"Oh, we're in last place," Pam chided.

"Oh, look at that," Jim replied.

"Darn."  Pam smiled as Jim took a hold of her hand.

"So does this mean since we're exercising now that we don't have to go to the gym tonight?"

Pam rolled her eyes.  "Quit complaining.  You like it.  You just don't know it yet."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah," she insisted.  "Besides, I thought you really got into biking when you were in Stamford."

Jim sighed.  He hated to think about Stamford.  "Yeah, but... that was Stamford."  He paused to look at her sideways.  "And that was actual biking.  All they have at the gym is... spinning."

"Spinning is more of a workout than you think, Jim."

"Oh, is that so?" he challenged.

Pam nodded confidently.  "Yup."

"I still think that gym you go to needs a basketball court--or some kind of sport.  Anything, really.  I'd even take up tennis if they had it.  I just can't stay in one place and do the same repetitive thing for a full hour."

"That's why you crosstrain, Jim," Pam replied casually, swinging their arms as they walked.  "Do twenty minutes of cardio, five minutes of strength training, and then go back to cardio."

"Well, I've been doing the strength stuff.  But those machines are so complicated."

"Are these excuses ever going to end?" Pam teased.

"Nope."

"Well, at least you're honest," she conceded.  "But I will say I've seen a difference since you started working out with me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she answered.  "I think your arms are more defined.  Maybe even a little bigger."

Jim smiled and glanced at his girlfriend.  "Nice try, Beesly, but I'm still not fully convinced on the gym thing.  I think I'll stick to pick-up games with Mark."

Pam rolled her eyes.  "Fine."

"Ooh!  An estate sale!" Jim exclaimed, and Pam couldn't help but chuckle at his change of subject.  "Wanna go in?"

"I don't know.  I'm really committed to winning," she teased.

"Ok, but what if I told you all the money you spend here, goes to preventing a disease that's already been cured?" he retorted in like manner.

"Mmm,  yes!" she said, agreeing to the brilliant idea.

"That's what I thought."

"Yeah."

"Let's do some good."

Pam walked into the office, grinning from ear to ear.  Jim walked in not long after and glanced at her as he went to his desk.

Pam turned on her computer and waited for it to wake up.  Ever since the IT guy had come a few days before, Pam was now overly cautious about what she did online.  The phone rang and she answered it quickly.  "Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."  As she took a message for Michael (who had not come in yet), Pam saw an IM pop up on her screen.

JHalpert:  Bees, do you know where my blue tie went?

PBeesly: no "good morning"? just "where's my tie?"?

JHalpert: sorry. good morning, beautiful Pamela.  I hope you slept well.

PBeesly:  um, mostly.  except someone was snoring...

JHalpert: you said it was cute.

PBeesly: not when I'm trying to sleep.

JHalpert: fine.  did you see my tie?

PBeesly:  no, I haven't seen it.

JHalpert:  what kind of a girlfriend are you?  you can't even keep track of my stuff!

Pam looked over her desk at Jim, who had that adorable boyish grin plastered onto his face.  She shook her head and looked down at the IM window.  She sighed and typed.

PBeesly:  oh, so you wanna get rid of me?

JHalpert:  well, I wouldn't go that far.  you're useful for some things.

PBeesly:  yeah?  like what?

JHalpert:  like cooking.  and redecorating my apartment, when it was obviously in need of an artistic eye.

PBeesly:  that's it?

JHalpert:  pretty much, yeah.

PBeesly:  you don't even think I'm good for... other things?

JHalpert: oh, I didn't know that subject was open game.

PBeesly:  that subject is always open!

JHalpert:  well, in that case, I guess you are good for some things.

PBeesly:  thank you.

JHalpert:  but you're still no good at keeping track of my things.

PBeesly:  suck it, Halpert.

The phone rang.  "Dunder Mifflin this is Pam," she answered.  Pam took another message for Michael and glanced over at the computer screen.  She tried not to blush as she wrote the message.  On the screen, it read:

JHalpert:  just tell me when and where.

Pam looked over the desk at Jim.  In place of his boyish grin was his devilish smirk.  Pam responded with just one word.

PBeesly:  wow.

"I can't believe you actually convinced me to go to this," Pam said, her head hanging down as she walked up to Michael's condo. 

