"Here." Rick leaned forward, stepping away from the camera to hand her a faded old handkerchief, which she took with a tremulous, grateful smile.

"Thanks." She murmured, dabbing at her eyes; then she laughed, exclaiming, "Oh my god!"

"Yeah." Rick smiled at her, rocking awkwardly on his heels as he tried not to just beam at her like a proud father.

He'd been in charge of filming on Casino Night.

She'd managed to dry her face in spite of her shaking hands, looking up at him with a huge grin, repeating again in a whisper: "Oh my god."

He chuckled fondly at her, muttering good naturedly, "It's about time, you know."

That set her off again, much to his alarm.

"Hey - I'm sorry; I didn't mean - "

"No..." She waved a hand, wiping the tears away again with a slightly hysterical laugh.

"Should I...should I go get Jim?" Rick was beginning to get concerned.

"No! No, I'm fine, really." She nodded emphatically, swiping at her nose with the handkerchief. And then she paused, her eyes fixed on the opposite wall, a faraway look in her eyes as she added, "How could I not be...?"

And then her face crumpled slightly as she ducked her head.

"Pam - "

The door opened again suddenly, and Rick was incredibly relieved to see Jim once again, leaning in the doorway.

"Thank god." Rick brushed past him, murmuring, "She's all yours, man."

Jim knit his brows, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

When he realized Pam was crying, he immediately froze, panicked for a split second. "...Pam?"

"No - I swear, I'm fine!" She exclaimed, waving the ratty old handkerchief at him, prompting him to draw back with a mock-frightened look, which sent her into a giggling fit.

He knelt in front of her, smiling softly as her shoulders shook with laughter. She watched him kneel before her, her eyes scanning his face as if she were drinking in his features, this moment. And she was; she could only imagine what he must be feeling right now -- because she'd only had to live for a year with the reality of never having him.

He'd fought to accept that reality for so much longer, and she understood now the hell that that surely had entailed for him.

When her breath caught suddenly on a sob, he leaned forward and pulled her into his arms, his eyes closing at the way her arms immediately encircled his neck, her head on his chest. He wasn't sure whether she was laughing or crying now, but amazingly enough, he knew it didn't really matter.

Because they were here now.

As if to punctuate his thoughts, she murmured against his chest, "I can't believe it's not too late."

He pulled back to take in her face - tears still streaking her cheeks, which were the same color as her vibrant pink sweater.

"I know...." It was a whisper as he stared at her, awe-struck; so much had changed in the past twenty-four hours, but strangely enough, this all seemed so natural.

He knelt there before her, the room blanketed with silence but for her occasional sniffles as she dabbed at her eyes one last time before settling back to beam at him. She knew she should probably be embarrassed at the fact that she'd been crying, but the thing was...this was Jim, so there just wasn't any need to be. If anything, he seemed moved by the tears, his head tilted slightly, eyes gentle enough to make her want to cry all over again.

"You okay?" His voice was soft as he gently wiped an errant tear from her left cheek with a small smile that spoke all the poorly kept secrets of too many years gone by. It was amazing for her just to be looking him in the eyes again after a year of watching him avoid her gaze; but to have him staring at her with that familiar look of open adoration on his face was almost surreal.

Because she didn't have to look away now, didn't have to pretend not to notice or feel guilty because she couldn't not see.

"Yeah." She answered, her voice as soft as his had been, prompting him to nod slowly.

"So..." He grinned up at her, absently rubbing her palm with his thumb. "I'm hoping those are tears of happiness and not...you know, oh god, how am I gonna get out of this date?"

She burst out laughing, wondering if he had any idea how amazing he looked kneeling there in front of her, still in his suit.

"You got me." She sighed, tilting her head and pursing her lips. "The truth is that I had plans with Creed tonight, and, well...."

"Hey, say no more." He stood then, letting go of her hand to hold out both palms as if in surrender. "I mean, I know when to admit defeat."

She, too, stood, unable to fully snap out of the haze she'd been in since he'd first appeared, like a mirage in the desert even as she'd tried to convince herself she wasn't thirsting to death.

"You'll never have to do that again." Her own words surprised her as much as they clearly surprised him, but she didn't regret saying them. Because even though he'd hurt her so much over the past year, she trusted him like she'd never trusted another man in her life, save her father. It was one of the things that had given her the courage to just say it all that night at the beach - the knowledge that even though it was probably too late, he'd never be intentionally cruel to her. Not Jim.

At the time, the realization had been another one of the things that stung, made her wonder when and how she'd gone so horribly wrong; now, staring up at him - his eyes alive, his smile brilliant like she hadn't seen it in too long - the realization was a blessing, just another reason to marvel at the turn her life had so suddenly taken.

"Wow." It was a hoarse whisper as he stared down at her, still struggling to grasp the fact that this was actually happening.

"I know." She whispered back, gazing up at him and biting her lip to stifle her all too visible enthusiasm.

He cleared his throat, then: "So...does 6:30 work for you?"

She couldn't wipe the enormous grin off of her face as she nodded. "Sounds great."

"Good." He nodded, then an awkward silence fell.

"Well." She turned to the door, then glanced over her shoulder at him. "I need to get going. I've got a date tonight - gotta get ready."

"Oh - of course." He was chuckling at her as he watched her walk out that door, her gait light, arms swinging at her sides in the way that they did when she was really happy.

*******

She groaned, struggling to pull the shirt up over her head, flinging it aside as she impatiently pushed one coat hanger after another aside, the sound of metal scraping against metal making her even more nervous. She'd long since given up attempting to comfort herself by thinking, It's just Jim.

Because the thing was, he'd ceased being "just Jim" the night he'd looked her in the eye and told her he was in love with her, then kissed her in a way that had effectively shaken the foundation of her life.

Finally she settled on a cream colored shirt that looked deceptively layered, a built in camisole cut lower than she was used to, the blouse attached to it tapering in at her waist, sleeves cut off at the middle of her forearms. With that she wore her favorite pair of jeans - old, slightly faded, snug around her hips. She pulled out all the stops, did everything she knew to do to look her best: blew her hair straight, then carefully curled it; wore a little more makeup than she typically did, even a touch of lip gloss and an extra coat of mascara; dabbed perfume behind her ears and on her wrists, then sprayed it into her hair.

When she stood in front of her bathroom mirror, stepping back to get a full view of herself, she paused, a small smile pulling at her lips when she considered the fact that this was all for him.

...Not that it hadn't already been for so long, but now...this time, he'd notice; this time, she didn't have to pretend, didn't have to brush it off. Never would she have imagined how incredible it would feel to just let herself revel in it.

To just dive in head first, heart following...body not far behind.

*******

He'd stood there in front of the fresh cut flowers for far too long, staring at the various bouquets nestled behind the refridgerated glass. He wondered if it'd be too much - too weird - for him to show up with flowers. Too cliche? Too desperate?

He contemplated calling his mother for her opinion, but she'd ask too many questions that he wasn't prepared to answer; his next impulse was to call his brother, but he knew Jonathan would probably get in a good dig or two before offering his sagely wisdom...and really, his nerves couldn't take it. Not tonight.

He hadn't been this ridiculously nervous since the night he'd taken Elizabeth Penn to the band prom in seventh grade, having decided that he'd finally make his move and kiss her at the end of the night.

Twenty-five minutes later, he was standing in the hall outside her apartment, sucking in a deep breath before he knocked on the door, his hands cold and sweaty as he waited for her to answer.

Her door swung open then, and his anxieties seemed to dissipate at the sight of her face - eyes bright, smile radiant, collarbone flushed.

"Oh my god." She blurted, then immediately clamped a hand over her mouth, feeling like a total dork. It's just that she hadn't expected him to be standing there holding a bouquet of brilliant red gerbera daisies, and the sight of him in jeans and a white button down shirt - the sleeves rolled up, hem untucked - was too much.

He was Jim...but so much more. Or maybe he was all he'd ever been - only she was finally allowing herself to appreciate him, to take him all in, to let herself drift away with the marvel of it all...that her best friend had somewhere along the line morphed into the fucking man of her dreams.

Or maybe he always had been.

...Of course he always had been.

"Uh, hey." He smiled awkwardly, wondering if the "oh my god" had been a good thing. Shit, I freaked her out with the flowers; it was too much. Or maybe not. Maybe it's - "Okay, are the flowers too much? Is that why you said 'oh my god'? I'm sorry; I just...."

She laughed nervously, shaking her head at him, her expression tinged with amazement. "No, the flowers are not too much; they're pretty....awesome, in fact."

"Seriously?" He narrowed his eyes, searching her face and prompting her to laugh again, her head thrown back. He tried not to notice the way her shirt dipped a bit low, her breasts swelling beneath the thin, cream-colored fabric.

"Seriously." She was smiling at him, then she opened the door a little wider, waving him inside as he handed her the flowers.

As she made her way to the kitchen to find a vase, he turned in slow circles, taking in her living room - his eyes hungrily roving the bookshelves, the art on the walls, the pictures in frames.

She had her back to him as she carefully snipped the ends of the flowers, then filled the vase with water. "So...where're we going?"

When he didn't answer right away, she turned, kitchen shears still in one hand. He was leaning down in front of her coffee table, staring at a framed photograph that he eventually picked up - so engrossed in it that he didn't even answer her question; it was almost as if he hadn't heard it. A fleeting flicker of embarrassment leapt up, coloring her cheeks, but she deliberately let it go.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if he'd think it was weird.

He answered her question soon enough, picking up the frame and staring at it for a few more seconds before he turned to look at her, wonder in his eyes. "This is from - "

"The Dundies two years ago, yeah." She gave him a shy smile, setting the vase of flowers down on the kitchen counter before she joined him in the living room. "Phyllis took it; she gave it to me a few weeks after you...uh, transferred."

"Oh." He was surprised that she'd mentioned the transfer for some stupid reason - maybe because he was still getting used to actually talking to her again, without that wall of indifference he'd so carefully cultivated ever since he'd seen her leave with Roy after Phyllis's wedding. Or maybe even before that.

She was watching his face, the insecurity overtaking her for a second. "Oh my god...is it weird that I have that picture framed?"

"What? No - no, not at all, seriously."

"Really? Because I was...god, I was so drunk that night." She shook her head in embarrassment. "I never get drunk."

He laughed, something in the timbre putting her at ease. "Yeah, you were pretty wasted, Beesly."

"Shut up." She shook her head in embarrassment as he laughed at her. They exchanged a smile for a comfortable moment that quickly dissolved into a palpable tension.

Then he forced himself to break eye contact and ask: "So...you ready to go?"

"Sure." She nodded enthusiastically.

"Okay." An awkward silence fell as they stood there looking at one another, standing side-by-side in her living room, Jim still holding the framed photo from the night she'd first kissed him - drunk, uninhibited. Their eyes met as he handed her the frame, and her pulse beat a bit faster; she wondered if he'd kiss her now.

....Because god, she hoped he would. The memory of his mouth on hers almost a year earlier was almost frustrating, because she'd re-played the moment so damned many times that it had taken on near mythical status in her head; surely it hadn't been that amazing...surely she was exaggerating the memory.

He wished she'd look away from him, maybe say something off the wall or do something to snap him out of the moment -- anything other than the way she was staring so boldly at him, holding his gaze with her own as if she were daring him to give in to it, the all-too obvious tension that had plagued them from the moment he'd shaken her hand for the first time.

Only now it was ten times as intoxicating, because all of a sudden, there was nothing holding them back.

It was just too heady, this. Weren't miracles supposed to happen in a flash - one quick, life-altering moment that came and went...?

Not this prolonged invitation, daring them both to reach out and take hold of all they'd wanted for so long.

