Once Gerald and Tom returned, everyone adjourned to the living room to continue watching the game. A few minutes in, Pam noticed Betsy leaning her head on Gerald's shoulder. With a smile, she lowered hers onto Jim's as well. Stuffed from the extra helping of pudding, and bored by the game--frankly, sports had never been her thing--she drifted into a light snooze. The next thing she knew, she was startled awake by loud cheering. "Home run?" she asked blearily.

Everyone laughed. Larissa snorted, "I take it back, this chick's from Mars."

"Game's over," Jim murmured gently into her ear. "Phillies won."

"Yay." She yawned. Looking down, she noticed his arm was around her. Her side was pressed firmly against his. The last thing she remembered was putting her head innocently on his shoulder. Her conscience whispered from a great distance: you should really move. "How long was I asleep?"

He tilted his head sideways, looking into her eyes with quiet confidence. Gently, he squeezed her waist, as if to reassure her that it was okay. "Maybe an hour? We started watching after halftime." 

She glanced surreptitiously around the room. Nobody seemed scandalized when she tucked her legs underneath her. She bestowed him with a lazy, contented smile and told her conscience to suck it. "'Kay," she said simply, snuggling into him, lowering her head to the hollow of his shoulder. She allowed her eyes to drift gently closed… just for a second…

He pressed his lips to her hair. "Do you want some tea?" She didn't answer. He looked down. She had dozed off again. He bit his lip and smiled down at her adoringly.

From across the room, Betsy eyed them. Very good hands, she thought with a secret smile, patting the slip of paper in her pocket. She wasn't ordinarily prone to impulse, but she had no doubt she was making the right decision.

"Speaking of caffeine." Larissa hopped up to start a pot of coffee. Shortly, everyone made their way to the kitchen to grab a cup. Jim stayed on the couch, reveling in the coziness of the moment.

Betsy came out of the kitchen with an extra mug. He accepted it gratefully, starting to feel a little drowsy himself. It wasn't that late, but it had been a long day. "Does Pam take sugar in her tea?" she asked quietly.

"Mom, you don't—"

"I already started the kettle," she cut him off.

"A little cinnamon. No sugar." He smiled gratefully as he took a sip. "Thanks, this is great."

--

Pam sat contentedly, drinking her tea. She participated occasionally, but mostly just listened to the discussion. Between the well-being of various family members and hilarious anecdotes from Jim's childhood, she was far from bored. Betsy had just finished a story about Jim's first Irish curse word when he turned to whisper in her ear. "We can go whenever you're ready. She'll talk all night if you let her."

"In a little while," she replied with a grin. "This is good stuff."

He groaned good-naturedly, rolling his eyes.

Larissa looked at Pam and gestured with her head, her hand in her pocket. She'd been writing busily on a sheet of paper for the past several minutes, participating only half-heartedly in the conversation. Curiously, Pam followed her into the kitchen with a whispered "Be right back" to Jim. He raised an eyebrow as the two of them left the room, but said nothing.

Larissa looked over her shoulder. After making sure they hadn't been followed, she pulled out the picture of Jim in the tutu. Pam giggled together with her at the ridiculously adorable image. "It's yours, if you want it. Use it well."

"I appreciate the offer, 'Riss… but," she said with a hesitant smile, "I can't." She bit her lip.

"I insist." She tucked the picture into Pam's jeans pocket with a conspiratorial grin. "You said you wouldn't show it to anybody. I trust you."

She hated being put into the position of telling anybody no, but this wasn't up for debate. She pressed the picture onto the table, then clutched the opal of her claddagh between her fingers. "He trusts me," she said firmly, with an uncomfortable shrug. "I promised."

Larissa looked at her appraisingly. It was almost a shame she was already Jim's chailín. [girlfriend] "Well, you passed the test, Pambo." She pulled the sheet of paper from her pocket.

"What?" she said in a small voice, looking bewildered.

Larissa waved her hand, smiling broadly. "It's not like that. Don't think too hard about it. It's not like I was gonna hate you if you took the picture. I just wasn't gonna give you this."

Pam crossed her arms. "What is 'this', exactly? And why do I want it?" She couldn't keep the indignance out of her voice.

Larissa sighed. "I'm sorry. I am so not good at this serious shit. Just—listen. Jim's been in a really… bad place for the past year. We were all worried about him. Even I was worried about him, and I never worry about anything. Like he was literally, clinically depressed." Pam nodded cautiously. She'd been there herself. Like there was a gaping, black, Jim-shaped void inside her heart. Larissa continued, "I guess you could say I feel kinda… protective toward him." She rolled her eyes with a smile. "Not that you'd know anything about that."

Pam smiled ruefully. "No, not at all."

Larissa smiled back, looking relieved. Quickly, she added a line at the very bottom of the page, then re-folded it and handed it over. "Look, I'm really not good at this sister shit either. Just read it. And if you ever want any more tips, give me a call." She hugged her warmly, then skedaddled back to the living room.