See, here's the thing about grape soda: I never really liked it in the first place. I know, I know that contradicts everything you ever thought you knew about me right? But let me just explain.

I mean, sure, it's all right every once in awhile when you're in the mood for something super sugary and sort of falsely-fruity flavored, but personally I think normal people usually stop drinking grape soda right around the time they start ordering extra shots in their coffee.

So, there. I admitted it. I've never really liked grape soda.

What I did like was the way Pam used to flip the little tab thingy on the top of the can back and forth while she teased me about my childlike taste buds. And what I loved was the way she'd try to steal sips from my can when she thought I wasn't looking.

But I guess that's getting ahead of myself a little bit. So let me tell you how it all began...

"Hey," he said softly.

"Oh. Hey, Jim," she responded, not looking over.

"So what are you doing up here? You know the party's down in the warehouse, right?" he said jokingly.

"I know, I'm coming, I just... Roy just..." she paused, giving him enough time to cross over to her and get a better look at her face.

"Hey, what is it? Did he hurt you?"

"No. No, never mind, it's stupid. I don't really want to talk about it," she said firmly.

"Okay." He paused for a minute, trying to figure out what to say next. He didn't really know her that well, but he could tell that something was really bothering her. If they knew each other better he probably would have pressed her more because it looked like she really needed to talk, but as it was, he didn't feel like he should pry. Instead he changed the subject. "So...what did you think of your first week? Should we start looking for a replacement yet?"

"Oh, um... I don't know. It actually wasn't that bad. I mean, Phyllis seems nice and, um... Toby's really sweet."

"Uh-huh. Toby's great."

"And I guess it's nice that Roy and I are working in the same place now, you know? We used to hardly ever see each other except at night."

"Oh, right, yeah. That must be nice."

"Yeah," she said, though from her tone, it sounded more like she was trying to convince herself that it really was nice to be around her fiancé more often. Jim wasn’t sure if he should be reading that much into it, all he knew was that clearly it was going to take more than just some polite chit-chat to cheer her up.

"So Pam, I think in all the excitement this week, I might not have remembered to introduce you to the high-class cuisine that is available right here in our break room."

"Oh really?" she asked, the skeptical look on her face unable to hide the fact that she was quickly perking up. "So what's on today's menu?" she asked with a glimmer of amusement in her voice, clearly preferring to joke with him, instead of talking about whatever had happened.

"Well... let me just check with the chef," Jim turned to the fridge and quickly surveyed its contents. "Yes? Yes? Well, okay then." he said into the fridge. He turned back to Pam, "He would like to recommend that you start yourself off with one of our classic appetizers: unclaimed yogurt with a perfectly reasonable expiration date, followed by a light salad consisting entirely of carrot sticks," Jim paused and his eyes widened dramatically, he stopped short of actually putting his hand over his mouth, but the gesture was implied by his tone as he continued, "Wait, wait, please forget that I just told you that, I wouldn't want our competition to find out the secret recipe." Pam giggled and he found himself a little transfixed by the way her eyes were beginning to light up. He'd only known her a week, but he honestly couldn't fathom how any man could be around this girl and not want to do everything in his power to make her laugh. "And finally," he continued, "since you are a first-time guest at Chez Miff, we are prepared to offer you a free entree, one of our most beloved and renowned dishes: half of a ham and cheese sandwich."

"Wow. Well, with an offer like that..."

"But wait, madam, I haven't even shown you the best part. Here at Chez Miff we are very proud of our vintage Italian wine collection--some of these bottles have been here for over two years! And we use only the finest grapes, from the finest vineyards." By this time Pam was giggling uncontrollably, but Jim tried his best to keep a straight face as he continued his bit, dramatically inserting some change into the machine and pulling out a can of grape soda--the closest thing to wine that the vending machine offered.

"So? What will it be madam?"

"Hm..." Pam couldn't help but grin as she pretended to ponder the question for a minute. "I think I'd like the house yogurt, and... yes, salad sounds good, but not too heavy on the carrots." Jim nodded seriously. "And of course, ham and cheese with whichever of your famed Italian wines you think would complement it best."

"Excellent choices, I will inform the chef and your meal will be here shortly," Jim concluded. Pam just looked at him and laughed.

So that was the beginning of the whole grape soda thing, and for quite awhile after that we would still call it Italian wine, but then one day it became inescapably connected with a very different kind of memory...

So where was I? Oh, right, Italian wine. The funny thing is, when we first started calling it that, we had no idea we'd actually be drinking the stuff like liquid courage at one point. Of course, that wasn't really how we'd planned to use it that day, but still...

'Hippo Birthday Jim!' He saw the sign as soon as he came in. Actually, it wasn't really possible to not see the sign. But before he could even come up with an appropriate response, Michael was already there giving him the creepiest hug of his life. (Or maybe just the creepiest one since his birthday hug last year.)

The day went exactly as Jim had expected it would. Michael seemed to have combined his usual Casual Friday zaniness with a large does of birthday cheer. He interrupted almost all of Jim's sales calls to tell Jim to tell whatever client he was calling that it was his birthday and that to celebrate Dunder-Mifflin was offering some outrageous discount on fluorescents. Or when he wasn't doing that, Michael would just spontaneously break into a creatively-worded rendition of a Happy Birthday song that Jim was pretty sure would never have been approved for the elementary school set. By the afternoon, Jim was just grateful that there weren't too many things that rhymed with Halpert.

Dwight was in fine form, too. He'd spent the day resenting the fact that Michael was paying so much attention to Jim, and consequently had begun tailing Michael around the office as they set up decorations and refreshments for the party later. To top it all off, Pam had been an hour late to work, and Jim hadn't been able to keep himself from wondering if Roy had also taken part of the morning off.

"Attention, everyone, I have an extremely important announcement to make." Michael waited until almost everyone's head had turned in his direction—there was no point in waiting for Creed to look. "As everyone knows, today is our little Jimmy-boy's very special day, and to celebrate I am planning the super-bash of the year, so if everyone could send in their donations for the party to me in the next five minutes, we will be all set. Okay? Now get back to work, you lazy..." before Michael could come up with an appropriate appellation several people started talking all at once.

"How much are we supposed to pay this time?" Phyllis asked.

