Jim Halpert has rarely been rendered speechless, but today is one of those days. 

Pregnant. 

Pam is pregnant. 

“Send in the subs,” he tells Dwight over the phone. Volleyball is the last thing on his mind right now. Ten seconds ago, everything changed. 

Now he’s going to be a father.

He glances at the cameraman, Will, not quite knowing what to say. He's been present in Jim's life since the beginning of the documentary, and while Jim wouldn't necessarily consider him a close friend, he's sort of become one by default. This is the kind of news worth celebrating, but from the looks on every crew member’s face, he knows they understand as he leaves them all behind to go back into the examination room. Now is the time to be with Pam; to celebrate this wonderful —albeit unexpected —milestone in their lives.

The crew hangs back, and Jim promptly forgets about them as he pulls her into an embrace. “Oh my god,” he whispers into her ear as the doctor leaves to give them some privacy. “I don’t believe this. How far along is it?”

“Four weeks. We’re supposed to come back in two weeks for an ultrasound.”

He pulls back, holds her by her shoulders. “Who should we tell? I mean, who can we tell?”

“The doctor said it’s pretty safe to let people know after twelve weeks, so… maybe we should just keep it between us for now?”

Jim nods. He feels like his smile might rip his face in half. “And them, I guess…?” he says, gesturing at the cameras out the window.

Pam waves them away. He’s continually impressed by her ability to ignore the cameras when she feels like it; he’s almost constantly aware of their presence. “They’ll be discreet,” she says, and he knows she’s right. 

“What about you, how do you feel about all this?”

“I mean… it’s a little ahead of schedule, but I feel good.” She eyes him. “You?”

It’s most definitely ahead of schedule, but not entirely unwelcome. Their timing has been so historically bad over the years, this feels somewhat appropriate, in a weird way. He’s nervous and terrified and exhilarated and frazzled but above all else, he’s happy. He and Pam are going to have a baby. A baby.

“I’m great,” he says. “I’m excited.”

She looks relieved, and he suspects she’d been slightly worried he might freak out after the initial shock wore off. He wants to make sure she’s aware he’s obviously all in, so he puts both hands on either side of her face, anchoring them within this moment, and leans in to kiss her. When he pulls away, now she is grinning from ear to ear.

“So, two weeks? Did you make an appointment?” he asks.

She glances over his shoulder at the cameras. “I’ll make it after they leave,” she whispers.

Maybe she doesn’t always forget about them after all. 

***

It’s difficult hiding their secret over the next couple of weeks. They can’t seem to stop smiling at each other, and while their overt glances have always annoyed their fellow office mates, Jim’s starting to wonder if some of them are actually on to them this time. Dwight has been eyeing Pam suspiciously across his desk, and it might seem crazy, but… it’s possible that he senses something? He’s made no secret of the fact that he keeps track of the female office employees’ menstrual cycles, and the guy never shuts up about his farm animals when they’re in heat, or pregnant, or anything approaching pregnant.

They’re back in the doctor’s office today, Pam on the exam table, Jim seated next to her. He reaches out to hold her hand, and she takes a deep breath.

“Big moment,” she says. “Are you ready for this?”

“Yeah. Are you?” 

He can tell she’s been nervous today, probably because she’s been Googling way too much about all the things that could possibly go wrong. It’s not like her to be overly anxious, but he’s starting to suspect that the camera crew’s awareness of her pregnancy has put more pressure on these early weeks.

“Yeah, I’m excited,” she says. “I’m just trying to think positive thoughts.”

“Everything’s going to be okay, Pam,” he says. He squeezes her hand and she nods.

“What about you, are you nervous?”

“About the sonogram?”

“No,” she says. “About being a parent.”

He exhales loudly. “I mean… yeah,” he admits. “This is the most important thing either of us are going to do, like... ever. No pressure or anything,” he adds with a smile.

Her mouth forms into a thin line and she nods. “Yeah,” she says in a bit of a daze. “Yeah.” Her eyes dart around the room nervously.

The doctor comes in and asks Pam what Jim assumes are all the standard questions. It’s weird; it’s like he feels more grown up than he should. He’s listening to everything the doctor is saying but his brain is in overdrive, trying to tick off all the things they will need to do before the baby comes, how much time they have. And the wedding, too; there’s no way he’d want to make Pam wait any longer for that.

But suddenly, a sound fills his ears that snaps him completely out of it. 

Blip. Blip. Blip.

He feels Pam squeeze his hand and her eyes tear up at the persistent thud of their baby’s heartbeat, filling the room with hope and wonder and a love much bigger than such a tiny sound ought to contain.

“Would you want to have kids someday?”

