title.”

She shot him a look that made it clear how unimpressed she was with his humor. “Here, shuffle these cards carefully,” she said, handing the deck back to him. Jim complied and after a minute gave her the cards. She began to lay cards face down on the table, three separate rows of three cards each.

“What's this game?” He asked, leaning toward her.

“It's not a game. I am going to read your cards.”

“Read them?”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes focusing on the table.

“Like Tarot cards?”

She looked up. “Yes,” she repeated, as if she was talking to a someone whose native language was not English. “I prefer Tarot cards, but this will do.”

Jim leaned closer, a bit surprised. “You read Tarot cards?”

“Sometimes.”

“Are you a witch?”

She glanced back up at him. “You're going to find out if you don't quit teasing me. Now do you want to know what the reading says or not?”

Jim sat back. “Please. I'm very interested in what the cards have to say about me.”

“The top row is your past, the middle your present, the bottom your future.” She flipped over the first row of three to find the two of spades, five of diamonds, nine of clubs. She ran her fingers over all three cards, appearing to be lost in thought.

“So what does my past say?” He asked, his amusement evident.

“The two of spades means torn between two choices, a struggle. The five of diamonds notes a change of scenery, often motivated or due to financial increases. The nine of clubs means stubbornness, or fighting against one's will.” She paused a moment. “So basically it's saying that the past has been a combination of struggle with yourself and perhaps a struggle to make what you thought were the right decisions. It might be that the decision included moving, and part of the move was based on money.”

“Uncanny,” Jim said, with a smirk. “How do you know what those cards mean?”

“I used to read them all the time. Now I do it to get through an afternoon sometimes. Once you start doing it, you remember pretty quickly what each card represents.” She shot him an mischievous look. “So did I get your past correct?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “Given that I have to trust that you aren't just making it all up? Yeah, it sounded vaguely familiar.”

“Shall I go on or are you just going to sit there and mock me?”

Jim rolled his chair a bit closer to his desk. “No, please, by all means continue.”

“The next three cards represent the situation currently around you.” She turned over the middle three cards to reveal the four of spades, the queen of hearts, and the six of hearts. She smiled slightly.

“What?”

“Things are certainly looking better for you now than in the past.”

“What do they say?”

“Well, the four of spades is resting, reflecting, making a decision in a calm atmosphere - which is certainly different from what it said about the past. The six of hearts is about holding on to happy memories, and old friends. Sometimes being reunited with old friends.”

“And the queen of hearts?”

“That's a woman in your life, a woman with a strong tie to you in a personal sense. Hearts of course mean love and so she's someone who's very supportive of you, or at the very least wishes you happiness.”

“Hmm,” Jim said, waiting for her to spell out what he could already see. He wanted to see how skillfully she turned the reading into meaning something that didn't include herself, because it seemed obvious to him that they both knew who the queen of hearts was. He waved his hand in the general direction of the cards. “So what does that mean?”

Her eyes was practically sparkling. “I think it's obvious. You are in a really good place right now, as evidenced by the calm and resting, with old friends and happy memories.”

“And the woman?”

Pam sighed dramatically. “Duh, it's me, dork. All this good stuff,” she said sweeping her hand around the middle cards, “is entirely due to me. You completely owe me.”

Jim laughed heartily, loud enough that Stanley lowered his crossword puzzle for a moment. He couldn't believe she'd said that. Pam admit to anything remotely emotional or connective between them? Maybe the heat was getting to her. He knew he suddenly felt warmer.

“What comes next?” He asked.

The final cards were the three of diamonds, the seven of hearts, and the four of clubs. He watched silently as Pam stared at the three cards that were predicting his future, and noticed her grin.

“Come on, tell me - I'm sitting here anxiously awaiting my future!”

“Sure you are,” she laughed. “Well, you better brace yourself then. It's pretty amazing.”

Jim made a big show of sitting upright and grabbing the edge of his desk. “Ready.”

“Dork,” she muttered again, though it sounded like more like an endearment than name-calling. She slid aside the first six cards and pushed the final three more toward the center of Jim's desk. “Well, this one,” she said, pointing at the three of diamonds, “represents a cause for celebration or festivities.”

She pointed to the middle card, the seven of hearts. “This one is telling you that consistent effort pays off, and the final card,” she continued, “says there will be a successful outcome to your wishes.”

“Those all sound unbelievably positive,” Jim said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Yes, amazing, isn't it.” But you really need to put them all together to get a clear picture of what it's saying.

“Okay.”

“Well, it's saying that you will be completely happy with the outcome that's going to result from us getting out of this unbearable office heat.”

