Two o'clock had come and gone and Jim still hadn't returned to the office. Pam congratulated herself on successfully resisting the urge to text him and find out where he was. She didn't want to be that girlfriend, though naturally she could not stop herself from looking up hopefully at the door each time she heard a sound. She hoped that his delay was due to his business meeting going exceptionally well. He had not been in the mood to go out at all as the sales call was with a customer known for her difficulty.

The real reason Jim dreaded this particular customer, a woman by the name of Jay Keeler, was simple. In Jim's opinion, Jay Keeler was practically a female version of Michael Scott. Her obvious appreciation of Jim's youth and appearance more often than not bordered on inappropriate, and over the years of semi-annual sales meetings he quickly grew weary of the never ending succession of compliments and innuendos.

He would have willingly passed the whole situation on to Dwight, commission be damned, but he knew from experience that he was the only salesman she would work with. The last time her order came due he let Dwight take the sales call. She flatly refused to authorize any purchases until Jim could be present. Seeing that her company had recently opened a second office in Wilkes Barre, this meant that for the same level of discomfort he could stand to make double the profit. Or at least that's what Pam argued. She urged him to take the sales call with Jay Keeler.

"I can't believe you approve of my being whored out for a paper sale," he complained, his arms draped over the counter as he assumed his usual position at the corner of her reception desk.

"That's a bit dramatic, don't you think?"

"Well what would you call it?"

"Showing off the best Dunder Mifflin has to offer?" She grinned.

Jim picked absentmindedly at the jelly beans. "So it doesn't bother you at all that your boyfriend is being hit on?"

Pam shrugged. "What can I say? She obviously has good taste." She took a sip of her tea, her eyes glancing up over the mug to meet his. "I trust you."

Jim shivered for her benefit. "Oh, you've got nothing to worry about on that front."

"Then suck it up and think about all the toys you will able to buy with that nice commission check."

He pouted as he headed over to the coat stand for his jacket. "No sympathy whatsoever," he mumbled.

"You'll be fine."

Jacket on, he slipped his messenger bag over his shoulder and gave her one more sullen look.

"If you quit complaining maybe I'll make you dinner tonight," she sighed.

He frowned. "But don't you have class tonight?"

"Shoot, you're right." Pam's facial expression matched his. "I keep forgetting it's Tuesday. How about I'll cook for you tomorrow so you don't feel so taken advantage of today?"

He nodded in agreement and gave her a slight wave as he walked out the door. And he'd been gone now for well over three hours.

Pam's own lunchtime was interrupted by a list of errands Michael had requested she run for him. When she told him she didn't have a car (having ridden in that morning with Jim), he threw her the keys to his PT Cruiser without even glancing up from the comic book he was trying to hide behind some Dunder Mifflin catalogs. Which is why she was only now getting to eat her lunch at her desk.

At two-twenty Jim finally walked in, his slow trudging gait complementing the utter fatigue that showed on his face. He said nothing as he walked past her desk, but a small sad smile and a head tilt toward the far corner of the room made his request clear. Pam put the phones on forward, packed up her remaining bits of lunch and followed Jim into the break room.

Jim audibly groaned as he sat down in the metal and plastic chair.

"That bad, huh?" Pam asked gently as she took the chair next to him.

"Worse." Jim rested his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. "Her new assistant manager kept trying to talk her into backing out of business with us and going to Staples - right as I sat there!" He ran his hands over his face and then leaned back in his chair. "I'd have to play up to the old bag to explain why that wasn't in her best interests, and after a while it became completely apparent that she was having her assistant do this all on purpose just to toy with me!"

"Ugh," Pam commiserated, her hand reaching out to rest on his forearm. "You poor thing."

"I swear, Pam, I came this close to just telling her to go to hell and walking out."

Pam leaned against the table, resting her cheek against her fist, and looked at him sympathetically. "So what happened?"

"I got the sale, of course. But I feel like I need to take a shower now."

"I'm sorry," she said, stroking his arm. "You know, you really need to think about finding something else to do."

He gave her a quizzical look. "What? And give up all this?" He gestured around the room. "It's fine," he sighed. "It was just a bad day."

"Yeah, but you should be doing something you really want to do, you know? Do something you love. You are so smart, and talented..."

"Oh, right," he scoffed. "I'm pretty sure I can't get legitimate work doing what I do best, and that's being your boyfriend."

"Don't sell yourself short, Jim," she chided lightly.

He continued to tease. "You mean I can make a living at it?"

