"Crap!"

Jim looks over. "What?"

"Oh, I just remembered I said I'd bring chips and dip tomorrow. I hate going to the store after work."

He does a quick mental inventory. "What are you doing tonight?"

She considers. "Well, the store...then home...it's Wednesday, so the poker game's at Lonny's...so, nothing. Why?"

"Because I have a better idea than chips and dip, and you won't have to go to the store."

x x x x x

When they reach his house, she laughs at the huge bowl of candy awaiting tomorrow's trick-or-treaters. "Expecting a crowd?"

"I'll have you know, I'm very popular with the kids. And, of course, the moms."

She rolls her eyes. "Of course. So what's your great idea?"

"This way."

In the kitchen, he preheats the oven, then pulls out a bag of chocolate chips and measuring cups.

"Chocolate chip cookies?"

"Nope. Better." He pulls down two bowls.

"Better than chocolate chip cookies."

"Trust me. Measure a cup and a third, and melt them in the microwave."

"Okay." As she does, he stands next to her, measuring sugar, brown sugar, and butter into a bowl. "You're quite the domestic goddess."

"Thank you. Mark thinks so."

She giggles. "Why do you have all of this on hand?"

He looks confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because. You're a guy."

He shakes his head. "Guys don't cook?"

"This isn't cooking. This is baking. Martha."

"Do you want to learn how to make my mom's famous brownies or not?"

"Oooooh. Yes, please!"

"Then shut up and cream this." He hands her the butter-sugar mixture. He takes the melted chocolate, and begins stirring it slowly, swirling the glossy surface, blowing on it now and then. "So what are you going as tomorrow?"

"Haven't decided. You?"

"Dunno. I'll figure something out. Dwight's coming as a Sith lord. He's very excited."

She smirks. "New light saber?"

"Oh yeah."

She shows him her work. "How's this?"

"Looks good. Now the eggs." He picks up an egg and cracks it, one-handed, into the bowl.

She nods approval. "Smooth. Show me how." She picks up an egg.

"Okay. Hold it gently. Now you're gonna tap it on the edge of the bowl, like this." He taps the back of her hand to demonstrate how hard. She does. The bowl makes a neat crack in the shell. "Now just pull it apart a little." He puts his hand over hers to guide her movement. The egg drops neatly into the bowl.

"Hey! Not bad!"

"Yeah, don't get cocky. Stir. Slowly - you don't wanna put a lot of air in these."

As she stirs, he splashes vanilla into the bowl, then scrapes the melted chocolate in with a spatula. The mixture becomes dark and smooth. She watches as he measures flour into a small bowl and sifts it with a fork. She's fascinated by the angle between his wrist and thumb. He catches her watching. "How's that looking?"

She shows him. "Ready for flour?"

"Yup." He shakes it in as she stirs, then pulls over another bag.

"What are those?"

"Dried cherries. Here." He holds one out to her. Her hands are full, so he slips it into her mouth. His fingers brush her lips on the way out. The cherry is sweet and sour on her tongue.

"Mmm."

"Good, right?" He puts a handful in the bowl. While she stirs them in, he greases and flours a pan, tapping the excess flour into the sink. There isn't much excess.

"How often do you make these?"

"Now and then."

She nudges him with her elbow. "You know it by heart."

He laughs. "That was Mom's doing. She taught each of us a recipe sure to impress the ladies. I think she thought it would help us land wives." He's thoughtful for a moment. "I'll have to ask my sister-in-law if it was the strudel that did it for her."

Pam's laughing. "You're not gonna put the moves on me are you? ‘Cause they won't work."

He shakes his head sadly. "Pamela, Pamela. Resistance is futile."

She giggles. "You sound like Dwight."

"Ech." He makes a face and stuffs a few more cherries in her mouth. "No more of that." He fills the baking pan and slips it into the oven. She picks up the melted chocolate bowl and when he turns around she dabs three vertical dots on his cheek.

He's grinning, bemused.