“That does sound like success to me.”

“And,” she continued, glancing between him and the cards, “that your best road to happiness involves you inviting me to an movie matinée so we can sit in a nice cold theatre for the rest of the afternoon, followed by you treating me to dinner since we couldn't eat our lunches that were left in the fridge.”

“Wow.” Jim sat back, slightly stunned by what had just happened. “Did you just ask me out on a date?”

For the first time since she started the reading Pam looked momentarily hesitant. “No, I'm just telling you the cards think it would be wise for you to ask me out on a date.”

“Right, the cards.” He grinned and leaned forward. “And if I were to find a book on card fortune telling, the interpretation of these cards would be the same?”

“Probably,” she replied, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. “Don't you trust me?”

Jim tilted his head slightly, thinking how pretty she looked with the slight flush to her cheeks and her hair pulled up off her neck. Despite everything he'd trust her with his life, and now he was starting to believe that maybe he could trust her with his heart again. He started to smile and he noticed a flash of relief across her face.

“Let's get out of here then, Beesly,” he finally said, pushing himself away from his desk. “We wouldn't want to be late for a good show.”

Dancing. How in the world did he let Pam talking him into going dancing? Jim repeatedly asked himself that very question on his drive over to her apartment, but as he pulled into the open parking space next to her blue Yaris, he already knew the answer. Because she'd asked. Ever since their date two weeks ago to escape the heat of an air conditioner-less office, his whole world had shifted to revolve around her. Not that he minded in the least, of course. This was exactly what he'd always dreamed about, and truth be told, it was completely living up to this expectations.

The only part missing was sex, but given that they'd been making out like horny teenagers nearly every night, Jim was willing to be patient. She'd let him know when she was ready, and in the meantime he'd enjoy what he could get. He didn't want to rush it because he wanted them to do this right. They still were having long conversations about the past year, and it was funny to him that he actually enjoyed these talks, given how painful he found similar talks with Karen to be. The only thing hard about his relationship with Pam, he thought bemusedly, was him when he was touching her.

He was talking himself into the idea that going dancing would be fun when he knocked at her door. After all, they had a good time together no matter what they did. It wasn't like it was club dancing anyway. Pam said it was a quiet piano bar type of atmosphere and the most they would be doing would be slow dancing. And holding her in public was something he'd wanted to do for a long time. He was congratulating himself on actually looking forward to the evening when Pam opened the door and his brain stopped functioning.

She stood in the doorway, a blue and green striped towel wrapped around her, and a solid blue towel wrapped like a turban around her head. Her face and shoulders still looked dewy from a shower and she looked a little surprised to see him. For his part, all Jim could do was stare.

"Um, hi..." he finally managed to say. "Am I early?"

Pam smiled, "No, not really. I'm running late." She held the door open wider. "Please, come in and I'll go finished getting ready."

Jim felt his heart racing as he walked past her. "Are you sure?" He joked, trying to cover up the fact that all he could think about was what would happen if he pulled that towel away from her body. "Because I think that look works for you."

"Thanks," she grinned, shutting the door. She stepped closer to him and gave him a quick kiss. "But I think you'll agree what I have picked out is nicer. I'll be right back."

Jim watched her disappear into her bedroom, door shutting behind her. He continued to stand, his hands in his pockets. He shook his head, trying to get the image of Pam in a towel out of his mind. He hoped they wouldn't be dancing too closely tonight, because heaven knew he was only human.

Jim had been pacing around the living room for a little more than ten minutes when he heard her bedroom door open. He turned toward the sound, waiting her arrival.

"Jim," she called from her bedroom, "I've been thinking."

He walked toward the sound of her voice, stopping a respectable distance from the partially opened door, in case she wasn't finished dressing. "Do I want to know what about?" He replied.

"About going out tonight," she said.

"Are you feeling sick?" He asked, concern evident.

"No, I just know you weren't too happy with the idea of going out dancing when I first suggested it."

"I was surprised," he replied, "but I'm more than happy to go dancing if you want. Really."

"Are you sure? I don't want to be one of those girls who makes their boyfriend do all sorts of things they really don't want to do."

"Pam," Jim laughed, "when you start turning into Kelly I will be sure to tell you."

He heard her giggle from behind the door. "Promise?"

"Most definitely."

"Okay," she said, sounding hesitant, "but what if I've changed my mind?"

Jim leaned against the wall. "You've changed your mind about dancing?"

"No, just the going out part."

