They make it exactly one hundred and twenty-three hours.

***


"No, I totally understand," Pam says on Thursday night, standing next to his car. "You've got a lot going on. Yikes."

"It's just really complicated," Jim says again. "I mean, obviously."

"Yeah," Pam says.

"We should probably try to take it slow," Jim says. "Maybe just get to know each other again?"

"That sounds like a good idea," Pam says. "We can just hang out. Or whatever.

"Totally."

"OK."

"Well, goodnight," Jim says. He doesn't let go of her hands.

Pam takes a breath, takes a step forward, and kisses him on tiptoe. She can only do it for a few seconds because he's so tall, but when she moves down again his eyes are wide.

"Goodnight," she says. She squeezes his hands, then lets go and walks to her door alone.


***


"Um," Jim says after work on Friday. "Maybe just coffee?"

"Sure," Pam says. "I've got stuff to do at home anyhow."

"I want to, though. Soon."

"It's not a big deal."

"It is," Jim says. "You've been doing all this painting and I haven't seen any of it."

"It'll keep," Pam says.

***

"So, is this a good time to come over?" Jim asks on Saturday morning.

Pam adjusts the phone on her shoulder, smearing tile grout across her nose. "I'm actually doing some housework."

"Oh," he says. "OK."

"And maybe you should, you know. Stick around. Just in case."

"Pam, I don't think – "

"I just feel really bad about everything," she says.

"It's not your fault. "

"I know. I just think maybe it's too soon. I mean, not for me. But for you?"

"Well," Jim says.

"At least for her," Pam says softly.

There's a silence.

"Sorry."

"No," Jim says. "You're right. I should probably stay home today."

"OK."

"I'd rather not, though."

"Good," Pam says, smiling. "Talk to you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."


***


"So, is this a good time for you to come over?" Pam asks on Sunday morning.

Jim sighs into the phone. "No."

"Oh," she says.

"I told you, I have to work that weekend."

"What?"

"No, I don’t get overtime," he says in a weird voice. "I'm on salary, remember?"

"Jim, is something going on?" she asks.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Mom. I wanted to go too."

Her heart thuds. "Uh, is Karen there?"

"Yeah," he says, sounding more like himself.

"So this is a really bad time for you to come over."

"Uh-huh."

"Picking up stuff?"

"Nope."

"Having a really horrible fight?"

"Yup."

"Oh." She pauses. "See you tomorrow?"

"I will."

She pauses again. "This is going to be really awkward and uncomfortable, isn't it?"

"You bet."

"Good luck," she says, and hangs up. She stares at the phone for a little while, cracking her knuckles, and goes to load the dishwasher.


***


"OK, honestly? I feel really relieved," Jim says at lunch on Monday. "Does that make me a horrible person?"

Pam thinks about it. "It makes you human."

"I guess I can deal with human," he says into his turkey sandwich.

"Good thing," she says. She glances through the window, even though the cameras are gone for the summer, and moves her foot closer to his under the table.

Jim looks at her sideways, out of the corner of his eye. She turns until her hair falls half over her face and smiles at him.

"What?" he asks.

"Nothing," she says.

"Seriously, what?" he asks, starting to smile too.

"I just like being able to sit with you again."

For a few seconds Jim looks uncomfortable, and then he slides his arm over until their elbows are touching. Pam gets a little shiver, all the way up to the top of her head.

"Me too," he says.

"Do you want to do dinner?" she asks around the catch in her throat.

Jim nods. "Dinner sounds good."

"Maybe just dinner," Pam says, even though that's not at all what she wants.

Jim licks his lips. "Probably a good idea."

Pam turns her head all the way and leans into him, resting her forehead on his arm. She can feel him stiffen up, tensing his muscles as he holds his breath. "For tonight," she says quietly.

"Yeah," he says, after a long pause, and it almost sounds like his voice is breaking.

She'd smile again, except she can't quite breathe, and she sits up and takes a drink from her soda can just as Meredith comes into the break room. For the rest of the afternoon she thinks there's maybe five minutes, total, when Jim isn't glancing her way, and that would make her feel good except for the part where her heart just won't stop pounding.


***


"So, here's the grand tour," Pam says on Tuesday night. "Living room, kitchen, dining room." She points at each in turn. "Oh, and the linen closet."

"Nice," Jim says. He still hasn't moved off the rug in front of the door. "It's cozy."

"It's cluttered."

"Snug."

"Crowded."

"Cute," he says. "Where's the art?"

"The art?" she says. "It's elsewhere."

"I was promised art."

"Don't believe everything you're told."

"Pam," he says.

She sighs, rolling her eyes at him, and goes to put her leftovers in the fridge. She thinks about taking off her heels, but she likes not having to crane her neck up so far, so she just leans over on the kitchen bar. "Drink?"

"What's this, orders up?" he asks.

"Well, I basically have orange juice and water, so not really," she says. "Unless you want some milk."

Jim leans on the bar from the other side, his face suddenly close to hers. Pam realizes the cowl neck of her shirt is probably falling forward and straightens up a little.

"I can pass on the milk," he says.

"I have Nesquik."

"Pam," he says again.

