It’s strange to admit things are going so well you hardly notice how good they are, but life has been moving along for Jim and Pam this way nonetheless. 

The addition of Cece into their world a couple of years earlier than expected has been challenging, but absolutely wonderful. Jim is making more money as a salesman for Sabre than he ever had with Dunder Mifflin. And Pam, after a series of dramatic events, has finagled her way into a position that suits her: office administrator. 

Negotiated, Pam always says to him with an air of annoyance. She doesn’t like “finagled” because, regardless of how it actually came about, she doesn’t like the idea she’d been dishonest getting the job in the first place. But Jim looks at it as the greatest coup in Dunder Mifflin history and insists she be proud. She’s earned it, after all. It isn’t flashy or impressive; it isn’t “famous artist” or “top salesman” but she’s finally doing something she enjoys, and she’s good at it, to boot. 

The past several months have been a blur of firsts: experiencing the ups and downs of new parenthood together; falling in love with their new baby and each other all over again. He still occasionally wants to pinch himself that his life has turned out exactly as he’d hoped it might all those years ago, sitting at his desk, daydreaming about Pam while watching her answer the phone.

Well, almost exactly. 

He doesn’t think about it as often anymore, but there’s something he feels is still missing, though he just isn’t quite sure what that is. He isn’t sure how to find it at Dunder Mifflin, either. But that missing piece flits in and out of his mind only rarely because there simply isn’t time to worry about it. And he’s just fine with that. For now.

Meanwhile, Dwight’s new acquisition of the Scranton Business Park has been the bane of Pam’s existence over the past few weeks. Between cutting the electricity at will and relinquishing a precious (yet important) ply in the office toilet paper, he’s made everyone’s lives a bit more miserable. 

“I’m going to kill him,” Pam grits under her breath as Dwight heads out of the bullpen to presumably come up with some new money-saving venture that will ruin her day. Or maybe just ruin her plan to move the company to another location entirely. 

“I’ve been saying that for years,” Jim grins. “What happened to him being your friend?”

“He is my friend,” she retorts. “It doesn’t mean I’m not going to kill him.”

She shakes her head and looks at her computer screen. He can tell by the tiny crinkle in her brow she’s thinking hard about something. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks quietly.

She glances in the direction Dwight scampered off to, then back at Jim. Jerking her head a couple times towards the front entryway, she gets up, indicating for him to follow. He’s seen that look before, and since he’s not incredibly busy anyway, he gets up casually and obliges.

They head out into the stairwell and he’s fully prepared for her to pull him into the corner, sneak a few private moments like they do from time to time. But from the look on her face he quickly realizes that is most definitely not the reason she wanted to see him right now.

“There's no building,” she says of her alleged location scouting. “it doesn't exist.” 

“What does that mean?”

“I needed leverage, so I pulled those pictures off the internet,” she explains.

Ah. He grins a little. It was a good bluff, and he wants to tell her so. Dwight is just… not a typical opponent. He used to be an easy target, but dealing with Jim’s shenanigans over the years has built up his resistance. 

Before he can say anything, however, she continues.

“It's just... this office administrator thing, I don't wanna…” she trails off, looking at the blank wall helplessly.

“What?” 

“Fail.” He can tell she hates the word. “I don't want to fail... again.” 

“But... you didn't fail.” This doesn’t make sense to him. Even if Dwight finds out she lied about the office building, it doesn’t make any of the crap he’s rained down upon the employees her fault.

“That's what you said about art school, and that's what you said about sales,” she says, and suddenly everything is different. This isn’t about what’s happening here today. This is about something Pam has apparently been internalizing for months, years maybe. It breaks his heart that she could be thinking about herself in this way. 

“And you didn't fail those things either,” he argues. While she didn’t necessarily follow through with everything she’s tried, he’s never considered her a failure. 

Pam looks him right in the eye. “Well, I'm not an artist, and I'm not a salesman. So what would you call it?” 

Her eyes betray how heavily this has all really been weighing on her, and seeing it play out now because of some stupid Dwight nonsense makes his heart ache for her.

“Hey,” he says gently, folding her into his arms. He kisses her cheek. “Hey, hey, hey, hey. Easy, that’s my wife you’re talking about.” She shivers a bit, a familiar tell that she’s doing everything in her power not to cry, but remains silent.

“Pam, you didn’t fail at being an artist. You are an artist. Just because it doesn’t say it on your paycheck doesn’t make it any less true.” 