"You know what I mean. You could do anything you wanted to do."

"Yeah, but who would keep you entertained here? Unless this is just a ruse to get me out of your hair. Maybe being around me all day, every day is making you crazy." He quirked his brow. "I mean crazier," he corrected.

She pinched the arm she had previously been caressing. "Dork."

"Ouch!"

She continued to press the issue. "I don't expect to be here forever, you know. If you aren't careful you'll be alone here while I'm out at a real job. It's not like I need to work here anymore now that I see you all the time now, right?"

"Ah ha," he grinned. "So you admit your world has centered around me for so long that the only reason you kept this job is to be near me?"

"Not quite that pathetic, thanks," she rolled her eyes. "But let's just say the time I spent working here without you was pretty grim. You don't want to go there."

He nodded and covered her hand with his. They sat there in companionable silence until Pam cleared her throat. She shifted nervously, and sat up a bit straighter in her chair.

"Oh, uh, I have a little something that might cheer you up." She opened the hand that had been resting against her cheek and placed two keys she'd been holding onto the table in front of him. "I know we don't spend much time there," she said haltingly, feeling a warm flush creep up her face, "but it probably doesn't hurt for you to a have a key. Just in case."

Jim picked up the silver apartment key and ran his finger over the sharp edges. He smiled ever-so-slightly, then looked down at the other key on the table. "And that would be a car key?"

Pam nodded a little too vigorously, her nerves starting to get the best of her. "Yeah," she murmured. She started to worry that perhaps she had misjudged her timing. Maybe it was still too early in their relationship to be offering such things.

"In case I ever feel the need to try and wedge myself behind the steering wheel of your clown car?" Jim's tone was clearly teasing, but Pam felt herself blushing even harder.

"No," she replied haltingly, keeping her gaze focused on the Toyota key still on the table. "It's just that I've locked my keys in my car before and it would be easier to call you than a locksmith." She reached to take the key off the table. "But you're right. It's probably a stupid idea....."

Jim's hand reached the key before hers did. "Just wait," he instructed firmly, picking up the key and placing with the other key already in his hand. "I didn't say it was stupid." He shifted in his chair as he put his free hand into his pants pocket and pulled out his key ring.

Pam visibly relaxed. After all, putting them on his key ring was a good thing, right? He was accepting her gift, no matter how badly she might have botched the presentation. She focused on finishing her sandwich - ham and cheese had morphed into a staple of her lunch as well these days - until the sound of metal hitting the table startled her. She looked up to see Jim sliding an unfamiliar gold key in her direction. She glanced up at his face and noticed that now he was the one who appeared to be flustered.

"It didn't occur to me at the time to make a copy of my car key, but I'll do that over the weekend," he said softly, nudging the key even closer to her hand.

She picked it up, and eyed him curiously. "You carry an extra house key?"

He held her gaze only briefly, then looked back down at his hands. "I had it made a while ago. I was just waiting for the right moment to give it to you."

"How long is a while ago?"

He shrugged. "I don't remember. A while."

Pam couldn't help but grin. "And you're just giving it to me now?"

Her amusement caused him to smile self-consciously. "I guess. I didn't want you to think I was moving too fast."

"You?" She laughed slightly. "I don't think I could ever accuse you of that."

"Why, how long ago did you make these?" He asked, indicating the keys she'd given him.

"Today," she replied. "Michael sent me to the hardware store. When I saw the key counter it hit me as the right thing to do."

Jim finished sliding the new keys onto the O-ring and jingled them against the other keys as he put it back into his pocket. "It was the right thing to do," he replied.

Their conversation came to a standstill as Toby, then Meredith, entered the break room for snacks and drinks. When they were alone again, Pam stood and threw her lunch trash away. "I guess I better get back upfront," she said softly. Glancing quickly to see that no one else was about to interrupt them, she leaned down and gave him a quick kiss.

Jim's smile was genuine as she pulled back. "Thanks for the keys," he said.

"You too," she replied. He stood to follow her out when she stopped suddenly, just as she was about to pull open the door. She turned back towards him, a troubled look on her face. "Is this Karen's key?"

Jim's eyebrows rose so high they disappeared into his hairline. "What?" He choked out, sincerely shocked. "No, of course not!"

Pam shrugged. "You said you'd had it for a while. I just wondered." She turned back to open the door and felt his hand on her shoulder. He stepped closer to her, and she leaned back against him briefly.

"She never had a key," he said softly, his head bend down close to hers.