His car smelled like he did: clean, but with something faintly familiar - spicy, heady - that was very distinctly Jim to her. It made her feel almost as if she'd had one too many glasses of wine - a little giddy, a little hazy, terribly distracted.

"So." She smiled as he put the key in the ignition, cranking the engine to life. "Where're we going?"

He glanced over to grin at her, one arm on the head rest behind her as he backed out of the parking place. Something about having his arm that close to her sent a thrill down her spine, reminded her that this was really a date - that she was on a date with Jim.

"Well..." He waited for the traffic to clear, then pulled out into the intersection. The faint scent of her perfume - so achingly familiar - wafted toward him, filling his head with too many impulses to even process. He almost had a hard time focusing enough to actually answer her question.

"I was thinking we could go to Patsel's; I know it's your favorite place, but I didn't make reservations, just in case you were in the mood for something...different." He glanced over at her, then did a double take at the look on her face.

"How did you know that....?" She didn't even finish the question because she was simply too amazed to do so.

"You mentioned it once a few years ago." His attention was on the traffic now, as he pulled through another busy intersection.

Her protracted silence made him turn to glance at her, the expression on her face catching him off guard. "...What?"

Out of habit she shook her head, answering, "Nothing."

...And then that increasingly familiar voice in her head reminded her that she wasn't hiding anymore, wasn't running away from him anymore...was running toward him now.

So she added, "I'm just...wow. I said it once and you remembered it."

He flushed, feeling ridiculous for a second. Nice - way to look like a stalker.

All he could manage to do was chuckle weakly, then, "Yeah...pretty pathetic, huh?"

"Not at all." Her voice was low, soft as she took in his profile...so familiar, yet somehow shocking at the same time.

He slowed to a stop, the traffic light flicking from yellow to red, then he turned to look at her; the expression she wore struck something deep in his chest. Their eyes met and held for a long moment, and he was suddenly very much aware of the sound of his own breathing punctuating the silence in the car.

It was simply habit for her to squirm a little beneath the tension; usually she looked away from him when she felt that familiar hum start beneath her skin. But now she forced herself to hold his gaze steadily, no matter how much it made that bittersweet ache low in her belly throb. In spite of her will to hold eye contact with him, she found her eyes drifting down to his lips, then swallowed hard, raising her eyes to meet his again.

He watched her, a tingle of shock slipping down his spine at the way she was staring so boldly at him. He wondered briefly if it was just his imagination that she seemed to be fixated on his mouth, then decided that yes, it had to be. Surely it was the silence and the tension and the enclosed space of his car that were driving him to imagining things -- things that he knew he had no business thinking about right now.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief when the light changed to green; instead, he seized the moment to ask in what he was certain she'd recognize as a poor attempt at sounding casual, "You want some music?"

She snapped out of it, feeling strangely guilty - not for the same reasons she once would have, but rather, because she was sure he probably wasn't thinking the same things that she was; he surely wasn't having as hard a time pulling himself out of the realm of fantasy -- no, that was her little secret battle to fight. She was almost certain of it.

"What? Yeah, that's...that sounds good. Yeah. Definitely." She felt like a total idiot as the words just kept coming out of her mouth.

He glanced over at her, startled by her obvious nerves. Oh my god - she's nervous? She's actually nervous? Does she not realize she's the freaking woman of my dreams?

The fact that she seemed wholly unaware that she had him in the palm of her hand was so endearing to him; he couldn't help but smile gently at her as he flipped on the radio, The Fray's "Look After You" filling the silence as he asked, "Hey...you okay?"

Maybe it was because he had to look away from her, had to focus on the road, but she found the courage to be honest - or at least, to try to be honest. "No. I mean - yes. Yes, I'm okay. I really am. But I'm, like..."

She couldn't finish, because it struck her as incredibly lame to announce that she was nervous.

But he finished for her with a wry smile, "...a little freaked out?"

"Yes!" She exhaled in relief, wondering why just hearing him say the words out loud - almost admitting that he was feeling it, too - could almost immediately make her feel a little better. But she did, because what he'd said reminded her that, no matter how long she'd been waiting for this, no matter how amazing he was - he was still Jim.

And for that very reason, this would be fine.

She started to giggle then, even as he turned into Patsel's, casting her a quick glance, his smile speaking volumes. "...What?"

"I don't know." She gasped between chuckles. "Just that...I don't know - it's, like, beyond weird that we're on an actual...date. Not in a bad way! I mean - "

He'd parked the car, pulling the keys out of the ignition to settle back against the seat and smile over at her - her cheeks pink, eyes alive.

When he didn't speak, she suddenly felt stupid. "Oh my god - I should totally stop talking, shouldn't I?"

He threw back his head and laughed out loud, then sobered, his eyes flicking over her face, his smile warm. "No...it's actually a relief to hear you say it."

"Really?" She was peering at him almost fearfully, resting against the passenger's side door.

"Yeah." He nodded emphatically, pressing the button that sent his seat belt sliding away. "I mean...this is amazing - don't get me wrong - but...yeah, it's really...weird - no, surreal. Yeah, that's the right word. Different, but not in a bad way.,..you know?"

"I do." She nodded, their eyes meeting. For what seemed to her like the hundredth time since he'd appeared on her doorstep with those gerbera daisies, she silently willed him to kiss her, yet simultaneously felt terrified at the idea that he just might. He, too, was slightly afraid - of the impulses that stirred his blood, of the way her expression seemed to pointedly invite him to indulge in those impulses.

The thrilling fear lay in the fact that they were here: she was single; he was single. She was wearing that freaking incredible blouse that was cut lower than anything he'd ever seen her wear, making him wonder if she'd known what she was doing when she picked it out; the very thought that she might be consciously trying to turn him on was enough to absolutely secure that very reaction. And her perfume - god, the scent was absolutely killing him, making him feel quite literally weak. It was so familiar - he'd caught the scent of her enough times in the past for it to be recognizable, but those times had been only when he was close to her -- leaning over her shoulder, pretending to focus on her computer screen as they executed a prank on Dwight, when in reality he was letting himself drown in that intoxicating mix of fresh fruit and flowers...clean, light, but somehow outrageously sensual - enough to almost bring him to his knees.

Because the thing about smelling her perfume was that it conjured images of her putting it on -- her neck tilted back, fingers trailing her delicate clavicle.... And the fact that she even wore perfume did something to him, because it told him that she was aware at least on some level of the power inherent in her femininity; to put on perfume was to celebrate that.

And he couldn't help but wonder about the ways in which that might translate. Did she wear lacy underwear? Did she -

"So...." He cleared his throat, looking away and glancing at the restaurant before he dared to turn his eyes back to her. "You hungry?"

"Starved." She answered without thinking, her eyes on his. Their eyes held for a beat too long, her answer seeming to hang in the air between them, its connotations occurring to them both at the same time.

When he blushed slightly, she realized what that had sounded like and immediately stammered, "No! I mean, I'm seriously, like...hungry. For food! Honest, I didn't mean - "

He shook his head slightly, mouth a little agape, eyebrows raised in shock. She turned red from her collarbone to her hairline, feeling the heat burning in her cheeks as he stared at her, something playful beginning to dawn in his eyes.

Then she murmured weakly, "Oh my god."

He laughed out loud again at the look on her face, shaking his head, then - because she looked so embarrassed that he felt for her, and because she'd been the one to acknowledge what they were both thinking - he gave her a mischievous grin, teasing, "Well, I don't know what kind of cheap floozy you think I am, but you should know that I don't put out on the first date."

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes at him, unable to keep from smiling as he laughed even harder at her, then she made a move to open her door, prompting him to stop laughing, exclaiming, "Hey! Wait a second."

"What?" She turned back to him, longing to reach up and brush aside the lock of hair that had fallen over his forehead.

He gave her a small, shy smile. "I just...sit tight for a second, would you?"

"Okay...." She watched as he got out of the car, wondering what in the hell was going on. And then she realized why he'd asked her to sit still: he was coming around to open her car door for her. The gesture was so him that she couldn't help but beam up at him when he opened the door, offering her a hand out of the car.

He noticed, shutting the door behind her after she'd stepped out, then: "What're you smiling about?"

"Nothing." She shrugged, feeling a little more confident now. "Just...I never knew you were such a gentleman."

"Oh?" His eyebrows rose in surprise. She was teasing him, and he knew it -- loved it. So he added, "Well, there's probably a lot about me you don't know."

Their eyes met and held again, and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks once more at the implication in what he'd said. Still, she managed to retort, "Oh really?"

"Yes." He tried to look smug, but he wasn't able to quite pull it off, because as he stood there gazing at her, her hair catching the light from the sun, her eyes so alive, he couldn't help but murmur, "God, you're really beautiful...."

"Wow..." She half whispered, half gulped. The way he was looking at her was enough to make her knees feel a little unsteady.

Finally, she murmured softly, "Okay, you have to stop looking at me like that."

He was surprised, but was slow to snap out of it. "...Why?"

She wasn't sure exactly how to answer that, but ultimately decided to just be honest: "Because you're...you're making it hard to stand up."

"Wow." He drew back, slowly coming out of his haze as he grinned at her. "Hard to stand up? Really? Why?"

She caught the gleam in his eye, rolling her eyes as she snapped, "You're impossible, you know that? Just shut it."

He laughed, then tilted his head, smiling down at her before he said softly, "Now you know how it feels."

His eyes held hers fast for a few long seconds as she felt her heart thumping in her ears. She wanted to say something back, but her mouth felt suddenly dry, her tongue thick.

To see her visibly fumbling awkwardly was just too much; never would he have believed that she was capable of feeling the same disconcerting lack of control that he himself had wrestled with for years. Did she not know that she was just it? Could she possibly not realize that he'd been in love with her for years?

And that was the beauty of it all, of her: She honestly didn't realize the magnitude of her impact on him, the depth of his feeings for her.

Where that had once been a source of raw heartache for him, it was now something altogether different - a catalyst for the future.

He gave her another slow smile, then asked, "So...you wanna go inside?"

She grinned up at him, very interested in his expression as she answered deliberately, "Absolutely I do."

"Shhh....just watch." His voice was lowered, his head tilted close to hers as they peered at the couple sitting two tables ahead of them. "Ooh, he's really groveling now."

Pam giggled, catching a hint of his aftershave as she leaned closer to him to whisper back, "And she is not having it."

They'd been watching the couple for the past several minutes, as it was clear that the two were battling it out about something. They took turns speculating - each speculation more outrageous than the last - on what could be the source of the couple's conflict. It was a game they'd played a few times in the past on their occasional lunch outings, long before Karen and Stamford and the two confessions that had changed everything. When he'd first nudged her, nodding to the table across from them before launching into a crazy backstory for the couple, she'd been unable to do anything but sit back against the booth and just beam over at him.

Because she knew what he was doing: He was making this okay; he was doing what he could to ease her nerves, to remind her perhaps of why they were here in the first place.

It was just another reason to love him.

...That, and the fact that when the hostess had led them to their booth, Jim had surprised her by sliding in to sit beside her instead of sitting across the table.

When Pam had looked at him in surprise, he'd flushed a little, then shrugged, explaining with a lopsided smile, "What? This just...you know, makes it easier to talk."

Their eyes had met and held, and she'd given him a slow, warm smile before she murmured softly, "Absolutely."

Now he watched her with a small smile, consumed with an almost jarring sense of well-being -- a certainty that he was where he should be, that all was well. After so many months of ignoring the nagging doubts and running from that burning ache that never really went away, to suddenly feel so centered was almost shocking in and of itself.

He chuckled as the man they were watching splayed his hands on the table in supplication, then he began to narrate: "Okay, so I know I was wrong, baby, but really....c'mon, I had no idea she was your sister."