He doesn’t patronize, he doesn’t coddle, but he fears anything he tells her, even the truth, might come across that way. 

She inhales, exhales, trying to even out her breathing. He holds his hand against the back of her head and she pulls him in even tighter.

“As for sales, well… you may not have sold a lot of paper, but you helped sell that company. That worthless, doomed company. You did that.” 

He looks over her shoulder protectively, like a habit, for the cameras, hoping Pam can have some privacy for such a moment of vulnerability. He doesn’t see them but he does see someone he does not expect: Dwight, above them, peering through the doorway down the stairs. Their eyes meet.

“You can’t think of everything that doesn’t work out as a failure, Pam. That’s just how life works sometimes… these things make us change and grow. And as for this office administrator thing… I mean, Beesly, you were brilliant. You sold yourself to get a job you deserved, and just because Dwight is being an asshole,” he glares up at his nemesis, “it doesn’t mean you failed.” 

Jim’s glare turns into a challenge, daring Dwight to say something, to speak up and make Pam feel worse. But to Jim’s surprise, Dwight already looks properly chastened. Sad, even. As if he really hadn’t counted on this unfortunate consequence of his own actions.

“It’s gonna be okay, whatever happens,” Jim now says, ignoring the interloper. He can feel her body relax, and they sort of sway a bit in place. Suddenly Dwight is gone and they’re alone again. 

“And Pam, at least you tried. You have to give yourself more credit for that.” At least Pam has a vision for something else, something better. Something she’s good at. “It’s more than I can say for myself.”

“What do you mean?”

He isn’t sure what to tell her. But he does want to be honest. Maybe letting her in on his own struggle will help her appreciate that she isn’t the only one who feels like a failure sometimes.

“I guess… that I don’t want to work here for the rest of my life, you know?” he says. “But I haven’t really done anything about that.”

 It’s out in the open now. She pulls back to look at him, wiping the corner of her eye. “What is it you want to do?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. That’s the problem. What else can I do? What else am I qualified to do?”

She tilts her head to the side a bit, regarding him. “I didn’t know you felt this way,” she says, more surprised than anything else. “I mean… I know this isn’t the most exciting job in the world, but I can’t really say working here is ever boring. And you’re making more money now than you ever did before.”

He nods. “I know, you’re right,” he says. 

“And you get to sit next to someone who loves you a whole lot.”

He makes a so-so gesture. “I think Dwight mildly hates me, actually.”

She laughs. “Only mildly?” 

“I was being generous.”

“So what’s the problem?” she asks.

What is the problem? He isn’t unhappy here. It’s just that the idea of being at Dunder Mifflin forever isn’t any more appealing to him now than it was eight years ago. Everything about this place is just so… ordinary. And that’s not a bad thing, necessarily, he’s just always wondered what it would be like to be doing something slightly more… extraordinary.

He shakes his head that he keeps doing this to himself: wondering what something else would be like, then allowing time to pass him by year after year without doing anything about it. 

“Well, there are definitely benefits to working here. Being near you is the best part about this job, by a long shot,” he admits. “But there were times when I hated it. Really hated it. All the crap with Michael, or Dwight.” His voice drops a bit in volume. “Watching you with Roy.”

She exhales sadly. “Oh, Jim.”

“What can I say? I loved you a whole lot.”

She crinkles her brow a bit, looking slightly uncomfortable. He shifts his tone, because while he does feel restless at Dunder Mifflin from time to time, he’d be lying if he told her he regretted a day. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I like it here.” He searches for what he’s trying to get across. “It’s just… you have something else, your art. And even if you aren’t doing it full-time, it’s something that’s yours. Something you’re passionate about. I’ve never been passionate about this job, but at the same time, I don’t really know what else to do. So I feel a little bit stuck, if that makes sense.”

“I get that,” she replies. “I do.” She looks down at his chest. “I’m sorry, I got mascara on your shirt.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

She tries to pick at the stain a bit. He watches her face screw up in that cute little way it does when she’s concentrating really hard on something, and regardless of all the feelings this conversation has brought up within him, it’s easy to forget everything else when she’s near.

“Hey,” he says, stopping her hand. He pulls it down slowly, taking her other one as well, and looks into her eyes, trying to steer this conversation back around to her. He sort of feels bad for letting it become about him in the first place. “Just remember, no matter what happens, I’ll always be proud of you. And this office administrator thing? You’re great at it. It doesn’t matter what Dwight says or does.”

