When they returned from the booze cruise on Friday night, Roy had only said, “I’ll take the couch.”

When she woke up on Saturday, after a restless night, he was already gone; he had obviously not packed for the night (she was a light sleeper even when she wasn’t wrestling with big decisions, and his duffle bag was still there, full of funky-smelling gym clothes), and they hadn’t had any real discussion about their situation, so Pam tried to call him.  His cell was turned off.

It only made sense for him to be the one to move out for a while.  Darryl lived right down the street, and Pam was sure that he’d be willing to take Roy in for a while.  Or he’d better be, considering the times that they’d housed him in similar situations.  All of Pam’s friends that weren’t Roy’s friends first (except Jim, of course) lived an hour or more away. 

She couldn’t go stay with her mom; she loved her mom, and she always talked to her when she was confused or upset, but…her mom considered Roy a son already.  Pam just wasn’t sure how her mom would react to this news.  And the commute time from her mom’s house would be pretty awful.

If they did officially break up at some point, Pam was willing let Roy have the apartment, but for this—logically, she should stay.

She called him at least once an hour all day long, with no idea where he was or what he was doing.  Finally, at 10:30 that night, he came home.  “Where have you been all day, Roy?”

“What’s it to you, Pam?  What are you even doing here?  I thought you wanted to leave me.”

“Okay, first of all, I wanted to have a real discussion with you—sober!—about what this means, but I guess it’s not going to happen tonight.  Also, I kind of thought that you’d be the one to go stay with Darryl.  I mean, my closest friend is Sarah, and she’s an hour away, so I thought…”

“Listen, Pam…you’re the one who wanted this stupid ‘break’ or whatever.  Plus, I paid the security deposit on this place.  So I guess you’re just going to have to find somewhere to stay—or stay here.”  Roy obviously thought that this bit of logic was going to convince her to give up and stay.

“Wow, how many beers did it take before that sounded like a convincing argument?  You know what?  Never mind.  I’m going to pack.”

She called Sarah, feeling awful about it (Sarah’s daughter was only fourteen months old), but there was no answer.  She couldn’t drive an hour, not even sure if anyone was home.  Scrolling through her cell’s phonebook, the only name that had the right area code next to it was—

“Jim?”

“Pam?  What’s up?  I hope you’re not trying to pay your debt, Beesly, ‘cause you know, over the phone doesn’t really count.”

“No, I know.  Listen, I know this is bad timing, and it’s really unfair of me to ask it in the first place, but…can I stay with you?  Just for tonight; I’ll find somewhere else tomorrow.”

“Wait—Roy threw you out?  I just assumed that he’d stay with Darryl.”

“You and me both.  I think this was his attempt at getting me to stay.  If I have nowhere to go, maybe I’ll just stay with him, you know?”

“Oh.  And he didn’t think that this might piss you off a little bit?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure he’s been drinking all day, so…”

“Ah.”

“So…can I?”

“What?  Oh, yeah.  Yeah, of course.  Come right over.”

“Thank you.”  Pam hung up and sighed.  This could not be a good idea.

However, things went pretty smoothly, at first.  Jim offered her his bed (clean sheets, he assured her), and had obviously explained things at least semi-intelligibly to Mark, so no awkward questions there.

When he had finished showing her around, Jim asked, rubbing the back of his neck, “So…are you tired, or…?”

“I am tired—didn’t sleep so well last night—but I don’t really want to sleep yet.”

“Movie, game…?”

“A movie sounds good--got popcorn?”

“What kind of bachelor pad do you think this is?  We may not have things like ‘food’ or do things like ‘laundry’, but we always have plenty of ice cream and popcorn.  Oh, and beer.”

Pam narrowed her eyes.  “You can’t fool me, Halpert.  I’ve been shopping with you.  You buy fabric softener.”

“Busted.”

They watched the movie with Mark (Dazed and Confused--which had been on both of their desert island lists, Pam remembered); they found themselves dangerously near jinx territory several times.  She wasn’t sure if it was technically ‘allowed’ (with her determination to take a break from Jim), but when she found herself leaning against Jim’s shoulder, she didn’t fight it.  She didn’t shrug his arm off her shoulder, either.  Tonight could just be an exception or something.

***

Of course it was impossible to sleep in Jim’s bed.  It smelled too much like him, which led to remembering hugs that they’d shared, and thinking about what kissing him might be like…she’d wondered before, but now she didn’t have to feel so guilty about it.  (The kiss at the Dundies didn’t count, because she couldn’t remember it very clearly.)