Pam snickered at what he'd said - though hearing him say "baby" in such a way gave her pause and a ridiculous little thrill. She was beginning to wonder if the shock of finally being on a date with him had sent her psyche into twelve year-old mode.

But then the man's dinner companion shook her head before she leaned forward to snap a retort back at him.

This time, Pam supplied the dialogue: "Sure you didn't. Just like you didn't know it was my mother you hit on at the last party we went to."

"Nice." Jim nodded approvingly at her as they continued to watch. The man shook his head in frustration, then sat back to glower at the woman across from him.

"Oooh...now he's mad. This could get really ugly, Beesly." He stopped talking when the man snatched up his highball glass. "Oh my god - you think he'll throw his drink at her? Surely not...."

Pam's shoulders were shaking, and he loved the feeling of the vibration against his arm as she murmured, "You're horrible."

"What? C'mon, look at him." He drew back, glancing over at her, taking in the glow of her skin in the dim candlelight before turning his attention back to the table, where the man was now leaning forward, pointing at the woman as he emphatically made a point.

"You know what? I liked your sister better than you anyway!" Jim hissed, prompting Pam to burst out laughing again.

Her laughter subsided when the woman suddenly stood, throwing her napkin on the table, sliding her purse over her shoulder, then apparently getting in one last dig at the man - Pam snapping playfully, "Oh yeah? Well I've always thought your brother was pretty freaking hot, so maybe I'll go call him!"

Jim snickered with her as the woman turned on her heel and stalked past their table, pausing to give them both a withering look, as if she knew they'd been watching. Both Pam and Jim immediately sat a little straighter -- Jim reaching for his water and taking a gulp, while Pam looked at the ceiling, biting her lip.

As soon as the woman was safely out of sight, their eyes met, the laughter beginning again.

And then it occurred to her to ask, "Hey, how's Jonathan?"

"Whoa." Jim drew back, his eyebrow cocked as he looked at her suspiciously.

"What?"

"You tell me." He answered, unable to resist teasing her. "Given the course of our previous conversation, you can understand why I might find your suddenly asking about my brother a bit...curious."

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed loudly, then covered her mouth with her hand as she began to laugh at him.

He was obviously struggling to keep a straight face. "Oh, that's nice. Now you're mocking me. Thank you, Pam, for making light of my pain."

She continued to laugh, shaking her head slowly back and forth, very much aware that she hadn't been this happy in longer than she could remember...if ever.

Finally, she sat back, resting against the corner of the wall and the booth as she folded her arms across her chest, then asked smugly, "Are you jealous?"

He felt a flash of the old familiar panic - that warning bell he heard when he caught himself revealing too much - but it quickly dissipated.

Even though the realization had occurred to him too many times to count over the past few hours, it still evoked a wave of sheer joy. I don't have to hide anymore; she's not hiding anymore.

So he met her gaze, his eyes drifting over her face, lingering for a second on her lips - which sent a twinge to his gut. Then, never losing eye contact, he answered in a low voice, "Absolutely."

Her breath caught in her throat at the way he was staring at her, then she replied softly, "Well...you don't have to be; believe me, you have...no competition whatsoever."

And then she added, feeling almost giddy from the rush of flirting this openly with him - of coming this close to admitting how much she wanted him - "...Not from anyone."

"...Wow." All he could do was sit there and stare over at her, suddenly dying to lean over and just kiss the hell out of her, but he didn't dare. Instead he sat there caught in a daze, unable to pull his eyes from hers.

"Excuse me....?"

They both turned, startled, to find that their waiter had returned with the bottle of wine they'd ordered - or rather, that Jim had ordered.

He'd asked her earlier as they'd scanned their menus, "So...how does wine sound?"

"Really good, actually." She'd answered, flushing a little as she nodded. In spite of herself, she'd found it difficult in those first few minutes to stave off the nerves.

"What do you like?" He gave her a shy smile as he added, "I guess I should probably know that by now, but I don't think I've ever seen you drink wine before."

He paused, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes before he added with a grin, "Margaritas, yes - especially other people's - but - "

She blushed again, snapping good naturedly, "Shut it!"

He laughed at her, and just like that she was at ease again.

Then he turned back to the menu, prodding her gently: "So...what do you want me to get?"

"Doesn't matter." She smiled, feeling shy all over again.

"Well...what do you like?" His smile was gentle, because he could see that she was vacillating between reveling in their old dynamic and feeling incredibly nervous while navigating the new one. He could relate.

Scanning the menu, he added, "Let's see...looks like they have pinot grigio, fume blanc, pinot noir..."

She watched him read, secretly loving the way the words seemed to roll so effortlessly off his tongue. When he glanced up, he was surprised at the look on her face.

"....What?" He asked self-consciously.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

"Okay." A pause. "So, are you gonna tell me what kind of wine to order, or am I gonna have to beg? You want me to give you a piece of paper, maybe, so you can write it down and slide it over to me?"

"Shut up." She was laughing again, shaking her head as he grinned at her. "Look, I know absolutely nothing about wine, so anything works."

Of course he wasn't satisfied with that, so he questioned her until he narrowed it down to a bottle he thought she'd like.

And now as she sat watching the waiter pour a small splash into Jim's glass, she found herself musing that maybe one of the reasons the whole wine thing had thrown her a little was that she was seeing a side of Jim she hadn't really seen before -- what he was like on a date. Of course he knows what wine to order....

She wondered what other things she'd discover about him that she hadn't known before...felt a tremor slip down her spine at the thought.

Jim hated this particular part of ordering wine in finer restaurants -- the whole thing with the waiter pouring some into a glass for approval. He'd always felt incredibly pretentious whenever he had to do this, as if he were some grand wine conisseur -- as if he'd send it back if it didn't suit his tastes. The very thought made him want to laugh.

Instead he gamely swirled the wine gently in his glass, then took a sip, glancing up at the waiter and nodding in approval. The waiter filled two balloon glasses, setting them down, then left the bottle cooling in a bucket of ice on the table.

As soon as the waiter began to walk away, Jim glanced over to find Pam sitting with one hand over her mouth, her face red as she very clearly held back a laugh.

"What?" He hadn't seen her laugh this easily in so long...too long.

"Nothing." And then she blurted with a little bark of laughter, "Oh my god, you were killing me when you were tasting the wine! Jim, you swirled it around in your glass! I mean...!"

"That's what you're supposed to do! What'd you expect me to do -- knock it back, then beat on my chest or something?"

The very thought made her laugh even harder, and soon he was chuckling right along with her, shaking his head as their laughter finally subsided.

A silence fell, heavy with all the things yet to be said. Then he raised his glass, pursing his lips before he asked, "So...a toast?"

Why the gesture sent a flutter to her stomach, she wasn't sure. She, too, raised her glass. "Absolutely."

"Okay." He smiled softly at her, tilting his head a little before he lifted his glass a little higher, his voice gravelly when he said, "To the future."

For a second she didn't move, just sat there staring at him in wonder, both their glasses held aloft. Then she gave him a gentle smile, repeating, "To the future."

After they'd taken their respective sips, she settled again against the wall adjacent to the booth, still unused to the fact that he held eye contact with her now instead of quickly - guiltly - averting his eyes the way he'd done so often since returning from Stamford.

"So...." She tilted her head with a small smile. "I take it a lot happened while you were in New York."

He chuckled wryly, looking away for a second as he nodded, murmuring, "Yeah...you could say that."

There was a comfortable pause, then he looked up at her, again meeting her eyes. "I guess you figured out that it's over between me and Karen."

She couldn't help but tease him a little: "Well, yeah, I was kind of hoping...."

He chuckled at that, then sobered a little. "Yeah....it's just...."

He paused, looking at her seriously for a few seconds, almost desperate to make her really understand this time - no more miscommunications. So he took in a breath, then: "First, you should know that Karen and I...we were kind of fighting a losing battle - had been for a while now, actually. And we both knew it."

Pam nodded, her eyes trained on his face, scanning his expression. Even though what he'd said surprised her - she'd somehow always assumed the worst: that he and Karen were blissfully happy, that Jim had fully moved on and would never look back - it made sense to her now; he'd looked so completely exhausted for months.

He went on. "And it wasn't just because of...the thing with you and me; it was also just the fact that Karen and I...just never were really compatible. I think she wanted me to be something I'm not - "

He paused with a lopsided smile, pointing to his hair. " - I mean, if the stupid haircut's not an indication of that, then I don't know what is..."

Pam laughed, her voice soft as she replied, "Well I think it looks great."

He wondered if he'd ever get used to the way she looked at him now. "Thanks. ...Does this mean you thought I looked like a homeless person before?"

"God, no!" She exclaimed, so loudly that the patrons at the table adjacent to theirs turned to look at her. She blushed, lowering her voice as she added: "I loved it before."

"Really?" His voice cracked a little.

She looked him in the eye, thinking of the night he'd kissed her...how soft his hair had been when it slipped through her fingers, then: "Really."

He felt that not entirely unpleasant twisting low in his belly again when their eyes held. It was just too easy to get distracted by her lips, by the way she so boldly stared back at him now...by the fact that she'd made it so clear that this - he - was what she really wanted.

Neither spoke for a long moment, then he finally started, shaking his head quickly as if to snap out of it before he continued: "So yeah...we just weren't really right together. That sounds so stupid, so simple, but it's the best way I can put it - that it just never felt really right, you know?"

Pam nodded immediately, eyes meeting his again as he took in another breath, his voice throaty as he went on: "Add to that the whole...thing with you and me, and.... I guess that even though she was willing to...overlook that, she just - "

"Wait a second." Pam stopped him, wondering if she'd heard him correctly. "She was willing to overlook what?"

He blinked, feeling embarrassed for a second, then forcing himself to ignore it and answer honestly: "The fact that I...you know, have...feelings for you."

Hearing him say the words was the weirdest thing: On one hand, she felt a schoolgirlish thrill soar all the way through her, making her want to almost squeal and giggle; on the other hand, she'd been waiting for this for such a long time, and more than that, had struggled to believe - to accept - that she'd missed her chance with him. She'd really been convinced that he was happy with Karen, that whatever he'd felt for her had simply faded away over the time and the distance that had separated them.

To sit next to him now and hear him not only acknowledge that he still felt it, but that Karen had known that.... It was just another humbling miracle to add to the list.

"You told her?" Her throat and mouth were a little dry, so she took a sip of wine. He, too, followed suit before he answered.

"Well, she asked me straight out, so...yeah, I was honest about it." He hesitated, then squinted, adding quickly, "I'm sorry - is it totally...I don't know, weird for me to be telling you this?"

"No, not at all." She shook her head slowly, her smile warm; she looked almost like she could cry. "I mean, I just...had no idea. All this time I thought that you guys were happy...that you'd moved on."

His expression was deadly serious, his eyes holding hers as he said carefully, "I tried...believe me. I just didn't succeed."

"Thank god." It was a whisper, her brow furrowed at just the thought.

The look on her face was so full, so moving that he couldn't even manage a smile as he, too, responded in a whisper: "I know. I just - "

The waiter appeared behind him then with their entrees, interrupting the moment, though both felt dazed as they watched him set down their plates, arranging them on the table carefully before he re-filled their wine glasses.

When he disappeared again, they looked at one another for a few seconds, then Jim grinned, still looking a bit awestruck as he said softly, "Wow."

As they ate dinner, Pam filled him in on all that had happened at the office that day.

"Wait a second...." He shook his head, swallowing the bite of food in his mouth before he asked, "You mean Dwight actually asked you if you wanted to be the Secret Assistant Regional Manager?"

"To the." She corrected, grinning at him. "And yes, he did."

"Oh my god." He shook his head again, then: "So...what'd you say?"

