DOMESTIC GOD

"I'm sorry," Pam said pressing a kiss against the middle of Jim's back. She wrapped her arms around his waist and felt his stomach rumble against her arms. "I totally should have thought about going grocery shopping...I just...this week was so crazy and I don't know...I guess I didn't anticipate a sleep over."

It was the first weekend they'd actually done this. Slept over.

Friday night they'd both been ravenous for each other, and now...now they only wanted to ravish a bit of breakfast.....or brunch rather...it was actually long past breakfast time.

But there was nothing that resembled either meal in Pam's kitchen.

"Ok...as much as I never want to leave here...I will die if I don't eat in the next 30 minutes." Jim said breaking free of her arms. He started rummaging through her kitchen.

"From now on Pam...try and be prepared, ok?"

She sighed a bit dreamily. "Ok."

"See," he said opening the refrigerator. "This is what happens when you only have one kitchen. Please consult me the next time you're looking for somewhere to live."

Pam let herself linger for a few moments too long on that thought. She could definitely see herself "consulting" him the next time.

He turned around for a moment to smile at her and shake his head in mock disapproval. God...just watching him. The way the muscles in his shoulders and back slid back and forth beneath his smooth skin. The way his skin seemed to gleam under the kitchen lighting.

"Oh...lemon juice...butter...Canadian bacon...wow - who keeps that on hand? Fancy New Beesly of course..."

The use of the nick-name shook her from her thoughts and she watched him as he brought those ingredients over to the countertop.

"What are you doing?"

He turned back to the fridge just for a moment and reached up to the top, ignoring her question. She marveled at his ease in her apartment. At the grace and agility in which he reached and flexed...no need for tip-toes or a step-stool. So freaking hot...

"English muffins...Not moldy..." he said peering inside the bag. "Ok, we're having Eggs Benedict."

Pam blinked a few times as he got a bowl out of her cupboard and set to cracking an egg. "You know how to make Eggs Benedict?"

"My mom's favorite," he said shrugging a bit, as if it were truly no big deal. "Why...you don't?"

Pam blinked again to clear the fog of lust. She wasn't sure whether the jolt was in response to him or the promise of food.

"Doesn't Eggs Benedict have Hollandaise sauce?"

"Yeah."

"You know how to make hollandaise sauce?"

Jim just stared at her for a moment and then chuckled. "Yeah," he said finally.

Pam smiled and leaned against the counter. Her mouth got away from her and started moving without first consulting her brain.

"I think you should move in."

His eyes met hers. "Ok."