At first, it was new and fun and exciting. Going to community college with no real major paled in comparison to being in her element in art school. Each course was focused in different mediums, techniques, and history. It was all so fresh and she felt so free and empowered to be absorbing loads of new information and to be applying what she was learning in an environment that welcomed her talent with open arms.

For Jim, although starting a new business was time-consuming, exhausting work, he thrived on the fact that, for the first time in his a long time, he was actually doing something. They had assembled a dedicated team, acquired a small workspace, and were putting together pitches and proposals long into the nights. It was grueling work, but every time the nights wore long or his stomach protested from another skipped meal, he thrived highly on the fact that he was actually proud of the job he was doing.

They had their schedule pretty well aligned. On nights when she worked the desk, he would stay at her dorm. On off nights, she occupied the other half of his bed. Weekends were split evenly, although she had more things in his drawers than he did in her dorm. But when the semester began to pick up with project deadlines all falling simultaneously, and pitch meetings were running well into the nights, they found themselves in a lull.

It was like they were out of sync. She'd miss his call the second it went to voicemail, but he would be running into a meeting right away. He would reach her as soon as she had silenced her phone and put it in her bag for a day of back-to-back-to-back classes. It wasn't anybody's fault. Life just got in the way sometimes.

On a night where she knew he was eating dinner with a potentially business associate, and her tasteless mac-and-cheese added little to the House marathon that ran in the background, she caught his scent in the oversized hoodie of his that she was wearing. It was nights like these that she almost regretted their decision to live apart while she was in school. He'd encouraged to focus on school, and his faith in her had given her the courage to do it. But now, she just missed him

It was one of her two nights off from the check-in desk, but she'd told him to stay home so he could get some rest. Suddenly, she was regretting that decision.

Using the key that he'd made for her the first day they'd moved to Philly, she slipped her shoes off at the door, relocked it, and padded her way up the stairs to his bedroom. In the late hours of the dark evening, she could make out the frazzled strands of hair that stuck out of the blanket he was buried beneath. A faint snore was audible if she focused her ears enough.

Picking up the top corner of the blanket, she scooted her body against his so that her chest was pressing lightly against his back. She wrapped her arms around his waist, lay her cheek against his back, and inhaled the scent that was day-worn, probably-unshowered Jim. It was the greatest aroma she'd breathed in all week.

In the past week since they'd been dodging and missing one another, she hadn't had a restful night's sleep, tossing and turning and often waking in the middle of the night. But now, wrapped around his body, she felt the exhaustion collapse upon her consciousness. As she was on the edge of sleep, he stirred against her, covering her hands where they lay on his stomach before turning to face and embrace her.

"Hey. I'm sorry, I woke you up."

Squinting one eye, he tried his best to see her expression in the darkness.

"Hey." His voice was heavy with sleep, like sandpaper in his throat. "Everything okay?

"I just missed you."

She nuzzled her nose against his chest while he tightened his embrace, kissing the top of her head as he rubbed soft circles against her back.

"Me too."

It was the best sleep they had all week.

It was only a three month design program, so when she graduated in the spring, it only made sense that she move in with him and Jeff. She didn't need her own room, after all.

While she sought freelance jobs, she worked at the gallery downtown. Having art as her way of life was freeing to her soul in a whole new way.

As Athlead gained a following and a startup, Jim had scraped together enough savings to purchase a condo, and appropriately carried her over the threshold, christening every room before they'd even unpacked a box.

He proposed three months later, having carried around the engagement ring since before they moved to Philadelphia. They were enjoying the late summer sun, walking hand in hand in the park, when she'd stopped for a drink from the fountain. After she finished her drink, she sprayed him, squinting her eyes in laughter when he winced at the cold water against his t-shirt. He chased her playfully around the park, after Oh, you're so going to get it, Beesly! rang in the atmosphere filled with dogs barking and children's laughter. She was squealing with delight when he finally pinned her to the grass, hovering above her with his hands pushing her waist gently into the ground.

The way that she was smiling at him seemed to pull the words Marry me from his heart.