"Well of course I said, 'Absolutley I do.'" She watched his face as his expression softened at the reference, his smile tender, warm.

"I see." His eyes held hers again, long enough for her to feel her heartbeat start to accelerate slightly, her palms growing sweaty...because the expression on his face conveyed quite clearly that he was thinking the same things that she was.

Finally, she blurted, "Okay - you have to just...stop with the eye contact."

"What?" He was startled at what she'd said, watching her with a tentative smile as she picked up her wine glass and took a deliberate gulp.

Then she looked at him once more. "The eye contact -- you have to quit holding eye contact with me like that."

"Oh really?" He was beginning to catch on to what she was insinuating -- shocked that she was actually addressing it, but absolutely thrilled at the same time. "And why is that?"

There was something in the way he'd asked the question - his voice low, his demeanor a bit more self-assured - that only made the fluttering in her stomach that much worse. So she answered, watching him closely, "I think you know why."

His eyebrows rose; he gave her an innocent little shrug, then: "My mom always taught me that it's only polite to make eye contact."

"You are absolutely shameless." She shook her head at him as he chuckled. "You know that, right?"

"Well, I'm not exactly sure." He was grinning now. "I mean...you tell me no more holding eye contact, and I'm just...baffled as to why you'd say that."

Their eyes met again, and she couldn't help but smile at his little challenge, pursing her lips and tilting her head a little, then: "Okay - you want to play all innocent - "

"Well that's what I was going for, yes." He grinned again.

She ignored him and went on. " - then that's just fine."

With that, she very deliberately lowered her eyes to his mouth, feeling almost wildly giddy as she did it (oh my god, I cannot believe I'm teasing him like this... Clearly I've had way too much wine. Or maybe not...). Then she slowly raised her gaze to meet his squarely, raising one of her eyebrows as she continued to stare at him, the tiniest smile pulling at her lips.

This was a side of her he was sure he'd never seen before - had never even really suspected she possessed - but it was a welcome discovery, one that made him very, very grateful to be sitting down. That wave of hazy desire swept over him again, the warmth of the wine only accentuating it, the way she was looking at him making him wonder fleetingly if he'd ever been this attracted to a woman before, even in the most heated of moments.

Because this was quickly becoming pretty damned heated.

When it became difficult to breathe, he whispered throatily, "You win."

"Thank you." She replied smugly, finding it difficult - in spite of herself - to tear her eyes from his.

He paused, then: "Why're you still staring at me? It's a little...mean."

"Oh?" Her smile widened at what he'd said.

"'Oh.' Yes, very mean. Downright cruel, I'd say."

"Oh you would -- "

Again the waiter interrupted them, this time with their dessert - a ridiculous chocolate confection that involved mousse, whipped cream, and a brownie.

"That is almost obscene." He was staring at it, shaking his head in wonder as she laughed at him.

"Isn't it, though?" It struck her then that just the night before, she'd been sitting alone on her couch eating pudding out of a plastic container - and now this.

As they finished dessert, he told her about Jan's meltdown at corporate, Pam listening with wide eyes.

"Are you serious? That actually happened?"

"Totally serious." He scooped another spoonful of the dessert, pausing as he added, "Apparently she'd had no idea they were planning to fire her."

"Oh my god." Pam fell silent for a second, then looked up at him. "I kind of feel bad now for making fun of her this morning...."

In a flash he heard himself saying much the same thing to Karen, remembered her response - "Don't. She's nuts, okay?"

His blood had almost run cold when she'd made the comment, and in that moment he'd known without a doubt that there would be no making it work with Karen. Ever.

Because one of the things that he'd always loved most about Pam was her innate kindness...and he had yet to witness anything even close in Karen.

"...You okay?" Pam's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What? Oh yeah, I'm sorry." He shook his head with a smile. "I was just...thinking."

She nodded, then suddenly gasped. "Oh my god, Jim - I haven't even asked you how the interview went! Oh my - I feel so awful; I just didn't even think to -- !"

He chuckled at her, his smile soft. "Well, I think it's safe to say you've been a little...distracted, and so have I."

"You could say that." Her smile was radiant. "So...?"

"Well, the interview went pretty well - very well, actually." He answered, and in spite of herself, she felt her stomach drop.

He saw the shadow flicker behind her expression, noticed the way her eyes immediately lowered. And while he felt awful for obviously worrying her, he couldn't help but feel a little amazed at the same time. This is it; this is really it.

"Hey..." He lowered his chin so that he could see her face. "I turned it down."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"I turned it down when David offered it to me." He was watching her face closely, saw the relief and the elation register there as she processed what he'd told her.

"Oh my god...why?"

He shrugged. "Because it wasn't what I wanted, first of all - not right now, anyway. I mean...corporate just isn't quite my speed these days."

And then his eyes met hers again. "But it was a lot more than that. From the second I walked into that building, it just felt incredibly wrong. And it's the weirdest thing, because it was like...."

His voice trailed off as he debated whether or not to be honest with her, whether or not to attempt to tell her what it had been like. "...I don't know; it's weird."

"Tell me." Her voice was soft; she could see that he was battling a moment of insecurity. She recognized it because she knew it well. "Seriously, Jim...you can tell me."

He glanced up at her, studying her face for a second before he went on. "It was like...like you were there with me. I know that sounds completely...insane. But I was so distracted; it was like I kept expecting to turn a corner and see you there. And there were all these reminders -- like, we were on the elevator with this woman and her little girl, and the little girl kept pushing the buttons. Her mom had to get on to her for it, and...her name was Pam."

They exchanged a smile. "And that totally threw me off; I kept thinking it was a sign or something.... But I just ignored it, told myself I was reading way too much into it. And then in the waiting room there was a sketch of the corporate offices that looked so much like the one you did of our office that I had to stand up and look at it. I mean, I fully expected to see your name at the bottom."

He paused again as she watched his face, amazed at all he was telling her. "...And then the phone rang at the receptionist's desk - sounded just like our phones, of course. ....And I don't know, but...hearing that woman answer it and not say, 'Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam' was like....."

She was staring at him now, wide-eyed, just astounded. He suddenly felt self-conscious, then asked fearfully, "I'm sorry - is this too much? I don't want to...freak you out, or - "

"No." Her voice was soft, her hand reaching out to gently touch his arm. "Really...I want you to tell me."

The touch of her hand - warm through the fabric of his shirt - distracted him for a second. But he took a breath and finished: "When I heard that other woman answer the phone, it all just felt so incredibly wrong. I was just thinking, what the hell am I even doing here?"

He paused again, staring absently at the salt and pepper shakers on the table, lost in his thoughts for a second, before he turned his eyes back to her. "And then I went in for the interview, met with David. He asked for my quarterly numbers, and when I went to get them from my folder..."

His voice trailed off, his eyes meeting hers. She felt herself blush for a second, unable to keep from feeling a little shy.

"...And your note fell out, with the yogurt lid..."

Feeling stupid, she said quietly, "It was...it was from that day we had the Office Olympics."

"I know." He smiled wryly, raising an eyebrow. "I have one just like it in my desk drawer at home."

"...Seriously?" She could feel a huge smile pulling at her lips as he nodded.

"Seriously." They exchanged another smile.  "And that's when I really realized that...it was crazy for me to be there in a lot of ways - just because I didn't really want it.  And I kind of knew then, too, that for most of the past year I've been...pursuing things that I thought I should want, trying to ignore all the things that I really do want."

Her breath caught as his eyes met hers, holding them meaningfully...the expression on his face filling in so many of the blanks for her.  He wanted to tell her everything then - how he'd apologized to David, explaining that he just felt he belonged at the Scranton branch; how he'd met Karen outside the restaurant where she'd lunched with her friends, taking her back to their hotel room to talk...but it somehow didn't feel right to get into it all just yet.

Later, after they'd fully enjoyed this evening, maybe; because right now, he didn't want to do anything to dull the glow.  

They sat talking a bit longer about this and that, even as the restaurant grew more and more crowded. Though the waiter didn't say anything, it was clear that he was anxious for their table to be free.

So Jim gave Pam a small, shy smile and said, "Looks like they're ready to kick us out of here."

"Looks like." That fluttering had started again, low.

"So..." He felt incredibly self-conscious as he struggled to think of how to phrase his next question. Because he didn't want to say good night to her - not yet; in fact, what he wanted most to do was to go somewhere with her where they could be alone, where they could talk, where he could finally do what he'd been dying to do all night - just pull her to him and press his lips to hers.

But the thought of asking her if she wanted to go back to his place seemed completely ridiculous, given the implications that such an offer held. And he didn't want her to feel rushed or put off.

She watched his face carefully, the anticipation growing with every second of silence that went by. He was obviously debating about something, and she was fairly certain that she knew what it was...or at least, she thought she knew. Maybe he didn't want the night to end just yet either; maybe he was trying to figure out something else they could do.

Other than...well, the obvious.

The thought made her blush all over again, as if he might glean the very thought from her mind.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "Here's the thing: I really don't want this to be over yet - I mean, the date, the night, the.... "

He shook his head impatiently as she smiled sympathetically at him. "Unless you're tired....?"

"No, not at all." She answered immediately - maybe a little too quickly.

Their eyes met again, holding for a second before he dutifully looked away, then asked, "So I would ask if you wanted to see a movie, but that just seems...stupid, or--"

"Do you want to come back to my apartment?" She blurted suddenly, watching as he seemed to freeze for a second, blinking a little more quickly than usual.

"I, uh - sure, I mean..." He was bumbling, not sure why, other than that his head was spinning a little. Because he wasn't exactly sure what it was she was really offering here - though he realized immediately that it didn't matter if she planned to serve tea and play Bingo; he was so there.

She saw the expression on his face, realizing what he was thinking, and quickly added, "I didn't mean that like - "

"No, I didn't think - "

"I just was thinking that maybe we could - "

"No, seriously, Pam....it's okay. Really." He was finding it a little hard to breathe normally because he felt so damned flustered.

"Okay." She felt like a jackass as she watched him carefully. "It's just...I know how that probably sounded, and I really didn't mean - "

"Hey." He interrupted her, lowering his chin to smile at her softly as he reached out to squeeze her hand, touched by how incredibly nervous she seemed. "It's really okay. I mean...it's still just me, you know?"

"Yeah..." There was a trace of wonder in her voice and in her expression as she gazed at him, unable to stop smiling.

In no time Jim was slipping the receipt from the check into his wallet, Pam reaching to collect her purse.

"You ready to go?" He looked over at her with a nervous smile, the possibilities endless as they flitted through his mind.

"Yeah." She nodded, following him as he slid out of the booth, offering her a hand to help her up. She smiled shyly as she took it, his palm warm beneath her own.

As they made their way to the exit, they passed a sign for the restrooms; forgetting herself for a second, she reached out and tugged on his sleeve, leaning up to whisper, "I have to pee."

He turned to look at her with a lopsided smile, then threw back his head and burst out laughing; she looked so adorable standing there peering up at him with a sheepish grin.

"Well then by all means, I think we should make a pit stop before we leave." He grinned, still chuckling at her as they followed the sign, traversing a long hallway, then parting at the end -- the men's room on one side, the women's on the other.

"Hey." His voice stopped her as she started to push the door open. She paused, one hand on the door as she turned to look at him.

He pointed at her playfully. "No writing things about me on the walls in there."

She burst out laughing, shaking her head as he grinned at her.

As she stood in front of the mirror a few minutes later, the smell of the soap wafting to her as she absently scrubbed her hands, she noticed the pinkish tinge in her cheeks...wondered for a second if it was the wine - or just him. But she knew the answer to that.