"Good," she replied just as softly, her sense of relief more overwhelming than she'd ever willingly admit. "Good."

Jim turned down the radio as he swung into the empty parking spot nearest Pam's apartment.

“So I guess I'll see you around nine then?” he said, pulling up on the emergency brake and turning slightly in his seat to look at her. “I was thinking if I ordered some pizza around eight-thirty it should arrive around the same time you do.”

Pam gave him an apologetic smile. “I don't know,” she sighed softly. “It's been such a tiring day, and I'm so behind in laundry and I've got a project due on Thursday that I haven't even started yet.”

Jim's brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”

Pam's eyes focused on the living room window of her apartment. “I was just thinking that tonight I'd stay home and get caught up on stuff.”

“Oh.”

Pam hated when Jim said “Oh.” How someone could manage to cram that much sadness and despair and the image of homeless orphans into a two letter word was beyond her. She was pretty sure he didn't do it on purpose, but just the way he'd let the h-sound linger in the air was like releasing a mushroom cloud of guilt on her shoulders.

“Hey, it's just for tonight, Jim. I've been spending so much time at your place that it looks like a land mine went off in mine.”

“Sure, of course,” Jim nodded, trying not to sound as deflated as he felt. “I was just surprised. You totally should.”

Pam couldn't help but smile as his failing bravado. “You'll be fine. You probably could use a night away from me anyway.”

Jim rubbed his chin. “I wouldn't go that far. It's going to seem kinda strange.”

Pam knew he was right. Since they'd gotten together over six months ago – wow, was it really already six months?! - they'd only been apart about a dozen nights, and most of those were at the beginning when they foolishly tried to talk themselves into taking thing slow. In fact Pam hadn't had a bed all to herself since she visited her parents in Harrisburg three weekends ago. It was been her parents' wedding anniversary, and she went for a small family-only celebration. She wanted to bring Jim, but it would have been his first introduction to her father, and she had been expected to stay at the house. Even though she was all of twenty-eight, she still felt like a teenage around her father sometimes, and the thought of having Jim stay with her on his first visit just didn't seem like the right thing to do. So she went alone and missed him terribly. She texted him during the party, then talked to him on the phone well into the early hours of the morning. Having realized her mistake, before she'd left she made it clear to her mother that Jim would be coming with her for the holiday visit, so she'd better start prepping her father. After everything with Roy, her dad was even more protective of his beloved middle child.

Her mind speeding through that memory, her resolve softened. “Do you want me come over and tuck you in?” She teased.

“Not if you're going to be all condescending about it,” he replied with mock hurt. “I'll be just fine without you, thank you very much.”

“No, you won't,” she giggled.

“No, I won't,” he agreed, laughing as well.

She leaned over and kissed his cheek, cupping his face with her hand. “Okay, fine. How about I call you when I'm done and you can come over here. You'll have to stay out of my way because I really do need to get things done tonight.”

“I can help, you know,” he offered.

“Right,” she grinned, unbuckling her seat belt to get out of the car. “Somehow your help always seems to lead to other things.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Jim replied as seriously as he could.

“Of course you don't,” Pam said, opening the door. “But funny how things never get done when you're around.” She leaned over and kissed him again, then got out of the car. “I'll call you when I'm home.”

Jim sat waiting as he watched her get into her own car and head toward her art class. He knew she was teasing, but it stung just a little that she'd said she never got anything done with him around. Was it his fault she was so damn beautiful without even trying? He shifted into reverse to head home, and his knee jangled the keys as he moved his leg from the brake to the gas pedal. The noise reminded him of something, and he pulled back into the parking space. He didn't need to go anywhere. He had her key now. And he was about to prove to her just how helpful he could be.

====

Pam fought a yawn as she made a left turn onto the main drive of her apartment complex. She was happy that she only had classes twice a week this semester, but by the end of those days she was always practically one of the walking dead. Tuesday night's seminar was called Light and Dark, and it was a mixed media presentation of using color (and the absence of it) to convey thoughts and emotions. She was thinking about the photos she was going to need to sort through to start her project for that class when she saw Jim's car still sitting in the parking space she'd left him in. She was surprised, but couldn't help grinning at his impatience. She was even more surprised when she pulled her car up next to his and saw he wasn't there as she expected. Then she glanced up at her living room window and saw the warm light spilling out through curtains not quite closed. She smiled and hit the first speed dial number on her cell phone.

“Hey,” his deep familiar voice answered.

“Hey,” she replied, walking quietly toward her door. “Have you managed without me okay?”