"Strawberry Nesquik."

"Really?"

"No."

Jim tips his head to the side. "Come on, Beesly. Where is it?"

"Uh," she says. "The art is in the bedroom."

There's a pause. Both of them look down at the tile of the bar counter where the new grout is white and neat. Pam runs her finger along the one rough groove, the first one she did.

"Maybe you could just bring it out here."

Pam studies his face from under her lashes before she answers. "Well, it's all hanging up. Come on." She tips her head to the side.

Jim swallows audibly and follows her down the short hall to the bedroom door, which she pushes open just a little.

"Acceptable for public consumption?" he asks over her shoulder.

"Just barely," Pam says. "Level three danger zone."

Neither of them sound very funny right now. They go into the bedroom.

Her bed is actually made, for once, and most of her clothes are on the dresser or the chair. She does a quick underwear check and sees only a plain black bra draped inconspicuously over a black skirt. She's tempted, briefly, to pile some more clothes on top, but it seems like that would only draw more attention to it.

Pam takes one more glance around, but when she looks back at Jim he isn't looking at anything but the picture of sunflowers she has hanging over the nightstand. He picks his way across the room, stepping over her work shoes, and leans in close. Jim's in her bedroom.

"When did you do this?" he asks.

"After my art show," she says.

"Oh," he says. "You know, I'm really sorry – "

"I understand. I really do." She tries to mean it and she does, mostly.

"How come you did this one after the show?"

"Gil," she says with a half-laugh. "Oscar's boyfriend. I heard him talking about how Van Gogh painted peasants and my art looked like motel art."

Jim turns to look at her, a surprised frown on his face. "That's horrible."

Pam shrugs. "It was true. So I started looking at Van Gogh. I know his sunflowers are totally cliché, but it seemed like a good place to start."

"Yeah," he says, looking back at the painting.

Pam stands there waiting until she sees one more bra, hanging on the closet door right behind him. She winces and crosses the room, trying to be sneaky, and grabs it just as Jim turns around.

"Hey," he says, and looks down at the bra in her hand. His face goes a little red and she realizes how close she is to him, back in this corner, next to the bed.

"Sorry," she says.

"That's… really pretty," he says in a low, nervous voice.

Pam looks at the bra crumpled up in her hand. It's actually her very prettiest one, a sheer pink push-up trimmed with black lace and pink ribbons.

"Oh," she says, feeling her own blush rising. "Thanks."

"Um," Jim says. "Did you – "

"I wore it Thursday night," she says in a rush. "Not because I thought – I just kind of hoped – "

Pam knows, somehow, that he's going to put his hands around her waist, and that's why she drops the bra and holds onto his shoulders just as he leans down and kisses her.

"I love your painting," Jim breathes, and then it's all over.

Jim pulls her close, sliding his hands up her back as they kiss. When he opens his mouth she licks the underside of his lip, pushing her tongue against his. He turns and presses her up against the closet door. The knob digs into her back, but she doesn't move because it seems like she'll never get enough of kissing him, his hands in her hair and his tongue in her mouth. Eventually it hurts too much and she arches away, which moves her hips forward, which makes him catch a breath and start kissing her neck.

"Ow," Pam says, trying to straighten up, and when he moves back with a puzzled look she takes advantage of the space to pull open all the buttons on his shirt.

Jim looks down and makes a face that would be hilarious if she was in that kind of mood, and privately she stores it away to tease him about later. At the moment, though, she's more concerned with getting the shirt off him, and he snaps out of it pretty quick, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

"Off," he says. Pam lifts her arms and obliges. Jim gets one moment to stare at her breasts before she pushes him backwards.

When she follows him she's laughing but then he kisses her again, smothering her giggles until they're a different sound altogether. He reaches around to undo her bra, which he manages fairly well considering, and rolls her over, shrugging out of his shirt as he kneels over her.

"Off," Pam mimics, kissing his chest as she pulls at his undershirt, and that goes too.

Jim grabs her hips and pulls her back onto him, except this time she spreads her knees and straddles him, her skirt riding up. It puts her right where she wants to be, and there's one more startled expression to remember later as she rocks against him. Finally Jim sits up, shifting her weight onto his thighs and bracing his hand against her back.

"Evil," he whispers as he slides off her bra.

"You love it," Pam says, right before he gets his mouth around her breast and all she can do is clutch at his shoulders and try to stay quiet.

Jim switches between her breasts like he can't make up his mind, and his tongue tracing slippery circles is almost more than she can handle. He runs his hand down her bare back, just brushing his fingertips, and she watches him push up her breast and lick at her nipple. She tips her head back, dizzy, and catches a startled breath when his teeth scrape her skin.

"Oh," she says, and looks at him for a moment before sliding off his lap. She lies back on the bed, working at the zipper of her skirt. He leans over her, kisses her breast once more, and stands up.

Jim undoes his belt, then his fly, and something about that just kills her, the way his hard-on juts forward as soon as he frees it. He's wearing nice black boxer-briefs, and as he slides down his pants and pulls off his shoes Pam thinks she's not the only one who hoped she might be getting some this week.