Even guilt-free, though, such wonderings were not conducive to sleep.  She considered going downstairs and offering to switch, but realized that midnight pajama-ed encounters might lead somewhere she wasn’t ready to go.

***

She had never denied, in her mind, her attraction to Jim.  It had snuck up on her, since she had definitely not been looking when she met him.  But one day while zoning at her desk, her eyes had settled on Jim’s face as he made a sales call, and all of a sudden, she was wondering what his lips might feel like on hers.

Being a good fiancée, she had stopped this line of thought as best she could.  But sometimes the thoughts would come unbidden.

***

The next morning, she got up early and showered, determined to make Jim and Mark breakfast.  Mark seemed like a good guy—the kind of roommate that she’d expect Jim to have—and she didn’t want the aura of exclusivity that it would project if she made breakfast for only Jim.  She was still planning to give Roy another chance.  He’d been upset, and understandably so, so she was willing to excuse his behavior this weekend.

When Pam arrived downstairs, though, Mark was already heading out the door.  “Morning, Pam—I’m off to remedy the grocery situation.  You can let Sleepy over there know I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Okay—hey, are there eggs here right now?”

“I think so.”

“Good.  I was gonna make breakfast.”

“Well, you should probably get him up first, ‘cause it’ll take a while.  See ya later!”

Pam waved to Mark and turned toward the couch to take his advice.  The sight that greeted her made her wish she’d packed her camera: Jim was not a pretty sleeper.  He was sprawled out on his stomach, mouth open, with both feet and one arm hanging off the sides of the couch.  It would have been great to have that photo in a frame at the office. 

Just then, her eyes landed on a camera providentially lying on the kitchen counter.  She tiptoed over to it, and checked to see whether it was digital—she didn’t want to waste anyone’s film, but doubted Mark (if it was his) would begrudge her a bit of battery for this.  It was digital; she pointed, and clicked, and clicked, and clicked a few more times.  She had to make sure that there was at least one good shot.

She turned off the camera and set it down, then knelt down next to the couch, trying to decide how to wake him.

 “Ji-im,” she singsonged softly.

No reaction.

“Jim,” she said, a little louder.

“Mmph.”

“Jim, Dwight came over last night and stole all of your most treasured possessions.”

“Mmm…’wight?”  For a second she thought that the mention of Dwight had done it, but he just went back to sleep.

“All right, that’s it.”  She circled the counter again, and searched through the cupboards to find a small cup.  Filling it up with cold tap water, she carried it over to the couch and stuck her fingers in it; she flicked the water onto the back of his neck, repeating the action several times.  When nothing happened, she lowered the cup and poured just a little of the water directly on to his neck.

Immediately his arm came up and knocked the cup out of her hand; she jumped back a little, making a startled sound.  Jim slowly sat up, rubbing his neck.  “Pam?  Did you just…pour water on me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a really sound sleeper.  Also, it was funny.”

“If you say so,” he grumbled, but Pam could see the hint of amusement underneath the pouting face he was making.  “At least you didn’t drench me.”

“That was next on the list, believe me.  Now, why don’t you go and get dressed,” Pam suggested.  She realized as she said it that she had been so focused on waking him up that she hadn’t really noticed his state of dress.  He was wearing an old ratty t-shirt and boxers.  The shirt was just a bit too tight, clinging to his chest in a way that was…interesting.  And the less she thought about the boxers, the better it would be for her sanity.

Jim had turned to the stairs, but seemed to notice Pam’s preoccupation.  “Pam?  Um…earth to Pam?”

“Um, right, yes.”  She shook herself, and said, “I’m going to make us some breakfast.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I do.  Now, go!”

“Yes, ma’am!”  Jim climbed the stairs, whistling to himself.

***

When he returned, showered and dressed, Pam was fiddling with his camera.  He thought this was a little odd, but he didn’t really mind; he’d brought it into work one day, thinking that they’d use it on Dwight somehow, but somehow, after she spent the first fifteen minutes of the day talking about her and Roy’s big plans for the weekend, he hadn’t had the heart to start anything.  So he had consoled himself by taking a few candid photos of her at her desk, but he didn’t think that there was anything else interesting currently on it.  So why was she giggling?

“What’s so funny?”  He came up behind her and peered over her shoulder.  Pam quickly lowered the camera, and searched for the power button. 

“Nothing.”

“Hmmm…I’m not sure I believe you.  I’m gonna have to see that camera,” he requested, holding his hand out.

“I don’t think so.  I just happen to have some very valuable blackmail material on here, and I’m just not willing to give it up.  I don’t think you can get it away from me.”  Pam clutched the camera to her chest, protecting it from Jim’s grasp.  “Your omelet’s getting cold.  Better eat it now.”