It’s date number two. Two. They’re at the only putt-putt course in Scranton, the same one they’d been to before with the Dunder Mifflin gang a few years back. 

Pam asks the question casually, as if he hasn’t pictured having kids with her for years. As if any child he’d ever had the presence of mind to imagine hadn’t been a perfect amalgamation of the two of them, together.

“Sure,” he answers with a shrug as he bends over to take his shot. “You?”

She nods. “Oh, definitely.” She pauses for a second to let him putt his ball, which bounces off a large Egyptian pyramid and misses the hole by about two inches. “How many kids would you want?”

He grins, amazed that he’s actually having this conversation with Pam his girlfriend, rather than just Pam his friend. The difference is palpable and yet it feels oddly similar to the way it always has. Maybe that’s the point, he decides.

“I haven’t thought about it, really.” 

It isn’t true; he wants two kids, one of each. It’s a boring fucking answer and he’d rather not be boring on their second date.

“I think I’d want two,” she says, beating him to the punch. He finds it adorable that she’s speaking about this hypothetically. She’s most definitely feeling him out, that old cautious Pam still in there somewhere, and doesn’t want to send him running for the hills. 

She sets her pink ball down on the rubber starting plate. “I think siblings are really important.”

He grins. “Yeah, me too.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. You know, I have three. But I think two is a perfect number,” he says with a definitive air. He’s as serious about her as anything, and she might as well know it.

She smiles with visible relief, then hits her ball down the miniature fairway. It doesn’t quite reach the green.

“Crap,” she says. “That was embarrassing.”

He comes up close to her, leaning down to speak into her ear softly. “Four worst words in golf: it’s still your turn,” he whispers.

She stiffens a bit at his proximity, and he’s enjoying this all so much; it’s exactly what he’d imagined dating her would be like. The nervousness still exists beyond any of their prior declarations, beyond any of their expectations.

“I suck.”

“You don’t suck,” he tells her. “You’re just a little… competitive.” He grins, recalling the tiny pencil he’d put into her teapot Christmas gift, the one she’d thrown at him last time when he’d beaten her by a single stroke. 

He takes her by the hand and leads her over to her ball to give it another go. 

“Do you mind?” he asks, moving behind her. She shakes her head and he wraps his arms around her torso, covering her hands on the grip of the club with his own. She’s the perfect height, fitting comfortably beneath his chin, and he can’t help but breathe in the scent of her hair. 

“Nice move,” she smirks.

“I’m just teaching you how to swing, Beesly,” he insists. “Not my fault the method is incredibly romantic.”

“It’s a little bit your fault, though.” 

He practice-swings the club gently, a few more times than necessary, just enjoying being able to do this at all. He moves his face right next to hers, his lips ever so slightly brushing against her cheek.

“The trick is the follow through,” he says, showing her. “Don’t stop the club once you’ve hit the ball. You’ve gotta keep going.” 

“Ah. I see.” She twists her head a bit, giving him the opportunity to kiss her; gently at first, then as eagerly as their very public situation will allow.

*ahem*

They both turn to see a somewhat bedraggled father behind them, clearing his throat, waiting with two small kids who are pointing at them and giggling. Jim can feel Pam chuckle a bit, see a blush form on her cheeks. 

“Sorry,” he calls out to the little family, even though he’s not really sorry at all.

He laces his fingers through hers to hit the ball for real, and they watch it sail directly into the hole.

“See?” he says, letting her go and stepping back. “Follow through.”

“That must have been it,” she says, rolling her eyes.

Jim steps over to his own blue ball, tapping it into the hole, and it lands on top of hers with a quiet clack. He leans over and retrieves them both, then takes her by the hand.

“Why don’t we let them play through,” he suggests, and they walk over to a nearby bench to fill out their score cards. 

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes, watching the father attempt to wrangle his kids while they hit their balls haphazardly around the course. Pam loops her arm through his and gently rests her head against his shoulder.

“Do you think I’ll be a good mom?”

“Of course,” he says instantly, her switch from the hypothetical not going unnoticed. “I mean, you already are, sort of. To Michael.”

She laughs. “I’m serious, though. I don’t have much experience with kids.”

The idea that Pam wouldn’t be a good parent had never crossed his mind, even for an instant. She has all of the qualities that would make a great mother as far as he’s concerned: patience, kindness, tolerance. 

“I don’t think experience is what makes you a good parent,” he says. “I think it’s your heart. Your dedication. That you’re a good person. And you’ve got all of that in spades.”

Pam sighs contentedly on his shoulder, and takes one of his hands in hers, tracing its outline idly, holding her hand against his. He leans over to kiss the top of her head, and it’s another first for them. It comes so naturally he feels like they’ve been dating for years, not mere days.

