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Disclaimer: I don't own anything.


A/N - I was going to just post this as one chapter, but this first part is already complete, and I wanted to give you all something to read, so I'm posting this now and will work on the second part and post it soon. Hope you enjoy!



That Girl




Through their long first summer together, there were so many moments that he encapsulated in his mind, held it there, calling upon the memories in the rare occasions when they weren't together. There were the heat waves that forced them to stay inside watching movies, playing video games, spending countless hours tangled up in one another with bed sheets kicked to the floor. There were those non-humid picture perfect Saturday afternoons when they would spread out a blanket under a tree in the park and enjoy an early dinner as they took in the sounds of local bands. There were nights spent without words between them as they made love slowly.

Of all of them, of every memory they were in the midst of creating together that summer, he would constantly recall their first real hug on their first real date, after he asked her out for the first real time. He'd imagined it so many times before how it would go, but nothing prepared him for the onslaught of emotions that ran through his body that first night.

He set foot into her apartment for the very first time - something he grew accustomed to fairly quickly over the first few days afterward - and the nerves he hadn't felt all through that day surfaced as his eyes roamed over her smiling face.

Three months later, while he couldn't remember what he'd eaten for lunch most days, he could still remember how they embraced, how the door closing behind him sounded louder than it needed to, shutting it on the past and wrapping himself in the future as he wound his arms around her waist almost tentatively at first.

He closed his eyes and pressed his head next to hers, pulling her closer to him, breathing her in, feeling her shake slightly under his finger tips. New sensations made his senses fly into overdrive that night.

When he pulled back, the glassiness in her eyes told him so many things. The disbelieving laugh, the shake of her head and the tremble of her chin brought to life their second hug. His eyes moved over the room around him while he tightened his hold on her. Down a small hallway stood an opened closet, lined with rows of shoes, some haphazardly tossed to the side.

"You know," he whispered when she sniffled. "That's an awful lot of shoes for a person with the standard two feet."

She laughed, looked up at him and smiled, the tears that lined her eyes dissipating as she grinned wider. She hugged him again, her arms around his waist and her cheek against his chest.

Later that evening, as they stood before her door, their stomachs filled with food and their minds emptied of all of the thoughts and explanations they both held in for well over a year, his nerves surfaced again.

When his hands reached to cup her cheeks and his lips lowered to hers, the anxiety melted away as his temperature rose with each second.

He quickly found in those first few months that there were no eggshells to walk on; no topic banned from discussion any longer. Even with that, with knowing that he could tell her anything, and she could say what she had to say to him, he was still anxious about asking her to join him at his parents' house for dinner.

He'd put the invitation off for a few weeks, feeling that it was too soon for meetings and introductions in those first few months - his mother had been pressing him to bring Pam to dinner since around their third week of dating.

That Sunday morning, the day before the cameras were rejoining them at the office to capture their every move once again, he found that asking her to dinner wasn't as difficult as he had thought, given that she initiated the conversation. It was an opportunity that he couldn't pass, one that he'd been subconsciously seeking.

Her hand slid along his chest as she kissed his cheek. "Would you be totally weirded out if I told you that I drove past your parents' house the other night on my way to class?"

"Wow," he kissed her head and laughed, surprised that he wasn't taken aback. "First signs of stalking," he joked.

She laughed into his chest, placing a kiss there. "I don't know. I just wanted to get a sense of you as a little kid. Or something less creepy sounding. Like there was an accident on my normal route and traffic was diverted." She blushed, biting her bottom lip as she looked at him.

"Uh huh," he let out around a laugh. "You are definitely crazy."

"Crazy about you," she kissed his cheek again.

"Oh, and oh so cheesy."

"I'm pouring out my heart here and you mock me. Nice."

"Pouring out your heart… letting me know I should tell my parents they need to get surveillance cameras. Same thing."

"See? Now you've ruined it. I hope you're happy," she huffed, narrowing her eyes at him as she moved to her side of the bed.

He turned to his side and brushed a piece of hair away from her forehead, kissing her hard on the mouth. She protested for a split second before her arms wound around his neck.

He broke the kiss after a few moments, pulled back and smiled. "Good morning."

"Morning."

"So, did you get a sense of me as a kid?"

"Not really. Couldn't really tell much from the outside. And it was so quick too. Whizzed right by. It'd be easier if I saw the inside."