Since the camera crew had found out about them, suddenly others in the office were realizing their relationship.  First it was Kevin.  He walked into the break room just as Jim gave Pam a quick kiss.  What was most alarming was that he started calling for Oscar and saying something about "evidence of intimacy."  After that, all hell broke loose.  Angela knew, but she didn't care.  She was still too upset about Sprinkles.  Dwight found out soon after, which meant Michael wasn't far behind. 

Once Michael found out, he'd been begging them to do "couple things" with him and Jan.  He insisted that they owed it to him because supposedly, he helped them get together.  So now, on a Friday night, Michael has invited all the couples of the office.  This consisted of him and Jan, Jim and Pam, Phyllis and Bob, and even Oscar and Gil.  Pam wondered how many of those couples would actually show up.

"Hey you were the one who totally destroyed the excuse I had going," Jim commented.

"Don't start," Pam warned.

"Hey, a sick grandmother is a very legitimate excuse.  You didn't have to tell him she's been dead for two years."

"How was I to know what it was about?  He just asked out of the blue!"

Jim shook his head and rang the doorbell.  Jan answered, wearing a very deep red kimono-like dress.  "Jim!  Pam!" she exclaimed.  "Oh, it's been so long!" Jan threw her arms around them at once. 

"Hi, Jan," Pam said quietly, trying not to smell the mix of alcohol and cigarettes on Jan's breath.

"Well, come on in!"

Jim and Pam shared a glance as they walked into the condo.  Jim smiled and nodded, seeing the Japanese theme in the front room.  A giant Japanese flag was hanging on one side, and there were strips of cloth hanging from the ceiling (held up by thumb tacks).

"Someone just watched Hero, didn't they?" Jim whispered into Pam's ear.  She giggled as Michael approached.  He was wearing a karate uniform (probably borrowed from Dwight) and a strip of cloth tied around his head, like the Karate Kid.

"Aw, good day to you sir!" Michael said, resurrecting Ping.

"Hey, Michael," Jim said, smirking at the insanity.  As they walked in further, Jim and Pam found Phyllis and Bob sitting at a low table.

"Hi Phyllis," Pam said, bending to greet the older woman.  "I honestly didn't think anyone else would come."

"Well, I overheard Jim telling you about it," Phyllis explained.  "No one should have to deal with Michael alone."

"My friends," Michael said, still as Ping.  "You must remove your shoes!" he demanded.  "Before we eat, you must remove your shoes!" he repeated.  Jim looked to Pam and shook his head.

"What?" she asked, bending to untie her Keds. 

"I don't like other people seeing my feet."

"You don't mind me seeing your feet," Pam insisted coyly.  "Among other things," she added in a low tone.

"That... is something to be discussed later," he said with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. 

"Besides," Pam said as she took her shoes to the little pile of shoes in the corner.  "You have cute feet."

"Cute?" Jim echoed.  "Size eleven cannot be cute!"

"It can when it's on you," Pam mumbled.  She gave him a look that she knew would melt him.

Seconds later, Jim's shoes were sitting in the pile, next to Pam's.

"You'd think he would avoid days like this since that last incident," Jim whispered to Pam in the conference room. 

Pam shrugged.  "It's Michael.  I mean, who knows?  He could have completely forgotten about the children's-show-debacle."

"Did you have a suggestion, Pam?" Michael asked.

"Ah, no."

He said nothing more to her but put a finger to his lips.  Pam witheld a chuckle.  "As I was saying," Michael went on, addressing the others in the room.  "I figured since Canada has a Family Day, so can we!"

"Ontario," Dwight said.

"I'm sorry?"

"Ontario," Dwight repeated.  "Family Day is a provincial holiday, not a national holiday."

"Well, either way, I thought it was a great idea, so I'm starting it here," Michael retorted.

"But Family Day gives everyone a day off to spend with their families," Dwight went on.  He had been especially testy recently.  Andy spouting this or that about his and Angela's dates was NOT helping Dwight to move on from the woman whom he had considered the love of his life--his soulmate (if she had believed in such a thing).

"Well, this is America," Michael said.  "And in America, we work hard.  But we like to involve our families.  So there.  We're having Dunder Mifflin Scranton Family Day, and that is that.  Now, Angela, if you would arrange a little get-together.  Maybe some burgers and potato salad, like a real family reunion?"