One of the children, a little boy, finally hits his ball in the hole and cheers wildly. The father gives him a high five and the kid positively beams. As they pass Jim and Pam to go to the next hole, the dad nods at them, and Jim nods back.

“I think you’ll be a great dad,” she offers. “I was very impressed when we did Take Your Daughter to Work Day a couple years ago.”

“With Dwight’s guitar skills? Me too, actually.”

“I'm serious,” she laughs. “You seemed like a natural.”

“Thanks,” he says, actually delighted by the compliment. “And since I have nieces and nephews, I don’t necessarily have to have any of those other qualities. So between the two of us, I think we’re all set.”

The words are out of his mouth before he realizes he's no longer speaking hypothetically, either. He wants to stop second guessing himself in regard to the way they feel about each other and their future, but the last thing he wants to do is scare her off by being too forward about this stuff way too soon. Luckily, she simply continues rubbing his hand with her thumb comfortably. 

“You have a lot of those qualities, Jim Halpert,” she says softly. He hadn’t been fishing for the compliment, which makes it all the more sweet. “And maybe one of your nieces or nephews will like me.” 

“They’ll love you.” 

She snuggles into him a little closer, and they sit in the midst of a cozy, comfortable silence as they wait their turn. After a while, they notice the family has either finished playing or given up, moving on to the next hole. Jim stands and takes her hand, each time he does so feeling better than the last. He’s still amazed that he’s allowed to do this with her at all.

“So, were you much of a mini-golfer as a kid?” he teases. 

“My dad took me and my sister sometimes. I always won, but I have a feeling he always let me. Penny never cared. She just came to look for boys.”

He laughs. “On the putt-putt course? Did she ever find any?”

“Very infrequently.”

They laugh, and Jim leans down to place her ball. She bends over and very cutely shimmies a bit, taking a practice swing. “I think I need your help again, Jim.”

“Oh?”

“Definitely.”

Butterflies flap wildly in his stomach as he steps over and puts his arms around her once more. He wasn’t sure they could top their first date, but he has a sneaking suspicion their lives are going to continue to get better with every passing day. 

They are quiet for a second, both just enjoying the closeness of him holding her this way, then finally they take her shot. The ball goes up a ramp, between the slats of a spinning windmill, and down a pipe, plopping right into the hole.

“Nice one, Beesly,” he congratulates her. She tries to hide it, but he can tell she’s secretly thrilled. 

“What about you, do you have like… a favorite childhood memory?” she asks. 

Jim thinks for a minute. “Well, when I was eight, there was this special anniversary event for the Blue Angels, and my dad took me. They unveiled the F/A-18 Hornet and I got to meet the pilots. It was awesome.” 

“Wow,” she says. “I don’t know what any of that is, but it sounds... really cool.” 

He chuckles, loving every second of this. It’s not as if they haven’t had a million conversations before about their lives over the years, but now they’ve already had a discussion about kids. It's like there are no topics that are off limits anymore, and the feeling is incredible.

He bends down to place his ball, but before he can hit it, she steps over to him and pulls him in for a real kiss, effectively eliminating every other concern from his mind. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and the floor feels like it’s shaking. Pam’s kiss puts the Blue Angels to absolute shame.

She pulls away from him after a moment and slowly opens her eyes.

“Wow,” he says, almost breathless. “What was that for?”

She shrugs. “Just wanted to. Your swing.”

He shakes off his butterflies and leans down to hit. His knees are still a little wobbly. The ball whooshes up the ramp and past the windmill, but stops a foot short of the hole.

She leans in to whisper into his ear. “Four worst words in golf, Jim,” she grins wickedly. “It’s still your turn.”

It’s hot out as they walk back to the car, Pam clutching the first photograph of their new baby in her between her fingers. He holds her other hand, every step like he’s walking on air, or walking on the moon. 

“I didn’t realize they could trace it back to practically the day,” he laughs. “What do you think we were up to that night?”

“I know exactly what we were up to that night,” she says, squeezing his hand. “That was the night Michael sold the company. We were… celebrating.”

“Oh yeah,” he says, sharing a cocky grin with her. He remembers that night. There had hardly been a room in the house they hadn’t defiled.

They walk for a bit, rightly impressed with themselves. “So how do you think it happened? Was that when you were switching your birth control?”

She sighs. “I think so.”

They’d both known there was a slight risk as her body was adjusting to the new medication, but they couldn’t help themselves. And Pam had been so raring to go, the last thing on his mind at the time was rushing out to the pharmacy for condoms ‘just in case.’ 