She was kissing him, her arms wrapped around him, fingers tangling in his hair, oblivious to the rest of the world as the sun set around them.

The wedding was small, intimate, perfect.

With just their immediate family under the most beautiful Pennsylvania sunset, she couldn't have imagined a more perfect day. She'd smiled against his chest when they were slow dancing and his lips had whispered, "You're my wife now, Beesly. My wife. God, this is the greatest day of my life."

They had left a day between being married and flying out to Puerto Rico for the sole purpose of catching up on sleep, which was well exhibited by the way they had fallen asleep as soon as heads hit pillows.

Of course, she had insisted that he help her step out of her wedding dress and into the wedding gift he'd gotten her: having MRS. HALPERT stitched across her back was thrilling in a completely new sense.

She'd fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around her, but woken up to his lips caressing their way from the waistline of her panties in a line to her breasts, the t-shirt riding up with every push of his head. She sighed, thrusting her hips into the fingers that were looping their way beneath her panties as she let her own hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer.

"Sorry to wake you up," he mumbled breathily into her skin, his lips closing around her nipple as he pulled her panties down to her knees.

"I just really, really wanted to kiss my wife."

"Oh, your wife, huh?" she mused sultrily, meeting his eyes as he pulled himself up her body to rub his cheek against hers before kissing at the corner of her lips.

"Mhm. I got married yesterday, you know."

"Wow, what a coincidence," she muttered back, her hand finding him hard and heavy on her thigh as she stroked him lazily from bottom to top. "I got married yesterday, too. I was wondering when I was going to get a chance to ravish my husband."

"Does now seem appropriate?" he asked, his voice husky as he nipped at her bottom lip, wrapping a hand around hers to guide his tip to brush back and forth along her slick slit.

"God, please," she moaned, pulling him closer until he finally filled her completely.

When he came inside of her, and she shuddered around him quickly after, she realized that she wouldn't ever mind being woken up in this way.

They never really fought.

Sure, there were spats and small arguments and disagreements here and there, but they'd always ended in eye rolls and God, why are we being this stupid? and spontaneous sex in the middle of the kitchen floor.

But this?

This was different.

It was her first art show.

Her first real art show.

And he had missed it.

Sure, the exhibit ran Friday through Sunday, and of course he'd be there eventually, but this was big.

When he'd come home around one in the morning, his apologies had tapered with exhaustion and excuses. Instead of the God, Pam, I'm so sorry. What can I do to make this up to you? that she had been expecting, it was I'm sorry, babe. We got caught up in a meeting. You knew this client was important. What do you want from me? I'll be there all day tomorrow; how does that sound?

It didn't sound like Jim. It sounded like Roy.

And he sure as hell hadn't appreciated when that observation spat from her bitter lips.

The argument had escalated quickly, with lights going on at the neighbor's place while all of her pent up aggression towards his focus on the company taking precedence over their marriage spilled forth, and his retaliation about how all of this was to make her happy, and did she not see that? sent a vase of flowers crashing to the floor.

He was always expressive when he talked. It was something that she loved about him. But when his arms had whacked the edge of the table and glass shattered all over the kitchen floor, she wasn't so sure anymore.

Her eyes went wide as she froze to the spot like a deer in headlights, matching the expression that he wore. He wasn't expecting for it to happen. He wasn't a violent man by any means of the word. But now, by the fear in her eyes, he choked back the reality that he had just presented her with.

He reached out to her tentatively, his heart crumbling when she retracted ever so slightly, her name a whisper on his lips in the tension-ridden air.

She closed herself in their bedroom, tears staining the pillow and the bedspread as she cried herself into an exhausted state. She wanted him to hold her, to tell her everything was okay, because that had always been his role. But by the time she was feeling strong enough to even get out of bed, it was all washing over her again, pinning her exhaustively to the mattress.

He wanted so, so badly to chase after her, to hold her to his chest and kiss all of his mistakes away, but he knew better.

He had hurt her. Deeply. And he didn't get to be that person right now.

In all of the years that they'd been together, he'd never slept on the couch as a timeout. They'd vowed never to go to bed angry. He wasn't sure tonight counted, though, because although his head hit the throw pillow, and the tie blanket she'd made him two Christmases ago was draped unceremoniously across his body, he definitely wasn't getting any sleep tonight.