She dried her hands, glancing again at her reflection as she thought about the fact that Jim - Jim - was waiting for her right outside the door; that they were on an actual date now -- no false pretenses of just good friends, no guilt because they belonged to other people. And to think that the rest of the night was all theirs...that in a matter of moments, they'd be alone in her apartment. That same nervous anticipation swelled in her all over again, making her breath catch in her throat almost in a gasp.

Such ran the course of her thoughts as she emerged to find him leaning against the wall waiting for her, a dim yellow light just above his head on the left casting a shadow across his face as he smiled at her.

Without giving it a second thought, she took two steps, easily closing the space between them, then stood on her toes, her hands on his face as she pressed her lips to his. She heard his back hit the wall slightly, as she'd obviously caught him off guard, but his hands immediately wound around her waist, pulling her closer against him. It was surreal to be kissing him - finally - his tongue tasting of wine, the scent of his cologne or aftershave making her feel even giddier. His lips were familiar but new all at the same time -- something in the gentle way his hands roamed her back reminding her of the year before, while at the same time, the sudden awareness that this was Jim and they were both free and this was really happening left her breathless when she finally pulled back.

He stared down at her, breathing heavily, his hands still spanning her waist, hers still lingering on his shoulders as they gazed at one another, shocked. The sense of deja vu wasn't lost on him, but this time, the memory wasn't painful.

"Wow." He finally whispered, forcing himself to resist the urge to kiss her again.

"Sorry...." She murmured with a shy smile.

Immediately he shook his head, his eyebrows raised. "No...what're you -- are you kidding? What're you apologizing for?"

She grinned, slowly, slowly coming back to herself - and realizing at the same time that this was only the beginning. "For jumping you in the hallway."

The look on his face made her burst out laughing -- his eyebrows rose to his hairline, mouth gaping open, eyes huge and blinking at her. He watched her laugh for a second, grinning happily, then he couldn't help himself - he reached out and caught her around the waist again, easily pulling her to him...amazed somehow when her small hands fell to rest comfortably on his chest as she gazed up at him expectantly.

"So...." His voice was hoarse. "What do you say we get out of here?"

He'd caught her hand as they made their way out of the dark hallway and back into the crowded dining area, the gesture thrilling her far more than it ought to -- such a simple thing, really...yet it seemed to speak volumes about just how much her life was about to change.

When she tightened her grip on his fingers just a little, he glanced around to smile down at her, his steps slowing as his eyes lingered on her face; she was looking up at him with an expression he'd only dreamed of seeing from her -- something in her mien conveying so clearly that she understood it all now...that now, finally, she was where he had been for so long. To be able to just reach out and hold her hand seemed almost unbelievable to him, reminded him of being in middle school, back when girls were a mystery and the possibility of really connecting with one seemed about as remote as the eventual promise of all that adulthood had to offer.

He almost didn't recognize himself in the guy for whom it had all just fallen into place; he was so used to waiting, to satisfying himself for less than what he really wanted....

I'm not a complainer, he'd said once, and it had been true; he'd never been one to complain. Instead he'd spent the last year struggling so hard to come to terms with the fact that he'd waited for almost four years to gamble on everything - because that's what she represented to him - only to lose. The hardest thing for him to overcome had been the certainty that she'd be so much more than a girlfriend: she'd be the one to help him hatch a plan to convince Dwight that the Mars company had called and wanted to use beet juice to dye a new color of M & M; she'd be the one whose eyes he would meet on Andy's most obnoxious days, both of them in tacit agreement that something would simply have to be done about Andy -- something they'd figure out over lunch on the roof.

And she would be the one woman whose flesh he could come to know as well as his own; she'd be able to make him go hazy with even the most careless touch - her fingertip trailing his jaw, maybe - and when they finally let down all the walls, it would be a mutual surrender - final, yes, but also all-consuming....what it was supposed to be.

Those were the kind of thoughts that had plagued him for so long - too long - and as he looked down at her, the din of the restaurant fading around him, he suddenly knew that the days of waiting and settling and bargaining were over; now all they had to do was just reach out and take what they'd wanted for so long -- take it, appreciate it, cultivate it...thrive on it.

Their breath was a hazy mist in the cold night air, their cheeks flushed from the cold and the heat as they made their way out of the restaurant, passing the maitre d' on their way out.

He nodded toward them, bidding them good night -- and when Jim gave him a genuine smile, nodding back at him and replying, "Thanks a lot - you, too" -- the situation suddenly slid into focus for Pam: I'm with Jim now...Jim, who makes eye contact with everyone he meets and gives his landlord a Christmas present; Jim, who opens doors...listens, asks, feels as much as I do.

"Hey." Her voice was soft as they made their way into the parking lot, heading toward his car. Somewhere in the distance a car door slammed, voices across the expanse of neatly parked cars barely reaching her ears.

"Yeah?" He turned to face her, cast in the glow of the street light, much like he had been a year earlier when she'd gotten it all wrong.

Her voice faltered a little when she answered, "I'm really sorry about...that night - Casino Night; I shouldn't have - "

"No, it's okay." He shook his head, startled that she'd brought it up - also caught a little off guard by the fact that somewhere underneath it all, he could still feel that sharp shaft of pain when he remembered her face - pale in the streetlight, eyes huge and hollowed - and the way she'd shaken her head. But still, it wasn't all her fault; he knew that now.

So he added quickly, "I mean...my timing was pretty rotten."

She nodded somberly, her eyes on the pavement for a second before she raised her head to look him square in the eye. "Well it was pretty rotten of me to tell you that you'd misinterpreted things -- because it wasn't true."

Hearing her say those words now was the strangest sensation for him -- shocking in the sense that he never would've believed anything could assuage the hurt and the residual anger from that night, but suddenly here it was: the simple fact that she was standing in front of him -- no matter that it was a year later -- confirming that he hadn't been off when he'd been so certain that she felt it, too....

It was like the final, perhaps most crucial piece of puzzle to fall into place.

She watched his face, feeling her lips trembling just a little at his expression: the surprise morphed quickly into an almost haunted look that then settled into a palpable warmth. In fact, as he stood staring down at her, his head tilted slightly, a tiny smile pulling at his lips, it occurred to her then that no one else had ever looked at her the way that he did -- the way that he always had.

Again there was the rush of relief, prompting her to grin at him, then: "I'm so glad I finally got to tell you that."

"Oh yeah?" He stepped up to his car then, opening the passenger's side door for her, adding just before he shut the door, "I've gotta say...it's pretty damned good to hear you say it, actually."

Her laughter echoed behind him as he made his way to his own side of the car, sliding into the driver's seat, then starting the car and backing out of the parking place. But then that ever-threatening awkward silence seemed to reign supreme on the drive home, as she stole glances at his profile while he navigated through the heavy Friday night traffic.

She'd had two glasses of wine, but somehow, it seemed as though she'd had more than that -- because watching the flicker of other cars' headlights on his face made her suddenly want to see him in so many other lights: standing in front of the bathroom mirror clad only in his boxer shorts, shaving cream on half his face as he concentrated on carefully drawing the razor down the jawline she'd been staring at for years; sprawled on his side clutching a pillow, his hair even more askew than usual, face relaxed in sleep; settled on the couch in pajama bottoms and the glasses she'd seen him wear only a few times (when his contacts had been bothering him) reading a book she'd recommended, his brow furrowed in concentration.

....His face glazed with sweat, eyes hazy and out of focus, lips swollen, flesh slipping against her own as they let down all the walls...for real.

"Hey." His voice startled her, broke through her thoughts. She was grateful for the darkness as she felt a blush stain her cheeks.

"Hmm?"

"You okay? You're kind of...quiet over there." He hoped his voice wasn't shaking like his hands would've been if he weren't gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Because he just didn't know what to expect from here -- they were on their way to her apartment, sure, but for what? There was so much he wanted to say to her, but he was afraid of overwhelming her with too much at once. Yet it was fucking impossible territory to navigate, because he'd already told her - albeit a year before - that he was in love with her...so was it even possible to overwhelm her?

And the physical stuff...Jesus, he'd been unable to truly focus since she'd backed him against the wall outside the bathroom, her hands so small, so sweetly demanding on the sides of his face. Where did they go from here? What was he supposed to do once they got back to her place? He somehow just didn't think she'd be willing to jump in with both feet, couldn't imagine her going to bed with him this soon...but he damned sure wasn't going to stop her if that's what she wanted.

...Then he was back at square one: What exactly did she want?

"Oh, yeah - I'm good." She cast him a quick smile, her hands twisting nervously in her lap, eyes focused on the brightly lit radio tuner. "So it was a great dinner."

"Yeah, it was." He flipped on the windshield wipers as it began to rain, his watch glinting in the light from the street lamp. For some reason, when she glanced over she found herself staring absently at his forearm, taking note of the myriad details: the way the hair was a slightly darker contrast to his skin; the way his watchband cut into his flesh just a bit; the tiny scar that ran from his wristbone to disappear somewhere beneath the face of his watch (an old baseball injury, she knew).

She suddenly caught a glimpse of him in the future -- sleeves rolled up, hands submerged to his elbows in bathwater, his child (their child) happily splashing about in the water as Jim tried to wrangle the baby's slippery little body, the scent of baby wash heavy and sweet in the air...Jim's laughter echoed by a deep belly laugh from the baby in front of him.

She could so clearly imagine walking in on such a scene, stealthily slipping away to find a camera so she could capture it. The vision was startling -- she, who had never bought into the whole biological clock nonsense; she, who'd honestly always found kids more unnerving than endearing -- was now dreaming of them. But with him -- and that's what made all the difference.

In that moment, the conviction struck her suddenly: I'm going to marry him.

She blushed all over again, as if she'd said the words aloud, or perhaps he'd divined them from her thoughts. But thankfully, they'd arrived at her apartment, and soon enough she was leading him inside, excusing herself so she could escape to the bathroom, catch her breath.

When she came back out, he was scanning her DVD collection, a small smile on his lips.

"...What?" She asked, stepping into the adjacent kitchen -- separated from the living room by a bar -- and reaching into her cabinet for two wine glasses, then rummaging in her cabinet to produce three bottles of red wine.

"Nothing." He shook his head, grinning over at her -- the sight of those wine glasses making his belly constrict just a little...because he wasn't sure what she was up to. So he talked to fill the awkward space: "Just noticing how many DVDs we have in common."

She laughed easily, nodding for him to join her in the kitchen as she turned her back, digging in a drawer for the cork screw before she turned back to him. "Does that surprise you?"

"Not so much, no." He chuckled, not unaware of the fact that just a week earlier, the realization would've pained him, haunted him for weeks. "Although I didn't know you were into Rome."

"Jim -- seriously, you should totally borrow that; you'd love it." Her eyes held his for a moment before the tension got the better of her, prompting her to quickly look away, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Never mind that they weren't damp.

"Yeah - I do love it." His eyes were on her face as he said it, sort of delighting in the fact that he could actually say that - that there was yet another unspoken connection between them.

And that was how he knew his life was changing dramatically: He'd spent close to a year running from all empirical evidence of their seemingly unshakable, enduring connection, but now - now he could relish it the way he'd always wanted to.

"Seriously?" She stared at him, searching his face to see if he was kidding, even though she knew on some instinctive level that he just wasn't. Of course he loves that show....

He didn't answer - didn't have to - instead meeting her eyes with a small smile. 

"So..." His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, as he nodded toward the three bottles of wine. "Forgive me if it's rude of me to ask, but...what's with the three bottles of wine? You planning on getting me drunk, so you can take advantage of me or - "

"Oh shut it - you wish, Halpert." The words slipped out, and while her immediate response was to be embarrassed, that sensation quickly faded into a kind of pride as she watched the expression on his face gradually shift. His susceptibility to her had been one of the first things that had won her over.

