Disclaimer: These characters and the Office do not belong to me, no copyright infringement is intended and I do not intend to profit from this posting.

Chapter 1

“Christmas is the time to tell people how you feel…”

Jim trailed off and smirked uncomfortably for the camera as he carefully slid Pam’s card into the box, along with the simple green teapot he’d bought her last weekend.

Jim never got a good name in the holiday drawing. He’d gotten Phyllis last year. He bought her yarn and a crochet hook because his mom suggested she might enjoy a crafty gift. He went with it since he had no clue what Phyllis might really want. He’d gotten Kevin the year before, and he’d given him a box full of scratch off lottery tickets. He’d never seen Kevin smile so widely as when he opened that box, in fact it was a little unnerving that a gift from a gas station could make him so happy.

This year, when Angela came around with an Elf hat full of little balled up pieces of paper, Jim nervously put his hand in, silently praying that just once something would go his way. Then he drew out Pam’s name. It felt for a moment like the world stopped spinning. His heart jumped in his throat as he read the name over and over as if he didn’t quite believe it, embarrassed that just the sight of her name made him so happy. He nodded solemnly to Angela and she moved on to spread her own harsh version of the holidays to the others. He hoped that no one saw the way he had to bite back a smile as he took out his wallet and put the little slip away for safe keeping.

The rest of the day had been a loss in terms of sales as he intermittently surfed the web for the perfect gift; something with just the right mix of friendship and love. Something that would mean a lot to her, that she could associate only with him. Something Roy would never think to give her.

It came to him over his daily ham and cheese. Pam had mentioned once that she would like a teapot to keep on her desk. At first, he wasn’t sure about giving her a kitchen-y item, it wasn’t as romantic as he would like, but then he thought about stuffing it with small mementos of their friendship, things that he hoped she would recognize as important souvenirs of the past.

Weeks passed and he began to worry he would never find the right one. He didn’t want a cold metal one, or something that looked like his grandmother would use it. A last minute trip to the kitchen supply store for his mother’s present had produced the green teapot. He knew she would love it from the moment he saw it sitting on the shelf. He scooped it up carefully, running his fingers over its smooth lines, its curves soft and feminine. This was the perfect teapot for Pam.

The teapot sat innocently on Jim’s desk all week waiting to be packed up for the party, but he waited to box it up, enjoying the idea of her unwrapping it more than the idea of actually wrapping it himself. On the night before the holiday party, after one too many viewings of ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, he placed the carefully selected items into the teapot and put it in the box.
Right before he went to bed, he sat down to write a short card. He intended to write something about Dwight and the next prank he had in mind, but instead he found himself pouring out a much more emotional sentiment, one he didn’t even realize was so well formed in his brain, so ready to burst forth. He wasn’t sure what gave him to nerve to write such a revealing message to her, but it seemed like the right time to tell her. Maybe it was the lights, or the mistletoe, or the fact that everywhere he went he heard that stupid Mariah Carey song “All I Want for Christmas is You”, but somewhere in between it all he had decided to take a chance this year. A big chance.

On the day of the party, sitting in the kitchen with Les the camera guy, Jim started to feel his stomach rumble with nervousness. Was he really going to put it all out there? He tried to swallow the excitement of the moment, the potential of what could happen today when she opened the card. Trying to push back his emotions, he reminded himself that he had to hide his feelings for Pam from the camera lens pointed at his head. He was only just ready to tell her, he wasn’t ready to tell the world. He decided the best way to keep his secret was to refuse to look up, to focus on finishing up the present. Les would eventually lose interest…he hoped.

The cameraman paused waiting for Jim to continue but finding him silently enthralled in the gift, Les pushed back from the table. “Ok Jim, thanks for giving me a minute.” Les started to get up from the chair, awkwardly balancing the camera on his shoulder. Taking a few moments to wind up cord for the camera, Les reflected on his time with this documentary crew. He had seen it all in this small office and he was rarely impressed by the little bits of emotion that he caught on film, echoes of more important feelings that people let slip in between talking about their mundane life at Dunder Mifflin.

Something about this last interview was different; he felt strangely sad and hopeful for the young man in front of him. He paused and watched as Jim started to tape up the wrapping on the gift. “Hey, uh, Jim?”

“Yeah?’ Jim barely took his eyes off of his current wrapping job, used to Les being nothing more than an annoying kind of ghost: there but not really there.

“Um…I hope Pam loves your present.” As quick as the words were out of his mouth, he was out of the room, leaving Jim to wonder if he ever existed at all.


***ho*ho*ho***

“Well I mean it’s an iPod…”

Pam shifted unsteadily to steal what was clearly the grand prize for this Christmas, oddly purchased by Michael of all people. Her chest tightened uncomfortably as she rationalized her choice to Jim. Obviously the teapot was a thoughtful gift; it was from Jim after all. It was just like him to buy her the perfect thing, to think of something that she would love but never ask for, never think to buy for herself. But she could never afford an iPod, maybe a knock off or a smaller MP3, but never a real iPod. Jim would understand.

“Sorry.” She didn’t really know why she was apologizing. He’d do the same right? Right?

“No, no, definitely.” He shrugged, trying to play off the absolute panic that his gift had fallen into the hands of Dwight. Jim felt certain there was no other person in the world that he wanted to have that teapot less than Dwight. He’d probably make beet tea in it or something. And the gifts inside…the card - his stomach twisted in horror. It wasn’t that he had forgotten the card, but he was so absorbed by the ridiculousness of the Yankee Swap that it never dawned on him that his, well, sentiment might not reach its intended recipient. He watched Pam swap for the iPod and felt absolutely numb; how had his plan gone so wrong. All he could do was chew on his bottom lip as he sadly shook his head. It was official: nothing with Pam Beesly ever went his way.

He felt a sudden surge of anger at Michael. If he weren’t so immature everything would have been perfect. After all, who doesn’t need an oven mitt? Why couldn’t he just keep it and suck it up like everyone else?

Actually, Jim knew if he were honest with himself, he wasn’t just mad at Michael, but it hurt too much to admit who he was really angry with. After all, he’d never really been mad at Pam, they rarely fought, and, of course, there was the fact that he loved her. As his eyes settled on his shoe laces, he felt hollowed out on the inside; he’d finally admitted it, to himself, to her in writing, and yet she still didn’t get it. Jim knew in his heart that he was never very good at hiding his feelings; they bled through no matter how hard he tried. If Pam couldn’t see it, couldn’t admit it, she just wasn’t really looking. And if she couldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt today, well, maybe he had misjudged their relationship.

Pam sat back down at her seat with the iPod, trying not to look up at Jim. Why was it that everything had to be so complicated where he was concerned? If her head were a little clearer, if she really thought about it, she had a suspicion why, but she never let herself think about that. And she really didn’t want to think about it today.

Maybe it was all for the best. After all did she really need some sweet reminder that Jim knew her better than anyone on her desk staring at her every day? Wouldn’t it be better to load an iPod full of songs that make her think of Roy, of when they were so in love, of the day that met, and prom, and the night he suggested they get married. She could load in songs for the ceremony that she hoped would really happen one day. If she could put in the headphones and turn up the volume, she could drown out the doubts she’d been feeling, drown out the nameless flutter when Jim was near.

She took a deep breath and dared to watch as he walked back to his desk. He seemed normal, not hurt, not disappointed. He was fine, they’d be fine. She nodded to herself solemnly, as if to give herself courage. They would always be friends, really good friends, best friends.

She gathered up her new gift and headed back to her desk, excited to show it to Roy.

***ho*ho*ho***

Jim watched from his usual perch as Roy and Pam huddled over the iPod. He surveyed the contents of his desk for a moment to see if there was a pencil sharp enough to just get it over with and put himself out of his misery. Perhaps he could throw himself on the jagged top of the tree.

There were many reasons this day had turned into a nightmare: Dwight with the beloved teapot and the card, Michael - just in general, getting drunk with a roomful of people Jim didn’t really care about realizing that he spent more time with them than anyone else, chastising himself for getting his hopes up that the kind of romance seen all over the TV this time of year was real, the fact that he had to duck into the men’s room as Kelly blasted that stupid Mariah Carey song again this afternoon. The worst part of all of this was realizing that Pam didn’t feel it. She couldn’t; if she did she wouldn’t have swapped his gift. He would never swap a gift from her.

Usually, he would turn away and pretend to make a sales call, but today it just didn’t seem to matter. He could shrug it all off, make Pam think it was fine, but inside it just wasn’t and he was beginning to fear it would never be.

He felt a little nauseated; how could she take so much from him and not accept his affection. He hated these moments, the ones where he realized how much of his own energy he invests in her, when she so easily leaves him at the office to go home to her fiancé. Maybe it was time he stopped padding her from the reality of her dysfunctional relationship with Roy. If it was Roy she wanted, let her have him.

He just wanted to get that card back from Dwight. He wanted the teapot back too, but if he could just get that card, destroy it like he wished he could destroy the sentiment inside it, maybe then he could deal with the wreckage of the day.

***ho*ho*ho***

Pam spent the next hour thumbing through the owner’s manual on the iPod and intermittently watching Dwight with the teapot. Slowly, her gaze settled entirely on the little green teapot. It truly was beautiful, just like a teapot she had been admiring in People magazine one day at lunch. She had been reading an article about how celebrities were all drinking green tea and Jim had joked that she was setting a trend. She had pointed out that Madonna apparently owned this perfect little teapot that she kept nearby when she was relaxing; she had absentmindedly mentioned that she would love a teapot like that to keep on her desk. But she had shrugged it off realizing that Roy would think such a thing pointless, frivolous. ‘It’s tea Pammy, it’s not like you’re the queen of England.’