Around four in the morning, the light in the hallway kicked on, and he heard her tiptoed steps approaching. Slowly, he lifted his head from the headrest, not wanting to startle her. He felt almost dirty as he peeked over the back to watch her pour herself a glass of water. With her back turned to him, he could still make out the word HALPERT beneath her loose curls.

When she turned around, she jumped slightly, the water in the glass sloshing at her lips. They locked eyes, neither really knowing what to say. He stayed on the couch; she stayed in the kitchen, the water still in the glass. Setting it down on the counter, her drink still untouched, she made her way slowly around the island to where the open concept floors between kitchen and living room met.

"I, uh, didn't mean to wake you up. Sorry," she mumbled, her toes fidgeting with where the carpet met hardwood, her eyes fixated on that same line, hesitant to meet his gaze.

"Yeah, it's okay. I wasn't really asleep. Don't apologize." His words were gravelly, his throat dry from all the yelling they'd done earlier.

Sheepish eyes found one another as she uttered, "Oh. You too?"

A moment passed, their eyes flickering from the floor to one another, both still unsure of how to navigate this, when quicker than he'd thought possible, he was up and around the side of the couch, meeting her halfway in a crushing embrace. He cradled her head almost forcibly to his chest, fearing that if he let go, she would disappear into thin air. His other arm wrapped so tightly around her waist that she was sure she'd have a bruise in the morning, but she didn't care. With her own arms, she couldn't seem to hold onto him tightly enough.

God I'm so sorry's and I love you so much, were mashed into skin as they held on tightly for an indefinite length, rocking in suspended time as dawn began to break over the horizon.

When he felt her arms begin to loosen and her breathing slow, he wound his way under her knees and carried her to their bed, keeping their bodies wrapped together from behind her as he kissed her hair and her temple and the back of her neck.

They slept for a few hours at a time, stirring only to pull closer to one another. Close to noon, as he was watching her eyes flutter against his chest, she finally awoke, her wide eyes still shy as he traced her chin with his fingers.

"Hey," he began, tentatively, his index finger tracing the curvature from her ear to her chin and back again.

"Hey."

They passed timid smiles, and she drew her bottom lip between her lip before he finally said, "Pam, I love you. I love you so much."

The fingers that had been resting on his chest found their way to his forearm.

"God, I love you too. This...Jim, I don't ever want to fight like that again."

"Me too."

He touched his forehead to hers, their noses squished a little bit between. Their breaths mingled in the middle through parted lips, and when he opened his eyes and saw the pleading behind her own, his hands tangled in her hair to pull their lips together.

She had teased him on more than one occasion when he had insisted that having sex and making love were two completely different things.

What we did in the backseat of the car in the park last week? That was having sex. I might even call that a mindless fuck, at the rate you were going, he chuckled, watching her face positively flush. Making love is what we do in the early hours of the morning, when it's slow and gentle, and your hands are massaging the back of my head, and your eyes don't leave mine, and everything just clicks.

This morning, there was no teasing. There was only the slow, loving movement of him inside of her, her hands in his hair, her lips buried against his neck while his fingers touched every part of her bare skin. When he felt her clenching around him, he reached two fingers beneath her chin to watch the way her eyes swelled when she came against him.

He donned a pair of boxers while his high school basketball shirt found its way to her shoulders.

Over a lazy Saturday brunch that trailed into the late afternoon, they finally got their peace out in the open. Without raised voices, she told him how distant he felt lately, that she knew he was only working to make their life together better, but that she'd rather have him jobless and in a box on the side of the highway than married to his job. He confessed that he hadn't known, that he'd been so busy that he barely realized they were seeing each other less. That it broke his heart to see her like this, broke his heart that he had let so much time pass them by without even noticing. That he never wanted to lose sight of her again.

Their compromise to be more conscious of one another's sacrifices was settled, as was his promise, despite her defiance, that he would take the next week off to spend together.