"Michael, I am not paying for alcohol again." Angela interjected.

"Is this going to be like the last party when you took all our money and went out to dinner with that guy from the warehouse?" Oscar wanted to know.

"Guys, would you just chill out? This isn't the same as last time. This time, we are having a birthday celebration extravagrananza for the whole office, and Dwight is helping me with the planning." Dwight stood up and waved to his co-workers.

"You really don't have to do that, Michael." Jim tried.

"Look, we're having a party, okay! And since I'm planning it, it's going to be awesome. Now cough up the change, folks. Corporate's decided to stop paying for this kind of stuff because they don't know how to have fun."

"Michael, I'm sure we'll all be happy to chip in a few dollars, but I don't really think you and Dwight should have to do all the planning." Pam said, and Jim could instantly tell she was hoping to convince Michael to at least forgo the mandatory wild animal/Tarzan costumes he'd been hinting at earlier.

"Yeah," Jim chimed in. "Why don't you just have Angela be in charge of the money, and Pam can help with decorations and stuff?"

"I'll help." Phyllis volunteered.

"But..." Dwight started. Michael held up a hand to cut Dwight off as he considered Pam's idea. The whole office could see him balancing the fact that he wouldn't be able to take credit for the entire party against the fact that he wouldn't have to do all the detail-work by himself combined with the fact that he'd have someone else to blame in case the party sucked again.

"Actually," he said finally, "that is a pretty good idea. As you all know I am very busy today--and every day--so if I could have you three ladies meet me in the conference room immediately, we can get down to it--that's what she said." Michael turned to enter the conference room and Jim rolled his eyes at Pam.

"Michael, I am requesting permission to join you in your preparations for the party." Dwight quickly put in.

"No, Dwight. I'm pretty sure I can handle three ladies at once." Michael said, raising his brows at Jim. "Why don't you get back to your sales calls?"

"But, Michael--"

"Dwight, just, just stop, okay? You can't help."

Dwight sighed and leaned back in his chair as Pam, Phyllis, and Angela walked into the conference room and Michael shut the door behind him.

Five minutes later Michael stuck his head out and told Meredith to go get Kelly and join them. Dwight's brow furrowed, but he kept quiet.

-----

"So, how does it feel to be so old?" Pam asked, coming over to stand beside him in the back corner of the conference room.

"We're the same age, Beesly."

"Not anymore. You're an entire year older now."

"I don't think it works like that," he said, giving her a look.

"What are you talking about? I'm 26 and you're 27. What's not to get?" she asked, smiling up at him.
"Well, yeah, but your birthday's in like three months."

"So? You're still old."

"Nice."

"So, what do you think of the party?" Pam asked, surveying the jungle-themed decorations that were set up around the room. "Does the party-planning committee get your stamp of approval?"

"Is that what you're called now?"

"Yeah. It was Angela's idea. Actually, almost everything was Angela's idea. Or Michael's," Pam said, indicating the grass-skirted inflatable doll in the corner. Jim smiled.

"Wow, Angela and Michael, I can only imagine the fight that broke out over booze."

"Yeah, that one was long."

"Your entire meeting was long." Jim complained. "At one point I thought I might have to send Dwight in to make sure you were still alive."

Pam giggled a little. "No one could get away with dying on Dwight's watch, not even you. Hey, do you want something to drink?" Pam asked before Jim could make another retort.

"Sure," he responded. They made their way to the other end of the table where Pam grabbed a cup for Jim and then one for herself.

Jim took a sip and immediately made a face. "Whoa! Who spiked the soda?"

"What?" Pam asked, then she tasted her drink and made a face of her own. "Wow."

"I guess Angela lost the fight after all."

"Happy Birthday, Jim." Meredith said, coming up behind them. "Michael asked me to go get something to liven up the party."

"Does Angela know?" Pam asked.

"Who cares?" Meredith said, refilling her own glass before leaving to sit with Kelly and Dwight on the other side of the room.

-----

Three hours later Jim, Pam, and Angela were the only ones left in the office. Angela was fuming because no one had stayed to help with clean-up duties so she was stuck doing everything herself.

Jim and Pam were both a little too drunk to help much. At first the combination of grape soda and whatever Meredith had put in there was too strange to do more than cautiously sip at, but as everyone else in the office started drinking, Jim had stopped caring. It was his birthday after all, and a Friday night, and it wasn't like he had big plans for later.

His parents were out of town and his new roommate had only moved in a few days ago, so Jim had never bothered to mention that it was his birthday. He could've called up Maggie, the girl he'd been sort of seeing lately, but he was still a little distracted by the fact that Pam had been so late to work that morning.

After four cups of spiked soda, he'd worked up the nerve to ask her about it.

"Oh yeah," she responded eagerly. "Good thing you reminded me! I skipped work to make your present, and now I almost forgot to give it to you." Pam was laughing like the whole thing was hysterical.

"What?" Jim said, surprised. "You didn't have to do that."

"What are you talking about? If I don't give you a present then I can't expect you to give me one on my birthday."

"Fair enough. So, what is it?" he asked.

"It's in the truck. Come on, I'll show you."

"Angela, we'll meet you outside, okay?" Angela was going to drive them both home, since she had decided they were too drunk to do it themselves. They looked over at Angela who was mumbling under her breath. When she didn't say anything they both grabbed their coats and headed out the door.

"I'm not giving you a hint! You'll just have to unwrap it and then find out." Pam was laughing again as they walked out of the glass doors and headed for the truck. Roy had made a brief appearance in the office a few hours earlier to tell Pam he was going out with Darryl for some drinks. She'd just nodded her acceptance and then silently took the keys he offered her. Jim had thought it was a little strange at the time, but he wasn't about to get involved in something between Pam and Roy.

Now as they walked together, Jim still wasn't sure what exactly Pam was giggling about, but in his semi-drunken haze he didn't care. It was enough just to be here with her. He considered putting his arm around her, but even as drunk as he was he still knew that was a bad idea. After all, they were just office friends. It wasn't like he cared about her. Much. They just had fun laughing together. That was all. Right?

He quickly squelched the urge to examine how he really felt about Pam, especially here and now. That thought could wait.

Pam unlocked the passenger door and reached to take something off the front seat, but then quickly turned and faced Jim again.

