I do not own The Office: U.S. Version.
I've watched it enough though.
Free For Dinner
"Where are we going?"
"I can't tell you. It's a surprise."
She felt him side-eyeing her.
"Oh god. Are we going to back to Shrute Farms again?"
She grinned.
Very good, Halpert. I see you're learning."
"Yes, actually."
Mild disbelief.
"Really?"
She patted his hand.
"Yep."
Dropped her voice seductively.
"And this time . . . we're reading The Goblet of Fire."
"Okay. Now I know you're lying."
She grinned.
"Do you now?"
And then Pamela Morgan Beesley confidently and decisively turned south.
And drove them right out of the state.
"No way, Pam. Really?"
"Yep."
It had taken almost five hours.
Several bathroom breaks.
And several futile attempts at . . .
"Florida?"
"Nope."
"Guam?"
"Nope."
"Bora Bora."
"Nope. You're terrible at this, Halpert."
. . . guessing their destination.
Much enjoyable small talk.
"Oh my gosh, can you believe Oscar-'"
"Uh-uh-uh, no work talk."
Soft, sappy lingering gazes.
"You're beautiful today, did I tell you that?"
"No. Thank you. But I'm still not telling."
Except for the determined, tight lipped, furrowed brow of concentration era whilst navigating the streets of . . .
"You okay, Beesley?"
"Yep. Now shhh and let me concentrate."
. . . unfamiliar Baltimore.
And continuing . . .
"Come on, Beesley, this is killing me. Where are we going?"
. . . straight on through.
"Nope."
For another . . .
"Confess, is it the moon? Are we going to the moon?"
"Yes. You got it. We're going to the moon in a Toyota Corolla."
. . . hour.
And now, finally, finally arriving . . .
"What-"
"Ta-da, our final destination. Well, not Final final but . . . we're here."
. . . where Pam had been secretly planning to whisk her boyfriend off to for the last week and a half.
His grin was astonished.
"No way, Pam. Really?"
"Yep. Unless you're not interested."
But Jim . . .
"No way, I'm not missing this!"
. . . was already out of the car.
He did remember her of course.
He didn't just run off like it was a hockey game or something.
Not that he ever would.
And Assertive Pam doesn't put up with that behavior.
Not anymore.
In fact, he held out his hand.
"How did you ever think of this, Beesley?"
And she took it.
"Oh, you know me, Halpert. I'm an adventurer."
And they walked in . . .
Well, getting there anyway.
. . . together.
Bethesda Crab House.
Home of the World's Best Blue Soft Shell Crab.
So some of the Yelp reviews said, anyway.
And she'd decided . . .
"Have you ever been here before?"
"Nope. You ready?"
"Yeah."
. . . to take a chance.
There was a wait. That was okay.
Any kind of wait was easier . . .
". . . cuddly, aren't you, Halpert?"
"Yep. Just that kind of guy."
. . . with Jim Halpert by her side.
And now they sat outside, on the big, red Bethesda barn-like out door dining porch.
A bench of their own.
Among the rows and rows of casually table-clothed benches.
Cloudy Maryland skies above them.
And . . .
"Oh my gosh, Pam . . ."
. . . a veritable cornucopia of freshly caught and cooked seafood fare . . .
". . . so good!"
. . . spread out before them.
Oysters on the half shell.
Corn on the cob.
Hushpuppies.
Coleslaw.
Tarter sauce.
Butter.
House-brewed beer.
And, of course, . . .
". . . some, here . . ."
. . . crab.
More specifically, New England blue soft shell crab.
Marinated in salted buttermilk.
Dredged in flour.
Fried in clarified butter.
And summarily devoured by one . . .
" . . . gooood . . ."
. . . Jim Halpert.
As he finally slowed, somewhere amid the growing piles of demolished seafood shards . . .
"Pam, thank you so much for this. New England soft shelled blue crab is my absolute favorite food."
I noticed.
And Pam . . .
"Well, I figured I had to make up for the Shrute Beet Farms Get Away."
. . . shrugged happily.
He reached over and kissed her, smiling lips pressing briefly to her forehead.
"No, you never have to make up for anything with me. Not ever."
Brief pause.
"But yeah, you have to make up for Mose on the outdoor toilet."
Pam surveyed their destruction.
"Well, up for dessert?"
Jim blinked heavily.
"I don't think I can."
"They've got key lime pie."
"Where's the waitress?"
The Oaks Bed and Breakfast provided them with their romantic getaway guest room.
Which Jim, stuffed full of crustacean and key lime, immediately took the opportunity . . .
". . . just for a minute, ooh, and I think all that food just settled . . ."
. . . to pass straight out in.
And Pam . . .
Well, I stuffed him full of crab.
. . . contented herself with snuggling . . .
I just had no idea he would eat so much.
. . . up next to him.
Until he woke a few hours later.
"Pam . . ."
Hungry once more.
"Jim . . ."
This time for her.
The Pike and Rose . . .
"-cool!"
. . . was pretty enjoyable . . .
"We should be getting on the road, don't you think?"
. . . as well.
"Naw. Scranton can wait. Come on."