He lingered by her exhibit all night, his pride for the months of work he'd missed out on positively beaming from the inside out. She'd eventually kicked him out for a lap around the rest of the exhibits, but after a full seven minutes, he was by her side again.

Spats and fights and disagreements were inevitable. But by the look in his eyes as he rounded toward her table again, she knew that they would get though it all.

She didn't have morning sickness.

She had literally any unpredictable, inconvenient time of the day sickness.

And it was hell.

But he was perfect.

Always by her side, rubbing her back, holding a cold towel to her forehead. He brought her Gatorade, and water when the lemon-lime taste made her nauseous. Saltines replaced the condoms on his bedside table.

But honestly, this had been going on for three weeks, and she knew that he was tired because Athlead was in its first full year of making commission, and his meetings and business dinners were really piling up, but here he was, by her side every single time she hurled.

The least romantic thing she'd ever done with her husband.

So tonight, after he'd passed out-and passed out hard-she had stolen away to the downstairs guest bathroom. No matter that she was growing a human inside of her. He needed a night of peace, and she was damn well going to give it to him.

With her pillow and a blanket stolen from the couch, she made herself a nest on the cold tile and settled in for a long winter's nap.

Sure enough, her body began to shudder around two in the morning, but something about her REM cycle was making it difficult to pick her head up to reach the toilet.

Oh well, she thought haphazardly, Guess I'll be cleaning puke out of my hair again after all.

Suddenly, strong hands were under her shoulders, cradling her head, pulling her hair back. Her chin hit porcelain right before last night's dinner drained from her body.

"Sorry to wake you up, Bees, but I didn't think you'd be up for another three-am shower."

His hands rubbed her belly from behind the whole time, his cheek pressed into the back of her neck beneath the ponytail he'd affixed her hair into. Eventually, she scooted around on her knees.

Directly in front of her, his eyes screamed exhaustion, but his smile was all love.

Behind him, she noticed that her pillow had a partner, and that the comforter from their bed was frumpled on the bathroom floor. Momentarily, she wondered how long he'd been there.

He offered her a glass of water, helped her lie down, and tucked the comforter under her chin while he tucked her head under his own.

"Jim, baby, you should really just get some sleep."

His fingers clasped more tightly around her slightly swollen belly.

"See, that's the problem," he mused to the back of her head. "This is the only way I can sleep."

"Oh, really?" she chuckled. "Next to a whale who is on the verge of upchucking for the fourth time since lunch?"

He hummed, smiling against her neck.

"Not quite. Try, 'with my beautiful wife who is so busy working overtime to grow our baby that sometimes, she loses her lunch."

"And her dinner. And her after dinner snack. And sometimes her dessert."

"And your point is?" His laughter shook against her, so she held on tighter to his forearms.

"I don't know. I'm gross."

She tucked her cheek into the crook of his elbow as he pulled her more tightly against his body.

"You are not. You're perfect."

And right there, in his arms, as he slept with her on the floor of their guest bathroom, she believed him.

She had been amazing.

It was indescribable, really, what the female body could do.

What her body had done not three weeks ago.

In the hours that they weren't spending hovering and marveling and loving up on sweet little Cecelia Marie, he was continuously telling her just how amazing she was.

Eventually, she had rolled her eyes, laughed it off, and told him to Save the suck-up material for when he did something wrong, but he didn't care. She deserved all of the praise he could muster. She had given him the greatest gift that life had to offer, and it was finally falling back to sleep in his arms, wrapped in a pink blanket that his grandmother had knit.

"Your mommy is pretty amazing, you know," he whispered in what Pam had affectionately dubbed his Daddy voice. "Not only for spending twenty-seven hours trying to bring you into this world, but for just...everything that she does for us. You scored the best mom on the planet, kid. One day, when you're older, we can pinch each other to make sure this is all still real."

He'd caught Cece just as she had woken herself with cries in the bassinet and brought her to the nursery that she had yet to sleep in. Pam wanted to keep her close until at least six weeks, and he hadn't fought her in the slightest. There was something about waking up surrounded by his two favorite people in the world that started his day on already the highest note. He stood at the edge of the crib, rocking slowly back and forth as his daughter's cries came to a complete halt, her big grey eyes watching as he continued his monologue.