“Oh, I've done alright.”

“Good,” she said, putting her key into the front door lock. “Did you still want to come over?” She pushed open the door to see Jim standing in her kitchen, his back toward her, cell phone to his ear.

He turned around at the noise, a guilty smile crossing his face. “I was thinking I might stop by,” he replied.

Pam leaned back against the door to shut it as she turned off her cell phone. “What are you doing?” She asked, dropping her bag and coat in a pile on the floor, “and more importantly, what smells so good?”

Jim captured her mid-living room in a big hug. “Just trying to prove myself useful,” he told her, “since you seem to think nothing gets done when I'm around.”

“I didn't mean it like that,” she said, her arms remaining firmly around his neck.

“No?”

“No,” she replied, her fingers unable to resist playing with the curls at the back of his neck. “It's just that you can be terribly distracting.”

“Really? How so?”

She smiled up at him, then peered around him and into the kitchen. “What did you make for dinner?”

“You know, maybe it's less about me being distracting and more about you being so easily distracted,” he laughed, as she finally pushed passed him and headed for the kitchen.

“Ah, I thought it was pasta,” she declared triumphantly, pot lid in her hand.

“Do you buy anything but spiral pasta?” Jim complained as he joined her in the kitchen.

“No,” she explained, “because spirals catch the sauce better.” She sniffed the aroma wafting from the pasta and frowned. “Where's the garlic smell coming from?”

Jim placed his hands on her shoulders and steered her toward the table. “Just go sit down and you'll find out.”

“Did you get garlic bread?” She continued. “I don't think I had garlic bread in the freezer.”

“You didn't. Now please go sit down.”

As Pam obediently headed to the table, she glanced around the living room and wondered why everything looked different. She practically jumped out of her chair when she realized what was off. “Where's all my stuff?” She exclaimed.

The living room as she had left it the day before was nearly an eco-system unto itself. Dirty tea mugs rested on discarded newspapers, balled up sketch paper looked like miniature tumbleweeds under the coffee table. Piles of ignored junk mail and catalogs had been scattered over the couch, the chair and the tables. She cringed at the thought that Jim had witnessed it, much less taken it upon himself to clean it all up. It even looked like he'd vacuumed. She groaned in embarrassment.

“You didn't seriously think it took me three hours to make pasta?” He grinned, gently pushing her back down onto the dining room chair.

“You really didn't have to do that,” she replied.

“I know,” he agreed. “But it's nice to be useful.” As if on cue a timer dinged. “Oh, time to switch things around. I'll be right back.”

Pam turned and watched him head down the hallway. “What are you doing?” she called. When he didn't reply she got up and followed him. She found him standing in the oversized closet she liked to call the laundry room.

“What are you doing?” She repeated, despite clearly having the answer in front of her.

“It's the last load,” he explained, piling the wet clothes into the dryer. “I wasn't sure where you put everything, so the rest is on your bed.”

Pam turned and walked the few steps to her bedroom, flicking on the light as she entered. To her utter amazement stacks of neatly folded clothes sat atop her bed, separated by type: shirts, skirts, jeans, and lingerie.

“I have to say I don't recall ever seeing that interesting purple number,” Jim said, now standing behind her. She saw he was pointing to a satin chemise-type nightgown lying on the bed.

“Oh, that,” Pam nodded dumbly. “That's new. I was saving it for something special.”

“Ah, well it was near the laundry pile,” Jim shrugged. “So I guess it's new and freshly washed now.”

Pam brought her hand to her mouth to cover the smile that was growing as the knowledge of what he'd done for her continued to sink in. “Oh my God,” she whispered.

“What?”

“You did all my laundry.”

“Yep,” he nodded, moving closer behind her to wrap his arms around her shoulders.

“And you cleaned up all that crap in the living room,” she continued.

“And I made you dinner.” He nodded and kissed her shoulder. “Hey - since when have you been able to buy 'just add water' mixes of those Red Lobster biscuits?!”

He sounded so outraged she burst out laughing. “Since forever,” she told him, leaning against his chest. “You need to pay more attention in the grocery store. So that explains the garlic I smelled.”

“Crap!” He exclaimed, “I forgot they're still in the oven!”

Pam followed Jim into the kitchen where much to their relief the garlic cheddar biscuits had not burned. Pam gingerly took one off the pan to taste.

“Perfect,” she declared after it had cooled down enough to be eaten.

“Eh, A little overdone, perhaps, but still perfectly edible.”