Her stomach sank as she began to realize the mistake she had made. Her head had been spinning with the vodka. It was an iPod…it was the wrong choice. She sat slowly down in her chair, hands pressed into her stomach as if to try to hold in the butterflies. No one paid attention to her like Jim did, paid attention to what she thought, what she wanted. The only other person who came close was her mother; what would she say if she were here? Pam was pretty sure she knew. Pam’s mom liked Roy, but even she would tell her to get the teapot back.

She paused for a moment realizing that Roy would be absolutely furious if she traded the iPod. She pursed her lips, taking in a deep breath through her nose, steeling herself for the decision she was getting ready to make. She couldn’t untangle all the emotions or decipher what they meant, but she knew, Roy might be mad, but she was going to swap with Dwight for the teapot.

***ho*ho*ho***

“No, I was just, um, checking out my present.”

“But…” Jim couldn’t complete his statement, rendered speechless by how beautiful Pam looked at she sat the teapot in front of him. She had a slightly mischievous smirk but a look in her eyes that was warm and kind, the kind of look Jim felt all the way to his toes. He couldn’t believe it; she had swapped for his gift. The weight and anger of the afternoon lifted as they exchanged unrestrained smiles.

Pam felt a nearly electric excitement at Jim’s reaction, the kind of slow heat and giddiness in the pit of her stomach that she had to admit seemed to be happening more and more often lately. In his surprise, he didn’t take his eyes off her, adding to her overall discomfort; they were way outside of their normal territory. She felt the need to downplay her trade for him, to distract him, break the moment a little. Somehow, ‘I couldn’t stand to let anyone have this gift when I knew you took the time to actually pick out something special for me,’ seemed too revealing a statement.

“I traded with Dwight. Um. Just, I figured, you know… you went to a lot of trouble, and it means a lot. And also Roy got me an iPod, or, uh, was going to get me an iPod, so…”

She stumbled on the words remembering that Roy saw the iPod as a chance to buy her another meaningless present, so unlike the gift in front of her. As Jim leaned in to show her the bonus gifts, she couldn’t contain her happiness; for once she didn’t even try. Even as Les’s camera lens zoomed in to catch her reaction, she smiled and squealed without any consideration of how it looked. For a moment, she didn’t care what anyone thought; she just let herself be happy.

She pulled out the little presents inside the teapot and laid them one by one on her desk. Small trinkets collected over the course of their friendship, things Roy would have thrown out, in fact, he would never have known their importance in the first place. She knew that she would put all of these precious items in her own shoebox in her closet at home. Hidden on the top shelf of her closet, she had her own collection of yogurt lids and paper clips. If he had them too, what did that mean?

Jim watched as she went through each item, naming its importance and laughing. He carefully leaned in and pulled the card out of the box, certain the movement was just outside of her line of sight. It just wasn’t the right time; after the rollercoaster of the day, he couldn’t be sure of how she would respond to his declaration. He slid it surreptitiously into his back pocket as she pulled out the boggle timer. The same stupid item Jim used to prove that if he wanted to he could get Pam to laugh within 60 seconds. He felt something strangely like hope rise in his chest when she remembered that day. All these little things had to add up to something, he just wished that would add up to her returning his affection.

She felt Jim move nearer to her and back away all at once as she poured over the contents of the teapot: the picture, the hot sauce, the boggle timer, the pencil…it was like he was hovering over her, close enough for her to feel his warmth but quite frankly not close enough at all. She decided to ignore the wave of emotion that hit her because it was all too much right now, too much to deal with along with the alcohol and mistletoe and Roy being so nearby.

“This is…really great Jim. Thanks.”

She felt the split second inexplicable urge to steal Todd Packer’s mistletoe and make good use of it, but instead she smoothed her sweater and walked purposefully around the desk to pull Jim into a sincere albeit chaste hug. He fought every ounce of desire in order to keep the hug a platonic one, but that didn’t keep him from wishing he could take her somewhere, away from all this and show her how much he loved her. She felt him melt into her as he bent down a little to pull her close and she couldn’t help but whisper, “Merry Christmas, Jim.”, even though in her head it sounded more like, “I love you.” She wondered what it sounded like to him?

They pulled apart and she could see the confusion dance on his face as she tried to muster a tight smile. Before awkwardness could ruin the moment, she walked back behind her desk to look through the gifts, choking back tears that only she knew were pricking at her eyes and trying to hide her smile behind the reception counter. Jim was left bewildered by their embrace and barely managed a quiet “Merry Christmas Pam”, spoken in a hushed tone to her retreating figure. He turned and made his way to the break room for a bottle of water. Something cool, something calming.

Pam settled back into her chair and reached in the package to open the card, not taking her eyes off the array of things before her. When her hand met nothing but tissue, she blindly reached further, figuring the card had sunken down in the box. As it finally dawned on her that her fingers were not finding the card at all, she turned her full attention to the now opened gift box. It was all tissue, no card. Pam’s brow furrowed as she began to visually search on her desk, under her desk, on the counter. There had been a card tucked in the box and she had saved it especially for last, wanting to savor whatever Jim had written for her. Now it was gone, what could have happened?

She thought over the last few minutes, trying to reconstruct where she could have misplaced the card that went with her gift. Jim had come over, she had pulled out the teapot, they had gone over the bonus gifts, then the amazing hug, but that was it. Suddenly, her mind caught on the moment that he had leaned in and back out. He did that all the time trying to tell her something he didn’t want Dwight to hear or to check out her latest solitaire game. But she had noticed it, and perhaps, was it possible, he had taken back the card?

Her mind swirled at the very idea, what did that mean? What was in that card that he wanted to take back?

Pam placed her hands flat on her desk, enjoying the cool feeling of the desk surface on her fingertips as her face began to burn hot with fear and confusion… and excitement. There was something important in that card, and she had to know what it was.

"Pammy, why on earth would you trade the iPod for a stupid teapot?  Are you crazy?"

"Roy..."  Pam started to explain, but she stopped short, realizing that she couldn't really explain it.  It didn't entirely make sense to her, but she knew in her heart that the answer was not something that Roy was ready to hear.  She wasn't even sure if she was ready to say it herself.  She twisted her paper towel napkin in her hand and looked away from him, surveying the small tree they had decorated the night before.  

Roy angrily pushed his dinner around the plate with his fork.  Pam could hear the harsh scrape of metal on the plate and it brought her back into focus, back to the table, scaring the confused emotions back to a hidden corner of her mind. 

They sat in silence as Pam tried to un-jumble her thoughts.  She was tired of this game they'd been playing, living together, never setting a date, never really talking about anything, not really even knowing each other any more.  She didn't even consciously realize it until today; but now that she knew it, her heart seemed to hurt more with each beat.  "Um, I'm going to my mom's tonight, we're shopping tomorrow in Wilkes-Barre." 

This was the way their relationship worked.  Whenever it got too close to the place where words would be said that could change everything, Pam would change the subject.  It wasn't that she hadn't considered the alternative, but her life had no frame of reference without Roy.  She couldn't bear to cross that unseen line without knowing what it would be like on the other side, what she would be like without him.

"Fine."  Roy pushed back from the table and skulked into the kitchen; Pam wondered if it was all started to weigh on him too.  He seemed less and less interested in her.  He was spending most nights out.  She listened to Roy throw the dishes in the sink, but the sound seemed so far away from her, like she was drifting farther and farther away from him.  He walked out of the kitchen and, grabbing his coat, he walked over to kiss her cheek.  "I'm going out with the guys for a little while.  Be back later." 

"You could buy me that pastel set I've been talking about..."  Pam said to his back as he put on his coat.  She wasn't even sure why she said it at first.

"Pastel set?"  Roy repeated the words as if they were in another language, his face betraying that he had no idea what she was talking about.

"Or art lessons, I've asked for that for years ..." The words were wistful; they just came out, like the filter she constantly kept up was suddenly gone and words were just spilling forth like air from a deflating balloon.  "I mean, instead of a sweater, you could buy me something I wanted instead." 

Running his fingers through his hair, Roy let out a breath that seemed to go on forever, "I just wanted to buy you something useful."

Despite the fact that she knew he didn't mean his words to hurt her, Pam felt the sentiment behind his words just the same as if he'd hit her. 

"Oh."

Pam wondered how much emotional turmoil one soul could endure in one day.  First the roller coaster of emotion with Jim, now the sad truth about Roy staring her so blankly in the face; how could she deny it all and face herself in the mirror every morning?  She stopped looking at him as she numbly pushed her food with her fork, even though she had no appetite at all. 

"Babe..."  Roy started toward her but stopped abruptly, appearing to will himself slowly closer to the door, "Look, I'm late.  We'll talk about this later, okay?

"Okay."  She looked up at him and tried to muster up a watery smile.  "Later."

Backing away from her as if he were afraid she would strike like a wild animal, he grabbed his keys, "Have fun with your mom."

Pam waited for the click of the door before she pushed the food away and buried her head in her hands.  She felt like her head and her heart were telling her to run, but her feet just wouldn't move, like they had forgotten how. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she tried to hold back the tears. Her fingers frantically picked up the dishes, eager to find a normal distraction.  She started rinsing dishes and planning what she would take to her mom's for the weekend, thinking about how nice it would be to hide out with her parents; maybe just crawl in her old bed and pull the covers over her head. 

Suddenly, it occurred to her that she was actually starting to consider a very big change in her life when she didn't even get to see what was on the inside of that card.  It could have said, "Merry Christmas Pam; hope you and Roy have a good one"; or "Katy and I are back together and I just thought you should know that"; or "Hey, just a friendly gift from your friend Jim."  Pam shook her head knowing that deep down it didn't matter what the card said; she couldn't marry Roy if she didn't love him anymore.  