"Wait, close your eyes!" she instructed.

"What? Why? I'm gonna see it in like two seconds anyway, Pam."

"Just do it, okay?"

"Fine, whatever."

"Okay, now hold out your arms." For some reason, with his eyes closed like this, it was easy to pretend that something else was about to happen. Like instead of putting something in his hands, she was about to put her own arms around him, or kiss him or something. It was a stupid thought, and he quickly blamed it on the "soda" they'd had earlier.

He could tell Pam was laughing again, even though he couldn't hear anything, because her hands shook a little as she placed something in his arms.

"Wait. It's not done yet."

"How long does this present take, Beesly? Do you think you'll be done by my next birthday?"

Pam just laughed again, aloud this time, and then put something else on top of what he was holding, so that it became heavier. He expected her to be done then, but instead he heard her walk around behind him and place her hands over his eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"I just didn't want you to peek."

"Well, okay." He paused, wondering if Pam was going to do anything else. They seemed to be frozen there for a second, and he couldn't help thinking about how soft her hands were and how strange it felt knowing she was probably standing on tip toes only inches behind him. In the cool air he could feel the warmth of her breath on the back of his neck, and the sensation was far from unappealing. "Pam?"

"Yeah?" she whispered.

"Can I look now?" he asked quietly.

"Oh. Right. Yeah, sure, go ahead."

Her hands lifted then and he looked down at his present as she moved to stand beside him. In his hands, was an oddly-shaped bowl of some kind, and inside it was a present wrapped in bright red paper with a sparkly white bow on top. He grabbed the present out of the bowl, to take a closer look at it, then smiled as he realized what he was really holding. The bowl was made out of an old record. The label had been removed, and the sides were molded in an undulating pattern that gave the bowl its unique shape.

"Did you make this?"

"Uh-huh."

"Wow. Seriously? That's so cool!"

"It's not that hard," Pam protested.

"Still, that's awesome. Thanks, Pam!"

"You didn't open the other part yet."

"Oh yeah. Wow, double presents, this is like the best birthday ever." He handed her the bowl so he could unwrap the rest of his gift.

She giggled as he dramatically tore at the paper. He furrowed his brow when he found himself holding a small book, a few sheets of folded paper, and a golf pencil that was attached to the paper by a thin red ribbon. But then he smiled as he read the title of the book, 50 Jobs Worse than Yours, and even snorted when he opened the papers to find a detailed spreadsheet with lines for each job, and categories like "Actually Worse," "Actually Better," "Worse, but with a better Boss," "Better, but with worse hours," and "Possible Future Job, in case Dwight accidentally blows up Dunder-Mifflin with his spud gun."

He didn't know what to say. She'd obviously spent the morning putting all this together.

"So you can fill it out," Pam mumbled. "I know. It's stupid. I didn't know what to get you," she continued, suddenly sounding like a little girl.

"No, it's great. Really."

"I just didn't..." she trailed off, setting the bowl, now filled with wrapping paper, on top of his car.

"What?"

"Nothing was good enough," she said quietly.

"Pam."

"I mean..." she looked up at him then and seemed to be deciding something. Honestly, he was surprised she was still holding it together. She'd seemed really drunk earlier. Then without warning her arms were around him. "You're my best friend, you know," she whispered near his ear. Then just as quickly she was pulling away before he had even gotten a chance to really hug her back.

Once more he had no idea what to say. She was his best friend, too, but having her in his arms even for just that brief moment had made something very clear to him. He would always be her best friend, but that wasn't quite enough anymore. He wanted so much more than that, and he'd already been denying it to himself for far too long.

But she was engaged. Totally and completely off-limits. Not his. Not ever. So as she turned to look at him again, he quickly stifled his thoughts and smiled at her. "You're my best friend, too, Beesly."

Just then Angela came out and they drove home in silence. They stopped at Jim's place first. As he gathered his presents in his arms, Pam stuck her head out of the passenger's window. "I forgot to tell you something."

"What?" he called from across the driveway.

"You know how I said everything was Michael's idea, or Angela's?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the grape soda was my idea. All mine."

"You mean you're the one that put the...?"

"No! No, that was Meredith. I think. But I was the one that remembered you like it." she said, smiling in that way that he knew meant she was either very tired or very drunk or possibly both. He chuckled.

"Well, thanks."

"Uh-huh. Happy Birthday!" she called as Angela lost patience and began driving away.

"Bye!" he called, using his free hand to wave as the car rounded the corner.

I guess it wasn't really the grape soda that changed everything, but I know for a fact that Pam never would've given me that hug without it. And if she hadn't done that, I might have been able to keep pretending that there was nothing more to our relationship than a casual work friendship. Anyway, I'm not recommending the whole grape soda and alcohol mix, but in our case it made a big difference. Huh. Maybe Meredith knew what she was doing after all.

Luckily the birthday incident didn't keep us from drinking grape soda. It was still our thing. I'd buy it, she'd smile, I'd think about the fact that she was engaged to someone who wasn't me. It sounds sad, I guess, but it really wasn't that tragic all the time. I was mostly just grateful to have such a good friend.

We talked about everything and nothing. I'd never met anyone who just totally and completely understood me like that, so I decided even if I couldn't have her the way I really wanted to, at least I could have her as a friend, you know? Okay, I swear it wasn't always that pathetic. Honestly. I mean, for the most part, we usually just forgot about all that and had fun together. After all, that's what we do best.

"Soda is bad for you, Jim. I don't know why you drink it so often." Dwight lectured from across the table in the kitchen. Pam was sitting next to him, and when he glanced over Jim could see her mouth twitch a little, but she didn't say anything.

"Thanks for the advice, Dwight," he responded.

Apparently Jim's polite lack of interest made Dwight feel a need to defend himself. "I'm just trying to look out for the health of my subordinates. We'll need everyone working at full capacity if we're going to keep up with the mid-season rush."

"Not your subordinate, Dwight." He chose to ignore the fact that there was no mid-season rush, because as much as he loved arguing with Dwight during work, this was lunch, he was sitting next to Pam, and he had better things to do.

"Actually, you are. I am assistant regional manager. And you are...oh wait, that's right. You have no title. You're just another lowly member of sales."

"I thought Michael said you were the assistant to the regional manager," Pam interrupted.