"Well, I think we can make that happen. Tonight, maybe. If you want, we can you know, go on over there, see what kind of food they have."

"Are you asking me to come over your parents' house for dinner?"

"I think you invited yourself over, actually," he widened his eyes when she pinched his bicep.

"I did not."

"Uh huh," he kissed her jaw slowly, nibbling her earlobe. "I know you set me up for it. You and your womanly wily ways."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she laughed.

"Sure you don't," he mused, grinning at her.

"No, I really don't because that's not an actual expression in the English language."

He tilted his head and pursed his lips, letting out a burst of air through his nose.

Her eyes turned serious and she traced her fingertip along his hairline. He gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head and swallowed. When she let out a shaky breath, he hugged her, moving her to lie on top of him. They stayed quiet for a few minutes, their breaths matched.

"I have a lot to apologize to them for," she whispered.

"What are talking about?"

"I… I'm the one that hurt you. I'm the one that made you move, the one that made you miserable for years."

"Hey, that's not even … that's so not true. You never made me miserable. Yeah, there are some things I'd like not to have gone through. But you're the reason I walked into that office every single day. Believe me. If it weren't for you, I'd still be living in my old bedroom in their house, completely unemployed."

"Yeah, but still. If someone hurt my son the way I hurt you, I'd be pretty mad."

"If they knew, maybe they would be mad. All my mom really knows is that I had friends at work, you were one of them, and that part is recent information. All she knew was that you were the receptionist. I never told them how ridiculously in love with you I was."

"Was?"

"Still, very much am in love with you. More now than ever before."

"Me too," she agreed, her fingers toying with the ends of his hair.

"No one really knows the whole story except for you. And whenever that documentary airs, I'm sure the rest of the world will find out. But that'll be years from now, when we're old and gray and popping meds."

"Do we have matching rocking chairs on our porch?"

"Yep."

"Will our kids visit."

"If they know what's good for them, they will," he grinned at the thought.

"Okay," she agreed. "What do I wear?"

"I'm not telling you what to wear."

"Should I bake something?"

"No. I'm … Pam, are you sure you want to do this? We can wait until the holidays."

She lifted her head and looked into his eyes. "Yes. I really do."

"Okay, good," he let out a breath.

She moved over and stood up. "I'll go shower now. What time are we leaving?"

"We have a few hours yet," he said, an idea formulating quickly in his head he stood and extended his hand. "I think you need some help in that shower though."

"Well, it is your shower. You're the boss," she winked, tapping his rear as she walked by, narrowly missing hitting into the wall as she glanced over her shoulder.

He walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist and they walked in unison toward the bathroom. As the door closed behind them, her arms slowly moved around his neck. The stark seriousness in her eyes made his breath catch - something only she was capable of doing.

She whispered, "I love you," and whatever she'd prepared to say afterward fell lost as their lips crashed together.


*

"Okay, so I'm going to look through every single photo album your mom has. Then, I have to see home video of you. And then the stories."

"Well, let me just pull this car over and make a fancy U-turn."

"Don't be a baby, Jim."

"There will be no home video watching."

"Oh come on, please," she pouted, poking his side as he drove.

He shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Jim."

"No."

"I'm doing it anyway. Can't say no to your momma," she chided playfully.

"Oh, Pamela. If that episode in the shower didn't just happen, I'd doubt that you even liked me a little bit."

"Live a little. Do something out of character for once. Blush a little."

"Oh, what have you done that's out of character?"

"Well… my hair's different," she said adamantly. "I haven't put it up in months."

"Not on the same level. I'm talking something that would embarrass you in front of me."

"Okay, fine. I'll do something completely embarrassing tomorrow that only you'll know about if you let me watch a home movie of you."

"Fine. Good luck with the cameras around, by the way."

"Thank you," she grinned proudly.

"The second you laugh, you lose privileges," he widened his eyes as he parked in front of the house.

"What kind of privileges?"

"Sleeping on my side of the bed. Free meals. Randomly kissing me whenever you want. The Xbox."

Her eyes widened. "No, not the Xbox!"

He nodded dramatically, unable to keep from cracking a smile that turned quickly into a laugh. He let out a breath, shook his head and stared through the passenger window.

"All right," he said, his heart racing a bit. "Ready?"

"Yep."