Her eyes fill with relief, and thankfully, that smile he lives for appears again. She’s always been his favorite part of the job anyway, and whenever he sees her smile, he feels like his job is done.

“Thanks,” she says softly. “Just for being there.”

“Always. You gonna be okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, I’ll figure something out.”

“I know you will,” he grins. “And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go watch Oscar absolutely annihilate Michael in a conversation about foreign policy.”

She laughs. “Never a dull moment, right?”

“Never.”  

Regardless of everything else, that’s definitely true. 

If anyone ever bothers asking him, Jim will say the pranks began as a way to kill time, to get through the monotony of working at Dunder Mifflin. He knows people wonder; his coworkers, the documentary crew. Why does he spend so much of his time and energy on elaborate pranks that always have the same outcome?

Pissing off Dwight is admittedly amusing. He’s such an easy target, and he does make Jim’s life more difficult than necessary on a daily basis. But that isn't the real reason. 

Pam’s laughter is the real reason he does it. 

Dwight’s predictable reaction is an added bonus, but it doesn’t bring him the same amount of joy and satisfaction as Pam’s approval does, and that’s the honest truth.

For instance: it had taken him weeks to slowly fill Dwight’s phone handset with nickels, one each day, until he’d finally removed them all last week. He felt a bit guilty about the goose egg that appeared on Dwight’s forehead, but it was the hardest he’d ever seen Pam laugh as long as they’d known each other.

Totally worth it.

Three years at this office have actually flown by, and it surprises him. This isn’t the place he’d like to see himself working in two more years, or in five more years. He’s not even really sure why. He’s good at sales, always hits his numbers. But he’s actively avoided promotion in this company more than once, for reasons he’s not entirely certain of. 

Actually, he is pretty certain what the reason is. Maybe he doesn’t want to admit it to himself because part of him knows it’s slightly pathetic to hang around year after year like this; stuck in some sort of maddening limbo in which the girl of his dreams belongs to someone else, yet is still somehow partially his. 

He’s exhausted from all of this waiting: waiting for Pam to either get married and let him off the proverbial hook, or break up with the guy and run away with him. To where, he doesn’t care. But he wouldn’t still be here if it weren’t for her, and that fact has become abundantly clear. 

He’s basically existing for their friendship nowadays, but what he really wants is more. He wants to be the one who gets to hold her and kiss her. He wants to be the person she goes home to after work, too. 

He wants to have all of that. But what he does have is the ability to make her laugh, and it will have to do for now.

It’s early at Dunder Mifflin; earlier than he would ever come in for actual work. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t here with a job to do. He’s sitting in the break room watching Steve the vending machine guy replace all the snacks with Dwight’s various personal items.

“If he reports this…” Steve says, slightly nervous.

Jim shakes his head. “He won’t. If he tries, I’ll get everything out before he can do anything.”

Steve balances the ‘Dwight K. Schrute’ nameplate in a place of prominence, then goes to shut the glass door, but Jim stops him, hearing someone come into the office. “Hang on,” he says. “I have to get one more thing.”

Steve shakes his head with a slight chuckle. “Do you people ever get anything done around here?”

Jim grins at his friend, then heads out of the break room, through the annex, into the kitchen, and peers out into the bullpen. Dwight has arrived, right on time. He’ll have to move fast before his coworker notices his missing belongings.

Pam is already at reception and catches Jim’s eye through the blinds with a slight wave. He holds up his cell phone, dialing the front desk.

“Dunder Mifflin, this is Pam,” she replies, looking right at him.

“Hey, I need your help real quick. With Dwight. Can you just say something paper-y?”

Pam’s eyes don’t leave Jim’s. “Yeah, 500 sheets in a ream. I can put you in touch with a salesperson.”

“I need you to get him away from his desk for a minute, okay? But don’t send him into the break room.”

“Absolutely, I’d be happy to help you with that. Let me transfer you.” 

“Oh, and there’s a bag of nickels in my top right desk drawer. You know, from last week? I need them.”

A huge smile spreads across her face she’s unable to hide. “Sure, I can take care of that.”

Pam hangs up the phone and stands, heading directly for Jim’s desk, where he watches her remove the bag of nickels. She then heads towards the kitchen, handing them to him, and after giving him a wink that sends a shiver up his spine, turns and heads into the bathroom. Jim quickly backs into the annex to wait and see what she comes up with. 

After a few seconds he hears a piercing scream, and Pam bursts out of the bathroom, heading back out into the bullpen.