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“Quit belittling your efforts.” Pam licked her fingers of the biscuit crumbs and put her arms around him. “This is absolutely perfect. All of it."

Jim returned her hug and kissed her forehead. “So it was okay that I just barged into your apartmet and did all this?”

“Definitely,” she nodded, cuddling closer. “I could definitely get used to this.”

“Good,” he replied softly. “Good.”

They continued to sit at the table long after they'd finished their meal. Pam noticed the candle Jim had lit was now a mostly a sea of melted wax, the light scent of cinnamon adding to the warmth she was feeling inside. She was holding his hand across the table, and she smiled at him over her wine glass as she finished the last few drops.

“So when are you going to stop being so perfect?” She asked.

He tilted his head in puzzlement. “What do you mean?”

“This,” she said, waving her now empty glass first over the empty dishes and then in the direction of the couch and coffee table. “Dinner, cleaning...general wonderfulness.”

“I'm hardly perfect,” he replied, somewhat self-consciously. “I just wanted to show you I can be helpful.”

“I know that,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “I don't know what I'd do without you.”

Jim shrugged. “You didn't sound so sure of it earlier.”

“Really?" Pam replied, looking genuinely surprised. “I didn't mean to give that impression. I was probably just tired thinking about everything I had to do.” She smiled again. “Everything you so neatly took care of.”

“Not a problem,” he grinned back.

Pam stood, and began to gather the empty dishes.

“What are you doing?” Jim asked, standing as well.

“Cleaning up,” she said. “It's the least I can do.”

“I've got it,” he declared, taking the plates out of her hand. “You just go relax.”

“Jim, I can't let you do that.”

“Sure you can,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her temple. “It will take all of ten minutes to wash these and put them in the dishwasher.”

“But it's not fair for you to do everything.”

“It's not that big a deal,” he said, walking into the kitchen. “Just go sit down, will ya?”

Pam watched him for a moment, while an impish smile stole over features. “I'll go work on dessert.”

Jim glanced back as she disappeared into her bedroom, then went back to washing up. He couldn't even begin to imagine what she'd meant by that remark, but he had faith he'd enjoy whatever it turned out to be. If there one thing he'd learned about Pam in their time together, it was that she was full of surprises.

He was loading the last of the silverware into the dishwasher when he heard her clear her throat. He grabbed a towel to dry his hands as he closed the door and turned around. The hopes he had for how the evening might play out still didn't prepare him for the sight of Pam, leaning against the hallway wall in the purple nightgown he'd washed accidentally earlier. Describing it as a nightgown was a bit of stretch. It had wide, satin straps, and the lace in the front crisscrossed into a modest plunge of a v-neck. But the skirt was so short it barely brushed the tops of her thighs. Her hair was pinned up, and the sight of a few errant curls against her pale neck were practically his undoing.

He knew he was staring, gawking really, but couldn't bring himself to look away. “I didn't shrink it, did I?” was the only thing he could think to ask. Her smile made him flush, aware of what an idiot he sounded like.

“C'mon,” she beckoned. “It's time for dessert.”

He threw the towel on the counter and grasped her proffered hand as he followed her back to the bathroom. "Are you sure it's hygienic to eat in here?" he teased.

"Shush," she replied, stopping for a moment to light the two candles that sat on either side of her marble vanity. She flicked off the light and nodded her approval at the shadows cast along the tile from the flames. She leaned over the bathtub and twisted both taps until the water rushed loudly out of the faucet. She stood back up and smiled again. "Strawberry or raspberry?" she asked.

His momentary confusion was lifted when she picked up two bottles of bubble bath from the shelf. "Ah," he nodded. "No preference, really."

"You sure?"

"What if we use a little of both?" Jim suggested. "Then it's kind of like mixed berries."

Pam handed him the one labeled Strawberries and Cream. "Why not?" She laughed as they both poured some in.

The bath water was already starting to steam up the small room as she set the bottles down and turned her attention back to Jim. He's tie had already been off when she returned from class, so she wordlessly started unfastening the rest of the buttons on his blue work shirt. His eyes followed her fingers as she worked her way down his chest, while his hands came to rest at her waist, the slick softness of the lingerie was begging to both be touched and taken off at the same time. Jim thought it was not a bad dilemma to be faced with.

When she was done with the buttons she stood up on her tiptoes to push the shirt off his shoulders. He was already leaning back against the sink and as she reached up, his arms came around her and pulled her in.

"Hey," she complained, her tone anything but annoyed.