"Not important," Dwight countered.

"You know something, Dwight, you're right," Jim feigned a thoughtful expression. "I am nobody here. Wow. I mean, you, you're like an actual titled member of management, but me? This is just... I think I'd better go think about this...for awhile. I mean, this is really depressing," he glanced over at Pam to make sure she was keeping a straight face. "I'd better just... I think I'll be in my car." Jim rose to leave then, and when Dwight followed him over to the sink he knew it had worked.

"Jim," Dwight said kindly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is hard. I'm sure you wanted this promotion too, but Michael chose the man he thought would do the best job. It's okay if you need a little time to come to terms with that. In fact, I'll even cover for you this afternoon."

"Wow. Thanks, Dwight. I can't tell you how much that means to me." Jim replied, being careful to keep his tone from being over the top. He wasn't sure how much more he could get away with, but a whole afternoon to himself wasn't a bad start. "You know something, Dwight? You really are the best."

"I know."

"Seriously, though, I'm really depressed about this. I just hope I don't do anything drastic," Jim mused.

"Take Pam with you. She seems like she could be good at cheering people up." Pam's eyes widened, and Jim was privately amazed that he'd gotten this far.

"Okay, yeah, that's probably a good idea, I mean, just to be safe. Can you tell Michael we'll be back in a couple hours? I'm just really having trouble coming to terms with this."

"Take as long as you need, Jim. And rest assured that I am fully competent to handle all of your afternoon leads in addition to my own."

"Thank you," Jim repeated, moving like he was thinking of hugging Dwight. Dwight quickly side-stepped that and left the kitchen.

Three minutes later Jim and Pam were still laughing as Jim's car pulled out of the parking lot.

They chatted pleasantly as he drove, both still wondering how long it would take Dwight to figure out what had really happened. When he slowed for a stop light three blocks from the Marquee Cinema, her hand brushed his as they both reached for his still half-full can of grape soda that was sitting in the cup holder between them.

"Are you gonna keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" she asked, eyes full of innocence.

"Stealing my soda."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay." He just smiled and pretended not to see her when she took a long sip from the can thirty seconds later.

See? That was a good day. Well actually, back then, every day with Pam was good. But then there came a point when I just couldn't pretend anymore. She was getting married-for real this time. And I knew I wouldn't be able to just sit there and let it happen. So when the chance to transfer came, I took it.

At the time, all I wanted to do was get away. I mean, I thought I'd completely lost Pam. I don't want to get all mushy about it, but it was a really hard time for me. Eventually I decided to get rid of everything in my life that reminded me of her. I guess I just thought it would be easier. I mean, no one can spend their whole life getting upset over little things like passing an ice skating rink on their way home from work every day, or getting a rock in their shoe, or trying to decide what kind of soda to pick from the vending machine. So for awhile there, grape soda was totally and completely off limits.

I wish I could say that coming back to Scranton instantly enlightened me about what was really going on between me and Pam or rather what could have been going on. But it didn't. I don't really have a good excuse for it, and believe me, I wish there was some way I could erase everything that happened that year, but I can't. According to Pam we're better people for having gone through all that. I don't know if I really believe that, but there's no point in arguing about it now. The fact is, it happened, and while it was happening everything in our lives just seemed...off, including my taste in soda.

By the middle of the morning, Jim wasn't really sure what he was doing. He knew there was no way he was going to let it all snap back to normal just like that. But he was surprised because it was clear that Pam was willing to do exactly that. He wondered if she even remembered what had happened. Because ever since he had first come in that morning he hadn't been able to stop seeing it. The second he stepped into the elevator all he could think about was the last time he'd been in it and that long ride down and the tears that had stung his eyes for the second time that night and how he had still been able to feel the softness of her lips on his. In Stamford, he had thought it had gone away, had thought he was over it. But this first day back, it felt like that night, their last one together, was haunting him. Even as she had hugged him this morning, all he could hear was her saying, "I can't. I won't. You're not enough. Just stop doing this. I can't. I can't."

"Hey," she said, coming up behind him suddenly.

"Hey!" he responded instantly, already kicking himself for sounding so enthusiastic.

"What happened to grape soda?" He couldn't believe she'd bring it up. Didn't she get it? They couldn't do that anymore. He couldn't do it. It hurt too much.

"Oh yeah. I'm trying to move away from that. Getting into more of a bottled water phase." He hoped she'd take his hint and just leave it. He couldn't get into this. Not now. Not here.

"Oh. You've changed so much." Good, she was playing along. Better to just make it into a joke. Joking they could do. They were old pros at laughing things off.

"Well, I'm evolving, Pam." All the things he wanted to say were in there somewhere, and he prayed she'd hear them and just leave him alone. He wasn't sure how much more of her he could take today.

"So when do I get to hear everything? Are you still getting unpacked or... you want to grab a coffee or something after work?" She wasn't serious, right? There was no way that could happen. Coffee after work was something you did with your friends, and as much as he would have loved to go back to being friends, it just wasn't possible anymore. She'd made that very clear.

"Oh! Um... tonight, actually? No. I'm uh just still getting settled." Getting settled. That was a good way to put it. He was settling down his brain, his nerves, his heart. Once he got everything back to normal then maybe, maybe they'd be able to go back to the way things used to be if that was even what he wanted anymore. Frankly he was surprised she wasn't having more trouble with this. Obviously she hadn't been as affected by that night as he had been. Just one more thing that would continue to taint his memories of her.

"Oh, yeah, no! You know. Whenever." she seemed nervous then and he wondered momentarily if she was finally starting to get it.

"Okay," he said quickly, eager to get out of this situation. Just then they heard another voice.

"Oh-kay. Sorry to interrupt. I..." two years ago he would never have imagined himself as being happy to have Michael interrupt a single minute he got to spend alone with Pam, but there were a lot of things he could never have imagined two years ago.

"Nope. You're not interrupting anything. Nope. I'm..." he trailed off, not sure how to explain himself.

"All right," Michael said.

"Don't..." He wasn't even sure what he was saying at this point. Don't tell Pam what I said in your hotel room? Don't take this as something it's not? Please, whatever you do, don't mention this to Karen? It could have been any of those things or all of them, but since he had no way to really say them he said nothing.