His grin was wide and a little wolfish.  “I can nuke it.  I don’t think you realize what you just got yourself into.  See, you just issued a challenge, and I never back down from a challenge.”

For a second, neither of them moved, staring into each other’s eyes.  Then Pam slowly started to back away, wrapping the camera’s carrying strap around her wrist.  When it was secure, she turned and ran up the stairs.

With his superior knowledge of the house, Jim knew that there was little chance for Pam to escape.  If she wanted to turn around, she’d have to pass him in the little upstairs hallway, so he followed more slowly, confident in his ability to catch her.

When he arrived at the top of the stairs, however, it appeared that Pam had Hide and Seek in mind, rather than Tag, because she was nowhere to be seen.  “Pam?  Paa-am!  Come out, come out, wherever you are.”  He heard a muffled giggle from the direction of his bedroom and smiled.  She never could keep quiet.

Slowly approaching his closet, he threw the door open.  Pam gave a little scream, then jumped up, running toward the door.  Jim grabbed her around the waist and drew her toward him, so that her back was against his front.  His free hand touched her shoulder, then slowly skimmed all the way down her arm till it reached her wrist, where he took the camera strap between his thumb and forefinger.  “I’ll take that,” he declared.  He noticed that her arm had goose-bumps on it.  “Cold?” he asked, as he pulled her a little closer.  She gave a small gasp and didn’t answer.  Drawing the strap off her wrist, he threw the camera on the bed, and pushed lightly on her shoulder without letting go of her waist, inviting her to turn around in his embrace.

That was the second that he realized that, yes, she was in his embrace.  In his arms.  And she wasn’t fighting it.  In fact, her eyes had a look in them that he’d imagined many times, but had never seen in real life before.

The real thing was better.

He brought his head down, lightly pressing his lips against hers.  She gasped, and lifted her face higher.  Jim took that as an invitation, and kissed her again, just brushing her lips with his two or three times, savoring the fact that she was letting him do this.

Pam, however, seemed to get frustrated: she put a hand behind his head and pulled it down to hers, pressing against him with her whole body.  She opened her mouth under his, and her tongue flicked out briefly to touch his lips.  This was all the invitation Jim needed, and he returned her ardor.  He started to slowly back up, moving toward his bed without really thinking about it; when his legs hit the edge, he sank back and pulled her on top of him.  His hands began to work their way underneath her shirt, as hers ran through his hair and massaged his scalp.

Neither of them heard Mark’s footsteps climbing the stairs, but they both heard him call, “Jim?  Pam?  Oh, shit, I’m sorry.”

Pam jumped off him and smoothed her shirt, then her hair, down.  Jim stood up and ran a hand through his own hair.  “Well,” he started, and cleared his throat.  “Well, I guess that—your debt is paid now, huh?”  He grinned a little at her. 

Her head was tilted downward.  “I guess it is.”  She glanced up at him, back down, and then looked at his face again.  “Yeah, we should eat breakfast.”

They were nearly silent as they ate, and when they finished, Jim said, “That was really good.  Thanks for cooking—I’ll clean up.”

“Okay.  I should pack, and call Sarah.”

“Okay.”

***

It turned out that Sarah’s husband Tim had ‘accidentally’ turned off the phone’s ringer, hoping (vainly) that they might be able to sleep through the night.  Sarah was apologetic, but Pam insisted that it wasn’t a big deal, and that she’d tell Sarah all about it when she arrived.

Carrying her bag down the stairs, she called out, “Goodbye, Mark!  Thanks!”  He had stayed in his room since walking in on their kiss.  She heard a muffled, “No problem!” in response.

Jim was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.  “So…”  His voice trailed off.

“I’ll see you at work tomorrow,” Pam blurted, for lack of anything else to say.  

“Yeah.  Yeah.”

They looked at each other, neither sure what their next move would be.  Pam’s eyes wandered to Jim’s mouth.  Suddenly, she dropped her bags in favor of wrapping her arms around his neck and attacking his mouth.  Jim staggered a little from the force of her attack, but was willing to reciprocate.  She pulled away after only a few seconds, though, afraid that she might not be able to stop later.  “I should leave.”

“Yeah.  Here, let me get those.”  He helped her bring her bags out to the car and watched her drive away. 

The whole way to Sarah’s house, Pam was wishing she could turn the car around, but she didn’t.  “I’ll see him tomorrow,” she kept telling herself, all the while knowing that seeing him at work wouldn’t be the same. 

“Oh, no.  Work—what do we do at work?”