Angela began to write notes furiously on her steno notepad.  "The PPC will be meeting today at eleven.  Did you hear that, Pam?  Eleven exactly."

Pam nodded with a solemn expression on her face.  Moments later, the whole group was making their way back to theri desks.  Pam sighed, wondering how many pounds of candy she would have to buy for her desk.

"What?" Jim asked.  He had an uncanny way of knowing the "something is wrong" sigh from the "I'm tired" sigh.  He knew all her sighs, in fact.

"I just... I wish I were better with kids, you know?  I don't know how to get... on their level."

"You got along pretty well with Meredith's son last time he was here," Jim offered.

Pam shrugged.  "I know, I just... I don't know.  You're so good with kids, and sometimes I wonder... Oh, nevermind."

Jim stopped her from continuing her slow walk to the desk.  He gently pulled her aside and kissed her forehead.  "When we get to that point," he said.  "You'll be great.  I know it."

Pam looked up at him with hopeful, shining eyes.  She didn't know what to say, so she smiled weakly.

"Besides," he added.  "I'm sure at least one of the kids who come next week will be drawn to your over-filled candy bowls."

"C'mon, one more game," Mark goaded.  "You gotta let me take you down.  You cheated that last round."

"I did not!" Jim shouted, throwing the ball in Mark's face with great force.

Mark caught the ball as a reflex and shot it back at Jim.  "C'mon, Halpert.  I saw you traveling!"

"Liar!" he hollered, but his grin was wide across his face.  He looked to Pam for backup. 

Pam shrugged.  "I didn't see him traveling," Pam said before taking another sip of her beer.

"Well, of course she'd say that," Mark grumbled.  "One more game."

"Fine," Jim conceded.  He bounced the ball a few times and the game began. 

"Foul!" Mark accused.  "You were traveling again!"

"Hey, just because I got long legs and can step further than you, that doesn't mean I'm traveling," Jim argued.

Mark tried to call a fould three more times before they finally called it quits, Jim in the lead.  Pam stood from the lawn chair where she had been sitting and joined Jim.  He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her cheek.  "Can you believe that?  Mark's such a sore loser."

Pam shrugged.  "Well, we all know you're the man when it comes to basketball," she said with slight indifference.  Jim heard the teasing in her tone and swatted her behind as retaliation.  "Hey!" she shouted.  "I was just giving you a compliment!"  The spanking only earned him the rest of her beer all over his head and face. 

"Not cool, Beesly."  He, in turn, took a plastic cup half-filled with soda from the nearby table and poured it down her back. 

The sticky mess called for a shower, and they called a truce.

Jim sighed as he got into the car.  "What were they thinking with that orange wallpaper?"

Pam chuckled as buckled her seat belt.  "So that's a no?"

"Did you like it?" Jim started the engine and checked his mirrors to see when it would be safe to pull out into the street.

Pam pushed her lips to one side and shook her head.  "The outside was nice," she said.  "I just didn't realize they had that poor taste.  I mean, that wasn't even left over from the seventies, that was new wallpaper!"

"Well, what's the next one?"

"Jefferson Avenue," she replied, looking at the list in front of her.

"That's a little far from work," Jim commented. 

"Well, it looks really nice," she offered.

Upon arrival at the baby-blue, two-story house, Jim parked the car.  He went around the car to let Pam out and held her hand as she stepped out onto the icy street.  With a hand on her lower back, he guided her to the front of the house. 

"Two-thirty, right?" Jim asked, confirming the time of the walk-through appointment.  Pam nodded.  He glacned at his watch and looked up towards the street to see the property management agent pulling into the driveway.

"Nice, huh?" the agent asked as she made her way towards them on the frozen path.

Jim nodded.  "It doesn't have orange wallpaper, does it?"

The agent crinkled her nose.  "Uh, no.  Let me show you the inside."

***

"Look at this closet, Jim!" Pam exclaimed, inhaling the sweet, woodsy cedar smell. 

"Do you like it?"  He sounded skeptical.  He didn't like the carpet in the den, that she knew.  He also thought the downstairs bath was a little small.

Pam shrugged.  "What do you think?"

Jim smiled as he took her in his arms.  "Doesn't matter what I want.  It matters what you want."

Pam smiled and rolled her eyes.  "You're not getting out of a decision that easily, Halpert."