"Okay." Michael responded.

"All right." He wanted to just walk out, but he knew Pam would feel it, and even after everything she'd done to him, he couldn't hurt her like that, it just wasn't physically possible for him. So instead he turned his gaze back to her. "I should probably get back to work. Get back to work." What was wrong with him? He sounded like a complete idiot.

Luckily Pam didn't seem to notice. "Yeah. I know, me too," she replied.

"All right!" he hoped she couldn't hear the relief in his voice, but at this point it was all he could do to keep from bolting to the door.

Five minutes later he happened to glance up as Pam walked past him on her way back to her desk. In her hands was an open can of grape soda.

Like I said, I don't know what was wrong with me. I should've just known. She was giving me all kinds of clues. Practically hitting me over the head with them. Especially that first day. A few months later everything had started to settle down, and it wasn't totally impossible for me to have a normal conversation with her. But I never saw her drink grape soda after that first day. I guess she's like me that way. Neither of us wanted to dwell on the past when the future looked so bleak. Thankfully for us, I eventually got my act together.

Three days after our first date I spent the night at Pam's. She probably wouldn't want me to tell you that, but hey, can I help it if I'm completely irresistible? Besides, we'd been waiting for years. After that long, there's no point in waiting any longer than you absolutely have to. Of course, even after knowing her for years there were still a few things I didn't expect to see in Pam's apartment.

The walls were all different colors. That was the first thing he noticed when he walked into her apartment. The second was that Pam had a lot of pictures. They were everywhere. In fact one whole wall of her kitchen was covered like a collage with photos, pages from magazines, a few posters of famous art and even some swatches of brightly colored fabrics. It was a complete hodgepodge, but still pure Pam. Well, not the Pam that came into the office and answered the phone with the same old greeting a thousand times a day, but the other side of Pam, the one he'd come to know so well in those little stolen moments when it was just the two of them. The side of her he still couldn't quite believe was all his now.

"Sorry, I'm almost done," she called from down the hall. "Just stay there."

"Pam, seriously, it's just me, you don't have to break out the guest towels or anything."

"I know, but it really is a huge mess. Just give me five more minutes."

He chuckled softly to himself, but he knew there was no point in arguing. She'd been very clear in the car that she really, really wanted him to come up, but that she'd been working on a project earlier and he would have to give her a few minutes to clean up her room. That was another thing he knew about her. She wasn't a totally organized person, but she did like to have everything where it belonged, especially if she knew someone else was going to see it.

He was still checking out the collage wall when she walked back into the kitchen with a jar full of dirty paintbrushes, which she deposited in the kitchen sink before grabbing the paper towels and attempting to rush back out. Jim caught her at the doorway and planted a kiss on her forehead.

"Stop cleaning. I don't care what it looks like. I just want to be with you."

"Well I care."

"Okay, fine." He grinned but didn't let go of her shoulders. "Hey, are these your nieces?"

"Yep."

"They look a lot older."

"I know. I need to bring in some new pictures for my desk."

"Hey, are you sure you don't want any help?"

"No way. It's my room. I'll clean it."

"I know, but seriously I don't mind helping, and it'll be faster with two of us."

"No. I want you to see it clean the first time you see it."
"Okay." He shrugged, knowing it was pointless to keep pestering her.

"I'll only be a couple more minutes. Make yourself at home." He did so, spending the next few minutes checking out the cd collection that lined the shelves next to the tv in her living room.

"Hey, Jim? Can you put my leftovers in the fridge?" Pam asked in a muffled voice from down the hallway.

"Oh yeah, sure." He grabbed the box they'd gotten from the restaurant and opened the fridge.

"Pam?" he called a few seconds later.

"Yeah?"

"What is this doing here?"

"What is what doing there?" she asked, walking back into the room. "Oh, that, right. Um...well, I just...I like it sometimes, you know?"

He raised his eyebrows at her. "Since when?"

"Would you stop looking at me like that?" she asked, closing the door to the refrigerator. "It's not like you found my hidden stash of porn or something, it's just soda. I drink soda."

"Okay first of all, this is not the look I would give you if I'd found porn in your fridge," he said, leaning back against the counter behind him. "And secondly, I know you drink soda, but that's grape."

"Yeah? So?" She stepped closer to face him, and he reached out to place his hands on her hips.

"So you don't drink grape soda, Pam." He said, shaking his head at her. "Or, well, okay, you don't buy grape soda, you drink mine. Pam, have you been cheating on me with some other grape soda drinker?" he asked mock seriously.

"How could I have been cheating on you?" she smiled. "Our first date was like three days ago, remember?"

"So then what's it doing here?" he said pointedly.

"I don't know. No special reason I just wanted it." He gave her a piercing look, which she returned with an innocent look of her own. Finally she sighed. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."
"Fine then. I might have maybe missed you just a little bit."

"I knew it." He smirked.

"And also it was my back-up plan if the yogurt lid didn't work."

"What?"
"The yogurt lid medal. If you didn't do something after that, I was gonna do something with the grape soda." He wasn't sure how to react to that. It still hurt to think of what she must have been through in the past year or so. Not that he hadn't been through some hard times of his own, but still. The fact that Pam, of all people, had thought she needed to come up with something like this just to get his attention, was just wrong.

"What would you have done?"

"I don't know. I didn't get that far," she answered quietly. "And to be honest I'm glad I didn't have to."

"You know what? I'm really glad you didn't have to, too." he replied, leaning down to kiss her lightly on her forehead, then her lips, her jaw, and then her neck.

She sighed with pleasure then whispered, "Jim."

"Yeah?" he asked, between kisses, his hands now moving slowly up and down her sides.

"I think my room's clean enough now."

"That's what I thought."

See? How could I not love her after that? I mean, she missed me so much she bought an entire ten cans of soda that she wasn't even planning to drink? That's just so...adorable.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, her room was totally clean enough for what we had in mind.

About a month later we found a way to put all that leftover soda from Pam's fridge to good use.

"I don't know." Jim said, looking up at Pam. She was half-sitting on his desk in a way she hadn't done nearly enough since he'd come back from Stamford, but it surprised him that their positions still felt familiar after so much time had passed. "I mean, I felt fine yesterday, but this morning when I woke up everything was like purple for a second, and then it went away."

