They lie together as the clock strikes twelve, wrapped in each other’s embrace after blissful lovemaking.

“Truth or dare,” she whispers, her eyes catching a ray of the moon.

“What are we, fifth graders at a slumber party?” he mocks, his fingers tracing along her waist.

“Jim, I want to play!” she fakes a pout but it only makes her giggle.

“Fine. You first,” he feigns annoyance but finds himself smiling and liking the idea.

“Truth or dare?” she asks deviously, her fingers drawing tiny circles on his chest.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me…”

Immediately his lips are on hers, sloppily. She is shocked at how her breath gets caught in her throat and how her mind spins with each deliberately slow motion. He pulls away softly, his lips just above hers, looking pleased.

“…anywhere but on the lips,” she finishes her sentence before his lips rudely interrupted.

“Getting sneaky, are we Beesly?”

He proceeds to create a path of butterfly kisses along her neck, bosom and belly. Goosebumps rise along her skin, as do on his.

There is a short pause as they gaze at each other adoringly. He’s pretty sure that if he laid like this with her – well, her and their baby – for the rest of his life, he’d be content.

“Truth or dare?” he asks her, his fingers fumbling within her curls.

“Truth.”

“Do you think I will be a good father?” His hand rests upon her small but growing belly. He has been doing this lately, most of the time without realizing it. She feels protected.

“I think you are going to be the best father this world has ever seen,” her smiles is wide as she traces her finger along his jawbone.

“Really? How do you know that, for sure?”

“I see the way you act around your nephews. They absolutely adore you.”

“Well, anyone can act nice around kids. It doesn’t mean I’m going to be a good dad,” now he’s just joking, but she fulfills his question.

“Remember that time at work when Dwight went into the staircase, crying?”

“Yeah, and then I came in and kissed you. Which, by the way, was fantastic.”

“Yes, it was. But that’s beside the point.”

There is curiosity in his eyes.

“You and Dwight bother the hell out of each other every single day. But you went into the staircase to comfort him. I don’t know what you said, but you brought our Dwight back. You just care, Jim.”

“That’s just one time, though,” he is completely joking at this point.

“But it’s everyday when I notice something else about you that makes me realize what a good, loving person you are. Like the other day, Michael called you into his office for some stupid thing, but you didn’t make a big deal, you didn’t role your eyes. You just went with the flow, even when you knew it was going to be just as ridiculous as the other two thousand times he has called you in there. You just care about everyone, Jim.”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s just surprised.

“And I’m pretty sure you’re going to care about our little one just as much.”

“Even more,” he whispers. He folds his fingers into hers and pulls her closer. He kisses her, long and slowly, sweetly and gracefully.

“What did you say to Dwight, anyway?”

“You mean in the staircase?”

“Yeah.”

“I told him about why I left Scranton.”

“Really? What did you say?

“Not so fast, Beesly. I think you have to ask me something first.”

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Truth?”

“Why did you leave Scranton?”

“You mean last week? I went to that specialty store over in Williamsport to get those pickles you were craving!” His hand subconsciously moves to rest on her belly.

“No!” she says, smiling. “Those were delicious, though. Totally hit the spot.”

“I drove an hour and twenty minutes each way so they better have been delicious!” he smiles, circling his thumb around her belly button.

“Stop going off topic, Halpert. Why did you leave Scranton?” She is pretty sure she knows the answer, but wants to hear it from him.

“Because of you.”

Her eyes do not move from his.

“I couldn’t stand the idea of you getting married to him. And after I kissed you that night and told you how I felt, I was kind of embarrassed. I couldn’t face you or myself. I had to change. I had to leave.”

Her lips move into a weak smile, her brows furrowed. His expression matches hers.

“I’m sorry that I did, but at the same time, I don’t think I would have survived. You were everything to me, Pam. You are everything. Seeing you everyday with the same half-hearted smile and that ring” he breaks their gaze and in his eyes she sees a flicker of ache,

“I just loved you too much to ignore you all day, so I left you completely,” he finishes, delicately tucking a curl behind her ear.

There is silence between them. Then, slowly, she places her hand on his cheek and presses her lips into his.

“I’m glad I came back,” he laughs, after her lips leave his.