***ho*ho*ho***

"Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam."  Pam had to fight back the urge to yawn so the greeting came out much breathier than usual.  She was exhausted from the weekend, which had started out with the little fight with Roy over the iPod and ended with a huge fight that left Roy on the couch and her packing more than just an overnight bag for Christmas. 

As it turned out Pam and her mom didn't feel much like shopping on Saturday.  Instead, they spent the day talking about Roy and Jim as they huddled over old photos in Pam's childhood room.    Pam's mom was an amiable woman with a talent for asking all the right questions.  Questions like, "What do you want the card to say?"; "Are you happy with Roy?";  "Can you see yourself spending your whole life with Roy in Scranton as a receptionist?"; "What do you want Pam?"   They were simple and to the point and just the nudge that Pam needed to really think about her life and where she wanted to be in the years to come.   On Sunday, she reluctantly left the safe confines of her home and headed back to Scranton, bracing herself for a really long talk with Roy.

It was the talk she had been dreading forever.  They had such a talent for ignoring the problems, truthfully for ignoring each other, but not this time.  She tried to explain to him what she wanted; she wanted for him to take an interest in her, support her dreams, let her grow.  As usual, Roy assumed this was all a silly reaction to something trivial, like the fact that he stayed out late with the boys again, or because Pam wanted a more romantic gift for Christmas.  She couldn't make him understand no matter how hard she tried.  They were stuck going in endless circles. 

It was Pam who finally said the words, "I think this isn't what I want anymore."

She couldn't believe she had actually said it, and even though she thought she would be sick from the anxiety and guilt over finally admitting it, she found that each subsequent breath got a little easier.  It took every ounce of strength she had to stand her ground in the face of Roy's anger and desperation, but she refused to back down, clinging to the hope that she could exist without him. She emerged on Monday morning exhausted and single. 

She yawned again, propping her head on her arm and opening a new game on her computer.  Jim watched her from his desk, more than a little concerned at her demeanor today.  She had greeted him this morning as usual, but she seemed tired and distant.  She didn't even crack a smile when Michael tried to moonwalk in the office but instead fell over Jim's desk chair. 

He'd spent most of the morning watching her out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure out what was wrong by looking for little clues.  She sipped from a coffee cup filled with tea, the little green teapot sitting by her side.  He smiled feeling happy that even if she wasn't telling him what was wrong he was comforting her in a way; as long as the teapot was by her side on some level so was he.

He had hoped that she would eventually call him over, or look up and smile, but she seemed engrossed in her Sudoku puzzle.  After debating possible ways to get her to notice him, like throwing something at Dwight or impersonating Kelly on his next sales call, he decided to get up and check on her. 

He forced a genial, unconcerned look on his face and approached the reception desk just as she let out a yawn that seemed too big for such a little woman.  Jim couldn't help but laugh, "Geez Beesly, wake up already, it's work time.  Didn't Dwight already tell you?"  She looked up and felt part of herself relax at the sound of his voice.  Despite herself, she felt a smile pulling at her lips.

"You've been busy this morning."  Her voice came out a little scratchy. 

"Well, someone wasn't exactly doing her job distracting me from this place."  His stomach twisted with his obvious lie, Pam was always a constant distraction.  He ducked his head enjoying just sharing her space for a moment. 

There were too many things in Pam's head this morning, too many feelings way too close to the surface.  She felt so different; she wondered if she looked different, if Jim could just tell by looking at her that everything had changed.  She clutched her sweater tightly around herself, feeling suddenly exposed.  She bounced her right knee under the desk trying to find an outlet for the nervous energy that was consuming her.  "Sorry about that...did you have a good weekend?  Put your lucky keychain to good use?"

"Absolutely, I threw the keychain at Mark when he attempted to change the channel during the Daily Show.  Worked like a charm.  How bout you?"

"Um, I had an... okay weekend."  Pam paused unable to play this one off.

"That doesn't sound convincing," his voice was still playful but as the silence filled the space between them he started again, more seriously, "Are you okay?"

"Well,...yeah..."  Pam ducked her head, trying to will herself from crying, wishing she could run away from her desk, leave early and start the drive back to her mother's to spend her first Christmas in years without Roy.  She didn't even know where to start to explain things to Jim, but for certain she wasn't having this conversation at the reception desk.

 "Pam?" 

"Yeah, I just...well...it's ..."  She looked up to meet his eyes, her gaze very honest and open, so much so that he forgot to breathe.  He could tell from his desk that something was wrong, but up close, he knew that not only was something very wrong, somehow it did have to do with him. 

Pam felt frozen as he searched her expression, feeling like he was almost touching her as his eyes moved over her face and finally held her gaze for an excruciating moment.  She looked back down afraid she had already told him everything; she felt so raw that she knew she couldn't hide anything anymore. 

"Um..."  Her voice was small, she didn't want to tell him now, not here, not when her head was all over the place.  "This is not a reception desk conversation."

Jim was breathless, confused by her tone and more than a little afraid of a conversation she couldn't have with him in public.  His mind rolled over a long list of possibilities: She and Roy set a date?  She's pregnant?  She has somehow figured out how he feels about her and she doesn't feel the same?  He softly beat his fist on the counter feeling certain that she and Roy had another fight and that she would want him to pick up the pieces again. 

He stood to his full height and surveyed the office; all his coworkers seemed disinterested and oblivious.    He nodded slightly toward the break room and she shook her head yes; without another word she set the phones to go to voicemail and they walked to the break room.  Jim shut the door behind them.

"Is it Roy again?" 

Pam wasn't even sure how to answer.  She opened her mouth, wanting to scream out of pure frustration, ‘It's Roy, it's you, it's me,' but nothing would come out.  Finally the words came, tight and strangled by tears she refused to shed. "We broke up last night."

Jim grabbed the counter for support; he did not expect that answer at all. 

"Wow."  Jim slid into the chair next to her out of necessity since his head seemed to be spinning out of control, "Are you okay?"

She sniffled, rubbing her eyes again, "Yeah, I think am, oddly enough." 

Jim had a million questions but couldn't think of one to ask.  "Um, I don't ...know what to say."  He tried to push down all the conflicting emotions so she wouldn't see them on his face; he hurt for Pam, but he was also excited and almost happy; and he was guilty for feeling happy.  He looked out of the corner of his eye to see Pam nearly trembling beside him and the image brought him out of his head and back to the table.  Reaching for her he said, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He didn't want to talk about it, didn't really want to hear about Roy anymore, but he couldn't deny her if she was hurting.  He knew he wouldn't be able to counsel her about how to get back together with Roy, but he could listen.  Pam sat very still, so still that Jim was afraid she may shatter before him, but finally she started to talk.

"Well...um... I don't know."  She paused to take a deep breath, "I just couldn't do it anymore.  It just got so hard."

"You broke up with him."  She simply nodded and Jim couldn't hide his astonishment; he had expected some story about how Roy was mad, probably about something stupid like the iPod, and had broken up with her, which Jim knew would end with Roy coming back and Pam forgiving him.  But he didn't expect that Pam would end it.  He wondered if their little moment on Friday had meant as much to her as it did to him.  Had that caused this seismic shift?  "Wow..."

"You know, it was awful, is awful."  She trailed off, her gaze bouncing from the salt and pepper shaker to the door to the window, anywhere but to Jim's face, so full of questions and emotions.  Finally she dared to look at him as she spoke, so quietly Jim had to strain to hear, "But...its better than marrying someone you don't love anymore." 

Jim felt certain that his tie was going to strangle him it was so tight around his neck and he was sure that he had broken out in some kind of sweat.  "Oh, well yeah..." Jim cleared his throat and looked up at her with watery eyes, "you deserve much more than that."

"And so does Roy."  She said nervously, picking at her cuticles out of habit.  "I just realized we didn't really know each other very well anymore, and..."  she drifted off again lost in thought, taking a moment before pulling herself together, "it's wrong to stay with someone just because you're scared to leave."

Jim picked up a stray plastic fork left on the table and was focusing his attention on the small bent out of shape tines, "You're right." He took a deep breath and pitched the fork in the trash, "Pam...I..."  

She looked up at him wanting to tell him that even though she broke up with Roy because their relationship was broken, he had helped her realize that she deserved more, that she needed more. She wanted him to finish his statement by saying that even though he knows that she'll need time, he wants her to know how much he loves her.  She knew it was too soon for such declarations, so instead she fought to exhale a throaty, "Yeah..." 

She reached slowly for his hand, "It means a lot to me that you care enough to sit and just listen to me." 

He nodded slowly, completely lost as to whether there was a double meaning to her statement or was it just a friendly complement.  His brain felt like it was on overload with too many emotions and new information.

They both jumped and moved farther apart as the door swung dramatically open revealing a very angry Dwight. "Jim your phone is ringing.  It is part of your job to answer that phone.  You know, phone, sales, paper, ring a bell?  Cavorting with the receptionist is not part of your job."

Jim shot a knowing glance at Pam and slowly pushed back from the table.  "Not really your job to monitor my phone or my cavorting, Dwight."

"When your phone keeps me from making important sales, it is my job to eliminate the distraction.  When your cavorting keeps you from your desk, it is my job to monitor said cavorting." 

"Maybe it's not the phone, maybe your sales technique is slipping."

Jim slipped by him to go to his desk, turning back to Pam and mouthing the word "Later."

Dwight turned to speak sternly to Jim's back, "Impossible.  The Schrutes have been in the sales business since my Great-Uncle Gustav patented a beet elixir in the 1800s.  My salesmanship is my destiny."