The bedroom door opened the rest of the way slowly, and Jim looked up. The lighting from the bedroom illuminated Pam's silhouette, but as she walked toward him he could see her clearly. And what he saw dropped his heart right into his shoes.

Pam stopped a few feet from him, looking like a vision. Her hair was hanging loose, her natural curls spiraling down her shoulders. She was wearing nothing but a silky pink chemise and matching short robe, the semi-sheer material floating around her like a cloud. The lights caught the shimmery polka dot pattern, and the pink marabou trim on the neckline and the sleeves matched the trim on her high heeled pink slippers.

Jim opened his mouth to speak, but he had nothing to say that wouldn't give himself away as a total idiot. He tried to stand up straight, but his legs were trembling too much to hold his weight. He was completely dumbfounded. He knew she was starting to smile at his reaction, and he knew he shouldn't just stand there staring, but he really had no idea what to do. This was not at all what he was expecting.

"Um, a, wow...." he choked out, knowing she would be teasing him mercilessly about his reaction later. "That's, um, quite an outfit, Pam."

She came closer. "Do you really like it?" She asked, her voice as rich as velvet to his ears.

He finally was able to pull himself up from the wall. "Yes. It's amazing," he replied, his eyes taking in every inch of her. "I can see why that might not be appropriate to go out dancing in though."

She moved until she was finally face-to-face with him. "It's good for dancing here though, don't you think?"

Jim nodded quickly. "Yeah," he said, finally looking into her eyes. "Yeah, that would be just fine."

Pam raised her palm up to show she was holding a iPod mini, and a pair of Swarovski crystal encrusted ear buds. "Care to dance?" She asked.

"Fancy ear buds," he replied, picking up one. "The pink crystals even match your outfit. You are turning into Kelly." Their laughter broke the original tension, and Jim started to let the situation sink in. This was going to be a much more important night than he had expected, but he was certainly ready for it.

Pam clipped the iPod to the belt of her robe, and with ear buds both in place she hit play. As the music started up she pulled him to the center of the living room and then rested both hands on his chest as he put his arms around her waist. Soon they heard the sounds of the band Travis, the song so sweetly familiar to both of them.

"Are you sure we aren't swaying?" Jim smiled.

"No, we are definitely dancing," she assured him, her eyes never leaving his. She slid her arms up around his neck, pulling herself closer. Her slippers made her stand just tall enough that she only had to lean up to place a gentle kiss against his lips. This simply heartfelt gesture was all Jim needed to find himself feeling like he was falling.

As he gently ran his hands over her back, he discovered that there was nothing but Pam underneath the robe and chemise - and even together those two clothing items were devastatingly thin. It didn't take much imagination for him to know what it would feel like to touch her naked skin. He pulled her flush against himself, deepening his kiss as they slowly moved to the music.

When Sing ended, Say Yes by Elliott Smith started up. Halfway through the song Jim pulled back to look at Pam, his hands moving to her shoulders, caressing them softly. Her eyes looked dark, and her lips were full and red from kissing. Her hands moved down from his neck to his tie, where she started to loosen it. She pulled it off and threw it onto the couch, still swaying in time to the music. When she began to undo his top button, Jim put his hand over hers.

"Are you sure?" He asked.

"More than anything," she replied. "Unless you aren't?"

Jim closed his eyes briefly. "No, I'm sure." He squeezed her shoulder slightly. "I just don't want you to feel rushed."

"Look at me, Jim," Pam said. He did and she continued. "I was sure a long, long time ago."

He pulled her back to him. "Then let's not keep you waiting any longer," he replied, a mischievous smile appearing briefly before his mouth covered hers once more.

Pam sighed as she unlocked her apartment door, pushing the loose hair off her face. "God, it's hot," she mumbled irritably as she held the door for Jim. He carried in two brown bags full of food they had made at an all-day cooking class.

Jim put the bags down on Pam's dinette table. "It's August, Pam," he grinned, "it's supposed to be hot. Plus we've been in room full of ovens all day."

Pam hit the switch for the ceiling fan and flopped on the couch. "Next time I have a bright idea like this, tell me to wait until January."

"Sure," he laughed. "Can I get you some ice water?"

"Please," she replied forcefully. "I would love some."

When he came over with her glass, she pushed her purse from the cushion next to her to the floor, causing the contents to spill. Jim handed her the glass, then picked up the small mess she'd created. He sat down next to her holding the flyer from their Italian cooking demonstration. It had been a special "cooking for two" theme, and by the end of the six hour session they'd made four different entrees to bring home.

"That really was fun today, heat notwithstanding," he said, placing the flyer on the coffee table. "Good choice, Beesly."