"Weird."

"Yeah. I mean, I guess I could talk to a doctor or something, but...I don't..." Jim trailed off, checking out of the corner of his eye to make sure Dwight was getting all this.

"Yeah, that's pretty weird. I'm not sure you should say anything. They might try to turn you into some government experiment," Pam replied. He tried not to smile over at her, but it was so hard not to when she was so good at this.

"I know," he responded, managing to keep a straight face, but just barely.

"Well, let me know if you need anything, okay?" Pam said, standing up to walk back to her own desk.

"Yeah, okay. Thanks Pam."

He reached down to retrieve the can of grape soda he'd grabbed from her fridge that morning. He took his time popping the thing open and then took a sip and set it down on the corner of his desk, facing Dwight. He didn't dare look up, but he knew exactly the face he would have seen if he had. Dwight's suspicious look was almost as familiar as the after taste of the soda that still lingered in his mouth, and as he picked up his phone to call his first customer of the day, Jim thought about how great it was to finally be back where he belonged.

-----

By the middle of the morning everything was proceeding as planned. Pam met up with him in the break room and reported that she had seen Dwight examining the soda can while Jim was meeting with Michael in his office.

"Do you think he got the phone number?" he asked.

"Uh-huh."

"You don't think he noticed that the label was just stuck on over the other one?

"Nope. I actually saw him program it into his cell phone," said Pam.

"What? Why?"

"Why? Because he's Dwight," she replied, with an implied "duh!" in her tone. "He puts all kinds of phone numbers in there. It's actually kind of creepy. Anyway now that he's got the phone number I say its time to move on to phase two."

"Yes. Awesome," Jim responded. "So you know the plan right?"

"Know it? I came up with it!" Pam exclaimed.

"What? This was totally my idea," he protested.

"Some of it, not all of it. Not this part."

"Oh yeah? I seem to recall a joint brainstorming session that never would've happened in the first place if I hadn't come up with the original idea."

"Whatever, Halpert." Pam scoffed. "You know you've always stolen your best pranks from me."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," she challenged.

Just then Toby walked into the break room and they both awkwardly tried to come up with something else to say. Finally Pam just excused herself and went back to her desk. A few minutes later Jim did the same.

-----

Phase two began when Kelly walked up to the receptionist desk.

"Hey, Pam. You said you had a message for me."

"Oh, yeah," Pam said, pretending to hunt around on her desk. Jim could tell she was scrambling to come up with some kind of message and he was a little surprised that she hadn't been prepared for this already. But then he remembered that he had sort of been trying to distract her from her part in this plan by sneaking faces in her direction for the last half an hour or so. All things considered he could understand if she wasn't completely ready when Kelly made her appearance. Finally Pam grabbed a scribbled-on post-it and handed it to Kelly. Jim figured that would work fine since he knew that unless the message had RYAN written across it in big bold letters, Kelly wouldn't bother reading it anyway.

"Hey Kelly, that shirt looks really good on you," Pam said, right on cue.

"Thanks, I got it on sale. Isn't it awesome? I totally love the little sparkly part right up next to the collar. So cute! I just wish I had somewhere to wear it that wasn't in the office. You know, like in New York or something..." she trailed off.

"I really like it, too, Kelly." Jim chimed in. "Did you just change into it or something?"

"Um, no." Kelly said, turning to give him a weird look. "This is the same shirt I was wearing this morning."

"Really? But I thought you were wearing a red shirt earlier," Jim returned. Once again he was tempted to check that Dwight was paying attention.

"This is red," Kelly answered giving Jim another confused look.

"Seriously? It looks purple to me. Are you sure?"

"Jim," Dwight interjected.

"Dwight?" Jim responded, keeping his face straight.

"What color is this pen?" Dwight asked seriously.

"Purple," he answered casually.

"What about this piece of paper?"

"Purple."

"Phyllis's hair."

"Purple. Whoa, weird. When did that happen?" Phyllis turned slightly to give them a questioning look, but didn't say anything since she was on the phone.

"Okay. What color is this plant?" Dwight asked, speaking slowly and deliberately.

"Uh...purple?"

"Okay." Dwight said, suddenly sounding cautious. "I think I need to make a phone call."

"Okay." Jim shrugged as Dwight walked out into the main hallway of their floor to call on his cell. As he turned back to his monitor Pam winked at him and he smiled.

-----

"Did you bring them?" Jim was staring at himself in the mirror of the men's bathroom. Well, he was staring at his eyes in particular.

"I can't believe you made me sneak into the men's bathroom for this. Why couldn't you have snuck into the women's bathroom?" Pam asked, coming over to the mirror. He glanced in her direction and caught a look on her face that he knew meant she wasn't thinking about him-she was thinking about scent of candle she should get to put in here tomorrow.

"The sooner we get them in the sooner you can leave," he reminded her.

"Okay, here."

"What, you're not gonna do it?"

"Stick something in your eye? No. I'm not gonna do it. That's gross."

"Well, I don't want to do it."

"Oh, suck it up, Halpert. They're just contacts."

"What if it hurts?" He wasn't really that concerned about the pain, but it would be have been nice to get some sympathy from Pam.

"Are you serious?" she scoffed.

"Fine."

It actually didn't hurt much after all. But it was still a little weird for him to think about the fact that there was something stuck to his eyeball. He was glad he didn't have to do this on a regular basis or anything. It was all worth it, though, the next time he looked up to see Dwight's face go from shocked to slightly panicked when he looked into Jim's newly-purple eyes.

-----

Half an hour later he finally had to check for himself. He trusted Larissa to do her job, but he just wanted to see what exactly she'd said.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number. After three rings her machine picked up. "Hi, you've reached the customer service hotline for grape soda products, inc. All of our representatives are currently unavailable. Please leave your name and a detailed message at the beep and we will get back to you as soon as possible. In the mean time, please use caution with anyone you suspect may have been harmed by any of our products. We have occasionally recorded cases of extreme, and sometimes dangerous side effects, so please take any necessary measures to protect yourself and those around you. Also, please refrain from informing the authorities until you have spoken with a representative as we will usually be better equipped to deal with the situation. Thank you and have a wonderful day!"