He squeezed her hand in his for a moment, letting out a quick breath before unbuckling his seat belt and stepping out of the car. He kept his eyes on her as he walked around to her side to open the door. He wondered if she knew the true enormity of what they were about to do, of what it truly meant to him for her to meet his mother and father.

Finally, after years, he was about to introduce his future wife to her future in-laws for the very first time. Before he could inwardly question if she thought along those same lines, she cringed and widened her eyes as she stepped out of the car.

"I'm nervous," she whispered, grasping his hand as they walked to the front door.

He inhaled, turned to face her and bit his bottom lip. "This is definitely not the scariest thing you've ever done."

She looked up to him with a warm smile and nodded. "Yeah, I mean, you're right. I shouldn't be nervous. If they don't like me, they don't like me. But you know how I feel about people not liking me."

He closed his eyes and nodded, holding in a laugh. "I do, I do know. Come on. It's like a band-aid."

She took a deep breath and let it out, her bangs fanning across her forehead as she walked next to him grasping his hand.

"Um, ow?"

She ignored his discomfort and gripped tighter.

"You're freakishly strong," he muttered, waving to a neighbor.


**

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Disclaimer-- still own nothing.


 
Part Two…
 
 
 
 
“I told you we should’ve brought something,” she quietly complained, feeling her temples tighten.
 
“Hey, Pam?”
 
She rolled her eyes and smirked. “Now’s not the time for sarcasm. Do you think they saw us? Maybe we can go to the store and get a box of cookies or something,” she paused mid step, tugging his hand as she angled toward his car.
 
“Hey, Pam,” he said emphatically.
 
She widened her eyes and inhaled, feeling goose pimples rise on her forearms.
 
“Okay,” he grimaced as she squeezed his hand tighter. “When you go to your parents’ do you bring them anything?”
 
“No,” she shook her head, pouting slightly as he extracted his hand from hers. “But, this is different.”
 
“It’s not different. I’m hungry. Let’s go. Inside,” he pointed his thumb toward the front door.
 
“Fine. I’ll fix it,” she clicked her tongue, grinning instantly as the door opened and his mother waved.
 
“I hope you two aren’t changing your minds,” Betsy questioned.
 
“No, not at all,” Pam replied as she watched Jim shake his head. “I’m so sorry we didn’t bring anything. It’s his fault,” she said quickly.
 
She forced herself to hold back her laughter as she watched his expression turn into full shock.
 
“What?” he asked with wide eyes.
 
“Don’t be silly, you kids don’t need to bring anything, you’re not guests,” Betsy ushered them inside and closing the door behind them. “But it is always their fault.”
 
“It really is,” Pam agreed, nodding exaggeratedly.
 
“Okay,” he laughed sardonically. “So, this is my mom,” he kissed Betsy’s cheek. “And this,” he wound his arm around Pam’s shoulder, “Is my girlfriend, Pam, the liar.”
 
“I’m not lying,” Pam balked as she shook Betsy’s hand formally.
 
“Yes you are,” he replied.
 
Pam ignored his mutterings and grinned. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Halpert.”
 
“Please, call me Betsy. You two are adorable. Do you always argue like that?”
 
“Oh, we don’t argue. He already knows I’m always right,” Pam grinned wider.
 
“You are on a roll, Beesly.”
 
She would have felt guilty for mocking him as an ice breaking device of sorts had it not been for the fact that the moment his mother turned her back and told them to make themselves comfortable, he wrapped his arms around her waist, kissed her neck and whispered, “Well done,” as they walked.
 
"Thank you."
 
He led her toward the kitchen, his index finger wrapped around hers. She grinned inwardly when he didn't break contact as Betsy turned around.
 
"Your father is in the yard manning the grill," Betsy grinned warmly.  
 
"As usual," Jim remarked, tugging Pam's hand. "Shall we?"
 
"Okay," Pam agreed with a small nod.
 
She followed his lead through the door to the backyard. The sight of an old tire swing hung from a sturdy tree instantly made her envision what her boyfriend was like when he were younger.  Since seeing his yearbook photo years before, sometimes she would wonder what his childhood was like. It started as fleeting thoughts, from the day he'd given it to her as part of her gift, and the feeling would bubble to the surface each time she caught sight of it as it sat discreetly on her office desk.
 