"Thank you," she said after taking a long drink of her water. She rested her head back against the couch as the light breeze from the fan hit her face. "I appreciate you being so willing to try it out with me."

Jim slouched down next to her, and took a sip from her glass. "Well, I do like to eat," he smiled, nudging his arm against hers. "And I agree that we really shouldn't be spending so much money eating at restaurants or getting takeaway food so often."

Pam nodded. "Plus we really should try to eat a bit healthier. I've put on almost ten pounds since we started dating."

Jim made a dismissive sound. "Where?"

"Trust me, my skirts don't lie."

"Well, I'll agree that eating healthier in general is a good thing. But don't give me any of that weight loss crap. I don't care what you weigh."

Pam laughed. "Yeah, you say that now. I bet you'll be singing another tune if I gained fifty pounds."

Jim shrugged. "Think what you like. As long as you're happy, I'll have no complaints." He slid his hand into hers and brought them to his lips. "You'll always be beautiful to me."

Pam rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh god, there you go again," she laughed, finishing the last of her ice water.

"What?" he asked as she stood up and headed into the kitchen.

"You," she replied. "You're in 'Perfect Boyfriend' mode. Cut it out."

Jim joined her in the kitchen as she began putting the prepared food away into the refrigerator. "I'm being serious," he said.

She looked up at him. "I know you are. That's what so crazy. There has to be something I can do that isn't okay with you."

Jim leaned against the wall, thinking. "I wouldn't be impressed if you left me for someone else."

Pam's laugh sounded nearly like a bark. "I expect you wouldn't. But I was talking about something a little less dramatic."

"It always bugged me how you wouldn't speak up for yourself," he said after a moment of silence. "But you don't seem to have that problem anymore."

Pam folded one of the empty bags. "Well, I guess I learned that lesson the hard way," she said, walking over to Jim. She put her hand on his chest and gave him a quick kiss. "I'm surprised you don't think I'm bossy now."

"I can deal with bossy," he said, snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her into another kiss. When he let her go, he gave her a little smirk. "What did surprise me was the fact you were willing to go to a class on Tuscan cooking. I thought you had sworn off everything Italian...."

"I'm not going to abandon a whole cuisine because you decided you needed to put someone in between us the first six months you came back to town," she said sarcastically. "It wasn't her fault you were afraid me."

"I wasn't afraid of you," he corrected her. "It was hard to resist someone who was clearly interested in me while you had shut me out completely. How was I supposed to know how you felt?"

"If you weren't so afraid to talk to me, you would have found that out pretty quickly," Pam replied, turning to focus on putting the rest of the food in the fridge.

"That's not fair," Jim said, sounding slightly irritated. "Even if I did start to hope there was still something between us, you pretty much crushed that when you decided you needed to go back to Roy."

Pam shut the fridge door with more force than necessary. "Don't even start on that," she said crossly. "Had you given me a glimmer of hope I never would have left with him, and you already know that. I mean, you're out there dancing with your girlfriend but looking at me the whole time? Then you didn't even ask me to dance. Nice, Halpert. It was a pretty hard night for me." She walked over to the sink to refill her water glass.

"Yeah, and I pretty much felt like I had the crap kicked out of me when I watched you walk out with Roy, so you weren't the only one who suffered that night." Jim knew this conversation was getting out of hand, but he hated when she threw Karen in his face like that. Especially when she didn't seem to see that mentioning Roy hurt him as much as Karen's memory hurt her.

Pam poured the water out of the glass and set it on the counter. "I need to take a bath," she said as she walked past him, her eyes focused on the floor ahead of her. "I'll be out in a little bit."

He watched her disappear into her bedroom, and shook his head in frustration. Now that was something that did bother him - she still ran away from confrontation. He knew they were both tired and probably hungry for dinner, and that he shouldn't have goaded her like that. They'd been happily together for several months now, but there were still so many demons to put to rest. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat back down on the couch. He ran his hand through his hair as he took a long sip from his beer. He wasn't he really mad. They were too much alike in their reactions to the past to blame her any more than he blamed himself. It was just going to take time for them both to really believe all that pain was behind them.

He heard her shut the bathroom door, and soon afterwards came the sound of running water. As he sat drinking his beer, he couldn't help imagining her slipping out of her clothes, pinning her hair up and sinking into the hot water. He was quite sure she was surrounded by fragrant bubbles, and the image made him smile. Before he had a chance to second guess himself, he finished his beer and went over to the bathroom door. He tapped on the door, and cracked the door open ever so slightly.

"Hey, can I come in?" He asked, unsure of her current mood.