"I almost lost your mom. But god am I glad I didn't. It wasn't the easiest time of my life. I had to watch her battle an ogre for many, many years, and excuse my language, but that really sucked. But it was worth the fight, Cece. God, was it worth it."

Cece's lips sucked the open air while her father gazed lovingly down at her.

"I'm grateful for everyday that I have with your mom. Not a day goes by that I don't love her even more. And now that she gave me you? Well, kid, I don't see that slowing down anytime soon. But, if you could do me a favor and at least try to figure out this whole sleeping schedule thing soon, I'd really appreciate it. She's been up with you all day and every night this week. You've gotta give her a break sometime."

The sniffle gave her away.

He turned around slowly, not wanting to startle the baby whose eyes were finally blinking closed again.

"Heeeeeeey," he said softly, his lopsided smile glowing in the dim nightlight that was plugged in beside the changing table.

She looked so cute in his t-shirt, that was now covered in baby spit-up, her curls frazzled and frumpy around her head. He'd once mused that her bedhead resembled a lion's mane, and in return, she'd shown him a sexual side that he'd never seen before. But right now, she looked so sweet and pure and innocent that all he wanted to do was cuddle her to his chest.

The little bundle in his arms reminded him to at least be gentle with those intentions.

"I'm sorry, Beesly, I didn't mean to wake you up. I was gonna let you sleep tonight."

"It's okay," she whispered, drumming her fingers against his forearm as she placed a sweet kiss to Cece's sleeping head. "I'd much rather be here."

They stayed like that for a moment or two, the silence of their breathing mingled with their daughter's more than enough to set the ambience of their new family life.

As he felt her weight growing heavier against his shoulder, he kissed the top of her head and whispered, "C'mon. Let's go back to bed."

They kissed her each a thousand times before laying her back in the bassinet. When Pam settled her head on his chest, her arm slung across his waist, he thought she would fall asleep easily. Suddenly, though, she was pinching his skin.

"Ow," he chuckled, lacing his fingers through the offending hand. "What was that for?"

"Just making sure you know that this is real."

"Hey, how did you-"

Spotting the baby monitor blinking on her bedside table, he cocked his head and nuzzled his nose against her cheek.

"I think the same thing everyday, too, ya know," she whispered into his chest. "You've given me more than I could ever imagine this life bringing me. I love you so much, Jim. And the little family you gave me."

Before he could respond, she was breathing deeply, her fingers curling reflexively at his hips.

Despite the exhaustion that had become part of his daily routine, he'd give anything to wake up like this every night.

He was going on four hours of sleep, freshly back from a business trip that was two time zones over, a crick in his neck the size of Texas courtesy of American Airlines.

He hadn't even made it up to bed. The couch in the living room was pure heaven.

Cece wouldn't be home from school for another two hours, at least, and Pam had promised him over the phone that morning to be out of the house when he got home, and that she'd be taking the kids to the park and out to dinner so that he could get some rest.

So why, when the clock was telling him that he'd only been asleep for forty-five minutes, was his cell phone buzzing insistently on the coffee table? The first time, he'd slept through it. On the second call, he'd ignored it, willing whoever was calling to just go away.

But on the third time, though his eyes were protesting, he lifted the receiver to his ear, sitting upright as soon as Pam's panicked voice began.

"Baby, I'm so sorry that I have to wake you up, but…"

It was Phillip and ER and God, Jim, it bent all the way backwards and I need you, but he was in his car long before that.

He'd fallen off the playground, landing on his left arm backwards, breaking it in two places at the elbow. He was only two, so his bones were still fragile. Surgery was done with a laser. The cast went from his fingers to his shoulder. The doctor assured them that he would heal just fine, but still, Cece had survived far worse in her four years. They'd been lucky, all things considered.

Cece slept on a cot behind Phillip's bed, her butt stuck up in the air with her thumb in her mouth. Phillip's drug-induced slumber had his face pale and his body tinier than two years old pegged him for.

Despite his jet-lagged, exhaustive state, Jim had been wide awake since the moment he'd gotten that phone call.

