"... those things are like ticking time bags," Michael was saying. Pam just stared, mouth slightly gaping. Did he really just say that? Was he a total idiot? She knew she was being harsh; after all, he was just trying to give her some advice. But still... can you say "inappropriate"?

Pam turned to Jim, the look on her face saying it all. He just tilted his head to the side and smiled. "Something to think about," he said before starting to skate backwards.

She looked back at him, the corners of her mouth starting to pull up to her eyes, a laugh forming in the back of her throat. He was such a loser. Yeah, he was a loser, and he loved her.

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It was close to five and Pam was anxious to leave. After a wonderful but long day of shopping, ice skating, and getting absolutely no work done, she was ready to go home and lounge around her apartment. She smiled a little half-smile when she thought about what that meant... Jim, all six feet three inches of him, sprawled on a couch. Her body, little and warm, wrapped up in his arms. She couldn't believe she had ever lived life without that comfort, without him.

She felt his eyes on her and looked up to see him smiling at her. It wasn't so much a smile as it was... she didn't even know what to call it. It was odd, she knew that. She looked at him questioningly and he rose from his desk, striding over to hers in two steps and settling with his elbows on the counter.

"What's with you?" she asked.

"Remember what Michael said to you before, at the rink?" His voice was a whisper, and it was the slightest bit husky.

"Of course I do," she replied, "it scarred me for life."

"Well, I was thinking," he said, "that maybe he was right. You never can be too careful."

Pam laughed a little bit and said, "Wow, if you're all so concerned about me than I'll make a point to check. Why are we having this conversation here anyway?" The strange smile came back to his face. "Why are you smiling like that!?"

"I was thinking..." he started, "that maybe you might need some help checking."

Immediately, the blush covered Pam's cheeks. Jim never did these things at work... she kind of loved it.

"I don't know Halpert, it's kind of a personal job," she said, staring up at him.

"Really?" he said, "Hm. Well, far be it from me to intrude. If you ever need any assistance, though, I'm available."

"Good to know," she said. Before he could open his mouth to reply, Michael came running out of his office. Muttering some nonsense about getting his "pad" ready for his "big birthday orgy," he was quick to exit. Pam looked up at the clock and realized that five o'clock had finally arrived. After her little conversation with Jim, she was definitely anxious to get out of there.

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In a matter of twenty minutes, Pam's back was pushed against the wall of their apartment. Slightly out of breath, she slid her fingers through Jim's already-mussed hair and struggled to hold herself up as his lips moved from hers to her neck.

"Jim..." she was trying to say, "I think you were right."

"Of course I was," he said, in between soft bites on her neck. "What was it this time? I have a hard time remembering all of them."

She laughed, and it shook through both of them.

"You were right about what my needing some assistance," she said, "checking myself."

She smiled a devilish smile at his surprised and pleased expression.

"What, you don't want to help?" she asked when he hadn't replied.

"Oh no, that's the total opposite of what I want. But I think if we're going to do this right, we have to be in the shower. That's what Michael said, to check yourself in the shower. "And I always obey my superiors, especially Michael. Although the chief at the Volunteer Sheriff's Department is a close second," he said, doing a dead-on impression of Dwight.

"Nuh-uh," Pam said, laughing, "you do not get to feel me up if you're going to pretend to be Dwight."

"Point taken," he replied.

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She watched his hands start the hot water, help her out of her clothes, and hastily remove his own. She felt those hands on her face, his lips moving to cover hers. Moving tantalizingly slowly, his hands slid over her wet skin to her neck, gathering her hair away and kissing the back of her neck. The hands began to roam, down her back and up again, until she shivered a tiny bit and said, "If you don't start working, I'm going to get someone else to assist me. Like... Kevin. I bet he'd be up for it."

He laughed and leaned back to look at her. She adored the way he looked at her... it was almost like having his hands on her. Almost.

"So..." he said, breaking her out of her trance, "guess I better get to work." His smile made her melt, like it always did. She leaned up against him and his fingers grazed the sides of her breasts. A gasp escaped her lips even though she had felt this sensation before. Down, down, running over their undersides. Finally, they settled over them, squeezing lightly as his fingers began to do things that she thought were just plain unfair.

"You know I'm so in love you, right?" he whispered in her ear.

"I'm... in love with you..." His hands stopped moving. "Oh but I hate you. Stop being mean!"

He laughed, and his hands returned to their former job.

After a few minutes, when Pam was practically ready to explode and gasping had progressed into moaning, Jim decided that his hands just weren't getting the job done. His mouth found its way down to cover one of her breasts, and it felt so good Pam thought she would fall down. Sensing her weakness, Jim threw an arm around her lower back, supporting her. She heard a noise from him, though she couldn't distinguish if it was a moan or a growl.

"Hey, I think I found something," he said, and before she even had time to panic his teeth closed around her nipple, biting it so lightly it felt like heaven. "Jim..." she started, "oh..."

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Hours later, they collapsed onto their bed, legs intertwined and breath ragged. "You're good at that," was all Pam could manage. He laughed. "Thanks," he said, "I try. I'm really upset that you made me stop being Dwight though. I mean, come on Pam, here I am trying to be sexy and you kill my role-playing game."

"Ugh, stop right there! You know that by being Dwight, I would have to be Angela. Do you really want to do what you just did to Angela?"

"Okay, truce. That's horrifying. No more thinking about that. I think I might know something that will take our minds off of it."

"Yeah? What's that?"

That crazy smile from before spread across his face. Hm, she thought, so that's what that means.