He hung up as the electronic beep sounded and then smiled with satisfaction. At first he hadn't been convinced that they needed to get Larissa in on this, but as Pam had pointed out, Dwight had a freakishly weird memory for things like phone numbers, so using either his or Pam's would've been a dead give-away. Besides, neither of them was all that good at disguising their voices. And though he hadn't mentioned it to Pam, he knew this would be a good ice-breaker for tonight.

-----

By four thirty that afternoon, phase four was in full swing.

"Jim what happened to you?" Pam asked, coming up behind him on her way back from the kitchen.

"What? Oh, that. I don't know. I got a paper cut earlier, but I didn't think it was bleeding."

"Jim, your blood is purple," Pam said. Dwight instantly looked up.

"Really? I can't really tell anymore. Everything looks purple, you know?"

"Jim, this is serious. I think we should get you to the hospital," said Pam, bending down to get a closer look at the dark purple pen that was artfully decorating his hand.

"No Pam. Don't. I promise you I have the situation under control," Dwight interjected.

"What?" Pam said, acting confused.

"Just don't make any sudden movements," Dwight said. Then Jim's eyebrows rose as Dwight attempted to shove his way between Jim and Pam.

"Dwight, what are you talking about?" asked Pam.

"Pam, I need you to back slowly toward your desk. Also, try not to talk to Jim for the rest of the day."

"Why not?" Pam was half-way back to her desk at this point, but Jim could see she was having a hard time keeping the smile off her face.

"Don't ask questions, okay? This is serious. I am handling this."

"Um. Okay, Dwight, if you're sure."

"I am. Now let me just make one more call."

"Jim, you just stay where you are."

"Uh...okay, Dwight."

-----

The afternoon passed more slowly after that, what with Pam trying to obey Dwight's orders and not talk to him. But Jim kept busy thinking about that evening. He was taking Pam out to dinner with his parents, his brother, Jonathan, and his sister, Larissa. Everyone was meeting up at Larissa's place first, and even though he was sure everything would go fine, it was still a little nerve-wracking.

After work he and Pam drove home in separate cars. They were trying to keep their relationship from being public knowledge at the office, and so far it was working fairly well, but he still wished he didn't have to see her get in her own car without him every day. He stopped at his apartment to change into some jeans and a sweater, and then drove over to Pam's apartment to pick her up.

"What if she doesn't like me?" Pam asked when they were half-way there.

"Yeah right!" Jim laughed.

"Jim! I'm serious!"

"I'm sorry, but there is absolutely no way she won't like you. The one you should really be worried about is my mom."

"Really?"

"No," he answered seriously, which prompted her to nudge him playfully with her elbow. "Pam, relax, they're all going to love you. Probably more than they love me by the end of the night."

"I seriously doubt that," she said. He could tell she was still trying to calm down the butterflies in her stomach as they waited for a stoplight a few blocks from Larissa's house.

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you. Oh, and speaking of warnings: they're a pretty huggy bunch. Just thought you might want to know that."

"Hugs I can take. As long as they aren't like Michael's."

"I'm sorry; did you just compare my family to Michael? Get out of the car." he said, braking to pull up to the nearest curb.

"No! I'm kidding!" Pam laughed. "Keep driving, dork. I don't want to be late." he laughed too, but he kept the car idling there as their laughter died down. Then he reached out to grab her hand and gave her what he hoped was a kind but serious look.

"Hey, we don't have to do this if you don't want to. I mean we're not there yet. I can call them right now and we can just cancel or reschedule. It won't be a big deal."

"No, I want to. Really. I want to do this," she said seriously. He smiled, knowing that this was a big step for them. They both knew that their relationship was unusual. Normally, Jim wouldn't have been introducing his girlfriend of less than a month to the family like this. But this was Pam, and though he was careful not to mention it to her, he knew that if he had his way, this would be the last time he'd ever introduce a girlfriend to his family.

Five minutes later, they arrived at the door to Larissa's townhouse. Pam reached out to ring the doorbell, and Jim could tell by the way her other hand was clasping his a little more tightly than usual that she was still a little nervous. When the door opened she immediately relaxed. Everyone always said that he and Larissa looked exactly alike, except for the fact that he was a guy and she was a girl, of course. And even he had to admit that the resemblance was remarkable. Their mouths were the same shape, and they had all the same facial expressions.

"Jim!" she cried, immediately launching herself on him. "And you must be Pam," she continued, pulling Pam in for a similar hug. "Oh, I'm so glad you guys are here! You have got to hear these messages! They're hilarious! I've been cracking up ever since I got home."

"So it worked?"

"Totally! You really outdid yourself this time."

"Well, it was mostly Pam's idea."

"Awesome." Larissa turned to face Pam again. "It's so good to finally meet you," she said, pulling Pam in for another quick hug. "I've heard so much about you. And can I just say right now how glad I am that Jim has finally found someone who can pull a decent prank? Seriously. You should hear Dwight's third call. It's priceless."

She ushered them both inside and they followed her down a short hallway to the kitchen where all three of them crowded around the answering machine.

"Hello. This is Dwight K. Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager for Dunder-Mifflin Paper's Northeast Regional Office. I am calling about my co-worker, Jim Halpert. He's been drinking inordinate amounts of your soda lately, and I'm beginning to suspect that something is going wrong. I appreciate the information in your automated message, but I think I should speak to you as soon as possible. This is a delicate situation, but if your product is harmful it should be reported to the proper authorities."

The next message was even better.

"Hello. This is Dwight K. Schrute, Assistant Regional Manager for Dunder-Mifflin. I called earlier about my co-worker, Jim? Something is definitely wrong with him, and I suspect that this time it is due to your product and not his own stupidity. I have confiscated Jim's supply of soda, but his condition seems to be worsening. Please advise."

Jim couldn't help but laugh, but he was quickly shushed by Pam and Larissa as the next message began.

"Hello. Dwight Schrute here. I sincerely hope you are prepared for legal action. Jim's condition is now threatening harm to others in the office. As far as I can tell there is some sort of toxin in his bloodstream. I have placed myself in charge of him for the remainder of the afternoon, and am attempting to keep the situation stable, but as I said, I have no idea if these symptoms are contagious. If you cannot reach me at this number, please feel free to call me at home later this evening. If Jim's condition gets worse it might impair his ability to perform his job as a salesman here, which would cause further harm to this company. I am personally appalled that my calls have not been returned. Prompt customer service is a hallmark of good business. If other companies followed your examp-"

The message cut off, and all three of them immediately went from hushed giggles to out and out laughter. Right then Jim knew for sure that he had been right earlier. Pam would fit in perfectly with his family.

