After Jim’s “nap,” as Larissa insisted on referring to it, even though he insisted he hadn’t really slept and he wasn’t five anymore (Larissa reminding him that she didn’t remember when he was five anyway, so she was just making up for lost time, Pam agreeing wholeheartedly that they needed a replay of young Jim for both their sakes), they all hung out for a little while, chatting amiably about almost anything but Jim’s condition. But after the third time the nurse stuck her head in to take Jim’s vitals, Larissa was startled to look at her phone and realize it was already 8. She glanced over at Jim and Pam, now cordially debating whether Stanley would notice if Pam replaced his crossword puzzles with her Sudoku (Jim: clearly he wouldn’t! The man barely notices Michael; Pam: clearly he would! The only thing he actually pays attention to is the crossword!), listened to her stomach rumble, and decided it was time to leave the two love-birds alone for a little. She needed to make sure her car was still in the lot anyway after getting that ride from Pam the night before, and they were clearly in their own little world. She made a big show of yawning and stretching and announcing her departure, and then she was out of there, with a promise to return before the morning’s round of doctors.

Pam and Jim were sad to see her go, he because he felt guilty for ignoring Larissa, who had spent two days here alone with him, unconscious; she because she was beginning to realize she hadn’t actually spent any time alone with Jim since her declaration of love and she found herself unsure both what might happen and what she wanted to happen. But each of them put that sadness away quite easily when they found themselves actually alone together. Jim started to reach for Pam, only to pull back with a wince as his ribs and leg decided that twisting around on the bed in that particular way was not a good idea. Pam noticed his expression of pain and bent over to kiss him herself, which they both privately decided was a good compromise.

When the kiss finally broke, she debated her options. One: jump Jim right then and there. Pros: it was Jim. She really, really wanted to. They were finally alone, and the nurse shouldn’t be back for at least half an hour. Cons: the nurse would be back in half an hour. Jim was literally under doctor’s orders to move his leg as little as possible, and he would definitely need to move it at least a little for what she was imagining (maybe put that last part a little on the Pro side as well, she thought). Jim had already started expressing pain before she even touched him. Two: leave for home. Pros: she wouldn’t be teasing herself with thoughts of option one. OK, she would, but she wouldn’t be teasing herself by thinking of option one while sitting next to Jim. She could get a good night’s sleep, and so could Jim. Cons: no Jim. Which was a big con all by itself, enough that she didn’t feel like listing the rest. Option three: Dazed and Confused. Pros: Jim. A callback to their friendship with added possibility of mid-movie-makeouts. A mutual favorite movie. Unlikely to cause Jim direct pain. Cons: not sex.

The action was child to the thought, and she was pulling out her video iPod before she could come up with an option four. Jim raised an eyebrow when she fished it out of her bag.

“Beesly?” He gestured at the iPod. “Did you trade my teapot away again when I wasn’t looking?”

She fought the urge to blush and grinned instead. “Wouldn’t you like to know!”

He looked at her skeptically. “Would I? Would I really, Pam?”

She smirked, imitating his normal look to make him laugh. “You know you would. You want to know everything about me.” It was wonderful to be able to say that without flinching at the subtext; without dodging its implications; without seeing Jim wince at the truth of it. Wait, scratch that last one. She caught his face with her other hand as he winced out of sheer muscle memory and looked him deep in the eyes. “And I love that about you.” She kissed him, not deeply or passionately like she had before, but softly, tenderly, and quickly, a kiss intended to remind rather than convince him of the love they shared. She grinned again. “I’m really tempted to tell you that once the bonus gifts were out of it, the teapot lost its magic. Or that when you left, I traded it back to Dwight. Or that once I had your heart, I didn’t need the pot.” She could see him getting confused, uncertain where she was going with this. “But then I realized, much as I love pranks, I could never really prank you like that, because I love you more. The teapot is sitting at my desk in reception, ready for me to use it when I come back from vacation. I bought this” she shook the iPod “when I broke up with Roy. A symbol of not waiting for him to get me things, but going out and getting them myself.” She kissed him quickly again. “After all, I was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get me the thing I wanted most.”

The smile on his face was like the sun up over Lake Scranton: bright, shining, and reflected in the waters of her eyes. Something deep inside his eyes flickered, and she wondered if he was going through the same mental list of options she had gone through a moment before. Then his eyebrow quirked up and he mimed pushing her away, asking “So I’m just a thing to you?”

“I mean, not just a thing, but….” She glanced ostentatiously down at his pants.

“BEEsly!” His voice broke, and he was red as one of Dwight’s beets, she noted proudly. Redder, even, since Dwight insisted a deep admixture of purple was necessary for a truly prize-winning beet. Wait, why was she thinking about Dwight again? Oh right, the iPod.

“So…I happen to have Dazed and Confused on here…”

“Beesly!” This time his voice was under control—too much so, it was like he’d found a register that spoke directly to her heart, as well as other parts of her. “Have I mentioned recently that I love you?”

A little part of her that she hadn’t realized was there crumbled in relief. Since he’d woken up, she’d made a point of telling him she loved him at, well not at every opportunity, but at most of them. But he hadn’t said it back. He’d clearly been OK with her being there, loving him, calling him her boyfriend, but he hadn’t actually said it back. And she’d really needed him to do it. She hadn’t wanted to ask outright, but a little bit of her had been wound up, worrying he had wanted to back away from that kind of explicit commitment. That part was finally satisfied.

“I seem to recall hearing it about a month ago.” Her voice only shook a little, and she was proud.

“That long?” Jim cocked his head as if calculating, and her heart almost stopped. “Well, then, I have about a month’s worth of saying it to make up for. So. Pamela Beesly, I love you.”

She blushed, and snuggled into his arm, the one part of him that was out of the bed. “I love you too.”