“I've got everything under control,” Jim told her, giving her a playful push toward the door. “Go get comfortable in the living room and I'll bring you dessert when it's ready.”

Pam leaned back against him, her face raised toward his. “I thought you were dessert,” she grinned.

He couldn't resist kissing the tip of her nose. “Go,” he instructed her again, “or you will get nothing. No dessert and no me.”

Pam laughed but headed toward the living room. “Oh right, I'd like to see you try and stop me from getting either.”

Pam plopped down on the couch, the effects of two and a half glasses of wine partially responsible for her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. The rest of that honor went to the fact that she was just happy. Had there ever been a time in her life where she felt this content? Today marked four months since the day Jim came back from New York and walked straight into her arms, and neither could deny that it had been the best four months of their lives.

As she sat waiting, she pulled a square leather ottoman towards her. She discovered its secret storage compartment when she accidentally kicked the lid open as she was putting her feet up on it. Curiosity getting the better of her, she peeked inside. She grinned, as it was apparent that what had previously been on his coffee table before her arrival had been swept inside the ottoman. Unopened junk mail, yesterday's newspaper, and an outdated TV Guide sat on top of the pile, with a stack of magazines visible below. Pam reached in and grabbed a handful of them. She'd never taken much notice of magazines around his apartment before. What has Jim Halpert been reading?

Sports Illustrated was no surprise. She probably would have been shocked if she hadn't found it. A copy of Men's Health was tease-worthy, but without a subscription label it was probably just a one time purchase. She continued to dig for more incriminating choices, like maybe a House Beautiful or GQ. The one thing she did not expect to find, however, was the very thing she now held in her hands - pornography. Not Playboy either, with its highbrow approach of mixing culture and politics between the photo spreads of naked women. No, this was something called Boink Magazine, and from just a quick glance Pam could tell there was no wasting of pages for things like celebrity interviews or movie reviews.

“I'm going to wash some of these dishes while the plates cool,” Jim called from the kitchen, causing Pam to practically jump out of her skin. “It'll be just a few more minutes, okay?”

“Um, sure,” she replied, a little too loudly for her own ears. Her first instinct was to shove the magazines back in the ottoman and pretend she never saw them. That's certainly what the old Pam would have done - tuck them away and try not to think about the implications.

She remembered that Roy had kept porn magazines, but for some reason finding that Jim had them didn't irritate her the way it had when she found out about Roy's. In fact, if anything, it intrigued her. If she was being honest, it gave her a little thrill. Maybe it was because he just didn't seem the type. Maybe it was because she thought she might learn a little more about what he liked. She put two of the magazines on the seat next to her, and started leafing through the third one. Maybe she'd even find something she'd like to try. She was Fancy New Beesly after all, and so far Jim had always seemed more than eager to please her.

“Okay, these should be cool enough to eat now,” Jim announced, walking into the room with two ceramic bowls and spoons. She was so engrossed in her find that she didn't hear Jim come in until he spoke. When she looked up, his expression was a combination of shock and embarrassment, and to Pam's amazement, a little bit of fear.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his voice cracking on the last word. He continued to stand in front of her, the bowls and spoons still in his hands.

She closed the magazine, his discomfort making her want to giggle. “I kicked open the ottoman by accident. I was curious to see what magazines you had.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “Quite an interesting collection you have here, Jim.”

He placed the desserts on the table and finally sat down on the couch. “Yeah, well,” he sighed loudly. “Wow. This isn't awkward. I don't suppose you'll believe they aren't mine.”

Pam smiled. “Why wouldn't they be yours?”

Jim met her gaze and she saw him blush. “You know, and this evening was going so well.” He reached over to take them off the couch and Pam put her hand on top of his.

“I'm still looking at those.”

“No, you're not.”

“Yes,” she laughed, pulling the magazines away, “I am.”

“Pam,” he grimaced. “I'd really rather you didn't.”

“Why not?”

Jim didn't answer her immediately. He looked around the room as if he were contemplating escaping, then sighed again, running both hands through his hair. “I'm not sure why are you making such a big deal about them,” Jim mumbled.

Pam inched next to him. “I'm not the one making a big deal about them. I'm just curious about your reading habits.”

“Right.”

“So what exactly attracted you to -” she pointed to the title on the cover, “Boink Magazine?”

Jim shook his head. “Will you please stop?”

“Am I embarrassing you?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Jim replied sheepishly, “You think?”

“Why? I did have some suspicion you like women. It's not a stretch to think that includes naked women.”

“It's not like that.”

“You don't like naked women?” Pam asked with as much innocence as she could muster.

Jim couldn't help but smile despite himself. “Well, there is one particular naked woman I really like,” Jim ogled.

“You know what I mean,” she chided him, her cheeks burning at his innuendo.

“Not indiscriminately, no. And I don't exactly make it a habit of buying those types of magazines.”