Pam smiled and wrapped her hands around her mug of tea; Dwight turned to eye her suspiciously.  "Need something Dwight?"

He looked behind him and waited for Jim to get out of earshot before he spoke.  "No, I just wanted to, ahem, thank you."  The words seemed to pain him physically.  "My girlfriend and I loaded music into the iPod this weekend, and it is a very satisfactory gift."    

"You're welcome."  Pam smirked and she found she couldn't help but ask, "What kinds of music did you download?"

"The usual: classic heavy metal, a few arrangements of Beethoven and Led Zeppelin for the recorder, and a few Christian hymns.  I use this Russian website where you can download music for two cents a song. It's perfectly legal of course."

Pam's mind was stuck on something that didn't quite make sense or maybe it made too much sense.  "Did you say hymns?"

Dwight bristled, "My girlfriend likes hymns."

Pam stopped speaking and tried to act natural, but she wanted to jump out of her skin; she was right about Dwight and Angela.  Course as it turned out, Phyllis may have been right about her and Jim as well.  She pushed that to the back of her mind.

She got up to fill her cup with warm water and grab a new tea bag, trying to decide if she would dare ask Dwight the question she'd had her mind on and off all morning.  She felt guilty for even wondering about the card, but she figured it was okay to look for it now.  She cleared her throat trying to sound as casual as possible, "Hey Dwight?  Do you remember if there was a card in the box with the teapot."

Dwight tilted his head toward her with a look of distaste.  "Do I remember?  Pam I have exceptional powers of observation and an above average memory.   Of course I remember... there was a card in the side of the box." 

Pam smiled, happy that she wasn't losing her mind.  She sat back down and peered at Dwight innocently over the rim of her mug.

"Did you happen to see that card later Dwight?  I mean...I think I dropped it."

"Hmmmm."  Dwight seemed to be debating telling Pam what he knew, although Pam doubted he knew very much.  Peering over his shoulder to be sure they were alone, he walked closer, "I'd try the top drawer of his desk.  He keeps a great many sentimental things in there."

Pam feigned an astonished look, "Dwight!  Isn't it against company policy to look through other people's desks?"

He crossed his arms in front of him, "Not when you are searching for contraband.  Or when trying to shove a phone that will not stop ringing in a drawer."

"You were shoving his phone in a drawer?"

She arched an eyebrow at him trying to fight back her laughter; she watched him stiffen defensively and he became more his usual self.

"Pam, do not judge me.  Fact.  If you were doing your job and answering the phone I would not have had to take such drastic measures.  Fact.  You must be lying.  If you dropped the card it would not be in his desk, so presumably he took it back for some reason."

The two eyed each other suspiciously, before Pam realized she'd lost this round and looked away.  "Well, whatever.   I hope you and your girlfriend enjoy the iPod."

"Oh we will."  His mouth turned in a menacing grin as he turned to leave, "Pam, in case you didn't know, this break table is not your desk; your desk is that one out front that says re-cep-tion.  I'm sure you've had more than the state mandated 15 minute break.  By my watch you've been in here 16 minutes and 43 seconds to be exact."  He turned and walked back out the door. 

She giggled as she continued to study her fingers, letting her mind process this information.  The card, her card, was in Jim's desk drawer right now.  She wondered if she could get to it without him knowing about it.  But then what?  If it said what she hoped it said, could she really run up to him and say ‘I'm sorry that I rifled through your desk, but Jim, me too!' 

She collected her cup and headed back out to her desk, taking more time than usual to survey Jim's desk and see if his drawer was open even the slightest.  She sighed and smiled casually at Jim, trying to hide her disappointment; it was shut tight.  This would take a plan. 

Disclaimer:  I still don't own the Office or these characters, no copyright infringement intended.

Pam sat at her desk, casually watching Jim out of the corner of her eye.  So far, since her discussion with Dwight in the kitchen, Jim had left his desk once to go to the copier, once to get a grape soda, and once to eat lunch.  All three times, she had not been able to distract him long enough to get into his desk and find the card. 

She watched the second hand sweep quickly around the dial, the clock seeming to mock her with every tick, reminding her that she only had a few more hours before they would all be leaving the office for Christmas.  Pam took in a deep breath and held it until her lungs started to hurt, letting the air out slowly, trying to relax a little.  The office was closed for two days starting tomorrow and she had planned to take the rest of the week off, a decision she was very grateful for now that she and Roy had broken up.  If she didn’t get to the card today, it would be a week before she would have another chance. 

She noticed a blur of movement in her peripheral vision and tilted her head up to watch as Jim turned towards her and smirked, ever so slightly.  Her stomach twisted back into the now recognizable nervous flutters. The sudden shift for her was so strange; Friday more or less just friends, today simply more albeit an undefined more.  Oddly enough, now that she had allowed herself to think it, to revel a little in the excitement and warmth that rose within her each time he turned her way, she couldn’t imagine a time when she didn’t openly feel it.  Like the butterflies in her stomach were rewriting every memory she had of him to include all the intense emotions swirling around her now.

She took out a pad of paper and started to doodle.  It was an old habit that when she needed to think, she would draw.  On napkins, in notebooks, in her old wedding planner.  She cringed at the thought of that old pathetic wedding planner, full of nervous doodles of hearts and question marks. 

Today, she drew Christmas presents, and trees, and teapots.  She didn’t know why she couldn’t just ask Jim about the card, but she couldn’t bear to push him.  What if she had misread this whole thing?  Their conversation in the break room was confusing, but it left little doubt in her mind that he felt something for her, something more than friendship.  The look in his eyes as they talked was so vulnerable, his eyes becoming an even deeper shade of hazel as he reached for her hand.    She shook her head and focused on her drawing, realizing that that line of thought would get her in trouble really fast.

***ho*ho*ho***

Jim tried to focus on the paperwork for the sale he closed last Friday, but he could practically feel Pam’s eyes on him and it was, to say the least, distracting.  He had not recovered from this morning’s developments and had been keeping his distance from her so that he could try to figure out what to do next.  The conversation from the break room rolled around in his head like little echoes of a dream you aren’t quite sure you actually had. 

He could never be sure that he could trust his senses when it came to Pam, but this morning it seemed like she was trying to tell him something, tell him how she felt perhaps.  The way she looked at him, the way she had touched his arm; he was certain that she knew how he felt and he thought that maybe she was telling him she felt the same. 

Running his fingers through his hair, he opened his drawer to retrieve a pencil, his fingers catching the corner of the Christmas card.  His eyes reflexively darted to the reception desk, feeling suddenly exposed, like she knew that the card existed.  Of course, that was ridiculous, she couldn’t know.  He picked up his pencil and shut the drawer a little more forcefully than necessary.  Had he known that she was going to break up with Roy, he would have left the card in the box.  Just his luck that once he got up the courage to write it, it didn’t seem right to give it to her; and now, it seemed too soon. 

He looked up at her, her checks slightly flushed, her hair pulled back a little more hastily than usual.  To him she simply looked beautiful.  He tapped the pencil against his chin; maybe once this all cooled down a little, he could give her the card.  Maybe, when she got back from Christmas, or was that too fast?   Of course she probably needed more time.  More time…more time…he felt like they’d already wasted so much time.  He felt a need to run over and give her the card now, or take her to the roof and tell her in whatever words he could actually get out how he felt.  No…no…he had to wait.  Jim scratched the pencil sharply over the legal pad he was writing on and realized, as his eyes came back into focus, he had only written one thing, “When?”

***ho*ho*ho***

“Alright mi Amigos, it is magic time.”  Michael bellowed as he pushed his way out of his office door, bundled in his heavy coat and trying to carry a large cardboard box.  He walked up to Pam’s counter and sat the box down, turning to face the office.  “Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Happy Kwanza, Happy Gay Man’s Holiday, whatever.”  Michael smiled widely and clapped his hands together ceremoniously.  Everyone stared blankly at him, unimpressed, except for Dwight who beamed back at him like he was Santa Claus himself. 

Seeing that he was not exactly inspiring anyone, Michael dropped his arms in defeat and turned to Pam, “Pamster, Merry Christmas.  Hope you have a nice one.  You and Roy sticking around the southern part of the North Pole?”  Pam gazed at him, the confusion all over her face.  “Scranton, Pam, are you guys hanging out around here?”

“Um, no…I’m…”  Pam was not ready to discuss this with Michael.  She looked at Jim helplessly, almost hoping he would tell her what to say.  Jim could read the panic on her face and he practically jumped out of his chair.  Maybe he couldn’t tell her how he felt, but he could save her from Michael.

“Michael, what is in this box?”  Jim thumped his fingers on the large cardboard box, drawing Michael’s attention away from Pam.

“It’s a gallon of Floam.” Jim crooked an eyebrow at Pam as she cringed at the very idea of opening an industrial sized tub of Floam in front of family.  Of course, she and Jim could put that to good use in pranking Dwight.  Maybe make his bobblehead a girlfriend. 

“Oh, interesting.”

“Yeah, it’s for my aunt Millicent…Millie…Millstone…the Millster…she’s a sculptor, I thought it could come in handy.  I love to support the arts.”

Pam watched as Michael gathered up the box and she felt like Jim had literally pulled her out of the fire.  She watched Jim try to seem interested in Michael’s idea of a magical gift and for just a moment he held her gaze, flashing his trademark goofy smile.  She readily let the flutters swell in her chest, no longer trying to push down the feelings of affection.  He turned back to look seriously at Michael, “Truly that is…fascinating…I’m sure that your aunt will really think that’s …..something.”

“Indeed she will Jim Beam.”

