You'll be loved
Like you never have known

*

February

*

Hannah leaves at the beginning of the month. There's no big to do; Pam comes in one morning to see her packing up her desk.

"You can't take the stapler," Angela's firm voice floats across the office and Pam glances over at Jim, who has his hand over his mouth.

"So three out of five, huh? Who's going to be next?" Michael asks when she's gone. He widens his eyes at them, his line of vision bouncing between Karen and Andy.

"It should be Survivor: Scranton."

"Yesss," Michael hisses, laughing at Jim's joke as he goes back into his office.

Michael has a meeting with Jan that afternoon, so he leaves the office early. An IM from Jim pops up on her screen.

JHalpert: I've been trying to think of a way to get out of here early all day.

JHalpert: I think I've got it.

She coughs and he turns just a little in his chair. She smiles and he spins around, pointing to the break room with his thumb. She nods and a moment later, he's off his chair, heading that way.

A minute later, she follows. "So what's the mission?" She asks as she walks in, seeing him pretending to study the contents of the snack machine. "This better benefit us both or I'm not helping." She teases, folding her arms across her chest.

"Oh, it benefits all," he smiles, buying a bottle of water, before joining her at one of the gray plastic tables. "Okay. First, I need you to get into Michael's office while I delay Dwight somehow. Do you know where all the clocks are in his office?"

She squints, thinking. "There's just the one on the wall. What's this about?"

He takes a sip of his water and she watches the grin grow across his face. He leans in conspiratorially and it's all she has not to close her eyes as she breathes him in. "It's our own little daylight savings time here at Dunder Mifflin."

She giggles, glancing at her watch. "So it's really…"

"Twelve o'clock." He taps his watch. "But we'll be getting out of here at four."

"Gotcha." She starts to get up.

"Ooh! Don't forget the clock on Michael's computer."

"Right," she nods. "Wait, doesn't Dwight wear a watch? How are you going to trick him out of that?"

"We have to convince him it's out of sync. Try and keep up here," Jim smiles at her.

"Clever." She grins back, pushing open the door to head back to her desk, and muffling her smile as she crosses the office.

They both work on the plan diligently, trying to change all the clocks Dwight might check. She tries not to notice how Jim leans over Karen's desk, his hand on top of hers as he takes the mouse. At one point, Dwight stretches and yawns and she hears Jim cough. A moment later, Dwight heads towards the bathroom. Ryan's apparently been filled in on the plan, because Jim calmly gets up to change Dwight's computer clock and then shoots her an "ok" sign before heading into the back to delay Dwight.

She picks up two file folders and strolls into Michael's office. She closes the blinds and stands on a chair to take down Michael's wall clock. As she's working, she hears muffled voices and strains to hear if its Dwight and Jim, but one of the voices is female and distinctly Jan, so she slaps the clock back on the wall, hoping it doesn't come crashing down again. She swings open the office door and steps outside just as Michael and Jan come around the corner. She sees Jim emerging from the back of the office, his eyes wide that they've been found out. She shakes her head slightly and turns to Michael, smiling sweetly, telling him she left last month's expense reports on his desk.

After Michael shuts his door, there's a crash and she flinches as Michael curses. Jim meets her at reception.

"Abort, abort," she murmurs as she sits back at her desk.

He chuckles. "Maybe another day."

She nods. "It was a nice thought."

"Yeah," he lets his elbow rest on the counter, his lanky frame shifting to find a comfortable position, his old position. "I was going to catch a matinee."

"A movie? Really, Halpert? It's so nice out today."

"It is freakishly warm today."

"Global warming," she raises her eyebrows at him.

"I don't think so," he shakes his head. "It's supposed to snow tonight."

"Oh, that'll be nice." He gives her a look. "What? I like snow. Not the gray, slushy stuff, but when it first snows. It makes everything clean, like you can start over."

"No, snow's nice."

*

He doesn't follow Karen out of the office anymore. That night, she watches him slip on his coat and blue scarf before he looks over at her. "You're killing me. Why are you still here?"

"Some of us actually work around here." She turns from her computer to see him holding her coat. "Fine," she relents. She switches off her monitor and takes her coat from him, looking away when his fingers brush hers. She pulls her hair out from under the collar and grabs her purse. "Okay."

She's putting on her gloves when they step out into the parking lot and she feels that electricity in the air. She looks up at the darkening sky and notices the bulge of gray clouds in the distance. "You can almost smell it."

Jim shoots her half a grin, but she thinks she notices him lift his chin a little and sniff the air. He stays by her side as they pick their way across the icy parking lot. She only has to grab his hand once, but the way he catches her wrist almost makes her lose her balance again.

"Careful," he cautions.

Later, she looks up from the TV, hearing the gush of wind against her window and sees the thick flakes dancing towards the ground. She picks up the phone. "It's snowing."

