Sitting on the front steps of the Dunder Mifflin headquarters, Jim was regretting the extra large coffee he drank on his drive to Manhattan. Now he was both nervous and jittery, and probably would have to find a restroom before too long. He checked his cell phone, it was 15 minutes past when Pam was suppose to be done at her internship, and there was no call or text from her. While debating whether or not he should go upstairs and surprise her, Jim saw a curly haired silhouette on the steps beside him.

"I'm so sorry, we usually can sneak out early on Saturdays but the network crashed this morning and I wasted a hour on the phone with the IT guy who was really grumpy I didn't know as much as him about computers," Pam said quickly.

Jim held back a chuckle as his stood; seeing Pam clearly as nervous as he was somehow made him a little less nervous.

"Also I hope we're not having dinner anywhere fancy because I kind of threw this on this morning," Pam said.

He quickly looked her up and down, suspecting she put a little more thought that she claimed into her blouse and dark blue jeans. "You look great," he said sincerely.

Pam turned her blushing cheeks away and looked up the street, "So I was thinking we could check out MoMA before dinner? It's pretty close to here."

"Okay, that sounds good," Jim said, searching his mind for what "MOMA" meant. Was it someone's name? An acronym?

"Museum of Modern Art," Pam added, as if sensing his query.

"That makes sense," Jim said, nodding. "See, design is helping you learn to read minds," he added with a smirk as they started down the steps.

Fine Art was not a topic Jim knew much about, and "modern art" was definitely beyond his grasp. But he did enjoy listening to Pam talk about the paintings as they wandered around the gallery, about how Monet and the other impressionist caused a huge stir in the art world just by using big, imprecise brush strokes, how Picasso went through dozens of different distinct styles in his lifetime, how a bunch of the famous Abstract Expressionists were friends with each other, and some were even married.

They stopped in front of a gold framed painting, Jim didn't know much about art but he knew this painting, with it's dark tower-like form and swirls of yellow and blue, was by Vincent Van Gogh.

"Van Gogh's one of my favorites," Pam said quietly.

Jim tilted his head, studying the painting. "Why's that?"

"I really like how he uses color. And I feel like his paintings always convey a really strong emotion, like joy or loneliness. Also I learned he didn't really start painting until his late twenties, and he had a lot of self-doubt." Pam turned her face to Jim and shrugged, "Which I can kind of relate to."

Pam returned her focus to the painting and Jim watched her for a moment, before cracking a small smile and lifting his hand. "You're not thinking about cutting off your ear though, right?" he said, moving her curls aside until he found her earlobe and gave it a light pinch.

She giggled and playfully pushed his hand away, but once her hand was dropped back to her side, he wrapped his fingers around hers.

"I think I would have done better in Art & Humanities class back in high school if I had a teacher like you," Jim said, enjoying watching Pam's cheek grow red. Her hand was small and soft in his and her eyes were bright and green and he really wanted to kiss her right then. It wouldn't magically erased Pam's self-doubt, but it would show her she didn't have to doubt him or how he felt about her, not anymore. Plus, it would have be romantic; their first real kiss on their first real date in front of Van Gogh's Starry Night. But there was a soft chime coming from a nearby speaker, signaling the museum was closing shortly, and Pam's hand slipped out of his as she turned towards the exit.

"How did you find this place?" Pam asked after she and Jim were seated in the small Italian restaurant just a short walk from MoMA.

"I went to a restaurant review site and tried to find something that was like Cugino's but in Manhattan," Jim said, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Cugino's, huh?" Pam said, her cheeks growing pink, "where I embarrassed myself in front of my new coworker by getting marinara sauce all over me?"

"Hey, you should not be embarrassed, I know that meatball attacked you unprovoked," Jim said, smiling at Pam's laughter. "Beside," he started in a lower tone, "that's when I knew that I liked you. I mean, I knew that we were going to be good friends."

Pam smiled shyly, "Yeah, I knew I liked you then too."

After the waiter came to pour them wine and take their order, Jim half-smiled at Pam. "So, you said you knew about Dwight and Angela, or ... what did you call them?"

"Dwangela, it's their celebrity name, like Brangelina," Pam said, taking a sip of wine. She recounted how she noticed little things, seeing Angela buy two candy bars then catching Dwight eating the same candy bar later, watching Angela get extremely concerned when Dwight went to the hospital with a concussion early that year, and of course the clinker was Dwight coming to Pam for ideas on what to get an unnamed woman for Valentine's Day.

"That's some good detective work, Beesly," Jim said.

"I'm a regular gumshoe," Pam replied in a silly, old-timey voice. Her cheeks flushed and she covered her face with her hands, "Oh my God, sorry, I'm such a dork."

Jim thought about reassuring her that her dorkiness wasn't a bad thing, he actually found it rather cute, but decided it would make her feel more nervous. "Speaking of dorky, did you know there's an old abandoned mailbox on the grounds at the Scranton Office Park." Pam smiled and shook her head no. "Well, there is, in the shrubbery behind a sign. And I may have left a flyer in there saying the government is looking for vigilant citizens to assist them. And Dwight may now think he is corresponding with the CIA."

Pam giggled, "So I guess he didn't see 'A Beautiful Mind'?"

"I doubt those are the kind of movies Angela's into," Jim replied, smiling as Pam let out a laugh. "I haven't decided where to go with it yet, and I'm trying to figure out how to keep him from suspecting that it's just me leaving the letters."

"Oh!" Pam said, her eyes lighting up. "What if he starts getting mysterious faxes? Like with information only he would know?"

Jim put his hand to his chin as if in seriously thought, "That might be good."

Pam's eyes widened, "Like ... from his future self?"