"It's true, though," he insisted.  "If you like it, that's way more important than how big a bathroom is or if they have cheap carpet in the den."

Pam smiled and reached up to kiss his lips softly.  "I do like it."

"Alright, then."

"Alright?"

"Let's do it."

Pam let out a squeal as she threw her arms around Jim's neck.  He wrapped his arms around her waist.  His one desire was to make her happy, and he had succeeded.

Pam sat in her and Jim's room, waiting for him to return with the popcorn.  Pam was looking forward to the distraction from the insanely long week of work.  Michael had arranged an egg hunt for the office on Monday morning.  However, he had planted the eggs on Friday night... and they were real eggs.

After finding all of the eggs and making sure they made it to the outside dumpster, the Scranton crew spent the day spraying air fresheners and trying to fan out the smell.  Though the smell was not much worse than the carpet incident, it had been spread all over the office, rather than just Michael's office.

The smell lasted nearly all week, and Dwight refused to let anyone light a candle.  By Friday evening, the office smelled like a mix between rotten eggs and a menagerie of air fresheners.  Each day, Pam was glad just to breathe fresh air as she walked out of the Scranton Business Park.

Now, on Friday evening, Jim was treating her to dinner (Chinese take-out) and an Arrested Development marathon.  Jim handed her the bowl of popcorn and sat himself on the bed next to her.  He let out a sigh as he crossed his legs at the ankle and reclined on the headboard. 

As the dvd loaded, Pam's eyes wandered into Jim's open closet across the room.  She crinkled her nose and looked at Jim.  "Why don't you ever play that?"

"Play what?"

"Your guitar.  You have a guitar, but I've never heard you play it," she complained.

Jim shrugged.  "I'm... not that good."

"Well, how will you get any better unless you practice?" she countered.

Jim let out a sigh.  "You're right, Beesly.  I guess I should just get rid of it."

"What?  No!  You should just practice so you can serenade me."

"Serenade you?" he chuckled.  "I can't sing, either."

"Oh, fine," she breathed.  "But I always thought it would be so hot to have a boyfriend who played an instrument..."

***

A week passed and Pam had nearly forgotten their conversation the previous Friday night.  Pam set her purse on the coffee table and kicked her shoes off.  She thought it a little strange that Jim had gone straight up to the bedroom without a word as soon as they entered the house.  Curious, she followed him up the stairs and was a little surprised to see Jim pulling his guitar out of the closet.

"What are you doing?" Pam asked, startling Jim.

"Huh?  What are you doing here?  Go back to the den!"

"Last time I checked, this is my house, too," she said.  "Besides, I was curious."

"Well, go back to the den and I'll go show you."

Pam raised her eyebrows in interest as she turned and departed.  Moments later, she was sitting on the couch in the den as Jim came to sit beside her.  He held the guitar awkwardly and furrowed his brows to concentrate and putting his fingers on the correct strings.  He strummed an off-key chord and glanced at Pam, who was smiling widely.

Jim changed chords and strummed again.  This went on for a few measures, and try as she may, Pam could not recognize the "song".  She wondered if he was actually playign a song, or if he was just playing whatever chords he knew.  Then, when she was about to cut him off with applause, he began to sing.

"You say you want
Diamonds on a ring of gold
You say you want
Your story to remain untold..."

Pam smiled and remained silent, allowing him to continue the song.

"But all the promises we make
From the cradle to the grave
When all I want is you..."

He paused, struggling through the next chord change.  He shook his head and laughed self-consciously.  Pam clapped for him, negating the need for him to continue.  She leaned over the guitar to plant a kiss on his lips.

"You see why I don't play very often?"

"I told you," she said, "You'd be better if you practiced more."

"Well, I just wanted you to see that I really do suck at this."

"You don't suck," she said softly.  "That was... impressive."

"Really?" Jim asked, unconvinced.  He set the guitar aside and pulled her to him.  "I don't believe you."

"Just take the compliment, Halpert," she chided.  She settled into his chest and smiled.  "You really should practice more," she repeated.  "I think you'd be good."

"You're just saying that."

After a pause, she nodded.  "But at least you tried," she offered.  "So that's still pretty hot."

Jim rolled his eyes, but secretly vowed to practice and become much better at the instrument.