As she greeted his father, she watched her boyfriend's smile widen into something unspoken. Something far beyond happiness. The way his chest puffed out and he stood taller next to his father as he introduced them, never taking his eyes away from hers, she could see - it was pride.
 
"It's so nice to meet you in person, Pam," Gerald nodded as he shook her hand. "I was beginning to think Jimmy was just making you up to avoid playing golf with me."  
 
"Nah," Jim laughed. "I just got tired of always letting you win, dad."
 
Gerald rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Likely excuse. So, Pam, Jim tells us that you're an artist?"
 
"Um, sort of."
 
"What do you mean sort of? Sort of amazing," Jim intoned.
 
"Thank you," she touched his arm. "I am pretty good. I've been drawing more cartoon type pictures lately, and I'm taking graphics classes in a few weeks."
 
"Keep practicing," Gerald nodded. "Maybe one day you'll draw an entire comic book. Jimmy has plenty of them for you to look through."
 
Her eyes widened and she grinned, turning her head toward Jim. "You have comic books?"
 
Jim closed his eyes, took a deep breath and nodded slowly. He sighed deeper when Betsy walked into the yard.
 
"How are we doing over here? Almost done?" Betsy asked.
 
"Almost," Gerald replied. "We were just talking about Jim's comic book collection."
 
"Oh," Betsy laughed as Pam looked on with her mouth agape. "Remember when he used to run around the house with a Batman cape on? Pam, one day I'm making breakfast, and all of a sudden I hear Jim screaming from the top of the stairs, I am the great Jimmy Halpert. We caught him about a second before he tried to fly down the staircase. It's amazing I don't have more gray hair."
 
"Wow. Batman? Not Superman?" Covering her laugh as she spoke proved difficult as Pam watched Jim's face redden. She bit her lip and coughed. "Can I see the comic books?"
 
He shook his head.
 
"Please?" she pouted.
 
He tilted his head and wordlessly walked toward the house, motioning for her to follow him. They quietly walked up the stairs, the same ones he'd tried to hurtle himself down.
 
"So, you were like, right here?" she asked once she reached the top step.
 
"Yeah," he replied, his cheeks still tinted red. "I was five. What did I know?"
 
"Well, I'm glad you didn't smash your brain in," she reached up to kiss his cheek.
 
"Thank you," he blinked slowly and licked his lips.
 
"Which one is your old room?"
 
He led her toward the last door down a short hallway, his hands on her shoulders as they stepped inside his old bedroom. The walls were painted a light blue, a twin bed covered in a dark blue comforter sat in the corner next to a window, underneath an angled ceiling that seemed almost too close to the bed.
 
"How did I not know you collected comic books?" she asked, continuing to survey the room, almost instantly finding a box filled with comic books.
 
He shook his head. "I'm not collecting anymore. I'm um… I'm saving them."
 
"Oh, like to sell?" she asked as she slowly looked through the pile of comics, each one covered in small clear plastic bags.
 
"No," he shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "I mean, I wasn't saving them for anything until recently. But I think maybe I will. You know."
 
She nodded. "I have a bunch of old stuffed bears and Barbie dolls in a box in my parents' attic that I've been saving."
 
"Nice. So, we could be thousandaires if we sold our old stuff," he laughed lightly.
 
"No way. My bears will not be on some dirty table at a Flea market."
 
"I thought you liked Flea markets?"
 
"Oh, I do. I love old junk."
 
"Then why wouldn't you sell stuff there?" he asked with a bemused grin.
 
"Because of the aforementioned dirt."
 
"Says the girl who not only buys things from flea markets, but also will let a dish sit in her sink unwashed for a full day before washing it," he tilted his head and quirked an eyebrow.
 
She bit her bottom lip and fought off a smile. "Your logic does not compute. Anyway. May I see some photo albums? The videos I was promised?"
 
"You don't really want to see those," he shook his head.
 
"Come on. Stop being so embarrassed."
 
He shrugged.
 
"Stop being a baby," she demanded quietly, stepping forward, pressing her index finger into his chest. "I'm already in love with you. What are you so afraid of?"  
 
"Weren't you the one who had my hand in a death grip before because you were nervous?"
 
"Yeah, that's completely different."
 
"Your logic doesn't compute."
 
"Nice comeback," she smirked. "To the video machine."
 
"VCR."
 
"Whatever," she sighed. "Let's go, unless there's something else in here that you want to show me?"
 