Jim pointed at her, "Beesly, you're a top gumshoe and a genius." She grinned broadly, her tongue peaking out between her teeth. Jim smiled, he had missed this so much, joking and bantering with Pam Beesly. There were few things in the world he enjoyed more.

After dinner they took another short walk towards Rockefeller Center, and Jim was pretty sure his own cheeks were red when Pam took his hand without any provocation.

"You know they don't have the big Christmas tree up yet," Pam joked as they crossed the street towards the plaza.

"Oh, damn, I suppose the date's over then," Jim said in a faux serious tone. He slipped his hand out of hers and started to walk off, "Later, Beesly."

He got a few paces away before turning around, laughing at Pam's pretend-shocked face. He jogged back towards her, reaching for her hand again. "C'mon, we're gonna go see something a lot better than a tree."

"I certainly hope so after that stunt," Pam said in a play-annoyed voice, but she gave his hand and squeeze and Jim was pretty sure she has forgiven him.

Jim was sort of hoping to surprise her, but the door labeled 'Observation Deck' flanked with 'Top of the Rock' signs gave his plan away. "I hope this isn't too touristy, now that you're practically a New Yorker."

"I think Big City Beesly can still appreciated this," Pam replied.

After the doors of the large elevator closed, Jim looked to Pam and smiled and she asked what he was thinking about. He shook his head saying it was silly, but she insisted. "I'm just thinking we've spent an above-average amount of time on elevators together."

Pam nodded, "I guess we have." She smiled. "I've always kind of looked forward to it," she said in a quiet tone before shyly looking away.

Jim watched her and smiled, he supposed he always kind of looked forward to it also.

The elevator arrived at the top floor and they disembarked with a dozen or so people. Shortly before the door leading to the outside, Pam stopped. "You should close your eyes." Jim knitted his brows and Pam smiled. "I just think it'd be more fun, you know, since you're small town boy seeing the Manhattan skyline for the first time."

"I've seen the Manhattan skyline," Jim scoffed.

"In person?"

"In ... many movies and photos."

"C'mon, I want to guide you to the very best spot," Pam said.

"Fine," Jim said with an exaggerated sigh, covering his eyes with one hand, smiling as Pam took his other. They passed through the door, the breeze making Jim shudder a bit. He was very good and didn't even peek as Pam guided him. She stopped and turned him by the shoulders.

"Okay," she started, "go ahead and - oh, no wait!" She took his hand again and he laughed as she led him around a corner. "Careful, we're going up some stairs."

"Where the heck are you taking me?" Jim said, feeling out the stairs with his feet.

She giggled, "It's gonna be great I promise."

He only stumbled once as they climbed the stairs, and walked a few more feet before Pam stopped him. "Okay," she said, "now open your eyes."

"Are you sure, isn't there a lightening rod you want to shimmy up first?" Jim joked.

She laughed, "No, I'm sure, this is the spot."

Jim lowered his hand and opened his eyes, smiling as he saw Pam had guided him to the upper level, with a perfect unobstructed view of the Empire State Building and the southern end of Manhattan. The sun was setting, making brilliant purple and pink lines across the horizon. "Alright, Beesly, letting you blindly drag me up here was definitely worth it."

She beamed at him and then turned to skyline. They walked around the entire upper deck, slipping quarters into the viewfinders, watching the sky grow dark and the lights grower brighter and more numerous.

"So where's your apartment from here?" Jim said when they returned to the southern side of the deck.

Pam looked to the south east. "I think that's the Williamsburg bridge right there," she said, pointing to a horizontal line of lights over the river. "That's the trendy area, I live way past that." She turned her head to the right, "Which way do you think Scranton is?"

"You don't see it?" Jim teased. He put one arm around Pam's shoulder then pointed west with the other, "It's that boring little town over there on that hill."

Pam squinted, pretending to be searching, "Oh yeah, I see it. Yeah, there's not much going on over there." She leaned slightly, her side pressed into Jim's, and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's not too bad there, really," she said quietly.

Jim looked down, watching the golden-brown curls waft around Pam's face. No, Scranton wasn't so bad, though he could think of one way it could be a little bit better. "So, being up here makes me think of that one night we stayed late at work and you found Michael's screenplay."

"Oh my God, I was just telling Karen about Agent Scarn," Pam said with a laugh, lifting her head to face him. "And then you made grilled cheese in the toaster oven and bragged about how it was your famous grilled cheese but it wasn't really that good."

"And the truth comes out!" Jim said, feigning shock. "I seem to remember you saying you liked it."

"I was so hungry I didn't care," Pam said. "Besides, I was pretty thrilled to be on the roof alone with my crush."

"Your crush, huh?" Jim watched her cheeks grow red and he smiled.

"I wasn't lying about the song though, I did like that song," Pam said, ignoring his previous comment. She blushed again, "Though probably mostly because we were sharing earbuds."

"Yeah, we were kind of like this," Jim said, stepping in front of Pam. He started in a low tone, "I remember being nervous and pretending I didn't understand why." He looked to Pam's wide green eyes, "but I knew it was because I was standing so close to you."

Pam's breath quickened but her eyes stayed on his as he started to lean into her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her to him until their lips finally met. He felt her hands travel to the sides of his neck, smiling against her lips as she started to run her fingers through his hair.

Her lips broke away from his and her fingertips trailed his jawline before she put her hands on his shoulders. He lifted a hand to push a curl back behind her ear, then his eyes met hers and his eyebrows lifted in worry as he saw her eyes were red and shiny. "Hey, are you okay?"

She nodded, "Yeah." She smiled and giggled softly, "I'm okay."

Jim smiled and kissed her forehead, and she rested her head on his chest. He placed his hand on her soft curls, and they stood silently, feeling each other breath in and out. He wasn't quite able to put into words what he felt, but he knew it was better than okay.