"Tsk-tsk." He gave her a wicked grin. "You didn't let me finish: I was gonna to tell you that you totally don't have to get me drunk to take advantage of me."

When he raised his eyebrows a little higher, she burst out laughing, though she felt that damned blush staining her cheeks, the exposed skin of her clavicle. This was a new side of him -- the very obvious flirtation, the sexual innuendo. And she absolutely loved it.

She shook her head at him, then sighed deeply. "Wow. I never pegged you for a floozy, Jim."

He shrugged, pursing his lips and cocking his head, then: "What can I say? -- And I prefer the term 'hussy,' by the way; it's somehow less offensive."

She threw back her head and laughed at that, shaking her head back and forth as he watched in delight. 

"You're really presumptuous - did you know that?" She was still flushed from laughing so hard. "I got out the three bottles because I wasn't sure what you'd prefer."

"Ah, I see." His eyes were gleaming, lips still curved in a smile. "Anything...anything's fine."

Something in the way he said it made her blush again, and she felt flustered - so much so that she fumbled with the wine opener, struggling with it while he watched in amusement, arms folded.

Finally, he stepped forward, holding out his hands: "Do you need me to...?"

"Yes." She huffed, gladly handing over the wine and the cork screw. "I freaking hate those stupid things."

He laughed at her, then deftly opened the bottle, pouring the rich, velvety looking magenta liquid into the two glasses she held out to him. 

A silence fell as they stood, eyes locked, glasses held aloft; then he prompted gently, "So...care to propose a toast?"

"To us." She responded immediately, not even thinking; as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she flushed to her hairline for some stupid reason, but he seemed somehow struck by what she'd said.

His head was tilted slightly, eyes warm on her face as he repeated, "To us...absolutely."

Their eyes remained locked as they took a sip of wine, then she averted her eyes quickly as another silence fell.  She toyed with the stem on her glass, feeling his eyes on her face; he could see she was nervous and wasn't sure what to do now.

So he asked in a raspy voice, "So...what now?"

She glanced up at his question, their eyes meeting and holding for a moment, long enough to send her heart pounding all over again.  She knew what the logical answer - the obvious - answer to that question should be, but she wasn't so sure she was prepared to answer it just yet. 

"So...what now?" He wondered if she noticed that his voice was a little throatier than usual...wondered if she could hear how freaking loudly his heart was pounding right now.

The slight huskiness in his voice sent a chill down her spine, led her to gaze back at him steadily as she replied, "You tell me."

She saw the muscle in his jaw tense once, his eyes never leaving hers; the expression on his face -- so intense -- sent a wave of heat through her, the skin on her chest flushing even as he took a deliberate step toward her.

And then his hand was on her face, his other touching her waist, pulling her gently toward him even as his mouth closed over her own. She stood on her toes, slipping her arms around his neck and pressing closer against him - as close as she could get. Because she'd had enough of waiting, of staring at him with that burgeoning hollowness welling from the pit of her stomach to crowd her throat, labor her breathing.

What she really wanted was this.

Still she was almost caught off guard by the palpable heat between them; there was something behind the way he was kissing her, touching her that was somehow different from the way it had been on Casino Night, and even earlier at the restaurant. It was almost as if this were the first time he was really letting himself go - letting the hunger take over instead of attempting to stifle it. Because it was very clear that he wanted her, and the realization sent a tremor down her spine, the faintest fear intermingled with the desire.

He wasn't entirely sure where this was going, and he really didn't care; all he knew was that he just couldn't get enough of her, wanted more of her...all of her.

After a few minutes of standing there in her living room kissing her - his hands roaming her back, hers slipping through his hair to lightly skim his neck, sending chills through him - he slowly began to walk her toward the sofa. They didn't stop, didn't slow down even as he turned so that his back was to the couch, then sank down onto it, pulling her down on top of him. There was a brief, awkward moment as she struggled to situate herself comfortably without moving her mouth from his. But it was momentary, fleeting: soon enough, he was prone, she stretched out on top of him, her hands on either side of his face, relishing the rough feel of his five o'clock shadow even as she couldn't help but writhe against him, pressing closer to where she felt him hard beneath her....knowing she really shouldn't tease him like this, but altogether unable not to.

He moaned against her lips as his hands slid down from her face to rest on her hips, moving against him in a way that sent a flash of impatience through him. On some level he was stunned that this was actually happening - that Pam was lying on top of him, that they were alone in her apartment...that they were shattering the last vestiges of the carefully constructed facade they'd hid behind for such a long time.

She clutched his shirt impatiently with one hand, the other trailing over the rough skin of his jaw; the surreality of the moment made her feel almost dizzy, because somewhere underneath the headiness of feeling his lips on hers lay the ever-present awareness that this was Jim; this was them, finally.

But they needed to talk, and she knew it; she knew, too, that it wouldn't be fair to him to put it off any longer, no matter how incredible this was.

So she forced herself to pull back, both of them breathing heavily as she propped herself up, her hands on either side of him. The sight of him beneath her - his hair tousled, lips swollen, eyes glazed - was enough to make her forget herself, leaning down to kiss him again, loving the way he immediately pulled her closer, his palms covering her low back, sliding over her hips, then back up again, hovering dangerously close to the hem of her shirt. It was another ten minutes before she managed to pull herself away from him again, shifting so that she was hovering above him.

"Hey, listen...." She began, her voice throaty and low.

"...You okay?" He was having a difficult time coming back to himself, thinking clearly. But she had a serious look on her face, as if there was something she needed to tell him; he worried for a second that maybe he'd come on too strong. "I'm sorry - was that...too much, or - "

"No!" She didn't let him finish, shaking her head immediately, ignoring the urge to lean down and kiss him again. "Seriously...no, it was...oh my god, Jim...."

A sexy little smile pulled at his lips as he watched her, a bit awestruck. "Yeah...tell me about it."

They exchanged a grin, then a silence fell as he gazed up at her expectantly, one hand absently rubbing the small of her back. For some reason she suddenly felt nervous and incredibly stupid; she had no idea how to say what it was she needed to say.

But she sucked in a breath, then forced herself to look him in the eye. "Here's the thing: You can't - we shouldn't...."

His right eyebrow rose, making her feel even more flustered - which in turn caused her to suddenly blurt, "Just don't let me have sex with you tonight, no matter how much I might...you know...."

Now both his eyebrows were up, his mouth slightly open even as her own words reverberated in her head. Then he grinned, saying hoarsely, "Okay - well, wow."

He knew he should probably be disappointed at what she'd said, but he couldn't get over the fact that she'd just effectively admitted that she wanted to sleep with him.

"Oh my god." She shook her head, covered her burning face with one hand, mumbling, "That so did not come out right."

"Oh no?" He was beginning to enjoy this now, the way she was so adorably flustered.

She peeked at him from between her fingers. "No."

He chuckled, then reached out to gently ease her hand away from her face. "Hey -- it's okay. Really, it's totally...okay."

"I feel like a total dork."

"Well trust me - you shouldn't." He gave her another sweet smile. "And if you are, you're the sexiest damned dork I think I've ever seen. Or made out with."

She burst out laughing at him then, grateful to him for helping to alleviate the awkwardness even as she retorted, "Oh yeah? How many dorks have you made out with?"

"Well, there was that one time I kissed Dwight when I was trying to convince him that I was gay and it was contagious...." He grinned again as she giggled, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.

When another silence fell, she met his eyes again. "Sorry if I totally ruined the moment there. It's just that -- well, I mean, I thought that I should...clarify, because I didn't want to be a tease, or -- "

Again his eyebrows were rising slowly, prompting her to smack him lightly on the chest, eliciting an indignant, "Ow!" even as she admonished, "Would you stop looking at me like that?"

"Okay, but only if you'll answer a question for me." There was something familiar lurking in his expression - not quite smugness. ...Maybe mischief?

"Oh, great." She sighed exaggeratedly. "Okay, go ahead."

He made a point of clearing his throat, then: "So....are you saying that you want me so much that I'm gonna have to fight you off?"

"Oh, shut up." She groaned, slapping his chest again.

"Hey - you started it! I'm just trying to be agreeable."

"Agreeable?" She was smiling down at him archly, feeling the awkwardness begin to slip away.

"Yes." He settled deeper into the couch. "I aim to please, Pam."

His choice of words sent a thrill right to the pit of her stomach, so much so that her voice was just a touch tremulous as she asked, "Oh do you, now?"

"Mmm-hmm." He nodded, then another silence fell. Then he hesitated, saying carefully, "Seriously - I hope you know that it's totally okay. I mean, I so wasn't...you know, expecting to --"

"Oh, no; I know." She stammered, feeling the blush staining her cheeks again. It was damned near impossible to have this conversation with him without feeling like a gigantic ass. "It's just...."

She shook her head, then looked him in the eye - because this mattered to her, and she wanted to be sure he understood. "I don't want you to think that it's...because I don't...you know, want this, you."

He nodded seriously, reaching out to catch one of her hands in his as she went on. "It isn't that at all; it's kind of the opposite, actually."

When she paused, he asked quietly, "How so...?"

She loved him for the way he was watching her so closely, the way he so obviously wanted to hear what she had to say - to understand it. "Well, I mean.... I've wanted this for a really long time, and I just - I don't know, I feel like we should probably take it slow. ...Because I don't wanna do anything to screw this up. Does that even make sense?"

He nodded again. "Of course it does. And yeah, I think you're probably right. Besides, there's no rush; god knows I'm not going anywhere."

He grinned up at her, but her expression softened at what he'd said, and her voice was low as she murmured, "It's so good to hear you say that; I don't know what I'd do if you left again."

"That's nothing you'll ever have to worry about again." The words slipped out before he could stop them, and for a second he felt a quick surge of panic -- but she only looked more moved as her eyes roved over his face.

And then she just had to say it, no matter how abrupt or out of context it might be: "I wanted to tell you that night that I felt it, too; I wanted to you to know that I was in love with you, too -- I mean, that I am... "

What she'd said sent a sharp wave of shock down his spine -- cold, then warm, then absolutely overwhelming.

"You -- " He began, but he stopped abruptly. Her voice had trailed off, the fear in her eyes reminding him of what he'd felt that night...the panic of saying it out loud damned near swallowing him whole.

When he didn't finish, she whispered, her eyes never leaving his, "Yeah, I am."

His mouth was on hers almost before she got the word out, his arms drawing her down on top of him again; the urgency in his lips echoed the gravity of the previous moment.

And then he murmured against her lips, "God, Pam...."

Her lips were soft against his own, her voice a whisper: "I know...."

There was more he wanted to say, but he was distracted by her hands, her tongue, the dizzying scent of her hair, the way her hips shifted impatiently on top of his.

It was a strange sensation for him, to be suspended somewhere between absolute frustration at the way she was moving against him - her body betraying her, almost - and an ever-present thread of protectiveness hovering beneath his consciousness. No matter how abbreviated and stilted her earlier speech had been, he'd understood what she was getting at: She wanted to take it slow, not because the desire wasn't there, but because it was...because she wanted to be careful with this, to protect it.

Because she felt it, too.

And in the face of that realization, it didn't matter how close her hands hovered to the waistband of his jeans, didn't matter how maddeningly her hips moved against his own -- he could be patient.

Yet when her fingers lingered at the button on his shirt, he wondered if it was purposeful; then as she'd slowly released the buttons, her lips not leaving his, he'd begun to find it more than a little difficult to breathe, even as he'd pulled back ever so slightly to afford her easier access - his own hands skimming beneath the fabric of her delicate shirt. He'd almost expected her to jump at the feel of his fingers against her bare skin, but instead she sort of sighed against his lips, her fingers hastening over his buttons.