“So am I.”


She smiles as she plays with his mess of hair.

“I love you, Jim Halpert.”

“I love you too, Beesly. Why do you think I put up with this crazy stuff, like playing truth or dare in the middle of the night?”

“Because secretly, you like it.”

He strokes his fingers across her cheek and whispers, “Yeah, but mostly, I like you.”

“Alright Halpert,” Pam coos lovingly, gently nudging Jim. She slowly and sleepily untangles herself from his long arms. His legs surround her as she leans forward from her cuddled position on his chest. His arms are threaded around her waist.

“Hmmm?” he murmurs, waking from a light nap. They had been watching 27 Dresses, as per Michael’s request. Pam agreed that it was an adorable movie, but Jim fell asleep about forty minutes in. Pam realizes that it isn’t because he’s bored, but because he’s tired from their usual nightly activities.

“Bedtime for bonzo,” Pam says with a smile, brushing her fingers through his scruffy hair.

She stands from the couch, unwillingly breaking from his embrace. She yanks the remote control from between the couch cushions and clicks off the movie to save for another night.

She places the remote on the coffee table next to the couch and stretches out her limbs.

His eyes flutter open and land on her as she reaches her fingers toward the ceiling.

Her eyes meet his and she smiles adoringly. His lips break into a drowsy grin.

She kneels beside the couch and presses her lips on his forehead. Her fingers run through his hair and she can see goosebumps creeping along his arms.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice strangled by sleep.

“Hey,” she repeats, her eyelids heavy.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he apologizes, stretching his arms out behind him and his legs to the end of the couch. She watches, her mind dancing around the idea that this long, lean man is hers, hers, hers. “I’ve just been so tired.”

“All for good reason, of course.” She smiles cunningly.

He catches her innuendo.

“Anything relating to what we do after work is a good enough reason for me.”

She reaches for his hand and stands up, hoping he will follow. He stands, slowly at first, catches his balance, and then faces her, his eyes suddenly alive. He wraps his arms around her, surrounding her completely, and presses his lips into her curls. She folds her arms against his chest as his warmth serenades her skin and causes her to release a sighhhh.

He lowers his head to meet hers and touches her nose with his.

“Let’s get you undressed.”

She squeals.

They sleepily meander toward their bedroom, their fingers knotted.

She collapses backward on their bed, Jim hovering above her.

“I don’t think I have the energy to put on my pajamas,” he laughs as her fingers stroking his back.

“No need to worry about that,” she whispers into his ear before slipping out from under him and waltzing to their dresser. He rolls onto his back and watches her curiously.

“What do you have up your sleeve, Beesly?”

“Sleeve? What sleeve?” she says coyly as she pulls off her indigo t-shirt.

He sits up.

She steps toward him and stands between his legs. Tugging gently at his red t-shirt, she pulls it over his head. Suddenly, his lips are on hers.

“I thought you said you had no energy left,” Pam says.

“I don’t. Seeing you gives me a nice boost, however.”

She smiles, and reaches for his hand, pulling him toward the dresser.

“What should I wear?”

She has several pajama couplets, like her comfy purple cami with matching pansy shorts, but often times she finds herself more comfortable in undies and a t-shirt of his.

“Nothing?” he makes his statement a question as he pulls off his shorts. She runs her fingers along his chest.

“Jim, it’s the winter. I’m wearing something,” she says, though she would much rather go without the fabrics and enjoy their own warmth.

“Whatever is most comfortable, then,” he says, finding a shirt and shorts for himself.

“Not so fast. I’m dressing you, remember?”

He drops the worn-out red Penn State t-shirt he found and puts his hands up in surrender.

“Let’s put that to good use,” she says, pointing at the oversized shirt.

He is confused at first, but follows her lead. Gently, he places the shirt over her head and releases it. It gracefully coats her body in red.

“Take those off,” she orders, pointing at his boxers.

“Getting risqué, are we?”

She reaches in the drawer and hands him a new pair. “I like these better.”

“But they’re not as cozy,” he whines with a feigned frown.

“Cozy schmozy, Halpert. They’re plain old ugly.”

“I happen to like yellow plaid with sky-blue highlights.”