With their fingers laced in his lap, Pam turned her head on his shoulder and kissed him slowly through the fabric of the button down that he hadn't gotten the chance to change out of.

"Hey. Why don't you get some sleep? We can scoot Cece over. Take a few hours. He'll want to see you in the morning."

"I...I don't know if I can."

She unclasped her fingers from his to cradle his cheek.

"Hey. He's going to be okay."

"I wasn't there, Pam. He got hurt, and I wasn't there."

"Baby, please do not blame yourself. It was an accident. You've gotta let it go."

Even in her reassurances, he remained awake until the morning nurses began to make their rounds.

His voice was so, so small when he woke up, in stark contrast to the usually booming little boy that they often had to remind to quiet down when they were in public places. This was the same kid who, when Pam had explained what communion was at church, had ran up to the altar and screeched, "Don't eat Jesus!" to their pastor. That same voice, so small, made Jim's breath catch in his throat.

"Dada?"

"Hey, buddy. How are you feeling?"

"Missed dada."

Phillip struggled at first, forgetting that his arm was in a cast when he reached out for his father. Jim scooped the little boy into his lap in one swift carry, burying his nose in his little boy's head as he kissed him gently.

"I missed you too, buddy."

"Dada? My arm hurt."

"I know, pal, I know. But hey. You look pretty cool with that cast. It makes you look tough."

"Tough?"

"Absolutely. Tough like a superhero."

"Tough like dada?"

Like a breath of fresh air, he felt the weight from his chest lift. His kids were going to fall down. They would be bruised and broken at times, but he would always be there to catch them when they fell.

"Maybe even a little tougher than dada," Pam said, returning with breakfast in one hand and Cece in the other.

And if he couldn't catch them, his wonderful, amazing wife would be there, too.

Parenthood was weird.

The people who said that marriage took a backseat once you had kids weren't lying.

In between school and t-ball games and basketball tournaments and Cece's guitar lessons and Phillip's Boy Scout meetings, they barely had a moment to themselves. When Pam wasn't juggling after-school activity schedules and homework-all done with a toddler on her hip-she was co-running the gallery downtown, making dinner, and making sure they all had semi-clean clothes for the week. Athlead was more than thriving, and while Jim missed being the one to scout the talent, he was incredibly comfortable being in the office from 8 to 5 instead of in another state for one weekend a month.

In the middle of all the chaos, they were lucky if the laundry was done and they got a good six hours before the new day began.

She was up late the night before packing "game bags" for the next day: Cece's basketball uniform was laid out and ready to go in her room, and her duffel was packed with extra socks, hair ties, flip flops for between games, spending cash ("What if there's tournament t-shirts, mom?! You know dad never carries money!") and a stick of deodorant. The other bag had sandwiches that would inevitably be shoved to the wayside for the concession stand, healthy snacks that wouldn't be given a second thought, and a family sized bag of Munchies that would probably be halfway gone by the time the Halpert cheering crew showed up.

Jim's coaches clipboard was seated on top, along with his warm up jacket, hat, and a Post-It note that said, Good luck out there, Halpert. Love, the coach's biggest fan.

Thanks to modern technology, the coffee was set to brew at five-AM, ready by the time Jim's shower was finished. She would be up at four-thirty to prepare a healthy breakfast and get Cece out of bed so Jim could get ready, shoo them out the door by five-forty-five, and have just enough time to clean up the dishes before Emma eventually woke with a wet Pull-Up. Potty training did not get easier the third time around. Between a birthday party for Phillip's friend and running to the post office to mail his mom's birthday gift, she would be lucky if she made the last game of the day.

It was almost two by the time her head finally hit the pillow, setting her alarm for what was essentially a quick cat nap.

When she awoke to more light than normal, she knew something was wrong.

Jim was standing at the edge of the bed, light creeping through from the hallway just enough so that she could see him tying his Nike's. He was already dressed in his coaches garb, his hat covering his damp hair. She jumped with a start, legs swinging off the bed when she noticed that the clock was blinking 5:37. Before she could make it around the bed, he grabbed her around the waist, effectively toppling her into his lap.

