"I don't think you'll need stitches." Pam said, dabbing the alcoholic wipe over the cut on Jim's lip. "Sorry if it stings." Jim shrugged; there were things that hurt worse. Like when Pam and Roy had made out in front of him in the warehouse just hours earlier. Her hands her warm against his chin as she held it still, applying the bandage in place.

"At least I'll have a good story when girls ask me about the scar on my chin." He laughed, looking at his reflection in her compact mirror. Pam laughed, rolling her eyes.

"Oh really and what will that be?" She began to pack up the first aid kit, making a note to order more Polysporin. She felt bad that Roy had acted so rough and that Jim had been the target. Roy never knew his own strength. There had been more than one time that he'd thrown his weight around and she'd been on the receiving end. He was always super apologetic afterwards but Pam wondered how he just never seemed to remember.

"That I hit my chin on the basket, naturally." Jim said. Pam laughed out loud, putting her hand to her mouth. Jim was the only thing that made this horrible job worth it. If it wasn't for the pranks he pulled on Dwight and the way he helped her get through horrible days with Michael she probably wouldn't have made it three years.

"At least you weren't wearing your dress shirt." Pam said, motioning to the drops of blood that had dried onto his t-shirt. "I can get that out for you." She said, brushing her fingers over the spots. Jim felt her warm fingers against his skin through the t-shirt. "I have this magic tide pen, it totally takes out blood." Jim nodded, standing up to pull the t-shirt off. Pam's eyes widened. She hadn't meant for him to give it to her now, but she remained quiet, trying to avoid looking at his bare chest as she pulled his dress shirt on. His stomach was flat, and smooth, a small covering of hair over his chest, and of course a trail between his navel and into his pants.

"Are you staring at me, Beesly?" He teased, as he slipped his tie over his head. Pam rolled her eyes, pretending to look annoyed by his question but she didn't answer him. Lying was not a forte of Pam's, even when she wished it was.

"I have to bring this back to Dwight..." She said, holding up the kit. He nodded, leaning against the counter in the break room. "I'll bring this in tomorrow." She said, holding up his bloody shirt.

"You don't have to wash it, Pam. I can do my own laundry." He said smiling at her. She smiled and nodded.

"I know, but you don't have a magic Tide pen, do you?" She gave him a cheeky smile and left the kitchen. Handing Dwight back the first aid kit, telling him they needed more Polysporin. Let him deal with it. He was the first aid Nazi. The rest of the day went by fairly quickly, and before Pam knew it Roy was there, waiting to drive home.

That night after supper Pam slipped down into the basement, rubbing her magic Tide pen onto Jim's shirt. After she had succeeded in getting all of the blood out she picked it up to throw it in the wash and as she did a faint waft of his cologne still hung on the t-shirt. She held it in her hands for a moment, breathing in the comforting smell of Old Spice cologne - the kind she knew Jim used. Shaking her head she threw the shirt in the washer, with the rest of her clothing and went back upstairs where Roy was watching the baseball game.