Okay, I just have to say, that's probably one of my all-time favorite pranks we've pulled on Dwight. Not that it was particularly well done or anything, but I love that Pam and I had so much fun with it. It had been way too long since we'd done something so elaborate.

Of course when I came in the next morning I acted like I was totally fine and pretended I had no idea what Dwight was talking about when he asked me about my 'symptoms.' But I think to this day he gets suspicious when I drink grape soda. It's awesome. And I couldn't have done it without Pam. That's what I love about her. She just totally gets me. In fact, it didn't take me very long to figure out that I never, ever wanted to lose her again. And she knew that too, but Pam's a little more cautious than I am, so at first we decided to compromise...

So compromising turned out to be a little harder than we'd originally planned. The idea was to move in together and then get engaged, but Pam fell in love with this hundred-year-old house and it took us ages to remodel it. I wasn't crazy about waiting so long to be together, but as Pam pointed out it wouldn't make that much difference in the long run. And in the meantime we got to enjoy just being together like I'd always dreamed about, and grape soda was definitely a part of that.

Her eyes were lit up all mischievously, and Jim was surprised that she'd still have the energy to tease him after such a long day. But this was Pam, so as he thought about it longer, he wasn't that surprised. They'd spent almost the whole day prepping this place to paint and boxing up all the non-essential things in her apartment. They wouldn't be moving the boxes here until next weekend, though, because there were still a few last-minute changes that needed to be made. Like the paint, the carpet, and oh yeah, the fact that the downstairs toilet was still out of commission.

Sometimes it seemed like they would never be done. Thinking about it was giving him a headache, though, and to his dismay Pam still had that gleam in her eyes. Not that he didn't like that look, he was just exhausted.

"No. Whatever it is, no, no, and no," he said. He leaned back in one of the folding chairs they'd placed in what would become their dining room and took another sip of grape soda.

"What?" she laughed.

"You know what! Don't do it, Beesly."

"Do what, Jim?"

"You can't play innocent with me. I know that look--you're up to something."

"I'm not giving you a look Jim. And I am not ‘up to' anything."

"Oh yeah?" He said, standing suddenly to take their plates to the garbage can in the kitchen. Paper dishes weren't his favorite, but they did the job when everything else was in a box somewhere.

"Jim, please. Why would I do something to you?" she asked, standing up next to him and grabbing his soda can. "I love you."

"Nice. You're just trying to distract me."

"Come on, Jim. If I really wanted to distract you I'd do this," Pam said, leaning in to brush her lips on his, then moving forward to run the fingernails of her free hand up his left arm. She kept kissing him as he transferred the plates in his hand to the chair next to him. Suddenly he wondered if that mischievous look had meant something entirely different from what he'd originally thought.

His hands were eagerly running through her hair, and he loved the way the tip of her tongue was sliding along his bottom lip. Then suddenly he felt something cold running down his back. His eyes snapped open and all he could see was Pam's triumphant look and an upside down can of grape soda.

"Oh, you are so going to pay for that."

"Yeah? Bring it." And with that Pam was gone, through the doorway to the kitchen and halfway to the fridge. By the time Jim caught up to her she had two more cans of grape soda and was shaking them as she ran toward the family room.

"Are you crazy? That stuff's gonna stain everything."

"Like what? The carpet we're replacing tomorrow, or the walls we're painting next week?" She grinned widely at him. And all he could do was grin back. Sometimes it still amazed him that they were here like this, together.

"Okay then, but don't come crying to me when you're covered in soda."

"Same to you," she said, raising her eyebrows at him.

They spent the next few minutes chasing each other around the house, until Pam ran into their bedroom, still aiming a fizzing can behind her.

"No. Stop! Not near the new mattress!" Pam shouted.

"That is totally not fair. You can still get me from over there and I'm not allowed to get you back."

"Hey, I don't make the rules I just play against them." She smirked.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. Michael said it first."

"You're quoting Michael now?" Jim said, giving her an incredulous look. "What's next, ‘that's what she said'?"

"Please, Halpert. Like I would ever stoop that low."

"Well, you never know."

Twenty minutes later they were back in the dining room, sitting on the floor, both a little worn out. Pam had run out of soda first and had resorted to tackling him to try to get the last can out of his hands. They were extremely sticky and covered in purple, but Jim didn't care. This was exactly the sort of thing he'd always imagined doing with Pam.

"Hey, I have to make a confession," he said, quietly.

"What? That you're madly in love with me? Because, I think I might have heard that one before."

Jim gave her a look that he thought would probably have been a lot more chastising if didn't have little purple dots dripping off the end of his chin.

"No," he said, still sounding serious. "I just thought you should know that I never really liked grape soda in the first place."

"What? No way!"

"Sorry, it's true."

"You little liar!" Pam exclaimed, moving over like she was thinking of tackling him again. "What else have you been keeping from me? Wait, don't tell me. You hate ham and cheese, too, don't you?"

"Nope. Ham and cheese is good. And actually I don't mind grape soda, it's just..." he paused as he leaned down and back until he was lying on the floor next to her, looking up at her face.

"What?" she asked.

"I guess what I really liked the whole time was you." She smiled down into his eyes.

"Well, in that case, I think I might have really liked you, too." she whispered, leaning down to kiss him lightly.

"Really?" he murmured against her lips.

"Yeah, really." she said, sliding down next to him to deepen their kiss.

Okay, okay, I'm sure you're not interested in all that mushy stuff, so I guess I'll just wrap this up. Not that this is the last time we ever drank grape soda or anything. I had some last week, actually. But I think that by now you've probably gotten the picture. Grape soda is just sort of our thing. Anytime I buy it she just knows that it's because I'm remembering something, and when she buys it, I know the same thing. So even though I might not have liked it all that much initially, at this point I am perfectly happy about the thought that, if everything goes as planned, Pam and I will be drinking grape soda together for a very long time.