"Just this," he bent down, cupped her cheeks and kissed her softly. "All right. Now I can finally say I kissed a beautiful woman in my old bedroom."
 
"I bet you said that to all your girlfriends."
 
"No," he shook his head slowly and bit his lower lip, pushing his index finger gently into the tip of her nose. "Just the one."
 
She rolled her eyes and shook her head, winding her arms around his neck. She sighed, fending off the lump in her throat and kissed him until they were both out of breath.
 
 
*
 
 
Video and picture viewing took a backseat to dinner, their make-out session cut short when Betsy's voice summoned them to the table.  His father's eyebrows rose knowingly at sight of their flushed faces and sheepish grins.
 
"What have you two been up to?" Gerald asked with a laugh as he sat at the head of the table, pouring wine into Betsy's glass.
 
"Um, just showed Pam all the stuff in my old room," Jim replied, holding Pam's chair out for her as she sat down.
 
"Yeah," Pam chimed in, squeezing Jim's knee as he filled her plate for her. "It's a pretty impressive collection."
 
"He'd bother me constantly, any time we would go to the store, he would find a way to get me to buy a comic book for him," Betsy chimed in. "He hides his nerdy side pretty well."
 
"Hmm," Pam mused. "Not too much. He's made me watch Harry Potter and Battlestar Galactica."
 
"That's for research purposes only," Jim interjected. "How else am I supposed to keep up with Dwight?"
 
"True," Pam agreed. "You could also try not to mess with him so much."
 
He froze in the midst of slicing corn off of its cob, his expression both shocked and horrified.
 
"Totally kidding," she added quickly, holding her hand to his arm.
 
"And to think, here I am slicing this," he pointed to the corn, "for you so it doesn't get stuck in your teeth. I'm literally saving your teeth here."
 
"You should have totally been Superman, not Batman," Pam deadpanned. "Ooh, or Popeye, my hero?"
 
Both Betsy and Gerald erupted into a fit of laughter. Jim nodded his head as he continued to cut the final slices of corn, and Pam could tell he was fighting to keep a straight face.
 
"I'm sorry," Pam said with a giggle. "Thank you. I really appreciate that you've saved my teeth."
 
"You two really are something," Gerald added. "You remind me of myself and Betsy when we were younger."
 
"We still have fun like that," Betsy corrected her husband. "So, Pam, what is it like having those cameras follow your every move at work?"
 
"Um," Pam shrugged. "It's okay. I was more okay with it a few years ago, but last year, without Jim around, it got kind of annoying sometimes."
 
"Ah," Betsy intoned. "Jim said sometimes they ask some invasive questions."
 
"They do," Pam nodded. "Sometimes it's like they're not there, and then there's always that moment you actually forget that they're there and all of a sudden you're trying to pretend that you haven't just done something that they totally caught you doing."  
 
"Uh oh, sounds like they've caught you two canoodling," Gerald laughed lightly.
 
"Oh, no they're not around during the summer, so we've been able to keep it a secret so far," Jim added.
 
"Why would you keep it a secret?" Betsy asked.
 
"Um," Pam began. "It's easier.  Our coworkers aren't just nosy, they're a little mean sometimes."
 
"Yeah, plus, they already know enough," Jim added.
 
Pam nodded in agreement. "That's mostly thanks to Michael, though."
 
"Your boss Michael?" Betsy asked. "What did he do? Jim's told me some pretty crazy things about him."
 
"Yeah, he's … I'm sure he means well, he's just insane sometimes," Jim widened his eyes. "Anyway, how bout those Phillies?"
 
Pam was taken aback by how quickly the conversation turned to baseball, both Gerald and Betsy detailing all of the things that the team has done wrong during the season. They spent the remainder of dinner going over trades the team needed to make. As the two women cleaned, Jim and his father went to the yard to tidy the barbeque. Pam could see them laughing and joking through the kitchen window.
 
"They get along really well," Betsy pointed out. "Better than Tom, Pete or Larissa."
 
"Oh, where is Larissa? I was looking forward to meeting her."
 
"She's away at school. She'll be here for Jim's birthday in a few weeks," Betsy smiled as she rinsed and washed dishes. "We aren't having anything big, just family. I think you two will get along really well."
 
"Oh, okay. Looking forward to it," Pam grinned as she dried dishes.
 