The briefs stay on, though, and she's just about to complain about that when Jim leans down, kneeling on the bed, and yanks at her skirt. She lifts her hips so he can pull it off, and after a moment's hesitation he goes for her underwear too, his nails scratching her a little as he tugs them down. She has to slide around so that she's got her head on the pillow instead of practically hanging off the bed and Jim follows her, kissing her stomach all the way down.

"Oh, no," Pam says, warningly, as he tickles the inside of her thighs, but then he slides his fingers higher, until he finds the right place, and his mouth is hot and wet on her as he spreads her with two fingers.

She wants to squirm away, really, and see what's under those briefs, but holy god, she couldn't if she tried. Jim pushes another finger into her, sucks her clit with just that edge of his teeth again, and her attempt at pushing his head away turns into a desperate clutch at his hair.

"Ow," Jim says, his lips moving against her, and she takes the opportunity to twist her hips to the side.

"Get up here," Pam says, tugging at his hair for emphasis. He licks her once more, making her twitch, and moves up.

"Yes, ma'am," Jim says.

"Oh god," she breathes in his ear, once he settles down against her. She pulls her knees up, pressing into his sides, and he kisses her neck. He's so hard it almost hurts when he rubs against her hip, and she slides one hand under the waistband of his briefs.

"Off," Pam whispers, and he kisses her jaw, her cheek, her nose, and her mouth before he moves away.

Jim stands back up again to pull off his briefs, and Pam's so busy staring at him, the hard redness of his erection standing out against the dark thatch of hair, that it takes her a few moments to realize they're naked and the bedroom light is pretty bright and she's going to have sex with Jim.

Jim seems to be thinking the same thing, only he looks kind of overwhelmed and scared, so she gets up on one elbow and crooks a finger at him.

"Come here," she says, and it's totally cheesy but it seems to work, because Jim crawls onto the bed again and kisses her until she can hardly breathe.

"Condom?" he asks, bracing his arms on either side of her head.

"Pill," she says, and shifts to spread her legs.

She thinks he'll hesitate but he doesn't, just pushes into her until she gasps, burying her face against his shoulder.

"'Kay?" Jim asks, and barely waits for her breathless nod before he starts moving.

Pam's out of words after thirty seconds, settling for one oh god on every thrust, and this is practically embarrassing. She never comes like this, barely being touched and barely beginning, but she can't seem to stop arching her back as he pushes into her. She wraps her legs around Jim's waist, reaches back to grab the corner of her pillow, and squeezes it as hard she can, just to stop digging her nails into his shoulder.

"Gonna," she manages between breaths.

"Yeah?" Jim asks. He bites his lip and she realizes he's going to watch her the whole time, so she shuts her eyes.

She's not even saying words now, just moaning sharply every time he pulls out and moves past that one little spot. Jim figures out what's making her moan and starts thrusting fast and shallow, which drives her crazy enough that she turns her head back and forth, pushing deeper into the pillow, trying to stand it.

Pam opens her eyes just as she comes, gasping fuck and following it up with more wordless cries that make her throat hurt. It goes on forever, until she has to put down her legs and shake her head, her hand on his chest.

"OK," she breathes. "God. Stop."

Jim does, panting hard. His chest is sweaty against hers, and he looks down at her as she tries to catch her breath.

"Holy fuck," he says, quietly.

Pam smiles, startled. "What?"

Jim just shakes his head.

After a moment she lifts her hips against him, settling one hand on his lower back. "Ready?"

"Are you?" Jim asks. "Don't you want – "

"I want you to fuck me until you come," Pam says, quiet but sure, looking him in the eye as she blushes all over. She lets Jim stare at her for a second before she pulls his head down, kissing him hard. He pushes into her even harder.

"Pam," he says, his face against her neck.

Jim goes on longer than she thought he would, thrusting steady and deep, making the bed shake as he kisses her throat and moves down to her breasts. She touches his hair and he closes his eyes. He moves above her, picking up speed, and comes hard, groaning loud enough she's sure her neighbors can hear. She squeezes him tight inside, which makes his eyes fly open again, and she laughs a little as he falls forward, his head on the pillow next to hers.

When Jim's breathing finally slows Pam tilts her head up, kisses his sweaty forehead, and squeezes him once more, making him shudder all over.

"Oh, you are evil," Jim says. She just smiles.

After a while Jim rolls over, sighing, and stretches his arms over his head. Pam turns and lays her head on his shoulder, his arm settling around her. She snuggles in closer.

"We managed five whole days," Pam says. "Impressive."

"I knew I'd be a goner as soon as I stepped into your apartment," Jim says.

"What, did you think I was going to jump you or something?" she asks.

"Didn't you?" he asks.

"I think there was mutual jumping."

"To be honest, I was worried about making it through a work day."

Pam looks up at him. "What did you think you would do?"

Jim shrugs. "The usual. Inveigle you into a stall in the men's bathroom. Make out with you against the vending machines. Bend you over Michael's desk after work."

"Those sound like fun."

Jim laughs. "You think?"

"You'd be surprised, Mr. Halpert."

Jim looks down at her for a long minute. "We are going to have so much fun."

"Tell me about it," Pam says.