Pam reluctantly pulled her attention away from Jim to smile at her boss, “Merry Christmas.  Heading out I guess?”

“Yeppers, long drive home.”

“Michael, you just live across town.”

He turned back to her and sighed, “I hate the office before Christmas, so boring.  If corporate calls, tell them I had a sales appointment.”  He started to head for the door, pausing for moment, “Remember Pam I Am, he knows if you are naughty or nice,” he called over his shoulder.

Pam giggled as she turned to face Jim.  “Thank you. I was not ready for that.”

Jim leaned against her counter trying to get as close to her as he could in an inconspicuous way, “No, it’s cool, Beesly.”  He felt the strange sensation to reach out and touch her.  It wasn’t that the urge was new, but the fact that he felt like maybe she wouldn’t run away if he did was a completely new sensation.  “So….”  Every word seemed to leave his head as a wave of awkwardness rushed over him.  “Are you driving up to your mom’s tonight?”

“Yeah, after work.”

“That’ll be nice.”  Jim felt like he was 12, in fact he was almost certain he had been about this graceful asking Susan Gibbs to the 8th grade winter dance.  “I’m heading up to my parents too; I’ll probably head out in a few minutes.”  He awkwardly gestured behind him.  He wasn’t sure what he wanted, what he expected from her.  But he knew that he was truly dreading his days off from work without her, especially now.  If he just kept talking, he would have to stay.  “Traffic could be a nightmare.  I think it’s probably best to get ahead of all the people heading east.”  Jim felt like he was having an out of body experience, he wanted to tell her everything and he was talking about traffic.

“Yeah, me too…I don’t want to get caught in, you know…um…”  Her mind wandered, thinking of all the things she wanted to say, all the questions she wanted to ask.  She also began to realize that after ten years, she really didn’t know how to flirt anymore, especially not with Jim.  Course maybe she’d been flirting all along…had she?

“Traffic?”

Pam stared at him, smiling widely and feeling her cheeks start to burn with embarrassment, “Yeah, traffic, sorry my mind went blank for a …second.”

Jim squinted as if he were trying to see inside her head.  She really was acting so fidgety, was he making her nervous?  His skin practically burned at the idea that he was having an effect on her.  But then again, maybe it was just because she had had a rough a few days.  Tilting his head to the side, he lowered his voice, “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah…sorry…must be coming down with something, I feel a little fuzzy, or something.”  She bit her lip in frustration.  She just wanted to crawl in a hole.  She would have stop by the bookstore for a “how to flirt with your best friend that you may love” book.

“Well you should take a lesson from Jim Halpert and leave early.”  Jim started to back away to pack up his things and head out.  It seemed like they both needed to breathe a moment, before their relationship got infinitely more complicated.  He knew that tonight he’d rehash this whole conversation, just like he always did.  But he had to admit that today he had more subtle clues than ever to agonize over.  He’d need to stop and get beer on the way to his parent’s house.  This would be a long night.

“Okay, well, …Merry Christmas, Jim.” 

“You too, Pam.”  He wanted to tell her to call if she needed him; would that be weird?  Too much?  Too soon?  He settled for drumming his hands on her desk and trying to make a casual exit.  

***ho*ho*ho***

Pam waited out all the other members of the office, wishing each one a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year as they shuffled out the door.  Dwight and Angela were the last the leave.  She had been organizing files for twenty minutes, waiting for them to pack up, but they seemed in no great hurry.  She almost wanted to stand up and just announce that she knew all about it and they should just leave and be stern and severe together.  Finally, with a frustrated sigh from Angela and a curt “goodnight” from Dwight, she was alone.

Pam wandered through the office turning out lights and shutting down the coffee machine, pretending that she didn’t stay just to look in Jim’s desk.  She looked at their haphazard tree for a few minutes, thinking how if this tree had ever had a heyday, it was today.  All Christmas trees, even this one, were magical on Christmas Eve.  Day after tomorrow, Kevin would be shoving it back in the box it doesn’t quite fit in, muttering and cursing to himself the whole time.

She slid down in Jim’s chair, feeling warm from the proximity to his things, his personal space.  She ran her fingers over his keyboard, his desk, his phone.  Taking a deep breath, she pulled open the side drawer and looked through its contents.  Rubber band ball just started, pens with the ends chewed on, post it notes, a paper clip chain, a coupon for pizza, a white envelope.  Carefully she pulled the envelope out; scrawled on the front, in Jim’s sloppy cursive, was her name.  Her Card. 

She stared at it for what felt like forever.  What if it wasn’t what she thought?  What if it was?  Both scenarios were terrifying. 

She ran her finger under the sealed edge, but stopped short of actually opening it.  Instead, she played with the flap, nervously, her mind going a million miles an hour.  All the answers, or at least some of the answers, were right here.  It she would just take them.  Take the answers.  From Jim. 

She thought about him pouring his heart out to this little card and sealing it all up for her eyes only.  Only now, for whatever reason, he didn’t want her to read it.  Her mouth suddenly went dry; was she really going to take this from him?  Steal his love from the top drawer of his desk when no one was looking?

She sat the card on the keyboard and stared at it, resting her chin on the desk.  She desperately wanted to just rip it open; it was all she’d thought about all day.  But the smallest tug at her heart was screaming at her that this was wrong.  If he was brave enough to allow himself to admit how he felt, how could she risk hurting him by taking that from him?  Feeling suddenly fiercely protective of Jim’s feelings, she slid the card back into its spot. 

Putting her head down on his desk, she felt her heart race with fear and anxiety.  She couldn’t take another day like today, balancing on the edge, wondering if she could hide it all anymore, wondering why she couldn’t see it – why he couldn’t see it, or was she misinterpreting it all.  Flinging herself up out of his chair, she raced to gather up her things.  She couldn’t ask him, she couldn’t read the note.  Was she really such a coward?  Why couldn’t she just have said something before he left?  Maybe they’d be on the way to share a coffee or just go somewhere together.  Anywhere, she wouldn’t care, she just couldn’t stand leaving and heading back so far away from him without doing something. 

She picked up her things and gave one last longing look to her teapot, the gift that started this whole mess.  She hadn’t even bought him a present, just wished him Merry Christmas.  Her stomach dropped as a thought crossed her mind.  She whipped around her desk and dug in her personal drawer.  “I need a card.”  She muttered to the silence of the office.  Coming up with nothing more than the realization that she had to clean out her desk, she glared at the clock that mocked her yet again revealing that it was almost 6, she’d never get to an actual card store at this hour. 

Heading to the office supply shelf, she picked up a sheet of Dunder Mifflin Snow White card stock and went back to her bag to dig for pencils.  She kept a few colored pencils rubber banded together in her bag for doodling purposes.  She had bought them earlier in the year as a way to feel more like an artist, but so far she’d only really used them during some of Michael’s more boring speeches. 

She folded the paper in half and then sat very still for a moment, racking her brain for the perfect front to the card.  Dwight in his elf hat?  Michael and his Floam?  Phyllis’s oven mitt?  She focused on the front cover and it stared back at her blank, empty, but full of promise.  Taking an even and calm breath to steady her hand, she started to sketch, lightly at first, using her green pencil.  She used long sweeping strokes and then shorter ones to let the little teapot on the page take shape.  She carefully sketched the top next to it.  She put a few small things peaking out of the inside and then drew a little trail of mementos overflowing to fill the space all around teapot, the effect being that it seemed to float in a sea of her memories of him. 

It was easy to think of what to put in her “teapot”.  She had a shoebox at home of tickets and notes, but she also had a host of memories of him that were so special to her, especially now that she knew how she felt.  She sketched a small dundie to the left of the teapot and draped a little yogurt lid medal from the handle.  Peeking from the inside of the teapot was a matchbook with Cugino’s familiar logo and an index card with the word Jewish across it, with a little stick figure handing a Michael stick figure a lawsuit – Jim drew that on her card to make her laugh.  She put a brightly colored bouncy ball in front, the one that Jim bought her on his lunch break one day so that they could go outside for a few minutes and enjoy a beautiful spring day.  She put a stapler in Jello with a little angry Dwight with his hands placed menacingly on his hips.  And lastly, a bag of French Onion Sun Chips and a can of grape soda, nestled together in the corner. 

Feeling like the cover would do, though it was far from perfect, she opened the card to write her note on the inside.  Glancing at the clock again, she wished she could freeze time - it was nearly seven.  Her family would be expecting her and she needed to hurry, but she was writing a message that had to be right, demanded time and effort.  Her mom would understand.

She fished in her pen cup for a nice pen, not ball point, not felt, but gel ink.  She shuddered to think that she was going to write in ink, but there was no taking this back.  She would not write this out and then erase it, change it, make it less honest, take another cowardly step back.  She closed her eyes and focused on what she wanted, what she was feeling, and then with a sharp exhale, she started to write in her own loopy and uneven script. 

Jim, 

I realized after you left today that I didn’t give you a present this year and, since the stores were all closing, I decided to make you a card (hope you don’t mind).  So Merry belated Christmas!  Don’t kill Dwight while I’m gone, I have a good idea about how to prank him with some Floam -  thanks to Michael.  Actually, I kind of like how this card turned out because it gave me a chance to give to you all the special memories that I have of our friendship – I’m giving you a quiz when I get back to be sure you know what everything on the front means.   

“So far so good,” she thought as her stomach started to twist, knowing that she was getting to the part where she was going to have to put it all on the line. 

 Jim, I want you to know how much you mean to me – you are my best friend.   

She grimaced at the word friend but continued on.