"Between us, I'm really happy that Jim didn’t move to New York," Betsy spoke in a low voice. "Jimmy's always had this thing about owning a bike shop. I couldn't see someone who would want to do that ending up working in a big city like that."
 
"Yeah. Me too," Pam agreed, catching Jim's eye through the window. The grin that slid onto his face, coupled with a look of disbelief, and the quick way he winked at her made her repeat Betsy's words with an edge in her voice. "I'm really happy he didn't move to New York too."
 
"You two were close, before you started dating?"
 
Pam nodded. "Yeah, we were. I always thought of him as my best friend. We'd do a lot of things together; most of it would get us through the work day and amuse us during lunch."
 
"Oh, I'm surprised you two didn't do more with one another during the weekends."
 
"I um, I was," Pam paused and took a breath, trying not to drop the dish she had been drying. "I was engaged to someone else until last summer, when Jim told me that he wanted to be with me. It took me a little too long to decide what I wanted. I'm that girl who's responsible for him moving to Stamford, and almost to New York."
 
Betsy nodded, creasing her brow. "You shouldn't think that way."  
 
"I'm kind of simplifying it. But I really never meant to hurt him," Pam gave apologetically.
 
Betsy turned toward her, drying her hands on a dishtowel, suds almost overflowing in the sink and shook her head. "When I met Gerald, I'd had been seeing someone. Not as serious as an engagement, though.  Life is tricky and sometimes overdramatic. But it's not about who you've been with. It's about who you end up with."
 
Pam inhaled and grinned, whispering a grateful, "Thank you." The guilt that boiled to the surface simmered and cooled as the lump in her throat cleared.  She caught sight of Jim's concerned stare as he walked toward the house. She grinned wider and shook her head, mouthing that it was okay, instantly removing the wrinkles in her boyfriend's forehead. He clutched his chest in mock dramatic fashion and pointed a finger at her.
 
 
*
 
 
"And this," Jim pointed to another photograph. "This is Mr. Sutton, my dad, and I. He owned the shop where my dad bought me my first bike. I'd go in there almost every weekend after that."
 
"Yes, we always knew where Jimmy was on Saturday afternoons during the summer. If it wasn't at Mr. Sutton's, he was at the high school playing baseball," Gerald reminisced. "This is, of course, after he'd run around the house in his cape."
 
"Thanks, dad," Jim smirked. "He's lying," he muttered, turning his face to a giggling Pam.
 
"I know, sweetie," Pam coddled. She rested her hand on the center of his back, her cheek on his shoulder as they flipped through a second photo album.
 
"There's Grandma Marie again, my sister, Tom and Pete," Jim recounted, pointing to a fairly obvious Christmas picture. "I think that was Fourth of July, can't be sure."
 
"Obviously," Pam agreed.
 
"Okay," Jim turned multiple pages without stopping. "You don't want to see my Prom pictures."
 
"Sure, why not," Pam replied, holding onto his hand to stop him from turning the page.
 
"Really? Okay, you asked for it," he pointed to a picture. "That's me there, featuring a plain black suit made by Sears Roebuck Company, shoes by … I think Thom McCann. Hair by me, acne by nature."
 
"I think you look really cute," Pam said, poking him in his back. "Your date looks really pretty."
 
"Oh, yeah, she left me to go dance with some friends, never saw her after that," he shrugged, a hint of laughter in his voice. "I'm not real sure why we still have these pictures and none of us just doing typical day to day stuff."  
 
"Yes, it was difficult to get pictures of you and your brothers as you all took turns tossing this house upside down, what with all the yelling that needed to be done," Betsy said sarcastically.
 
"Glad I missed most of that while I was at work," Gerald interjected. "I'd come home every night and the first thing that Betsy would say is, 'Guess what your son James did today,' and it was usually followed up by something being glued to something."
 
"Hey, I thought I was your favorite," Jim pouted around a laugh.
 
"Jimmy," Betsy rose from her seat and stepped closer to him, one hand on his shoulder. "A parent has no favorites. And you were always the last man standing."
 
"Technically, I was just defending myself," Jim said. "And I always managed to get caught, punished, and sent to my room."
 
"Good thing you had the comic books to read," Pam said simply.
 
He nodded. "Yeah, that and whenever Grandma Marie was over, she'd sneak upstairs with a slice of cake for me. I was definitely her favorite."
 