She'd flicked the last button free with a rising feeling in her abdomen; as she'd pulled back to slowly ease his shirt off his shoulders, her eyes roving his bare chest, that same feeling in her belly had suddenly dropped, as if she were free-falling. The width of his shoulders; the sprinkling of dark hair covering his lean, taut chest; the thin trail leading down to his jeans.... All she could do was slide down, her lips trailing his neck to his collarbone; his muffled groan ("...Pam...") only spurred her further, one of her hands slipping down his chest to rest precariously just below the snap on his jeans, her mouth on his neck, his ear, his chest.

She knew she was teasing him, but she couldn't help herself; for too long she'd satisfied herself with the nonsensical things - jinxes and fake alliances and cell phones in ceilings - when this was what she'd really wanted.

When he nudged her shirt up with trembling fingers, she arched her back deliberately, knowing what she was doing to him, the guilt lost amid the headiness of witnessing just how much he wanted her. It wasn't long before they were entwined on her couch in only their underwear -- Jim's boxers rustling against her thigh, the matching lacy black bra and panties she wore betraying all she'd hoped for as she'd gotten ready earlier.

It was too much to feel him right there, just a breath away from plunging into the oblivion they'd both wanted for such a long time. As if he were reading her mind, he paused, pulling back slightly; he pushed her hair back so that he could see her face.

"So listen..." He sounded throaty, hoarse, his eyes seeking hers, the words breathless: "Do we need to...stop, or - "

It wasn't fair and she knew it, but she couldn't help herself; she leaned down, her hands on either side of his face as she drew him in close, her lips on his, her body keening toward him. She knew she still wasn't going to sleep with him tonight -- for no other reason than that she was too fucking scared to cross that bridge so quickly. But she also knew that she wanted as much of him as she could manage without slipping over the edge.

He wasn't sure what she was trying to tell him, and he alternated between trying (and failing) to pull back from her slightly -- to honor what she'd said earlier -- and following her lead, his hands roaming her bare flesh as he allowed himself to envision just letting go...doing all that he wanted to do.

She wouldn't have stopped long enough to answer him, but he forced her to, pulling back a little, his eyes unfocused, hair mussed. "...Seriously?"

Her breath was ragged in her chest. "I don't want to stop - "

His eyes closed, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard; she knew this wasn't fair to him, but at the same time, she couldn't stop herself from leaning in to kiss him long and deep, loving the way he just gave in to it.

Then she drew back, whispering, "...But I still don't think we should....you know, not - not tonight."

He nodded drunkenly, on some level marveling that his vision was actually impaired. "That's...yeah...."

She watched him closely, then: "But we don't have to stop yet. You know, there are...."

Her voice trailed off at the sheer torture on his face -- a mixture of pure hunger and a kind of dread, as though he knew it'd be heaven and hell to push things so far, stopping just shy of the edge.

Emboldened, she went on: "....other ways to...."

His lips were on hers again before she could finish; with one hand, he shifted her body so that it was better aligned with his own. For some reason, the gesture sent her teetering close to the edge.

"Jim...." His name was a gasp.

"...Yeah?" He couldn't focus on anything other than her bare flesh -- the skin on her stomach both taut and yet impossibly soft. What she'd said was equally tantalizing and torturing -- so much implied, so much left unsaid....so many ways of getting there.

"Would that be...." She slid her hand very deliberately down his bare chest, down past the waistband of his boxers, her fingers closing around him; the gesture prompted something akin to a growl deep in his throat. She finished, ".....too much?"

Even though the confidence with which she was touching him sent him reeling, he forced himself to respond, his hands skimming the elastic of her panties, "No, not too much....as long as you let me get you there, too."

What he'd said made her stomach suddenly contract, her breath catching, her hand stilling; she could've sworn he smiled against her lips, his hand deftly slipping her underwear down past her hips as she jerked slightly.

Then she, too, smiled, touching him again with a whispered, "Only seems fair...."

She lay in bed with the sheet pulled up and tucked beneath her arms as she lazily watched the slow rotation of the ceiling fan. She'd asked him to turn it on as he'd walked to her bathroom, clad only in his boxers; he'd cast a grin at her over his shoulder, the sweat glistening just beneath his hairline mirrored on her own face, dampening the tendrils that curled around her cheeks and forehead.

It was surreal to lie there, the faintest ache from his touch still lingering, leaving her feeling serene and sated, yet with a delicious hunger hovering beneath. When she closed her eyes, images of the way they'd spent the past hour flashed at random: his shoulders broad, hair waving and tousled in the back as he kissed his way down her stomach; the curve of his jaw, his head tilting all the way back on the pillow as she'd trailed her tongue down his chest to his lower abdomen, sliding down, down; his eyes burning into hers, hands moving, breath coming in ragged gasps.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't even hear her bathroom door open or Jim slipping back in bed with her, sliding over to pull her close against his bare chest. "So...care to share what you're smiling about, Beesly?"

He loved the feeling of her soft, naked skin against his own, her breasts like warm satin against his chest, the way she nestled close against him, as if they'd been doing this all along instead of hiding behind the pranks; even more than that, he loved knowing exactly why she was smiling that way.

"Mmm..." It was a contented sigh, the hair on his chest tickling her cheek as her smile widened; then, as if she could read his mind, she added, "I'm pretty sure you know why I'm smiling like this...."

"Oh really?" His voice cracked a little, his smile warm as she drew back, shifting to prop up on one elbow facing him.

She chuckled as she scanned his face - a faint flush still lingering beneath the five o'clock shadow that seemed to darken a little by the hour, the hue of his lips a deeper plum than usual. And as she looked over at him, she couldn't help but muse that he looked like...well, like he'd spent the last hour doing exactly what they had been doing. She'd thought that holding back - not having sex with him - would be difficult, frustrating...but she had to admit that he'd left her the farthest thing from frustrated.

The thought made her smile to herself again.

"Okay, so what's with the little secret smiles?" His eyes swept over her, taking in the way her breasts swelled beneath the sheet, the way her make up was slightly smeared, her hair a total mess. "You're starting to make me feel self-conscious -- I mean, c'mon, Pam...you've just seen me naked for the first time, and somehow you can't stop giggling to yourself."

She laughed even harder at that, closing her eyes and shaking her head, feeling his gaze soft on her face. He watched her eyes close, then slowly open again. She seemed completely relaxed, and it surprised him to realize that he wasn't used to seeing her looking quite so serene. He'd never really realized it before, but well prior to his transfer -- even before things had gotten so far out of hand, even in the countless times he'd seen her laughing...she'd never really looked quite as free as she did now; there had always been that subtle, almost indiscernible something darkening her expression - guilt, self-restraint, obligation, confusion...and eventually a very visible ache that he'd spent the better part of the past six months pretending not to see, struggling not to recognize in his own reflection.

He swallowed, then reached over to smooth a damp tendril of her hair back from her face - marveling silently that he could do such a thing, that such a gesture would make her eyes close at his touch, then flutter open to watch him expectantly -- wanting to hear what he was thinking, what he was feeling.

Absolutely nothing about her said she couldn't.

"You look so amazing - so...completely different somehow." It felt good to tell her that for some weird reason -- maybe because he'd been swallowing back so many fucking things for such a long time now.

Her eyes held his, and that ever-present surge of emotion was there, threatening to overwhelm her. "Really...?"

There was something wistful in his smile. "Yeah, you're so... I've never seen you look so...relaxed, I guess. Like you're..."

His voice trailed off, because he really couldn't articulate what he meant. But she finished for him, her eyes shining a little too brightly in the dim glow from the street light outside her window: "...where I should be?"

She watched as his brow furrowed slightly, his jaw clenching a little, then: "Yeah, that's...yeah."

They exchanged a smile, and as she lay there staring over at him, she found herself caught up in a swirl of wild, outrageously romantic thoughts -- that discovering this new side of him only confirmed her suspicions that yes, he was all she'd ever wanted, just as she'd always known he would be once all the walls came tumbling down; that losing herself in his touch and letting herself do so many of the things she'd wanted to do with him for such a long time had been heady, sexy, amazing....but what was most awe-inspiring was the connection she felt with him now - because as she watched him watching her, she was startled by the realization that she'd never felt closer to another human being in her life, ever...not even Roy. Not even in the best of times.

"Hey..." He leaned closer to her, his brows knit at the tears glistening in her eyes. The amazing thing was that he wasn't afraid anymore; he didn't worry that she was having second thoughts or regrets, that she might change her mind and start running again.

And much like he had that night a year and a half ago - when they'd lain stretched out on his living room floor in much this same position, long after the guests had gone home, leaving them in a deafening silence that wouldn't let them run away so easily - he didn't have to ask why she was crying, because he already knew. Only now, they'd shattered the walls, the pieces falling into place.

"I'm sorry; this is totally..." She shook her head slightly, giving him a smile as she sucked in a breath, struggling to compose herself. "It's just that I... I don't know, really; it's just kind of...my god, so overwhelming."

Her voice started to tremble again at the word; he nodded slowly, eyes on hers. "I know."

And he did; shell shock seemed to fall away all too slowly, when ostensibly it should've brought immediate relief. But they'd been waiting so long for this - too long - and he knew it'd be a long, long time before they could really believe it, before they could let themselves be defined by the joy of all that lay ahead, instead of by the ache of all they had to deny.

And then he whispered, "I never would've believed that I could be this lucky...you know?"

Her smile was slow, almost faltering. "Me either."

Their eyes held long enough for the heat to steal over them once again. She felt a flush slowly wash over her, coloring her chest, her collarbone, her cheeks; she knew it was creeping over him, too, just by the subtle shift in his eyes -- a darkening, an intensity slowly replacing the softness.

She had the sensation of falling again as she watched him slowly lean down toward her, his mouth covering hers even as he reached out to draw her naked body close against his own. When his hands skimmed over her skin, she closed her eyes, realizing that he'd been paying attention before - that he knew already where to touch her and how. She felt a shudder slip down her spine at the certainty that, sooner or later (and at the rate he was going, it was looking more and more as if it would be on the sooner side), she'd let go, go under all the way.

Even though the temptation made that ache swell in her belly, emanating through her, it was the delicious ache of anticipation. And one thing she'd learned from spending ten years with Roy was to savor this...to take her time.

He felt almost dizzy to be touching her this way, to evoke such a response in her - the occasional sharp gasp as she squirmed beneath his hands and his lips, his name a desperate whisper that she repeated over and over, her teeth almost clenched as he drove her closer to the edge.

And when they fell against one another, exhausted, sweat slipping on their skin as they caught their breaths, she'd whispered, "Jim...?"

"Yeah?" His voice was throaty, his breathing still ragged.

"You know I love you...right?"

The wonder in his eyes crept into his voice as he pulled her closer, his lips passing over her damp forehead before he answered: "Yeah....I do. I really do."

*******

It was nearing two thirty in the morning as they sat side-by-side on the living room floor, passing a huge plate of scrambled eggs back and forth. He'd insisted on making them himself while she hovered over his shoulder watching, laughing as he explained the finer art of making them truly awesome. She was reminded of the Office Olympics, when he'd taken such joy in making so much fun out of what would've otherwise been a mundane day, eventually drawing everyone in - even Stanley.

"The trick is to take it really, really slow; you can't get impatient." He was all business, gently nudging the yellow, goopy mass with the spatula as he lowered the temperature slightly.

She held in the laugh for as long as she could, then it burst forth in a loud bark, prompting him to jump, startled as she clapped her hand over her mouth.

"Oh my god." He shook his head, then: "So help me, if you say, 'That's what she said,' I will absolutely...."

He didn't finish, so she crossed her arms over her chest, looking at him expectantly. "You'll what? Go on."

"You suck." He snapped playfully, because he couldn't come up with a suitable threat.