Well, you’re more than that really.  You are the reason that I can work here, the reason I don’t kill Michael or Dwight, a lot of days you’re the reason I get up in the morning.  I know that sounds strange and maybe a little desperate, but it’s true.  I’ve realized a few things in the last couple of days and I don’t think that I can hide all this from you much longer.  I don’t want to. 

I’m not sure that I’m ready for everything that I’m feeling, but I do know that I’ve been feeling this for longer than I’ve been willing to admit to myself.  I hope you know what I’m trying to say – it’s just that I think I’m in love with you. 

I hope I didn’t just scare you and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable saying this but I really needed to tell you. If I didn’t, I would always wonder what we were missing out on.    

I don’t want to ruin our friendship and if you don’t feel the same just forget I ever said anything.  Regardless, you mean so much to me and I hope you have a wonderful Christmas. 

Love, 

Pam 

She felt like crying, or laughing, she wasn’t sure which.  She was certain that she was terrified; the air in the office seemed to be getting thin and she desperately needed to feel the cold winter air on her skin.  She put the note in a Dunder Mifflin envelope, addressed it on the front, “To: Jim, From: Pam”, and slid it into his drawer where she was sure he wouldn’t miss it.  Gathering up her things, she reached in her purse to call her family and tell them that she was finally on the way. 

Disclaimer:  The usual disclaimers apply:  I don't own these characters and I don't intend to profit from this posting.  I'm just hoping for some reviews.

Chapter 4

Jim heaved a heavy sigh as he pressed the up button on the elevator.  He was already ten minutes late and he knew Dwight would say something, but he didn't want to come to work today.  The day after Christmas was always so slow and depressing and Pam wouldn't be in, which would make the day seem even more never ending. 

He felt like a child having to make the long walk from the car to the front door of school as he trudged into the building, got on the elevator and hit three.  His breath caught as a hand stuck itself into the door preventing them from closing.  Jim hoped against hope that it was a Vance Refrigeration hand, knowing all the while that he was doomed.

"Jimboree.  Happy sucky day after Christmas."

"Hi Michael."  Jim moved to the far corner of the elevator.  "Did you have a good one?"

"Well, the big guy was good to me so to speak."  Michael looked slyly out of the corner of his eye with a large almost greasy smile, "I am a very good boy after all.  Top of the nice list."

Jim willed his mind to stay focused on anything but Michael, a blank stare on his face.  "Cool."  The elevator seemed to take its own sweet time getting to their floor.  If Pam were here it would rocket up taking 3.2 seconds. 

"My mom did give me new underwear as usual, but at least this year she got the size right and the kind that don't chaffe...you know there's nothing worse than when your underwear rides up, just distracting.  And there is no good way to pick a wedgie in a meeting, really it's a challenge."

"Um, okay."  The soft ding of the elevator signaled they had finally reached their floor and Jim bolted out of the elevator without another word, desperate to escape any more underwear discussions with Michael.

He hung his coat on the rack and stared at the empty reception desk.  Ryan sat glumly in the chair, a vision in black and white, the very picture of boredom.  The office without Pam seemed so gray and masculine.  Jim took it for granted that her feminine presence by the front door every day made a significant difference in the atmosphere of the whole room.  Her auburn hair and pink sweaters made the room seem less drab. Not to mention the way her smile could make you feel happier about being at work.

Turning to stare at Dwight's menacing face and a stack of invoices that he hadn't finished, Jim mentally tallied up the hours before he could leave.  Surely he could survive seven hours and forty five minutes.  He slid into his chair and placed his messenger bag under him, pulling out his ipod to drown out Dwight's incessant needling.  He spent the first part of his morning checking email, reading internet news and checking the latest speculation on the new years bowl games.   

***ho*ho*ho***

Pam woke up early, snuggled beneath a blanket and her favorite quilt.  She'd spent many a restless night in this old four poster bed dreaming of boys and wondering why they did or didn't like her or ask her to the dance. But she had never had a night as fitful as last night.  She knew Jim would be at work today.  In fact, she realized as she glanced at her alarm clock that he was there already.  She snuggled farther down in her bed, pulling her knees to her chest trying to quiet the raging nerves twisting her insides.  He was sitting at his desk right now trying to ignore Dwight and at some point he'd need something from his drawer, and then...

She'd felt on top of the world leaving work Christmas Eve having finally gotten it all out, but that excitement had faded over time to total panic.  She'd not only told him, she had written it, in ink.  She hadn't entirely intended to tell him that she loved him, but it just came out; before she really could think it through, it was written on the card in front of her.   Once she saw the words in front of her she knew it was true and that he should know it.

She tossed back to face the clock, only her head uncovered.  The red numbers beamed back at her "9:30".  Had he seen it yet?  Would he call?  Worse, would he not say anything?  Or would it be better to talk about it in person?  Letting out a low frustrated sigh, she pulled the covers over her head, deciding to hide a little longer from the world.

***ho*ho*ho***

"Yes, sir, we are open today.  So you are running out of Dunder Mifflin superior copier paper?"  Jim tried to be cheerful; Mr. Wilkenson was one of his more consistent customers.  He listened to the monotone voice on the other end of the line name off the quantity needed and ask about the pricing on stationary.

"Generally, we have three pricing levels on stationary: economy, standard, and elegant."  Jim paused as he looked for his ruler to follow the lines on the small pricing sheet grid, "Yes, sir, it does make it sound like a party dress, but the elegant sheets are a heavier paper and hold the ink well...elegantly...I guess thus the name."  Jim shifted the phone to his other ear and opened his drawer to look for his ruler, his eye suddenly catching on something that didn't fit.  "Um, what sir?"  Jim tried to focus his attention on his call, but he was drawn to a card that Pam had apparently slipped into his drawer.  When did she do that?

"Oh, yes, sir, I'm still here..." he took the ruler out and forced himself to put his energy into this call.  He did need this sale. "The standard is $25 per 500 sheets; the elegant is $33.  How about I go ahead and get that copier paper sent over to you with a sample of both?  ...Not a problem, sir, Dunder Mifflin appreciates your business.  ...Ok, great, thank you.  Always a pleasure, sir." 

Jim sat for just a moment at his desk, wanting to savor the moment before he read the mysterious card in his drawer.  He was almost afraid to look again, afraid maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.  But as he slowly opened the drawer again, there it was, "To: Jim; From: Pam."  He quickly looked up to be sure that Dwight was engrossed in his work and then he pulled it out of the drawer.  Taking it out of its envelope, he realized it was a hand-drawn card, with the teapot on the cover, and the dundie he convinced Michael to give her, and the yogurt lid.  He scanned the picture, taking in all the memories she had sketched there, all the happy memories that they shared together.

"What are you smiling at?"  Dwight asked with disdain.

"Um, nothing, I'm going to lunch."  Jim locked his computer and picked up the card and his keys and headed out.  He wasn't sure what was on the inside, but this was not a moment he wanted to share with Dwight.

"But it's not even 11..."  Dwight called after him.

Jim pressed the button for the elevator so many times he was afraid he would break it before finally deciding to head down the stairs.  He took each flight at a steady pace and burst through the doors, hitting the unlock button for his car as he headed straight to the driver's side.  Although his car wasn't the most private place in the world, it was the best option he had. 

He slid in quickly and locked the doors, laughing at the way that the door locks seemed to make him feel like no one could see him sitting alone in his car.  He couldn't help but hope that Pam's note would say anything that hinted at her feelings for him.  Opening the card, he instinctively slid lower in his seat, trying to pretend he was comfortable in his car and in this situation. 

All the slouching in the world couldn't make his heart beat slower; it was positively pounding in his chest.  He took a deep breath and started to read, his heads shaking ever so slightly from the adrenaline.  He read slowly, enjoying her first few sentences, smiling at her reference to Michael's lame gift and loving her excuse for her drawing on the front.  Of course, he didn't mind that she drew it, that made it even more special, but it was so Pam to worry that he might mind.  He froze on the phrase "best friend", worried that this would be yet another recitation about how trusty ole Jim was the best and most harmless guy around.  But in the next breath, he felt lightheaded and an overwhelming burst of nervous energy, so much so he started to tap his fingers lightly on the gear shift.   She wasn't saying that they were just friends, she was saying so much more.

His eyes moved quickly over the rest of her handwritten message for him, his mind seeming to see only some of the words, like a jumbled puzzle that doesn't quite make sense until you read it twice.  Words like "more than that" and "not ready" and "feeling this for longer" and "in love with you".  He blinked hard.  Did he really just read that?  He looked around him, waiting for the reveal that this was some kind of sick joke made for purposes of spicing up the documentary.  No cameras, no people.  Just snow swirling dreamily in the air.

He reached for his phone, ready to dial her number even though he wasn't even sure what to say.  He realized in an instant that he left his cell phone upstairs and cursed his stupidity in not grabbing it.  There was no way he could face Dwight right now, no way to contain the smile that was permanently plastered to his face.  He needed a few minutes to think - primarily of the best way to get out of the office immediately and find Pam.  He started the car and hastily maneuvered the car out of the parking lot.  Perhaps a drive around the block would clear his mind.

***ho*ho*ho***

Pam sat at her mother's kitchen table, stirring her soup over and over but never really eating any of it. 

"Pam?  Are you gonna eat that or just stir it?"  Her mother looked down at her sweetly, a knowing look on her face that Pam found comforting.

"Stir it."  Pam dropped the spoon, staring again at the clock hanging on the wall.  She pushed the bowl away and buried her head in her hands.  "I don't suppose that I can go back to the office and manage to steal it back?"

"Would you really want to?"  Her mom settled across from her with a cup of coffee. 

"No. I just...hate this waiting."  She stared blankly out the window, wishing Jim's car might turn the corner and pull up in front of the house.