“There’s a huge black widow spider in the ladies room!” she shrieks. “Can someone please get it?” 

Dwight, having just flung his jacket over his chair, spins around bravely. He opens his desk drawer and pulls out a set of nunchucks, and although Jim has absolutely no clue how he plans to use them on a nonexistent spider, he appreciates his dedication to the task.

Dwight disappears into the ladies’ room, and Jim acts. He quickly makes his way over to Dwight’s desk, reaches into the pocket of his jacket, and pulls out Dwight’s wallet.

Success.

Pam is standing in the bathroom doorway as a lookout but also dictating confusing instructions to Dwight on where she’d seen the deadly arachnid. Jim passes her with the wallet and winks, and she watches him go back into the break room. 

Steve places the last item, closes the door, and smirks at Jim. 

“Let me know how it all plays out,” he says. 

As he leaves the room Pam peeks inside to see what Jim has done. Her mouth opens in amazement and her smile is enormous and really, it’s enough. 

It’s enough, and the work day hasn’t even begun.

Pam climbs into the passenger seat, her eyes red around the edges. He knows exactly what saying goodbye to Michael must have been like for her, because his own goodbye had been difficult enough. 

As they pull away from the curb she sniffles and takes a deep breath, staring out the window at the planes departing as they tear across the sky towards change. He reaches over to put his hand on her thigh and she covers it with her own, but doesn’t look at him.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks softly.

“Nothing is going to be the same ever again, is it?” she says sadly, and he knows she’s right. “I don’t think I ever truly thought Michael would leave. Like… ever.”

“I know what you mean,” he agrees.

They drive for a couple of minutes as Jim navigates the car away from the airport. When she’d gotten back to the office and he told her Michael had left, forever, she made him follow her back to her car and drive her to the airport as fast as they could, so she’d be able to catch him. 

Jim can tell Michael’s departure has clearly hit Pam harder than anyone in the office, but something else seems to be bothering her, and he can’t quite put his finger on it. He knows her well enough to understand this is affecting her on some deeper level. Putting his turn signal on, he pulls over into a waiting lot.

“Pam, is there something else you’re upset about?”

“No… I’m not upset. I’m sorry, I’m just having all these feelings and reactions to all this change,” she admits. “I’m so happy for Michael, and for Holly. That they’re off starting this new life together. But for so long Dunder Mifflin was the only love of his life, and he just… left it.”

“I think we can both agree that Holly was the better choice.”

She turns to look at him. “I know this sounds silly. But it’s just scary how things can shift so suddenly, how people change. Life changes, and we all just have to move on and deal with it.”

“Change can be good, Pam.”

She nods. “It can. I guess I just never thought I’d see the day where I’d have to admit I’m going to actually miss Michael.”

He squeezes her hand. The thought of coming in to work tomorrow and not seeing Michael Scott feels wrong somehow to him, too. 

She sniffles and wipes a tear. “I’m sorry, I’m acting a little crazy.”

“It’s gonna be okay,” he consoles her. “And you’re not crazy, you’re just… emotional. It’s completely understandable.”

She turns to him, and blurts her next sentence without any preamble. “I’m pregnant, Jim.”

He blinks, shocked at the abrupt change in topic. “You’re... what?”

“I mean… I think I am. I took a test this morning.”

This isn’t entirely unexpected; not long ago they’d made the decision for Pam to go off her birth control to ‘see what happens.’ 

“Oh my god, Pam!” he smiles, pulling her into a huge hug. 

“I think it explains all… this,” she says after he releases her, gesturing to the tears streaming down her face.

He laughs. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?” He’s not mad, just curious.

She blinks. “Well, I was trying to come up with some cute way to tell you but now that’s ruined, too.” Her face crumples up and she starts crying again.

He knows she isn’t really upset, so he chuckles and pulls her into another hug. “Well, this way was definitely memorable, if it makes you feel any better,” he laughs into her ear.

“Good.”

“I just… this is incredible news, Pam,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good, I just… can’t stop crying, apparently,” she smiles. “I’ll be fine. Let’s go home, okay? It’s after five. And the boss is gone.”

He nods, giving her a tight smile, and settles back into his seat with a huge sigh. Number two already. He can hardly believe it.

“So… can we name this one Michael Scott?” she asks.

“Still not funny.” 

She smiles, to his very great relief, and turns to look out the window again wistfully. 

“Do you think he’s asked the flight attendant for slippers yet?”

Jim laughs. “At least twice,” he says, and pulls out of the parking lot towards even more change.