"No, seriously - tell me. You'll what?" She goaded, her grin smug.

"I'll withold sex." He said matter-of-factly, giving her a self-satisfied, very righteous stare as she burst out laughing, bending forward slightly at the waist.

"Oh you will, will you? And when, exactly, will that be?"

He couldn't help himself now, was grinning like an idiot. "...Whenever you, um, lift the whole 'no sex' rule."

"Really?" She tilted her head, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Really." He repeated.

"I don't believe you."

"I'm a controlled guy, Pam." He shrugged innocently.

"Yeah, right."

But she had to hand it to him: his scrambled eggs were amazing.

It wasn't until they'd cleared the plate and moved to the couch that she dared to ask what had been drumming somewhere in the back of her mind all night.

"So...." He was stretched out, his legs on the couch, Pam nestled between them, her back against his chest, their hands linked. "Do you wanna tell me what all happened in New York? Or should I just - "

"Should you just what?" He interrupted, caught off guard.

"I don't know." She flushed. "Drop it - I mean, I don't wanna pry, and it's so soon after - "

"Hey..." He nudged her gently so that she sat forward, then shifted to face him, one leg turned in at the crook of her knee. "There is no 'prying' now; I mean...c'mon, I think the cards are all on the table here, right? I'm in love with you; I've been in love with you for five years now. And now that I can sit here and actually say that to you..."

He shook his head. "There's nothing you can't ask me...seriously."

She smiled, nodded quietly.

He took in a breath. "So...as soon as I left Wallace's office, I went to meet Karen; she was having lunch with some friends of hers a few blocks away. We went back to the hotel - "

He saw Pam's eyes fall to the sofa, and he knew why.

"Don't do that." The words slipped out before he could even think about it; she looked up in surprise as he went on earnestly. "Don't...look like that. I mean - I know that look, and it's not.... Just, can you trust me when I tell you that there's no reason for you to flinch like that?"

"Okay..."

The hesitation in her voice frustrated him suddenly, so he groaned, then, "Look, I'll just - can I just say it?"

She drew back, her eyebrows raised as she wondered if he'd realized what she'd been thinking...why she'd flinched earlier.

"Okay..." She repeated in much the same tone.

"It wasn't a - a romantic hotel thing." He waved his hands in frustration. "I mean, we didn't - Jesus, this is really, really...like, not ideal."

For some reason, what he'd said made her start to laugh - because he'd said just enough to reassure her.

He looked startled at her giggling, tilting his head. "Oh, that's nice. Thanks."

She leaned forward, throwing her arms around his neck (silently marveling that she'd never have to settle for giving him a beaming smile in lieu of this ever again....), still laughing as she murmured against his neck, "You're so freaking adorable, you know."

Now it was his turn to chuckle, and when she pulled back, he was shaking his head in disbelief, the faintest blush staining his cheeks. He really has no idea.... It was just another reason to love him.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you." She settled back, leaning sideways to rest against the back of the couch as she leaned her head on the cushion. "Go on."

She could tell from the way he drew in another breath that he was being careful - that he was afraid to really talk about this, no matter how dedicated he was to being open.

"I was honest with her." He shrugged. "I told her that it just wasn't working, that I never really felt...like me when I was with her."

"What did she say to that?" Pam asked, almost holding her breath. It was still hard to believe that they were actually to a place at which they could talk openly about this...about everything.

"She asked what I meant by that; I told her that I just...I don't know, felt like when she and I met, I was trying really hard to be something I wasn't, and - "

"What was that?" She interrupted him, startling him, bringing him back to himself as he glanced at her, his eyes sweeping her face.

"It's hard to say, really..." But as soon as she'd asked the question, an answer had immediately sprung to his mind. For a second he debated silently, then realized there was just no reason to hold back anymore.

So he looked her in the eye, then answered honestly: "Mostly just that I was pretending to be this...relatively happy, normal guy who...you know, wasn't in love with you."

Her brows knit, and she found herself thinking of that awful day in the break room after Roy had tried to punch him - how she'd struggled to apologize, to really just say it, and he'd seemed so indifferent -- weary, maybe a little scarred, but indifferent nonetheless. She'd lived for the past six months or more thinking her greatest fears had been realized: That she'd lost him for good, that he was in love with someone else...that she'd effectively thrown it all away.

"You mean, all this time, you still...knew?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, her throat burning.

He didn't answer right away - just slowly took in her face, her hair, swallowing hard before he answered, "Pam, I just...yeah, I always knew; I couldn't...not know. That was the problem."

He was reminded suddenly of the time he'd had Jonathan over to his place for lunch; it was the first and last time Jonathan had met Karen.

So he added, grinning ruefully, "You'll be happy to hear, I'm sure, that Jon totally got your back."

"Oh, yeah?" Pam was grinning, too. "Do tell."

He shook his head, telling her the story -- how Karen had teased him because he'd been bustling around the apartment nervously, straightening things, asking endless questions to which he already knew the answer: "Do we have enough beer? Has the chicken been marinating long enough, you think? I'm thinking we should leave the game on, don't you?"

"Oh my god - you're, like, so nervous." She'd laughed, shaking her head at him. "I hadn't realized my meeting your brother was such a big deal."

"It isn't." He'd been annoyed at her suddenly.

"Really?" She'd drawn back, folding her arms across her chest. "Then why are you acting like some nervous housewife?"

"I'm not - c'mon, Karen, lay off." He'd shaken his head, disappearing into his bedroom to take a shower. She'd gotten it all wrong - it wasn't that he felt the need to impress Jonathan himself; it was that he so desperately wanted her to impress Jon...because even though he hadn't consciously admitted it to himself at the time, he knew full well that his tenuous sense of well-being -- of having moved on to a woman who really made him happy, made him forget about Pam -- could well come crashing down if Jonathan asked just the right question...or the wrong one, as it were.

He'd known even before Karen had left them alone in his living room that Jon would do it...would go where he really, really didn't want to even think about.

"So..." Jonathan's eyes were on his face. "You guys seem pretty serious."

"Oh yeah?" Jim took a swig of beer. "What makes you say that?"

Jon shrugged, his eyes ever scanning Jim's expression. "Well, she's cooking in your kitchen; you're doing the whole joint-entertaining thing...."

"It's just you; it's not that big a deal." Jim shook his head, daring to meet his brother's eyes only for a second before quickly looking away. He didn't like the look on Jonathan's face - the way his eyes were narrowed, lips pursed.

"Isn't it? Karen seems to think it is." Jon's voice was quiet, matter-of-fact, his eyes fixed on Jim's face.

"What the fuck is it that you wanna say, exactly?" Jim had suddenly blurted, regretting the words as soon as they were out of his mouth.

Strangely, Jon didn't look the least bit surprised - if anything, he'd seemed more patiently wary than anything. Then, in carefully measured tones: "You tell me - what the fuck is it that you think I wanna say?"

Their eyes met and held for a long moment, then Jim had spoken in a clipped voice: "Look, I know what you're thinking - "

"You do?" Jon drew back in surprise, but something about it struck Jim as contrived.

"Yeah, I do." He snapped. "And you need to just leave it alone."

Jonathan made a face - lips drawn down, eyebrows up - then nodded slowly, replying only, "Whatever you say...but just remember, Jim: I didn't say anything."

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to." Jim shook his head, rolling his eyes slightly as he took another swig of his beer.

Jonathan's response made him freeze slightly: "Neither did you."

When he'd relayed that final bit to Pam, he sat back, taking in her beaming, slightly shocked expression, then laughed when she shook her head, saying, "God, I really love your brother."

"Yeah, doesn't everyone..." He muttered playfully, eliciting another giggle from her.

When another silence fell, she gently prodded him: "So...?"

He sighed, coming back to reality. "Oh - yeah. I just...told her that I couldn't do it anymore, that I don't want the same things she wants."

When he fell silent again, Pam forced herself to ask, "What did she say to that?"

She thought there was something bitter in his smile. "She asked me if I realized what I was walking away from."

Pam nodded slowly, thinking about Karen -- whom she'd always really liked, all jealousy aside. And truly, she found herself musing that Karen had had a point in asking him that question.

"What'd you say to that?"

He smiled again, turning his eyes to hers. "I told her that yeah, I knew. ...Then she asked me if I was planning on going back to you."

"'Back' to me...?"

"Yeah." His eyes held hers fast. "She knew that's where I really was...that I'd tried to...I don't know, get away from it. With her..."

"Oh..."

"And I was honest - told her that I just...had to. ...Like, I couldn't not."

Pam nodded, her eyes falling to the coffee table, then: "So how did you leave it?"

He smiled weakly in a failed attempt to mask the fact that her question made him flinch slightly. Karen had refused his offer to drive her home, insisting on calling her friend - after which she'd told him in no uncertain terms to leave her the hell alone. "Well...let's put it this way: I left things with Karen better than I left them with Katy."

That piqued Pam's interest. "How did you leave things with Katy?"

He blinked, confused, for a few seconds, then: "Oh, right...guess I didn't tell you. I, uh...kind of broke up with her a little...abruptly, you might say."

"'Abruptly'...?"

"On the Booze Cruise. Right after you and Roy set the date." He watched her face as the remembrance washed over her.

"Oh my god...you mean you --- on the boat?" She was aghast. "Jim, seriously....?"

"Well, yeah." He answered, drawing back defensively. "I mean...c'mon, Pam...."

"Could you not have waited until we got to shore?" She shook her head, starting to laugh a little as she remembered Katy telling her how much she wanted to be engaged, asking Pam how she'd managed to pull it off. Pam had had to fight not to let the stab of jealousy show -- had had a much harder time attempting to ignore the realization that some day, Jim would get married. To someone else.

His voice brought her, thankfully, back to the present: "Honestly? No."

Pam laughed, her shoulders shaking. "Why not?"

"Well for one thing, she forced me to...to do that toast." His eyes fled from hers momentarily; some of the memories still hadn't quite lost their sting.

She knew immediately what he was talking about - instantly caught a flash of his stricken face that night, his tight voice: "I guess I just wanna say that Pam is...awesome. My best friend."

"Oh...." It was more a breath than a word as she struggled to shake off that image, unable to believe - even after all that had happened over the course of the evening - that it was really in the past now. That it was a prelude to all they would eventually become, as opposed to a relic of regret for all they would never be.

"So..." He spoke softly, jarring her out of her reverie. "It'll be weird for a while at work...I mean, with us and Karen...at least until she moves to New York."

"Wait, did she get the job?" Pam asked, surprised.

"I don't know - kinda doubt it. But she'll move there anyway...or she'll move somewhere." He paused. "I just know she's not gonna want to stay here; she, uh, made that clear...before we even broke up."

Pam nodded, a silence falling. When she yawned, he smiled ruefully, reaching out to touch her face gently with the back of his hand -- such a simple thing, but he recognized it as a luxury because he'd spent years stifling that impulse.

"I should probably get going...leave you alone so you can get some sleep." He said the words with little conviction, hoping she'd tell him not to go.

Without giving it a second thought, she asked, "Will you stay?"

A small smile pulled at his lips, his right eyebrow lifting slightly. "Pam Beesly...are asking me to spend the night with you?"

"Apparently I am." She answered, shrugging, then giggling in spite of herself.

"Well, I gotta tell you - I am shocked, personally, that you would - "

"Oh shut up." She stood, extending a hand to him with a grin.

He took it, standing next to her and beaming down at her as he asked, "So...you got any pajamas I can borrow?"

She laughed at him, shaking her head as she led him by the hand to her bedroom, tossing over her shoulder, "No way...no p.j.s allowed."

He was chuckling with her as they fell into her bed, and as he drew her close against him, his body curved around her, her back against his chest, he murmured in her hair, "Best first date ever."