Jim, for his part, didn't feel rejected by Pam's curt refusal of his offer of a drink. There were no hidden overtures to the gesture. He had simply offered and she had simply refused. He didn't need to see the dark purple circles under her eyes or the lightning of her complexion to note that she was tired. He also thought she might possibly be feeling unwell.

He only hoped it was the kind of sickness a lady got in the afternoon, perhaps after a dodgy burrito or something. Definitely he hoped not anything that would make her sick in the morning or anything that might have lifelong repercussions.

She was his friend. His best friend. No question about that. He wanted her to be happy. She knew she could talk to him, he didn't need to tell her that, although he almost had. He thought, feeling rather small, that the next forty to fifty years as Mrs Roy Anderson was something Pam herself might be feeling a little sick over. Roy? The guy who left her behind at a game because he forgot she was there? The guy who, three years after he proposed still hadn't set a date for their wedding?

It was all conjecture on his part of course. And yes, a probable amount of wishing too.

He drove home, deep in his thoughts. As he was settling down in the armchair in his lounge, his eye caught the yellow and red box coveting his gift for his niece he still had to wrap. He grinned devilishly, an idea forming. Tomorrow was another day after all.

His good humour returned with the gleam of mischief in his near future. He was looking forward to work in the morning.

After all, he thought Pam would like this one.

Plan in motion, he whistled as he set off to his room to set his alarm early for the next day.

-TO-

She couldn't remember the name of the restaurant. Roy had picked it out because he said it was quiet and she had liked it there before. Pam couldn't remember ever being in this particular restaurant before, but Roy insisted they visited some time ago. It was a nice place, she agreed with him.

She'd worried him, when he had come home and found her lying on the couch limply like that. He'd asked her tentatively if there was anything wrong, or if she needed anything. Feigning cramps, she had winced and shook her head, apologising to him.

Roy had clapped his hands together and told her about the reservation. At his suggestion, she'd gone to clean up her face and put on something nicer than that old shirt and cardigan she wore. She complied, slipping a simple long sleeved black dressed over her head and reapplying make up to her ruined face.

They were tucked away in a corner of the restaurant. Roy ate with gusto, clearing his plate far too fast for Pam's liking. She was only a third of the way through her pasta, and the cream sauce was sticking to her throat as it was.

She would have to put away a little more before they left, sick as it might make her. Roy was paying the bill tonight.

"Cramps?"

She looked up, twirling her fork in the pasta. Roy raised his eyebrows at her. She forced down another mouthful and gave him a wan smile.

"Yeah."

"Oh." He leaned back in his chair. "Where's the waiter? I want the dessert menu." Waving his hand, he signalled the waiter over. When Roy was comfortably perusing the options for afters, Pam quickly motioned for her plate to be taken away, with an apologetic shake of her head to the server. Truth being told, she wanted to go home. She was inexplicably tired and the hard wooden chair she was sitting in had a strong, inflexible back rest that was playing on her muscles. Roy, for once, had no complaints.

"I said, what do you want for dessert?" he huffed impatiently, with the air of someone repeating themselves to an errant child who just doesn't listen.

"Oh, I've had enough tonight." She replied casually as she could and after a pause, added "I'm pretty tired." To compound her point she yawned wearily and covered her mouth.

Roy snorted loudly. "Right, you've had enough. I don't want you looking like one of those this is us girls." He eyed her up and down critically. Pam felt her face flush and she lowered her eyes. She was so tired. She never used to feel so tired. She doubted she could even count to ten correctly this evening. Thank goodness Roy was handling the cheque.

"Pam?" Roy started again. She looked back at him wearily, seeing the tightening of the lines around his jaw and the deepening of the creases in his forehead as his facial muscles started to work. He sighed loudly, aggressively.

"I've been at work all day. The least you can do is be interesting company, Pam." Roy frowned at her.

"I'm sorry. I'm just really beat." she tried to soothe him in her best imitation of his mom's smooth as chocolate voice. Roy was constantly complaining about his mom, but he never talked back to her.

"Ah, screw it." He flipped the menu on to the table with attitude. "Let's go."

A little unnerved by his sudden mood swing but also relieved he wanted to go, Pam waited while he handled the cheque and stood up when he did. She glanced at the waiter apologetically again, noting with shame the meagre tip Roy had left.

The ride home was quiet and Pam sunk wearily into herself, half dozing in the passenger seat. She was hoping to go to bed right away when home. Feigning cramps had the added bonus that he would probably leave her alone tonight and not bother her once she had gone to sleep. Not that she didn't enjoy sex with Roy. She did. They were compatible in that way. But lately a quiet apathy had stolen over her whenever Roy wanted her. And tonight, she had serious doubts she could make it up the stairs fully awake let alone put on any kind of effort for Roy, real or feigned. Her thoughts ran together in the shapeshifting dream like sequences of the sleep deprived and she started to drift off.

"Hey!" Roy burst out suddenly, startling her greatly. "Isn't that Halpert's car?" He snaked out his right arm and poked her in the side sharply to make her move. He looked at her expectantly.

"What? Oh, no it wasn't." She replied, following the direction his finger was waggling in and seeing the black saab up ahead. "I mean, I don't think so." she amended quickly, seeing a familiar suspicious expression fixed on Roy's face.

Silence again. As they drove up the driveway and parked up, Roy looked at Pam, not speaking. She opened the car door and looked back.

"Thanks for dinner?" She said tentatively, looking at the burly man still gripping the steering wheel. After a pause, they climbed out of the car. Pam hurried to get the door open.

"Pam?" Roy called from behind her. She turned around, key in hand.

"Yes?"

"Shut up." he said irritably and marched past her to the door.