"Sorry, babe, I didn't mean to wake you-"

"Shit, baby, I'm so sorry. I forgot to set my alarm. Is Cece awake? Are you going to be late? I'm so sorry babe, I-"

"Woah there, Beesly, slow your roll."

He seemed way too calm for someone who was about to take on a girl's 9-and-under basketball tournament.

"I shut your alarm off. Cece is packed and ready to go. The car is loaded. Get five more minutes of sleep before Emma wakes up."

She was already melting in his arms, staring up at the man whose face, she noticed, was becoming a little older. Not in a bad way. The lines were more defined, handsome. Reaching up to cup his cheek, it hit her hard just how much she missed this. She pulled herself up to meet his lips halfway, snaking her hands into the hair at the nape of his neck beneath his ball cap. When she darted her tongue against his lower lip, he parted his immediately, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to pull her closer. They made out for a few minutes, soft pants and moans filling their darkened room, when Cece's voice broke their moment with Dad! We're going to be late! followed by the slamming of the garage door.

He pulled away reluctantly, letting his fingers graze her cheek softly before chuckling, "When did we get a teenager?"

She simply rolled her eyes before sitting up more full in his lap. Sighing, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head in the crook of his neck.

"I miss you."

"I miss you, too," he sighed into the top of her head, leaving a lingering kiss in the middle of her bedhead.

"So, the games are at 8, 11, and 2:30, right?"

"Yup. If we win at 2:30, we play at 5, and a win at 5 puts us at the noon spot tomorrow. A loss gets us the 7 AM game."

"For the love of god, please win. Just one day of sleeping in would be magical."

He laughed, standing with her as they walked towards the garage.

"Thank you for my extra sleep this morning," she mumbled against his chest when he pulled her into a hug that was longer than the typical goodbye's they'd had as of late.

"Anytime, Wonder Woman. Thank you for all that you do for us." As he'd gotten ready that morning, he'd tucked her Post-It into his wallet, among a dozen others that she'd given him in the past few weeks.

They kissed goodbye more than once before Cece, in a moment of impatience, beeped the car horn, which echoed throughout the house. Emma's Momma, I wet! was already echoing from upstairs.

She propped the top of her head against his chest, groaning.

"Hey, make that kid of yours run extra laps today, will you?"

"I'll see you later," he chuckled, kissing the top of her head before heading out the door.

She hadn't made it to the bottom of the stairs before she was being grabbed from the waist, turned around, and assaulted by a passionate throw of his lips. When he pulled away, his green eyes had gone hazy.

"I love you, Beesly."

Licking her bottom lip, she whispered, "I love you, too."

By her husband's coaching skills or the grace of God, Cece's team had won the first two games, and Pam and the rest of the Halpert clan were just in time for game number three. They were met by hellos from the other parents, and Phillip was already pulling action figures from the diaper bag when the younger siblings of the other girls joined him in the front row. Sitting behind the players, Pam and the kids looked like they belonged on the team. Each of the Halpert's in the crowd donned a matching blue t-shirt that read HALPERT 18 on the back. Emma's, of course, hung to her knees, and Phillip had put up a fight that he should get to wear his own basketball jersey (which was from the rec league and "didn't even have a name mom! Why does Cece get a name?!"), but eventually Pam had won. Somehow, she always did.

Cece had waved, thrilled to see her mom in the stands ready to cheer her on. When her braids bounced to halfcourt, Jim glanced up, passing his crooked smile and half wave just slightly before pulling his attention back to the girls on the court. It was his three-year-old daughter, pompom in hand, yelling Go daddy! Go Cece! Go baka-ball! Go Emma! His son, preoccupied already with Jennie Reilly's brothers and their Captain America figures.

And his wife. His beautiful, wonderful wife, who had gotten caught up in the mix of life's monotony for far too long.

Her golden curls were pulled into a ponytail today, a cotton headband resting at her forehead. Her blue t-shirt matched the logo over his breastbone pocket and his coach's uniform. The Halpert on the back of her shirt today wasn't possessive of him personally, but of their whole family. Somehow, that meant so much more.