Jim's hands slid up the satin of her gown to her shoulders, then up further to cup her face. "What?" he asked innocently. He prevented a verbal response by kissing her, though her reaction of moving her hands from his shoulders to the nap of his neck and along his hairline seemed to tell him everything he needed to know. The mirror wasn't the only thing steaming up when she finally pulled away.

“Come on,” she encouraged. “Time to get in.” He finished pulling off his shirt while she turned off the taps, pushed his hands away when he attempted to undo his belt. “Please,” she requested, “allow me.”

Jim pulled his hands back into a position of surrender, then ran his hands down her shoulders. “By all means,” he grinned. Soon he was naked in the darkened room and she was encouraging him to get in the bath.

“What about you?” he asked, settling into the warm, sudsy water with a look of concern.

“You first,” she replied, kneeling next to the bath. She reached for the soft wash cloth and dunked it into the water. Then she leaned over and ran the warm wet cloth over his shoulders and upper back. “Nice?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted, “but you'll find it easier to do it from in here.” She was running the wash cloth through the water and up his bicep when he caught her wrist with his other hand. “Seriously, get in here while it's still warm.”

“It's my turn to take care of you.”

“And you can do a much better job of it in here.” He couldn't resist glancing at the view she was presenting him with as she leaned over the bathtub in her nightgown. “And I'm sure I speak for everyone involved when I say it's time you got out of that outfit.”

“Everyone involved?” Pam couldn't help but giggle even as she continued to try and seem seductive. She knew she was failing miserably. “How many of us are in there?”

Jim's grin broadened as he raised his hand out of the water and indicated toward her chest. “Well two, at least.”

“Hey, watch the splashing,” Pam complained, leaning back from the tub. “If this gets wet I won't be able to wear it again later.” She immediately knew she'd said the wrong thing, and before she could warn him not to try anything she felt the splatter of bath water soaking her completely.

“Jim!” She exclaimed. She tried to stand but he was too quick for her, and pulled her into the bathtub, nightgown and all. She squealed and struggled against his chest, but gave up as his arms tightened around her. “Oh, you are so dead,” she groaned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” he laughed. He pressed his lips to the back of her neck. “Think you should take this off now?”

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, willing herself to laugh. “You suck,” she replied, biting her lip so he wouldn't see her smile. She felt his body shaking with laughter and was unable to contain hers any long. “You really, really suck,” she giggled as she turned to face him, putting her arms around his neck.

Their eyes met, and suddenly neither of them felt like laughing anymore. Jim reclined against the back of the tub, and Pam was quick to follow, stretching her body against his as she kissed him, their legs entwining through the scented bubbles and warm water. His hands ran over her body, tugging up on the wet material to finally touch her skin.

“You really should take this off before you ruin it,” he said as he kissed her neck.

“Before I ruin it?” She pulled back to sit up, and for a moment Jim worried he'd said the wrong thing. Then he watched as she pulled the soaking nightgown off over her head, scrunched it into a ball in her hands, and squeezed out the excess water. She tossed the garment onto a towel on the floor. “You owe me a new outfit,” she said as shimmied out of the matching panties and threw them over the side of the tub as well.

“You should have listened the first time I asked you to remove it,” he claimed.

“Hmmph,” Pam replied, curling up against him again. “Maybe you'd prefer to buy one for Jay Keeler.”

Jim's head rolled back. “God, you really know how to kill a moment,” he groaned. “I had managed to forget all about her until now, thank you.” Pam giggled and she ran her hand over his chest. He grabbed her hand to still its movement. “No, seriously. Thank you so much for that image.”

“It's the least I could do considering you ruined my nightgown,” she purred.

“No, that's not fair at all, Pam,” he replied. “That is cruel and unusual punishment. It doesn't even come close to fitting the crime. You know,” he sighed, “I can't even believe it's still the same day as that meeting from hell.”

“Yep, it is,” she replied, kissing his neck and ear in an attempt to get him to stop talking, “it's been a long day.”

“It has,” he agreed, his relaxed tone indicating that her ministrations were working. “I would be happy to pretend that everything before the key never even happened.”

“The key?” She asked, slightly confused.

“Yeah, you gave me your keys, remember?”

“Oh, right,” she sighed, “of course.”

“Um, hello? That is how this whole evening got started,” he teased. “Had you not given me your keys, you'd be all alone slaving over laundry and dirty dishes right now.”

“So true,” she murmurred, kissing him again. “This is a much better scenario. I should have given those keys to you ages ago.”