“It didn't occur to me that you did.”

“In fact those are the only three copies of any porn magazine you'll find in this house.”

“More of a video man, hmm?” She teased, leaning into him.

Jim let out a bark of laughter. “Where is this coming from? I hate to disappoint you, but I'm afraid I don't have a secret life full of forbidden sexual perversion.”

Pam glanced down at the magazines she was still holding. “So you think pornography is perverted?”

“Well, maybe not perverted,” he admitted. “Not all of it, anyway. It's just not something I feel the need to indulge in usually.”

“But sometimes?” Their eyes met, and both of them knew the conversation had turned from teasing to something more serious. Jim felt his pulse start to race.

“You really want to know?” he asked quietly.

“Yes, I do.” She nodded. “I want to know everything about you.”

Jim stretched his legs out, rubbing his hands against his thighs. “Wow. Okay,” he said. Jim licked his lips, glancing only briefly at Pam. “Yeah, sometimes, I guess. But to be honest, not in a while.” He threw tentative grin in her direction. “Certainly not for several months, anyway.”

“I'm not sure where you would have found the time,” she teased.

“Exactly,” he nodded, his grin widening. “It's really more of a last resort, and a poor substitute at that.”

“I know what you mean,” she replied.

“Oh, you do?” Jim nudged her with his elbow. “And which magazines will I be finding in your bedroom?”

“None!” She laughed. “I was agreeing more with the idea that anything less than what you really want is a poor substitute.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, clearly unconvinced. He took one of the magazines off her her lap. “To be completely honest, I usually don't even buy these types of magazines. Mark sent this one to me when I first moved to Stamford.”

“The masturbation issue?” She said, reading the cover's headline.

“It was his idea of a joke,” Jim replied, rolling his eyes. “Given what had happened, um, between us. At the time. And how I was now living alone in Connecticut.”

Pam noticed Jim was blushing again. “I bet you must have found it hysterically funny,” she said dryly. She slipped her arm through his and pressed a kiss against his bicep.

He smiled slightly. “Yeah, except I think that might not have been what I told him.”

Pam giggled. “And did he send these other two issues as well?”

“No,” he said slowly. He shifted his back toward the arm of the sofa so he could look at her more easily. “I bought them.”

“Oh.”

“When I eventually looked at the issue Mark sent,” he continued, “I saw that the pictures were of real people, not porn stars or airbrushed models or anything. That made it slightly more appealing.”

“I wish I had known this before,” she said. “I wouldn't have been so worried about our first time had I known you had standards that didn't extend to the impossible.”

He frowned. “You're joking, right?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head adamantly. “I'm not. I was so self-conscious when we finally started dating. I mean, it's not like every girl I ever saw you go out with wasn't gorgeous.”

Jim stroked her cheek. “You're insane. You know that, right? That first night all I could think about was how you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.”

It was Pam's turn to blush. “Shut up.”

“I mean it. And I still think that.” He leaned down and kissed her softly. “You know I mean it.”

“So did you learn anything from these?” She asked, obviously attempting to change the subject. Jim took the magazines out of her hands and put them on the coffee table.

“Maybe,” he grinned before kissing her again. He felt much better being the one doing the teasing.

“You want to show me?” She asked, her eyebrow raised challengingly.

Jim shook his head and laughed. “Well, you should probably at least try the dessert first. I did spend ten minutes making it.”

Pam had completely forgotten about dessert, and turned her attention to the bowls on the table. “Oh my God, Jim. Is that crème brûlée?” She quickly moved to the floor to sit at the coffee table. “You made this?”

Jim joined her. “Well, I took it from the box and sprinkled the sugar on and put it under the broiler. So if that's 'making it', then yes I did.”

“Hey, it takes skill not to burn the sugar,” she said, cracking the hard topping and putting a large spoonful of sugar and custard in her mouth. “Mmmmm,” she practically groaned, “this is wonderful.”

Jim laughed. “It's not that big a deal, Pam. I bought it in the frozen foods section of Giant.”

“It is a big deal. You know how much I love it. I consider crème brûlée to be 'our' dessert.”

“I know. Which is why it was appropriate to make for our anniversary.”

“Indeed,” she enthused, spooning more of the sweet, creamy dessert into her mouth. “Do you remember the first time I had you try it?”

Jim nodded. “We had it that night at Patsel's.” Their eyes met and Pam scooted closer to him.

“That was quite a night,” she sighed, nudging her shoulder against his. Jim leaned back against the couch, putting his arm around her to pull her closer.

“Just the best night of my life,” he replied, kissing her. What had started as a dinner date to jokingly celebrate their first week together ending up being the night Pam didn't go home. And they hadn't looked back since.

Pam dropped her spoon on the table and curled up warmly around him. “I seem to remember we didn't finish dessert that night either,” Pam murmured.