With a laugh, Pam tore the bottom off the letter and flushed it. Finally knowing the context behind the argument with Pete, she sighed in relief, awash in gratitude. As she splashed cool water on her face, she recalled the afternoon before. She and Jim had been cuddled side-by-side on his couch after making love for the second time that day. He'd just given her a key to his apartment. Her eyes were closed dreamily, recalling the endeavors to which he'd so recently dedicated his hands. And mouth, she grinned impishly to herself.

Jim cleared his throat. "So." Her eyes popped open. He looked nervous, she saw. But determined, as though he'd just made up his mind about something. "Have you ever heard of a claddagh?"

He sounded nervous, too. Curiously, she gazed at him, shifting her thoughts to the present with effort. "No, never." That came out of the blue, she reflected silently. "What is it?"

"Well… I'm Irish," he said awkwardly, by way of introduction. "My family is, like… very Irish," he chuckled self-consciously. "My dad even has a kilt."

The point emerges. "Wow, that's incredibly cool," she said, intrigued. She would be meeting his family for the first time at the barbecue tomorrow, but didn't know much about them yet. She smiled encouragingly at him. "Does he wear it, like out of the house?"

He shrugged with a nod. "Only on special occasions. Weddings, funerals, the Celtic Festival at Montage Mountain."

She was curious at the way he pronounced it, like ‘keltic.' She wanted to ask him why he didn't say ‘seltic,' the way she did, but she suppressed the urge. It sounded like he was going somewhere with this, and she didn't want to derail his train of thought. "I wouldn't have guessed. You don't seem like an Irish guy. Just… a guy," she finished lamely.

He tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Yeah… I don't really get into it much. At least, not as much as my parents do… Anyway…" He gave her a brief, tentative smile, then took a deep breath. She gazed at him, paying rapt attention. "A claddagh is an Irish symbol made up of three parts. A heart, a crown, and two hands. They represent love, loyalty, and friendship." He looked down, swallowing hard as he picked up a hidden box from between the couch cushion and his boxer-clad thigh.

She gasped. "Oh my god, Jim." Biting her lip, her eyes flitted up to his. He couldn't be proposing. Was he proposing? True, they'd been saying 'I love you' since their third date… they'd only been dating for a couple of weeks, though. True, she granted, they'd been best friends for years, and she felt like they knew each other better than a lot of married couples probably did. Still…

She looked back down at the box. Wait, no, it was far too large for a ring. Shakily, she released the breath she'd been holding. A strange combination of regret, relief, and doubt filled her. Okay, he wasn't proposing today. But what would she say if he had? Certainly not no. Was 'not yet' a valid answer? After all, it wasn't like she hadn't thought about it. She'd even doodled 'Pamela Halpert' on a post-it note Friday. Several, actually, before dropping them in the shredder. At the time, she'd told herself it was strictly hypothetical, just to see what the letters felt like coming out of her pen. And to see how it felt compared to 'Pamela Anderson' (much better, incidentally). She'd really have to stop doing that at work, though. What if Jim ever noticed? she thought uncomfortably. Oh god, how long have I been sitting here with my mouth open? Firmly, she closed it and bookmarked the question to revisit later, saying the first thing that popped into her head. "You got me a present?" She bit her lip, cringing internally. Good one, Beesly.

"Well, I didn't get it for me," he teased her fondly, holding it out to her. "Jewelry's not really my thing."

Relief flooded her. She giggled giddily, tension broken. "So you're saying I'll have to return the enormous gold medallion I got you for our two-week anniversary?"

"Little soon for that, don't you think?" he replied with a knowing smile.

He'd always been far too intuitive for his own good. Or am I just that transparent? she wondered sheepishly. But if, as she suspected, he was talking about the same thing she'd been thinking about… well, at least they were on the same page. She looked down, her fingers brushing his as she accepted the box. "Thank you, Jim," she said sincerely. "You didn't have to get me anything."

He shook his head with a languid blink. "I wanted to. And you're welcome."