There was the sound of sloshing water and then her voice. "Yes, of course," she replied.

Jim slipped in and shut the door behind him. He leaned against it, taking in the scene of her bare shoulders peeking out from all the bubbles. Just like he had imagined. Their eyes met, and he saw that she was feeling as remorseful as he was about their argument. He knelt down next to the claw foot tub.

"I'm sorry," he said, putting his hand on the edge of the bathtub.

"No, it's my fault," Pam said quickly, covered his hand with one of her wet, bubble-covered ones. "I knew you were just teasing me and I just couldn't let it go."

"Well, it wasn't fair of me to tease you about something that's still a bit of a sore subject between us," Jim admitted.

"But it shouldn't be, should it?" She asked. "I mean, that's all past history. We're together now, and I'm so happy with you."

Jim smiled. "Glad to hear it, Beesly. Because you aren't getting rid of me."

"Never?" Pam feigned concern.

Jim shook his head. "Afraid not."

"I guess that means there's only one thing left to do then," she replied.

"What?"

She splashed him with some bubbles, causing him to draw back in complaint. "It's time for the make up bath," she giggled.

He eyed her warily. "Make up bath?"

She grinned. "It's kinda like make up sex, but you get in the bathtub."

He grinned back. "Is it really?"

Jim didn't need much coaxing to shed his clothes and step into the still hot bath water with Pam. He slipped behind her, putting his arms around her and pulling her gently back onto his chest. A few minutes of quiet relaxation was all it took to make everything right between them again. Soon the atmosphere changed as hands caressed skin, with lips soon following. Pam shifted to face him, and they laughed as bath water splashed noisily around them and onto the floor. By the time the last soap bubble had dissolved, they were both flushed for reasons having nothing to do with the once warm water.

Jim got out of the tub first, wrapping a towel around his waist. He offered his hand to help Pam climb out, then enfolded her into a waiting towel. He gently scrubbed the towel against her skin, randomly placing kisses where he'd dried her off. When he was done he hung her towel over the side of the bath and wrapped her in a new dry one. She grabbed his hand and lead him to her bedroom, which had become as comfortable and familiar to Jim as his own over these past months.

They laid together on the bed, enjoying each other's company, until hunger pains appeared that would not be denied. Pam was slipping into some comfortable clothes when she heard Jim curse.

"What's the matter?" She asked.

"I was in such a hurry to get to the cooking class on time this morning I completely forgot to pack my weekend bag," he grumbled.

Pam sat down next to him on the edge of the bed. "I'm sure you must have a few clothes here," she said, trying to be helpful.

"Yeah," he sighed. "but you'd think I'd be so used to packing and unpacking by this point that I wouldn't forget."

Pam snuggled up next to him. "Well, I have an idea I've been tossing over in my mind for a little while now, and it might be a solution to a few difficulties we've been having."

Jim put his arm around her, unable to to stay grumpy when she was pressed so close to him. "Okay," he replied, "let's hear it."

"Well, I was just thinking that maybe we'd better be able to put the past behind us if we had someplace uniquely our own." She paused and looked up at him. "I mean, you know how I always want you to come over here on the weekends?" He nodded. "The truth is that I don't like to sleep in your bed knowing Karen's been there."

"Pam," Jim said, a note of realization in his voice. "You should have said something."

She shrugged. "I know it's stupid, and I wish I could get over it. At least here this bed has only ever been used by you and me."

"So what are you saying?"

Pam took a deep breath. "I'm saying I think we should find a new apartment. Some place we can live together, that we've both chosen and has no memories of the past."

Jim raised his eyebrows in surprise. While it was true that they spent so much time together it seemed like they were already living together, he never expected Pam would be open to broaching the subject of permanent cohabitation so soon. She always talked about how much she loved having her own apartment. "Are you sure?"

She nodded, her eyes guarded as she waited on his answer.

"Well, it certainly resolve the issue of forgetting to pack my things," he said. "Why don't we just live here at your place? Then it's only one move."

"I really don't think it would be big enough for all of our stuff," she replied. "Plus, I've got too many memories of sleepless nights spent alone here. I'm happy to move on."

Jim moved to sit sideways on the bed so he could see her better. He couldn't resist reaching out to stroke the side of her face. "It's a big step," he told her, "I mean, we've been dating what - not quite four months?"

She nodded, her cheek resting against his palm. "I want a big step, Jim," she said. "I mean, if I'm never going to be able to get rid of you, I might as well make the best of it, right?"

He laughed loudly and pulled her into his arms. "You never cease to surprise me, Beesly. Never."