"Oh, yeah, it is. Wow." She listens to him breathe for a minute, both of them quiet as they watch the snow together. She wants to tell him then.

"Do you think you would ever leave Scranton?" He asks after awhile, his voice low.

"If I had a reason, yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Just curious."

"Did you like living in Stamford?"

"It was nice," he sighs. "For a little while."

*

She spots him across the hotel ballroom, talking with Oscar and Kevin. He's wearing a navy suit, the knot of his tie slightly crooked as he smiles at something Kevin is saying. She pulls at the waist of her dress. She's been worrying about it being too fitted, too tight, but when she tried it on for Kelly and Phyllis one day after work, they both told her she was crazy.

"You're so tiny, Pam. And you look hot. You're wearing that dress." Kelly demanded.

"I love the color," Phyllis had added.

She likes the color too, the layers of dark blue silk fluttering at her knees. She feels bold, flirty, and it reminds her of that night in May.

Jim looks over at her and he stops. It's clear he's not listening to whatever Oscar is saying. She manages a smile and half a wave before Kevin and Oscar look over at her, and she feels her cheeks tingle, looking down at the ground where her toes peek out of her shoes. Ryan and Kelly come in and stop to talk to her, but when she turns back around, Jim is there.

"Hi," she smiles. "You look nice."

"Thanks. You look…amazing." She notices how his eyes flit from her face all the way down to her toes.

"Thank you." The justice of the peace comes in then and tells them to take their seats.

"Ready?" Jim raises his eyebrows. She steps past him and can feel his hand meet the small of her back as they find seats next to Ryan and Kelly. Michael has somehow convinced Jan to accompany him and they come in together at the last minute; Jim shoots her a surprised look and she puts her hand up to her mouth to muffle the giggle. Bob Vance, his best man, and the justice of the peace walk to the front of the room and everyone falls quiet. The crowd is small, but almost all the seats are full. Phyllis's sister is her maid of honor and she makes her way down the aisle. Phyllis walks down the aisle by herself and Pam thinks it’s the happiest she's ever seen her.

After the ceremony, everyone mills around, waiting for what exactly, she's not sure. She starts to say something to Jim, but she catches herself admiring him in his suit instead. She's studying the slope of his shoulders when he turns, meeting her eyes, and she blurts out the first thing she thinks of. "This is why I don't like weddings."

"Wow. Flattery is your forte."

"No," she laughs. "That’s not what I meant. I just mean…you know, weddings. I don't think I've ever actually had fun at a wedding."

"Well, Beesly, what can I say? You've never been to a wedding with me." He finishes, pointing to himself.

She realizes that maybe their awkward exchange the day before really had been an invitation to be his date, but she isn't sure. One of the hotel staff comes in to escort everyone to the room for the reception and she's suddenly aware of how Jim's sleeve brushes her arm as they walk or the way he leans into her as they try to get through a doorway at the same time. He laughs and she can feel his breath on her neck.

The reception room is decorated tastefully, but not overdone, and there's a small table between the dance floor and buffet area that is reserved for the wedding party. She hears Jim ask her something about drinks and she agrees to scout out chairs as he goes off to the bar. It's weird that they're doing this: getting drinks and finding a place to sit, but it's familiar, like she's done this with him before.

She gets a minute to breathe and take in her surroundings, but realizes Andy is heading in her direction, and she glances around for Jim, who fortunately, is also coming back to the table. She widens her eyes at him, tilting her head towards Andy and she sees Jim visibly speed up. He gets to the table a moment after Andy. "Hey, Tuna."

"Hey," Jim hands Pam her drink.

"I was just coming over to see if the lady, Pamela, would do me the honor of a dance."

"Oh, I don't--"

"Oh, you don't want to do that." Jim shakes his head. "She's a bad dancer," he stage whispers to Andy.

"Yeah, sorry," she shrugs.

"I don't mind," Andy replies.

"Well, I--" She stutters.

"I mind," Jim says quickly. "She's saving all the bad dancing for me." He winks at her and she tries her hardest not to beam at him.

Andy notices the exchange and leans into Jim. "Ooooh, Big Tuna! I think you found your open waters."

"Uh, yeah--" She watches his cheeks flush.

"Wait, what about Karen?"

"Oh, we…" Jim shakes his head. Pam swallows, glancing down at her drink.

"Gotcha. Well, maybe I'll see you two out there."

"Yeah, maybe," she nods, noticing how Jim seems to be frozen.

"Jim…" she starts, but he interrupts.

"I know, I know, you're not a bad dancer."

"No," she puts a hand on his arm, not letting him get away with a joke. "Thank you."

"Yeah, well. That's what I do." He shrugs, still not meeting her eyes.