"I know what you can go as tomorrow."

"And what's that?"

She points to the dots. "Three-hole-punch Jim."

"Nice! Oo, here." He takes the bowl from her. "Stand still." He dips a finger in and gently dabs chocolate onto the tip of her nose, then smoothes a line of chocolate across her cheek. His fingertips are warm and he takes great care making six lines. He looks very pleased with himself. "Me-ow!"

"Very funny." But she really likes how he's looking at her, so she doesn't wipe it off. Instead she walks toward into the living room. "So, what should we do while they bake?"

"Well, I taught you something. So it's only fair you do the same." He shrugs.

"I suppose so. Why do I get the feeling you already have something in mind?"

"Funny you should say that."

She chuckles, suspicious. "What is it?"

"Well, okay, so I was sitting behind Angela in the conference room last week, and she had her hair back in that - I don't know - is it a braid?"

"Oh - yeah."

"Well, it looks complicated. I was just wondering, you know, how you do that."

She chuckles to herself, imagining telling Roy they spent the evening baking brownies and braiding each other's hair. "Sure."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's called a French braid. C'mon, I'll show you." She waves him to the couch. He sits at one end and turns sideways toward her. She turns her back and sits up against his leg.

"Should I take your barrette out?"

She was going to do it herself. But okay. "Yeah."

He's tentative as he figures out the barrette. When it clicks open, her hair falls, and she has the urge to fluff it. But then his fingers are sliding into her hair, and she can't move. He gently rakes through it, starting at her temples. His touch on her scalp sends a thrill across her skin. Then his hands are moving up under her hair in back, and combing it upward off her neck. His motions are slow and deliberate and she closes her eyes. When he gets caught in a tangle, he says, softly, "Sorry," working it out, then smoothing her hair down. "Okay. Where do I start?"

She keeps her eyes closed and reaches up to gather the first hank of hair for him. "Take this and make three equal strands." His hands brush hers as he takes it.

"Okay."

"Okay, keep those separate. I'll show you how to add to it." She runs a fingernail back through her hair and hands him the new strand. "Add this to the strand on the outside, then cross that over the middle strand."

He manages that.

"Now just do that on each side, back and forth. Always add to the outside strand and cross over the middle one."

He uses his index fingers, and as he works, the feel of them on her scalp makes her ears tingle a little. A few braids in, he mutters, "How does Angela do this by herself?" He shifts his hands to get a better grip. "Her cats must help her."

Pam snorts, which makes him laugh. He leans forward. "Seriously, how does she do this?"

"She probably just orders it into place." Then they're both laughing. "Got the idea?"

"No, wait, let me finish. You never know when Mark might ask me to do this for him."

She giggles, then quiets as his fingers work their way down toward her neck. Soon, she can feel that it's bare, can feel the heat on her skin as his knuckles bump her there.

"Now I just braid it, right?"

"Mm-hm."

When he's finished he holds the end, and uses his other hand to smooth down stray curls. He snags one by her cheekbone and guides it behind her ear. He rests that hand on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing her neck lightly. "These little curls back here are funny."

Even if her eyes were open, she isn't sure she'd be able to see anything.

He begins taking the braid out and she thinks he's finished. But he spends a little while gently combing body back into her hair. Then his hands are warm on her arms, his voice next to her ear, soft, low, deep. "You should wear your hair down more often. It's beautiful."

She opens her eyes and turns to find his cheek next to hers. She hesitates only a moment before lightly kissing one of the chocolate dabs there, tasting his skin. His eyes close and he squeezes her arms. "Mm." He looks up again and his eyes are deep and green and hungry and then his lips are soft and wet on her nose. The tip of his tongue barely grazes her as he takes the chocolate with him. She gasps and closes her eyes. She feels his breath on her lips...

...and the oven timer goes off, startling them both.

x x x x x

That night, she makes herself kitty ears and a tail.

The next morning, he smiles softly when he sees her hair is down.