Pam told Devon about the position change, watched him write it in his log, and settled behind home plate. Through the bars of her face mask, Jim looked twice as tall as Meredith. He winked at her, then his expression turned serious as the new Vance Refrigeration batter stepped up. It was the tall, older woman who had called Meredith an Amazon.

"Bring it," she said to Pam.

"Will do," Pam said cheerfully.

Jim looked like a windmill, as he circled his arm twice and threw the ball. It wobbled so much Pam was sure it would fall to the ground midway between the mound and home plate, but to her surprise it crossed home just barely within the strike zone, while the blonde batter stood with her bat on her shoulder.

"Steee-rike!" called Devon. "Nice. You guys been practicing?"

"No," she said shortly, and fired the ball back to Jim. It was too high, over his head, but he plucked it out of the air without even moving his feet. She crouched down and waited. Jim was already in his windup. Just as Jim loosed the ball, she knew where he was aiming and moved into position. The ball crossed the plate into her glove and the batter swung and missed and Devon sang out "Strike two!"

I already knew where he was going to throw, Pam thought. Like ESP or something. Or more likely, just knowing Jim.

In quick succession, working like two halves of the same player, they struck out the rest of the Vance Refrigeration batters, stranding their runners on base. Jim trotted up and high-fived her. "Way to go, Pam!"

Meredith caught up with her as they left the field. "You guys read each other really well."

"Yeah," Pam said. This is a great game, she thought. Even if it is the bottom of the last inning and we're losing by two.

She sat on the picnic bench next to Jim, unbuckling her chest protector. He reached over without asking and helped with the buckles. She felt his fingers at her waist and shivered.

"Ticklish, Beesly?"

She turned her head and looked him in the eye. "Don't even, Jim."

He grinned and raised his eyebrows. "Something to bear in mind, though."

"Seriously. Don't." She tried to keep her face straight. Her pulse was speeding up at the thought of his fingers on her skin.

"Seriously. Yes," he said, and his voice dropped into that low register he reserved for her and her alone. Intimate, warm, familiar.

She watched, shoulder to shoulder with Jim, very aware of his breathing, as Lonny planted his feet wide in the batter's box. The pitcher loosed a fastball, and it slammed home in the Vance Refrigeration catcher's mitt.

"Strike!" yelled Devon.

Jim groaned. Pam leaned forward, elbows on her knees, watching. "Five bucks says this game is over in fifteen minutes," she said quietly to Jim.

"You're on," he said. "I say ten minutes."

"Hey, Madge is up next," Pam said. "You never know--"

From the batter's box, they heard a mighty WHAM!

"Whoa!" Jim cried, leaping to his feet. Pam looked up in time to see Lonny lumbering down the first base line, and the Vance Refrigeration outfield scrambling. "Go, Lonny!"

Pam jumped up, watching anxiously as the Victors threw from the outfield to second to first--but not in time. Lonny stopped on the base, puffing heavily, before the first baseman fielded the throw from second. Cheers and clapping erupted from the DunderHeads. She and Jim sat down again on the picnic table, feet on the bench, shoulder to shoulder.

Oscar leaned over towards Jim. "Five bucks says Madge strikes out on three pitches."

"I'll take that," Pam said quickly. "I have a feeling she's due."

Oscar snorted. Pam thought her money was gone when Madge swung and missed on the first two pitches. She was wondering if Oscar could give her change for a twenty when she paid off their bet, but then Madge connected on an outside pitch and the ball sailed to the left.

Dwight jumped up and down in front of Pam, yelling, "Stay fair! Stay fair!"

Sure enough, the ball hit the grass just inside the foul line, rolling fair, and Madge pounded into first base well ahead of the throw. Lonny cheered and waved at her from second base.

"Damn," Jim muttered. "Madge is actually the tying run. And we don't even have an out yet."

"Don't get your hopes up," Pam said.

Jim cocked an eyebrow. "Is there any reason for hope? They're ahead and likely to stay that way."