"I know." She squeezes his hand. "You're a good wedding date," she whispers and Jim looks up at her in surprise. He opens his mouth, but she just nods, giving him a small smile. He nods back and looks away, but she notices the smile pulling at his cheeks.

Jan bustles over then, saying she doesn't want to interrupt, but that she needs a brief reprieve from Michael. She asks how Jim is fitting back in here and Jim glances over at Pam and then back at Jan.

"It's been easier than I thought it would be. It's good to be home."

*

After they watched Phyllis and Bob Vance cut the cake and have their first dance, Pam is feeling warm and a little giddy from the wine. She taps Jim on the shoulder.

"Let's go."

"Huh?"

"You haven't seen any of my bad dance moves," she stands, reaching out her hand for him. "Let's go."

"Okay," he laughs, shaking his hand.

The DJ is playing a cheesy fifties song as they make their way out on the floor. She feels self-conscious and she thinks Jim can tell, because they both stand at the edge of the floor and wait for the song to change. Abba's "Dancing Queen" comes on and she giggles. "Oh my God, did you request this?"

"No, I swear." She knows how Jim hates this song, because it gets stuck in his head.

"Well, let's do this thing, Beesly." He nods and she moves out onto the floor, pulling out her disco moves, and he matches her. After one song, she doesn't mind that she probably looks like a complete dork. She barely notices when another song she doesn't recognize comes on and they stay out on the floor.

But when a slower song starts to play, they both stop. He swallows and she wishes she could stop looking at him, three feet apart from him in some ballroom. "What are we doing?"

"We're missing the slow dance."

"Jim," she sighs. "I need to--" He pulls her forward and she sucks in her breath, then realizes he was preventing her from getting run over by another pair of dancers. "Can we go somewhere? I mean, we don't have to leave."

"No, yeah, sure." Jim follows her off the dance floor and they're both quiet as they walk out to the hallway. Their shoes don't make any sound on the carpet. She stops outside the room, her hands on her stomach. He leans against the wall next to her, staring at the big windows across from them that look out onto the hotel's gardens.

"I just needed to get out of there for a minute." She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks over at him. "God, I hate weddings."

"I thought we were having a good time," he murmurs.

"No, we are. Sorry." She takes a deep breath. "Do you think we'll ever be happy?"

His gaze meets hers, studying her face. "You're not happy?"

"I could be. With you." Her hands are shaking, but he reaches out, finds her hand, covering it with his. She shivers, remembering how something so simple can make her feel safe.

"I could be too."

"Then what are we doing? I want to be happy, Jim. I want to be happy," she repeats, hearing her own voice crack.

"I know," he murmurs. "I know." He tugs on her wrist and she steps towards him. She tucks herself into his chest, taking in deep, ragged breaths. His cheek rests against her temple and when he talks, she can feel the vibrations, the echo of his words in his chest. "I tried to change, but God, Pam…"

She looks up when he says her name like that. "I don't want you to change." Her hands grip his shoulders, because for a second, she's not sure if she's really here, if he's really here, standing in front of her, waiting. "Is it too late to tell you?"

He doesn't let her finish, doesn't answer the question, because his lips are on hers, and she's so startled that they sort of stumble back against the wall. She doesn't hesitate this time, her hands sliding up, fingering the hair on the back of his neck, the soft whorls, the way she remembers it. The fabric of her dress rustles, echoes in her ears, and it's almost like before. This time when they break apart, she looks him in the eye, and his lips pull into a small smile. Her cheeks feel flushed and his fingers sweep across her collarbone, making her eyes flutter close again.

"I should have told you a long time ago," she mumbles, her lips brushing across his cheek.

"No," he whispers. "Now's good." She tugs on his collar and pulls his mouth towards hers, her fingers splayed across his cheek, feeling the light scratch of stubble, and it makes something in her stomach drop, her breath hitch. He pulls back, his breath in her ear, his eyes searching hers, and she gives his hand a squeeze.

"So what do we do now?" She asks.

He lifts his eyebrows. "We never got that slow dance."

*

It's hard for her not to spend her days at work watching him, knowing things are different now. They eat lunch together and laugh at Oscar or Kevin or Toby's stories, and if anyone notices that they sometimes split a bag of chips or that Jim shares his carrot sticks with her, they don't say anything.

They have their first real date on Valentine's Day, but she tells him not to worry about reservations or flowers; instead he comes over to see her apartment for the first time, and they watch anti-Valentine's Day movies like Die Hard and The Hunt for Red October and part of Patton. They both drink too much wine and fall asleep on her couch, his arm warm around her waist. She calls him when they're driving to work the next day, because she needs to tell him again how glad she is that they're doing this, and he laughs, saying he'll see her in a minute.

When she pulls into the parking lot, he's waiting for her.