Grinning, she clamped her teeth over her bottom lip. "Claddagh, right?" He nodded. She repeated, "Love, loyalty, and friendship." She stroked the box with her fingers. "It sounds… really meaningful."

"It is," he agreed.

She hesitated, not sure if he had more to say. "Can I… open it now?"

"Please," he said, a little tensely.

She opened it quickly, finding a necklace inside. She gasped again. "Jim! Oh… my…" she trailed off. Touching it delicately, she whispered, "Wow…" In the center, an opal heart gleamed chaotically, shooting rainbows of color with the subtlest of movements. Two silver hands clasped the heart between them. Connecting the hands was a crown made of sparkling, clear stones. "It's incredible," she said, amazed.

Looking relieved, he lifted the necklace from the box. He held the center in his palm, straightening the chain with his other hand. "The stones are white sapphires. Opal is your favorite, and my birthstone. I knew it was perfect as soon as I saw it."

Her hand drifted up to her cheek. He'd remembered she didn't like diamonds, and that opal was her favorite gemstone. "It is perfect," she agreed quietly, stroking it in his palm. "I didn't realize opal was your birthstone. It really is my favorite." Ruefully, she looked down at her sloppy outfit, her hand wandering to her messy ponytail. "I can't believe you got this for me." She shook her head. "I should be… fancier."

"In case you didn't know, rumpled Beesly is my favorite," he said with a cheeky grin. "Especially when she's wearing my clothes, and I'm the one who rumpled her."

Her eyes twinkled mischievously at him. "You have spent an awful lot of time touching my rumple this weekend."

"I'm a biiig fan of that rumple," he agreed with a roguish grin. He looked down to unclasp the chain, nervousness stealing over his expression again. He cleared his throat. "So, um… there's a traditional saying when giving a claddagh." He shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I wasn't gonna say it. It's so cheesy. You'll laugh."

She reached out, touching his cheek with gentle fingers. "I won't. This is important to you, so it's important to me." She turned to face away. "And you know I like cheesy."

"Okay." He turned to face her. He cleared his throat and brought the chain around her neck. With a heartfelt twinge, she felt his fingers trembling against her skin. As he fastened it, he murmured, "With these hands, I give you my heart, and crown it with my love." He kissed the clasp solemnly, then gently placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest, covering his hands with both of hers, devotion shining in her expression. Voice becoming hoarser by the word, he continued. "You'll always be my best friend, Pam. I'll always be loyal to you. And I'll always… always love you."

Her lower lip wobbled precariously, mirroring his. "Always," she echoed emphatically. "I love you so much, Jim." She leaned over and lovingly feathered his lips with hers. He groaned and tugged her into his arms as they kissed sweetly.

After a time, she twisted sideways and nestled into him. She lifted the charm between her fingers, gazing at it intently. With a happy sigh, she tilted it repeatedly, catching the light from different angles. "So pretty," she murmured.

"So glad you like it." He stroked her back, sounding utterly content.

"Love it," she corrected him. "I'll wear it every day."

He kissed the top of her head. "You don't have to wear it tomorrow, if you don't want."

She looked up at him, puzzled. "Why wouldn't I want to?"

He shrugged. "Everyone in my family will know what it means."

"What, that we love, loyalty, and friendship the heck out of each other?"

Grinning, he nodded.

He'd given it to her today. If he didn't want her to wear it tomorrow, she reasoned, he'd have waited to give it to her. "That doesn't bother me. Does it bother you?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. I just didn't wanna presume."

"Even if tomorrow is a holiday, I'm pretty sure every day includes all the days," she said affectionately. "Ooh!" She scrambled off him before he had a chance to reply. "I'm gonna take it onto the balcony. I wanna see it in the sunlight." She dashed over to the sliding-glass door and slipped outside. "Come see!" she called excitedly, squinting toward him in the bright afternoon light. It was brilliant.

He followed her outside, an enigmatic smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He moved behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "Beesly," he said simply, softly. Reverently, he pressed his lips to her shoulder.