"There's always hope, Jim," she said. "Never, ever, ever give up."

His face changed, flashing a dozen expressions across his face. Among them she saw surprise, pleasure, hope, and sadness. She didn't know how he did that, wondered if he knew how easy he was to read.

Oscar nudged him. "Hey, Halpert! Five bucks says Creed holds the bat by the wrong end," he said, eyes on the game.

Kevin spoke up from Oscar's other side. "I'll take that!"

"I have faith in Creed," Jim said solemnly. He looked away from Pam.

"Ten bucks says he gets on base," Pam said.

"Oh, hey, if you're just going to give me your money..." Oscar said.

"I can't believe you're betting against your own teammate," Angela hissed from behind them. She was packing up the picnic supplies. "You disgust me."

"Whatever," Oscar said.

Then Creed was stepping into the batter's box, swinging a big wooden bat.

Jim leaned over to speak into Pam's ear. "Isn't this Creed's first at-bat?"

"Yeah." She turned her head and found herself almost lip to lip with him. She could feel his breath on her mouth and a soft feeling went all through her. "I don't think he even took a turn at batting practice."

His eyes were on her mouth. "Yeah," he whispered.

"Strike one!" Devon yelled.

Pam wrenched her gaze back to the game, her heart pounding in her chest. The DunderHeads were groaning in disappointment.

"Double or nothing?" Oscar said to Jim. Jim shook his head.

Pam felt giddy. "I'll take that." She felt invincible, light, effervescent.

"Are you sure?" Jim asked, looking at her quizzically.

"Bring it on, Oscar," Pam said firmly.

"Done," Oscar said, chuckling.

In the batter's box, Creed tapped the plate a couple of times with his bat, getting his distance. He put the bat on his shoulder and nodded to the pitcher.

"Even if he got a hit," Kevin said. "I don't know if he even knows where first base is--"

And at that moment, Creed swung on an inside pitch and connected and the ball lofted up, up up.

"Go, Creed!" Pam yelled, and was echoed by a dozen voices screaming in unison. She watched anxiously as the ball dropped lazily out of the sky--into the weeds at the far end of the field.

"Home run!" Jim yelled, jumping to his feet. The rest of Team Dunder screamed with him, yelling and jumping as Creed trotted easily around the bases, finally following Lonny and Madge across home plate. "We win!"

"Hey, Pam, I'll pay you Monday!" Oscar yelled, jogging past her to high-five Creed.

Devon yelled, "Game over!" and signaled the Vance Refrigeration pitcher in.

Everyone was celebrating. Pam felt arms go around her, felt herself crushed against a broad chest, and found herself in Jim's arms. He and Andy and Kevin were chanting Creed's name, he wasn't even looking at her.

Creed disappeared in a sea of hugs, high-fives, and slaps on the back. No one was looking at Jim and Pam. She felt the change in him as he realized he was holding her. She looked up at him, and he was looking at her with a sweet, happy expression. Almost against his will, against her will, she was leaning up and he was leaning down, faces close--

"Where's my Number Two?" Michael ran up. "Hey, Jim, let's start loading the car! Was that a great game or what? Teamwork! That's what management is all about! Great managers make great scorer-ers!"

Jim blinked, dropped his arms from around her, and stepped back. His eyes remained on her face. "Sure, Michael. I'll ... I'll get the bats." Michael turned away, and Jim bent down, his face next to her ear. "Later," he whispered.

Bob and Phyllis Vance came over to congratulate everyone. Bob was even gracious under Andy's annoying teasing. He was halfway through an offer to buy beer when his wife touched his arm, whispered in his ear, and he darted a glance at Meredith. He cleared his throat and said, "Well, hey, Michael, tell you what. On Monday, you guys come down to Vance Refrigeration and we'll have ice cream for everybody, what do you say?"

"I'm allergic to milk," Meredith said, sounding disappointed.

"Oh," said Bob Vance. He looked at Phyllis.