"Yes, you were, Jimmy," Gerald agreed.  
 
"She'd always slip me a ten dollar bill," Jim recalled with a warm smile.
 
"My dad's mom, Nana Cecelia did the same thing to me," Pam chimed in. "I thought she had a money tree in her yard."
 
Each laughed and nodded as Jim closed the photo album, setting it aside before winding his arm around Pam's shoulder. Betsy and Gerald excused themselves to prepare coffee and dessert, prompting Pam to kiss Jim's cheek as soon as they were out of sight. She motioned toward the television, biting her bottom lip when Jim tilted his head and rested it on her shoulder, his lips grazing her earlobe.
 
He muttered, "Only for you would I do this," before he walked over to the television, selected a videotape and placed it in the VCR.  
 
She tried not to laugh when the first thing she saw on the screen was a young boy dressed in white with a blue cape around his neck running around the very living room in which they sat, proclaiming himself, "The Great Jimmy Halpert."
 
"Oh my God you had the cutest little voice," Pam admired, leaning into his side.
 
He kissed the top of her head. "Thank you."
 
She couldn't help but fall deeper for her boyfriend as the frames of the video flashed before them, depicting snippets of his youth - his first steps, his first time riding a bicycle without training wheels, screaming at his brothers, hugging his mother. She could not understand why tears stung her eyes as he read to his sister and told his father that he loved him one Christmas morning as he opened a picture of the basketball hoop they would install in the yard over that following summer.
 
She ignored Jim's grumbling each time she would audibly awe at the footage, and though she wanted to watch more than just one video, she compromised and agreed to call it an evening. She expected a polite farewell from his mother, and found herself surprised at the warm hug she received and the request for a tray of her lasagna that Jim had raved endlessly about.
 
"You tell me if he gives you any trouble," Gerald joked ask they walked toward the front door.
 
"I will," Pam agreed. "It would help if the Phillies won more often, then he wouldn't pout and complain so much."
 
Pam laughed as the three Halpert's groaned and rolled their eyes. With promises to see one another for Jim's birthday, final goodbyes were said and they walked toward his car.
 
"Hey," Jim said as he opened her car door. "Am I staying by you tonight?"
 
"Yeah," she nodded quickly. "Why not grab some extra things? I'll make room in my closet."
 
"You sure you have room?" he questioned sarcastically.
 
"Yes, smart ass, I have room."
 
"Oh that one will cost you."
 
She would have laughed if it weren't for the searing look he gave her as he placed a kiss on her lips.
 
 
*
 
 
Once his clothes were neatly stored in her closet, they reclined on her bed and rested their eyes for a few moments, her head on his chest, the sound of his heart beating in her ears. The days events played over in her head, and she made silent plans on how to truly repay him the following day for allowing her a peek into his childhood life.
 
"It wasn't so bad, was it?" she questioned, rubbing her hand over his bicep.
 
"Horrible, awkward, embarrassing, traumatizing, horrifying…"
 
"Any others, Captain Thesaurus?" she rolled her eyes.
 
He squeezed her shoulder and linked his fingers with hers. "Pretty fricken amazing. Something I never thought I would see. If you told me three years ago that today would happen, I would have thought you were insane."
 
She nuzzled her head further into him, rubbing her cheek on his chest.
 
"What were you and my mom talking about in there? I was nervous, I didn't think that it'd be weird for you two to be alone like that, I just kind of … forgot that you were a first timer."
 
"It was fine," she lifted her head, unlinking their hand and splaying her fingers across his cheek. "We were just saying how happy we both were that you didn't go to New York for good."
 
"Did you tell her we have you to thank for that?"
 
"No, I told her that I was the girl that made you almost go, though," she said, resting her head back on his shoulder.
 
"No. You're that girl that made me remember that I'm not a city guy, and that I couldn't possibly ever forget you."
 
She closed her eyes, sniffled and held onto him as tight as their position would allow. She listened to his words as he detailed a life he would never have in the big city, a life without her, how unhappy he would have been had she not been the person that put a note in his packet.
 
She wanted to ask him what potential he saw for the real future for the two of them, but the words and will to speak them vanished when he held her face in his hands, told her how much he loved her and how happy she had made him that day.
 
She was that girl that made a dream of his come true.
 
 
.