"I have an idea."  Ever the optimist, her mom clapped her hands together and reached for the paper, "You eat the soup so I don't have to worry about you and we'll look for your new apartment."

"Oh yeah, ...moving.  I almost forgot about that."  She sighed, "Mom, am I a horrible person?"

Janet Beesly lowered the paper and peered at her, her brow furrowed, "Pam you are as far from a horrible person as I can imagine."

"It's just, I mean, I just broke up with Roy.  And now this."  Pam started to knit her fingers together in an old and familiar nervous way. 

Janet put the paper flat on the table, folding it neatly back in place, "I think you've waited long enough to get what you really want."  She reached across the table and squeezed Pam's hands.

"I don't know, what if he thinks this is just a rebound or something."

"He won't."

"Then why hasn't he called..." she trailed off.

"Sweetie, he'll call."

"Right."

"Pam..."  She paused, waiting for her daughter to turn to her and then repeated more firmly, "He'll call." 

Pam peered at her cell phone on the counter, willing it to ring.  "I hope so, Mom."

***ho*ho*ho***

"Jim, it's about time.  You know when they say lunch hour, they mean that you go and come back in less than sixty minutes."  Dwight leered at Jim as he settled back in his chair. 

Ignoring his neighbor, Jim turned to Ryan, "Any messages?"

Ryan simply shook his head no in a completely disinterested way.

Jim fished his cell phone and his Christmas card to Pam from the drawer.  During his drive around town he realized that there was simply no way he would make it through the rest of the day without talking to Pam about her card, about that fact that she loved him.  He smiled down at his desk, a warm feeling spreading throughout his chest as he rolled the words around in his head.  "I'm in love with you."  He clicked on the internet and brought up Mapquest.com and whitepages.com.  He carefully searched for Beesly in Hershey, Pennsylvania and silently prayed that Pam's parents were listed and that there wouldn't be fifteen Beesly's. 

"What are you smiling at?" 

Jim had been trying to hide his smile with his left hand, but he had to admit when it came to picking up on his lack of focus, Dwight rarely missed a beat.  "Um, just going over this new sales lead I have."  Jim mumbled.

"Sales lead?"

"Yep.  In fact..." Jim's eyes zeroed in on a listing for David and Janet Beesly and he fumbled for a pen, trying to steady his now shaking fingers.  Jim started to scribble the address and a rough map on a sheet of paper, "I have an appointment there this afternoon."

"Appointment."  Dwight's face betrayed no emotion but he started to tap his ruler angrily on the desk.  "Where?"  He drug out the word slowly and Jim wondered if he had read that drawing out questions intimidated subjects during interrogation.

"In Hershey."

"We do not have customers in Hershey."

"Well Dwight, gotta make your own destiny."

"How dare you speak of destiny.  You are no zen master, you've had no formal training."  Dwight took a deep frustrated breath and began to mechanically speak, fixing his eyes on Jim's forehead.  "People speak of destiny like it is something to be controlled.  Man cannot control the will of the universe."

"Tell me about it."

Dwight narrowed his eyes at Jim in a condescending way, "What I could teach you about life young padawan...such a waste..."

Jim picked up his bag and slid the directions and the card in the front pocket.  "Well not anymore....Thanks Dwight, really great...pep talk." 

He walked slowly towards Michael's office, praying that his boss would be in a good mood and not ask too many questions about his fake sales call.  He casually leaned against the door jamb of Michael's office, "Michael, I have an appointment in Hershey."

Seemingly in a daze at his desk, Michael perked up at the idea of an appointment out of the office.  "Hershey is two hours away...you'll be gone all day..."  Michael smiled in a way that seemed to swallow up his own face, his eyes gleaming, "Need a wing man Big Jim?  Happy to help you on such an important mission.  Always there for my peeps."

Without waiting for an answer, Michael got up and started to put on his coat.  Jim practically bounded at him, "No, no...it's okay, I think you've taught me well.  I can do this myself."

"Ah Jim, it's okay to say you need help."

Jim had underestimated how bored Michael was and how desperate he was for a distraction.  He had to think quickly - suddenly it came to him.  "Well, okay, we're going to an OB/GYN office, a friend of my mom's works there and gave me the lead."

Just as Jim suspected, Michael froze in his tracks. "Wait, you're going to a..." he stopped to clear his throat and started again in a whisper, "woman's doctor's office?" 

"Yes."

"Where women have..."  Michael gestured wildly about him with his hands, "women's issues?"

"Yep, that's pretty much it."

Michael slumped for a moment in either defeat or disappointment and slowly turned to put his coat back on the rack.  After composing himself, he smoothed out his suit coat and turned to smile at Jim.  "You know Jim, there comes a point in every salesman's life when he must strike out on his own. Make his own way.  Today..."  he paused dramatically to pat Jim on the shoulder, "is that day.  I'm so proud."

"So, you aren't coming."  Jim clarified.

"No, Slim Jim, it's your moment.  You go out there and sell some paper."

"Oh-kay."  Jim tried to feign disappointment as he turned to the door and practically dashed out of the office.

***ho*ho*ho***

"Mom, I cannot sit in this house anymore, I'm going insane."  Pam rested her head on her folded hands, her eyes roving over the classifieds, now covered in red circles and stars from her mom's search for Pam's new apartment.  Her cell phone sat idly by, nearly dead from being turned on and off to be sure it had signal and power.  "He's not going to call.  He doesn't feel the same." Pam said the words numbly as if she were trying to prepare herself to accept this at the truth.

Pam's mother turned to her, reminding Pam of June Cleaver in her Christmas apron with flour smeared on the front.  "Pamela, give the man a minute, you may have taken him by surprise."

"I've given him a minute Mom.  In fact I've given him nearly 24 hours.  That's like....1440 minutes."  Pam blew a piece of hair out of her face. 

As she leaned against the counter, Janet smiled at her daughter, seeing her again as a teenager instead of the beautiful woman she had become.  "You know it's not really fair counting the minutes he didn't know that the card was in his drawer."

Pam rolled her eyes and pushed back from the table. "Sure take his side."  Taking a deep breath, she looked out the kitchen window, "Maybe I'll go for a walk.  It looks pretty outside."  She slid her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, "It would be good to get of my head a little."

Janet went back putting her Christmas cookies on a cooling rack, "Why don't you take the dog for a walk?"

"Sure."  Pam reached for the leash and the rolling sound of paws came down the stairs as her father's chocolate lab came for his afternoon walk.  As she leaned down to fasten the leash on his collar, the dog happily licked her chin, "Well, Max, as least someone loves me."  She stood up and cleaned off her face with a towel, "But not quite the kisses I was hoping for."

She pulled on her coat, grabbed her keys, and headed towards the front door.  "Be back in about an hour Mom," she called over her shoulder as she opened the door and nearly ran right into Jim, his hand poised to ring the bell. 

"Whoa, um, ...hi."  The words came out in a jumble as she tried to catch herself on the door jamb, suddenly keenly aware that she was standing practically on top of Jim.  Her mind registered his presence like a jolt to her system.  They both awkwardly tried to steady themselves while not actually touching the other person.  A strange mix of fear, hope, and nervousness mingled in her stomach and she took a small step back.  Max, oblivious to the human tension, jumped to greet Jim with his own sloppy kisses.

"Hey, um ...hi ...puppy."  Jim awkward petted the dog's head as Max rested his paws on Jim's chest. He wondered if the dog could feel how hard his heart was pounding.  He had not expected Pam to barrel into him like that.  In fact he had been on the porch for five minutes working up the nerve to actually ring the bell and then there she was so close to him, so breathless, so beautiful.  Her perfume still seemed to hang all around him causing his skin to hum slightly and his breath to come in small sporadic bursts.  He froze in her doorway, staring down at her, all the words leaving his head in a rush.

"Max, down, oh ..." Pam pulled Max down and led him back inside, "Sorry.  Um hang on, just one second."  Jim watched motionlessly as Pam guided the dog back into the house.  He wondered if he was supposed to follow step back onto the porch.  Instead he settled in the doorway hoping she would come back before he lost his nerve.  Even though he knew that she loved him, the fear of rejection was a habit that was hard to break.

Pam turned the corner to the kitchen in a panic, "Mom, take Max please."  Pam turned to smooth her hair in the dim reflection from the microwave door. 

"I thought you were going to take him...did I hear a man's voice?"

"Um...Jim's at the door."  Pam turned to look at her mom, searching for some reassurance in this most uncertain moment.  She twisted her fingers and bit her lower lip nervously.  She knew it had to be a good sign that he came to see her in person, but she could hardly believe he was really here. 

Janet smiled widely, "He drove from Scranton...to Hershey?"  She arched an eyebrow at Pam mischievously.

"Apparently."  Pam couldn't hide the beginnings of a nervous but hopeful smile.

"That's 120 miles."  Biting back her smile so as to appear serious, Janet turned to Pam and patted her gently on the shoulder.  "Well, better see what he wants."  Untying her apron, she took Max to the back yard.

Pam peaked back out to the living room where Jim was awkwardly standing half in the door and half out.  She took a deep breath and went back out to meet him.

"Sorry...that was Max."  She gestured awkwardly behind her, her heart racing wildly as she tried in vain to look Jim in the face.  She hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to see him, knowing that he knew now how she felt.    

"Yeah, so I gathered."  Jim shuffled on his feet a little, unsure of how to start this conversation, his hand toying with the edges of the card he had tucked safely away in his coat pocket.  "Um...so this is your parent's house?"