“They look ridiculous,” she smiles fondly, brushing her fingers along the hem of a different pair. “Besides, I think these green ones look better on you.”

“I will take that into account next time,” he jokes, pulling on the boxers.

“You better, especially because I’m the one who has to look at them,” she laughs, slipping yet another pair of his boxers.

“What is it with you and boxers tonight, Beesly?” he says, guiding her to their bed. His fingers linger on hers once they fold into each other under the sheets.

“They’re cozy, what can I say.”

She is sitting on their queen bed, adjusting her loosely fitting, bedtime shirt when she decides to watch him.

He is in their bathroom, brushing his teeth. She’s noticed, since they’ve been living together, that he brushes his teeth for exactly two and a half minutes. He has a small timer that oozes sand from top to bottom, the one his mother gave him when he was nine after the dentist told him to “stay away from candy after seven o’clock! That’s when the cavity goblins wake-up and eat your teeth!”

So after about two minutes, in the homestretch of the teeth-brushing race, bubbles drip and drop from Jim’s mouth as frothy, white foam trickles down his chin.

It is quite adorable.

Pam tip-toes toward the bathroom, a smile across her face as she watches her kid-at-heart fiancé finish his brushing session.

At this point, the spearmint lather has accumulated down his entire chin, coating his five-o’clock shadow in white. When he sees her in the mirror behind him, his lips spread wide to form a smile, causing more foam to ooze.

“I saw mommy kissing Santa Clause,” Pam sings into his ear, her hands on his broad shoulders.

He reaches for a towel and wipes his mouth, his grin wide.

He turns slightly to face her and she presses her lips into his formerly white, bubbly grin. Mint slips past her lips and is cool against her cheek as she pulls away to laugh.

“Underneath the bathroom light tonight,” Jim finishes, wiping his mouth dry and rinsing with water.

He turns to face her and flashes a smile.

“Absolutely luminous,” she says, grinning. She kisses him again, his lips cool against hers. Her favorite time to kiss him is after he brushes his pearly whites. Don’t get her wrong, she loves kissing him any time during their days. But the spearmint or peppermint or a combination of the two slick on his tongue is quite a delight.

“You should have been a dentist. Most people would kill for a smile like yours,” she comments, enjoying his straight, icy-white teeth.

“But then I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Good point.”

“Besides,” he says, pulling her toward their bed, “Although having good teeth is a plus, I find that kissable lips are the key in any working relationship.”

She laughs, reaching for her lip balm on her nightstand.

“I have to agree with you there, Halpert.”

She applies a healthy coating of Bert’s Bee’s mint lip balm and proceeds to press her lips into his. His fingers tighten around hers.

“And you,” he smiles, his nose touching hers, “Are what I call luminous.”

As he lies on their bed, he wonders why he is not in the shower with her.

She has been in there for a good five minutes and the steam is creeping into their darkened room. It approaches him carefully, like an alluring fog.

They find it useful to have extra, helping-hands in the shower, which is one of the main reasons they shower together. She argues that they are saving water, but he’s decided that they spend more time in there together than separately, considering their “activities.”

He feels puzzled as he wonders why he isn’t in there, slick and soapy with her. Their evening was peaceful and full of laughter, as usual. Nothing had gone wrong.

Maybe she just wanted alone time, he tells himself, unable to come up with a better motive.

He erases that idea quickly, because the last time she said that was about two weeks ago, when they had decided to reach their peaks by their own means (“C’mon. It’s sexy,” she purred that night).

It’s probably my fault. I should have just gone in with her.

Then he realizes that maybe he’s being a little bit ridiculous, maybe he should stop fussing about it. Showering by oneself is a normal occurrence.

Just maybe not for them.

He stands, straightens his t-shirt subconsciously, and tip-toes to their master-bathroom. He is immediately greeted by a wave of heat and a citrus-lilac aroma as he silently enters her steaming sanctuary.

The mirror is coated in a thin layer of condensation and he no longer feels guilty for not showering with her. He could have some fun with mirrors such as these.

He thinks about writing something sexy, maybe even provocative.

Another night, he thinks, grinning.

He touches his finger to the damp glass and draws in a little message enclosed in a heart:

Jim loves Pam.