Phyllis looked back at him, then said, "I think Bobby can manage a small cake, too, can't you, Bobby?"

Bob Vance looked relieved as he hugged his wife. "Good idea, honey. Is it a deal?"

The DunderHeads assured him it was. Devon got Jim and Bob to sign the official game scorecard, shook hands all around, and departed. Bob and Phyllis walked away, and people started packing up. Pam helped Jim pull up the bases, put away her face mask and shin guards and chest protector. She and Jim made several trips to her car; every time they got to the parking lot there were fewer cars. The sun was setting rapidly by the time the last of the equipment was put away. Meredith's van roared out of the lot in a cloud of black smoke; Madge's motorcycle was right behind her. The Vance Refrigeration team made short work of their equipment. Soon only Jim, Pam, Michael and Toby were left.

"This was a great idea," Michael said, basking in his own praise. "Just what we needed."

Jim stuck his hands in the pockets of his sweat pants. "Yeah, Michael, it was," he said. He sounded surprised.

"See you all bright and early Monday," Michael said. "Nobody better call in with injuries, either! Jim, make sure you get plenty of rest--you played two different positions today!"

"See you guys later," Toby said. "I have to pick up Sasha at the babysitter's. Michael, can you help me with the ice chest?"

Grudgingly, Michael picked up one side of the ice chest. He and Toby marched away.

Pam pulled her remote out of her pocket and unlocked her car. She swung her bag into the back seat. Jim lingered at the trunk of Pam's car, re-arranging equipment bags and the ice chest. Finally Toby followed Michael's Sebring out of the lot and quiet settled in.

And it was just the two of them in the parking lot now, with late afternoon sunlight and the distant sounds of games winding up on the other softball diamonds. Jim slammed the trunk shut and came around the car.

"Good game," he said lightly, leaning with one hand on the roof of her car. "Just one question, though. How long have you known Creed Bratton could hit like that?"

Pam grinned at him. "Since he told me he used to play for the corporate team back in the Nineties."

"Aha. You'd make a hell of a scout, you know that?" He reached for her, pulled her against him, an arm around her waist.

Pam glanced around, but he put a hand on her chin. "Nobody's looking, Pam," he said quietly, just before his mouth came down on hers. He tasted of lemonade and bubblegum, and for some reason this struck her as funny. She laughed. Jim pulled away, mock outrage on his face.

"Pam, it's impossible to kiss a laughing woman."

She giggled harder. "Then stop making me laugh."

He grinned and she rested her head against his chest. "When do I get my shirt back?" he said teasingly.

"Oh, I'll have to wash it first," she said. "It's got girl cooties all over it now."

"I like girl cooties," he said, laughing. "Come on, let's have it."

"Mind if I wait until we get home?" She felt him go still and looked up into his face.

"Home?" he said, sudden tension in his voice. "You mean your place."

She slid her arms around his waist. "Jim, your toothbrush is at 'my place'. Your best suit is at 'my place'. Your shoes are under 'my' bed, the bed has your imprint in the left side. Do you even remember the last time you spent the night in your own bed? You call it 'my place', but isn't it our place?" She held her breath. What had made her say this now? Was she really saying this?

He smiled a slow, wide smile. "I guess you're right. So are you saying..."

"I'm saying we should make it official," she said. "Cancel your lease, Jim. Tell Mark goodbye, pack your bags, and move in." She held her breath; was she moving too fast? Was he ready for this? Was she?

"I don't know," he said slowly. "Do you really want this? I mean, I might have some deep, dark secrets--"

"If you're referring to your porn collection, I already know all about it from Mark."

"That bastard," Jim said, laughing. "I don't have a porn collection. It's a Pez collection."

"A Pez collection? Oh, that's different," Pam said. "In that case, I withdraw my --"

His mouth stopped her again. When he finished, she was breathless and flushed and tingly all over.

"Wow," she said softly. "So. Do I take it that's a yes?"

He pulled her head under his chin and wrapped his long arms around her. "Let's go home, Pam."

THE END