"Yeah."  Pam watched as Jim took in the details of the living room, his eyes darting to every corner resting only briefly on her before the awkwardness would return.  Pam, desperate for something to break the spell they were under, seized on the first idea that came to her. "Want to sit on the porch?  It's pretty nice outside, for December.  We can, um, talk ...there." 

"Sure, that sounds good."  Jim exhaled a heavy breath and took a moment as they walked out to try to collect his thoughts.  He had to think of a way to just start this conversation.  He watched as Pam led him out to the front porch of the house, a nice wide porch for Pennsylvania, with rockers and wide steps down to the front walk.  Pam sat down on the front steps and leaned against the railing.   Following her lead, he sat next to her, first facing the street, before he purposefully turned to face her.  He started to ask her about her card, but he went for a safer topic, hoping to ease them into more familiar territory.  "It really does smell like chocolate here."

Pam smiled at him, realizing the earth was shifting beneath them and he was trying to find solid ground, "Yep, all year round."

Leaning back against the post on his side of the stairs, "Is this why you always put out jelly beans."

Pam playfully met his gaze, "You caught me.  Once you've lived here, you are chocolated out."

Jim gasped out loud, "Beesly, perish the thought.  Even M and Ms?"

"Well, depends on the occasion, but generally I like the jelly beans better."  Pursing her lips, Pam looking back out over the yard, trying to decide whether they should stay in this normal moment or whether she should nudge them.  Deciding she didn't have much to lose at this point she pressed on, "That and I sort of liked the people that came to eat the jelly beans."

She felt her stomach tighten as she noticed a faint redness color Jim's cheeks as he looked out in the yard.  A slow smile spread across his face as he turned back to meet her gaze.  He pulled the envelope out of his pocket and started to turn it end over end in his hands.  "I got your card."

"I figured."  She let out a slow breath and looked at the card, taking a moment to calm her nervous.  "Did you bring it back to me?" 

His gaze fixed on her as he stopped playing with the white envelope and gripped it solidly in one hand, "Nope...this is my Christmas card to you."

Her heart did something that she felt certain wasn't healthy, something like registering an extra beat, as she realized she was looking at the card that she has refused to take from him just yesterday.  She had laid awake at night wondering what could be in that card, and now that she was literally inches away from it, she felt suddenly afraid of all that it might contain, good or bad.

Jim had never felt so alive or so frightened in his life.  He purposefully extended his hand to her, offering her the card, just as she had hoped he would, "It was supposed to go with your teapot, but..." he paused, trying to figure out how to explain, but in the end he decided it was too complicated, "anyway, I think you should have it now."

Pam reached tentatively out to pull the envelope from his hand, pausing to slide her fingers along his, soothed by the feeling of his fingers caressing her hand.  "Okay."

She pulled the card back to her possessively, "Should I read it now?"

"Yeah, I think you should."  He felt certain that he would jump out of his skin knowing that Pam was actually going to read the thoughts that he had written out so carefully a week ago, the same thoughts he had decided he wasn't ready to share with her.  His mind drifted back to her card, remembering that now he knew that she cared, that she loved him.  He focused his attention on the front yard, covered in a light dusting of snow.

Pam slid her fingers under the flap, decisively tearing into the envelope to find a card with funny looking elves on the front.  It was one of those shoebox cards where the elves were laughing about their unstable and irrational boss.  He had scribbled on the front, "Sound familiar?"  She smiled and opened the card to reveal his sentiments hastily scrawled on the inside:

Dear Pam,

Merry Christmas!  Can you believe that I finally got you in the drawing?  I wracked my brain for what you might like: a copy of Legally Blonde, a lifetime supply of Schrute Beets, gift certificate for Chili's.  Nothing seemed right till I found this teapot, which strangely enough seems so like you...just perfect.  Besides, I think Madonna had one and so it's gotta be cool right?  At least, that's what Kelly told me.

You are amazing and you deserve so much more than this place. Of course if you ever leave you have to find a way to take me with you.  You could not leave me here alone - I'd hate to have to blow my brains out.

Pam, you are so talented, not to mention an amazing prankster - that's a special quality in a girl, believe me I've looked.  I've been thinking lately how I wish I could meet a girl like you: smart, funny, beautiful, creative - if you know anyone like that tell her that I'm available.   Actually, I wish I had met you when you were still single.  Have you ever wondered what that would have been like, if we had met in college or something?  I'll admit I've thought about it, and I know that I would have had the biggest crush on you.

I wish so much for you this year, so much that I wish I could give you.  You are so important to me, Pam, and I am thankful to have you in my life.   I just wanted you know how much you mean to me, how much I care. 

Merry Christmas,   

Jim

Pam read the words over and over feeling as if she were spinning in a dizzying circle.  She reached for the edge of the step, reminding herself that the porch was solidly beneath her.  She hadn't known what to expect from his card, but his words, so cautious and tentative, made her love him all the more.  She knew Jim well enough to know what he was trying to say, but she could see that he held back, probably worried that she might want to ignore it like so many other subtle signs over the years. 

Jim noticed Pam had finished reading and seemed to be silently working out the puzzle pieces he had left her.  He cleared his throat, "I...wasn't quite as brave as you were..."

She shook her head and tried to hold back the emotions that were beginning to choke her, "No, I wouldn't say that."  She had so many questions and feelings to sort out.  Only one thing actually came out when she tried to speak, "Why did you take it back?"

He turned and squinted at her, tilting his head toward her in such a vulnerable way, like the truth caused him to wince, "I wasn't sure that it was the right time.  I mean, after the stupid yankee swap and everything.  I panicked."

Pam slid closer to him, moving towards the center of the step so that her leg pressed ever so slightly against his, "Well, I'm glad you drove here to give it to me.  It means a lot to me to have it."

Taking her cue, Jim slid closer to her.  They continued to stare straight ahead, watching children play in the yard across the street.  Pam slowly leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder. She carefully wrapped her arms around his right arm in an almost possessive gesture.    

Jim smiled at how easy she had made this for him.  After years of wishing that he could get up the nerve, years of trying to hint at what he was feeling, she had just said it.  She had taken the chance.  He peered down at her sitting next to him, amazed again at how brave she could be.  He cleared his throat, hoping to be able to actually say the words that he'd been holding back.  "Um Pam?  ...About what you wrote..."

Pam tilted her head up to him, nervously holding his gaze.  She wanted to say something but instead she simply nodded for him to continue.

"I just wanted to say that...to tell you...," he looked at her, his eyes explaining everything that he was struggling with.  He paused to take a deep breath and then he started again, "I wanted to tell you that I love you.  I mean my card didn't really say that.  But that's...that's what I wanted to say."

She smiled widely as a calmness settled over her features for the first time in a week.  It was hard to say who leaned first or who reached out.  All Pam knew was that they were moving closer together in every sense and it felt like falling in the most beautiful and weightless way.  She struggled to remember to breathe.

He felt like his heart had stopped beating in the split second before his lips touched hers.  He leaned towards her and kissed her tentatively, his lips barely grazing hers at first, as he tried to memorize this feeling.  Jim pulled back for a moment wanting to be sure that this was what she wanted. She looked up at him with such certainty that all fear vanished into thin air.  She leaned closer and whispered throatily, "I'm in love with you too."

She was the one to close the distance this time as they practically collided back into each other.  Jim pressed his lips solidly to hers, leaving no mistake about the way he loved her or the passion he felt.  They sank into each other, learning the feel of each other's lips, hands desperately running along each muscle and curve.   Pam deepened the kiss instinctively trying to get impossibly closer and she felt the hum of a groan on her lips. 

The moments blended together into a dizzying haze until Pam slowly pulled back, shyly looking more at his neck than his eyes for a few moments to compose herself.  When she finally dared look at his face, she felt a sudden heat throughout her entire body.  His hair mussed and his lips swollen, he managed a goofy grin at her that was just undeniably Jim. 

He bit his lip and averted his eyes, trying to come back to earth.  "Guess I've been wanting to do that for a little while."  He ran his fingers through his hair to smooth it out. 

Pam settled back into his side, "Me too."

Jim gently kissed her head and looked back across the yard shaking his head in disbelief about the day he was having.  He scanned the street when he noticed that the kids were not playing in the neighbor's yard any longer.  "Hey, uh Beesly, what happened to the kids?"

He felt her body shake as she giggled; he loved being this close to her, "I think we grossed them out."

"Great. ...Maybe we can try that with Dwight later on."

She grinned at him mischievously, "The kissing or the grossing out?"

Jim did his best to feign disgust but he was distracted by the flush on Pam's cheeks and way she kept unconsciously licking her lips.  "The grossing out.  Unless you want to kiss Dwight, in which case I'm grossed out."

Pam shuddered for effect, "Me too.  But I wouldn't mind the grossing out Dwight plan if it means we get to kiss more."

He smiled back at her loving that he could flirt with her now.  "Definitely.  We should definitely do that."

As if to prove his point he dipped his head kiss her again.  The last kisses had only left him wanting so much more.  He made himself stop before it all got out of hand again on Pam's parent's front porch.    He simply leaned against the porch post and held her closely to him.

They sat this way for a while, letting all the events sink in.  Jim finally broke the comfortable silence. 

"Hey Pam?"

"Yeah."

"I'm glad I got your name in the drawing."

Pam smiled as she buried her face in his shoulder, "Me too.  This is the best Christmas gift I've ever gotten."

"Well you were good this year."  He wagged his eyebrow at her teasingly.

Pam bit her lip to try to keep from saying it, but truthfully she was too giddy to hold back.  "That's what she said."

Jim pulled her closer, shaking his head at her but smiling so genuinely that she could never mistake that he was loving this, "Shut up."

She sighed contentedly, enjoying the familiarity of their friendship with the newness of being in love, "Okay."