As for the wedding, the planning had ramped up rather quickly over the past couple of weeks. So quickly, in fact, that he’d be surprised if Pam’s parents didn’t suspect something was up. They’ve been dealing with their separation, however, so he thinks it possible this sort of thing is not necessarily at the forefront of their minds.

“I’m excited to tell your parents,” he says. “They could both use some good news.”

She stops at the car door, a sort of horrified look coming over her face. “It just occurred to me that when I tell them, they’re going to absolutely know for sure we’re having sex.”

“Pam, we live together. In a house that we pay for. Together. I think the jig is up.”

“I know, it’s just… weird. At least before we had plausible deniability.”

They get into the car and he turns on the ignition. The air conditioning blasts loudly, and he turns it down. “You really think they might have a problem with this?”

“Well, they won’t,” she says. “But… some of my family can be a bit traditional. My grandma is going to lose her mind if she finds out you impregnated me before we were married.”

“That sounds so romantic.”

“Proud of yourself, there, stud?” she winks.

“Kind of,” he responds. “It’s hard to explain, but there really is some kind of weird satisfaction about having knocked you up.”

“Good job,” she laughs. She holds her hand up for a high five, which he delivers.

She settles back into the passenger seat and looks down at the sonogram. “Wow,” she says softly. “In just a few months everything is gonna change.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. And then suddenly, as if it’s waited two weeks to materialize, the reality of their situation slaps him in the face, hard. He grips the steering wheel, his vision starts to blur, and he breaks out into a cold sweat, breathing heavily.

“Jim? Are you okay?” Pam asks, noticing his strange behavior.

He nods, trying his best to push through this so as to not upset her.

“I’m good, I’m good,” he says, exhaling. It’s not going away, and he thinks he might be having an actual panic attack. “I’m good.”

“You’re not good, you’re sweating,” she says, and she can hear genuine concern in her voice. She lays her hand across his chest. “Jim, your heart is pounding.”

He reaches up to cover her hand, trying to control his breathing. 

“Breathe,” she says, and he remembers what she’d once said about these kinds of situations in the past: that when one half of a couple starts to panic, the other half becomes surprisingly calm. Maybe because they have to.

Luckily, her touch, as usual, has its predictable soothing effect on him, and after a few seconds he can feel his heart rate slowing beneath her fingers, his breathing evening out.

“I’m okay,” he says. He inhales, then exhales, and Pam keeps her hand against his heart as they ride it out.

“Baby, what is it?” she asks after he’s calmed down.

“I think… I don’t know, I was just having a moment. I'm okay now, I promise."

She eyes him a bit skeptically, but he squeezes her hand to reassure her. 

"Tell me."  

He takes a deep breath. "You’re right, that everything is going to change, and yet… for me, things are still exactly the same.”

“What do you mean?”

What does he mean? What the hell has he been doing? He’s watched Pam over the past two years attempt to take control of her future, twice, and he’s just been sitting at Dunder Mifflin selling paper. And now they’re going to have a family to support.

“I mean… I think it’s time I do something about my future,” he says. 

He’s been wondering for a while what his next move will be, and he hasn’t quite figured anything out. This job is what he knows, and while he’s not passionate about it, he is good at it. But the thought of supporting a family has seemed to light a fire beneath him. “I can’t just keep… doing this forever, can I?”

“Well, what is it you’re thinking?” she asks. 

Maybe it’s time he finally goes after a promotion, for real. He’s avoided them in the past, all because he’s refused to admit to himself that working at Dunder Mifflin has become his career. But facts are facts. He’s been there for seven years, and never once moved up, when he knows he’s fully capable.

If this were my career, I’d have to throw myself in front of a train.

Even though he’d said it to the cameras half in jest, he’d said it knowing he has no real plans. It’s time to make a decision. He needs to shit or get off the pot, so to speak. He’s tired of drowning in professional stagnation.

“I think… I should see how far I can go in this company,” he says slowly, as if this is a much harder decision than it should be. He turns to look at her. “Maybe it’s time that I follow through.”

Pam sets the sonogram picture on the dash so she can take his hand with both of hers. “Jim, you can do anything you want to do,” she says. “You can do whatever makes you happy. And I’ll be right here, loving you no matter what.”

He turns to her, not thinking it possible for anyone to be as lucky as he is to have someone like her in his life. 

“We’re going to be parents soon,” she continues. “And I know you’re going to be great at that, no matter where you’re working or what else you’re doing.”

He brings her hands up to his lips and kisses them. He takes a final deep breath, the panic attack or whatever it was now completely gone.

“Thank you.” 

She grins at him, looking immeasurably happy and, if he dares to say it, proud of him. He wants her to be proud of him. He wants to do the best he can to support her and their new little family.

So he makes a decision right now, while looking into her eyes, to do something about his professional future.