The girls won 32-to-24, pushing them to the noon game on Sunday with a perfect record going into tournament play. As they enjoyed post-game pizza with the rest of the team, and Pam chatted at the "basketball moms" end of the table, he snuck off to make a phone call. When he returned, he stopped to kiss her head longingly, earning a chorus of swoons from the rest of the ladies.

Arriving home should've been a rush of showers and baths and unpacking everything from today so that she could pack for tomorrow. But as she looked up from making her mental checklist and saw the blue minivan in their driveway, she immediately turned toward her husband, grinning as she took his hand.

"Momma, why is Auntie Risa here? Did she bring Duncan?! Can we play?!"

Phillip was out of the car before Jim put it in park, rushing to meet up with his younger cousin, as her sister-in-law stepped out of her own car.

With a waggle of her eyebrows, Larisa chimed, "Hey Halpert's. Heard you could use a little night alone."

Pam smiled, watching as the boys chased each other in circles around her pregnant sister-in-law and Cece carried her sister inside to pack their overnight bags. After Larisa had met Jeff at one of Jim's Athlead functions, things had progressed pretty quickly. All things considered, it was a dream come true to have his kid sister right down the street.

It took a good half hour before the kids were packed and ready to go, but once her van turned off of their street, Jim glanced down at his wife in a way that said I love you and I miss you and I'm going to spend the next twelve hours doing nothing but staring at you.

"So," she began, inching steadily closer to her husband, whose grin was growing more sly by the second, "what exactly did you have in mind for us when you kicked our children out for the night, Mr. Halpert?"

"Oh, Mrs. Halpert," he retorted, his voice dark and rich in a way that she hadn't heard in awhile, sending tingles to her toes, "you have no idea."

An hour later, pajama clad and ice cream satiated, she had beaten him four times in Mario Kart.

"Come on, Beesly, that's not fair! Give me a turn with the wheel remote!"

"It's all about the wrist action, James. Don't blame the equipment. A true master of Mario Kart can win with any controller."

"Oh, it's all about wrist action, huh?"

And suddenly, the look in his eyes wasn't young and playful anymore. It was hungry with desire.

He was on his knees, moving quickly towards her. Plucking the remote from her hand, he let it fall behind her onto the carpet and gently pushed her shoulders so they fell back. She leaned back on her forearms with both knees bent up, letting the desire in his eyes wash over her senses as he hovered above her.

He wasted no time, trailing his fingers along her inner thighs to where the hem of his t-shirt hit her knees, lifting it enough to find his target without breaking their eye contact. A moan hitched in her throat when his fingers pressed lightly over the quickly dampening cotton, his light, gentle strokes driving her mad.

"Is this the wrist action you were referring to, Mrs. Halpert?"

She did nothing but buck against his fingers, uttered nothing but the escaped whimper that snuck past the lip she had pulled between her teeth. She thrusted steadily into the agonizingly delicate passes that he was making at the cotton that was clingling wetly to her clit.

"Or could it be this?"

All at once, his middle finger was nudging her panties to the side and slipping easily inside her, warm and wet and distantly familiar. Her entire throat became exposed as she threw her head back, the noise that escaped her guttural and wanting as she thrust her hips into his still slow touch.

"Fuck, Jim," she breathed as he added his ring finger, leaning over her body to run his tongue along her throat. He was kneeling with one leg bent between hers, while the other landed somewhere near the left of her abdomen. Her fingers found his knee there, spidering over the skin as she tried to hold onto something.

The thrusting of his fingers became more intentional now, as his cock became hard against the leg he had trapped between hers, and he could feel her increasing arousal sliding past his fingers. The way her hips were shifting against his hand more erratically told him she was close, and when he nudged her clit with his thumb, the growls that vibrated from her throat to his lips made him twitch insistently against her.

"Holy, oh shit, fucking, CaptainAmerica."

"Huh?"

Despite her shy, timid character, Pam was actually very vocal in bed. It turned him on incredibly, knowing that this was a secret that they shared, that she only did this for him.

But this? This was new.

"Uh, haven't heard that one before, babe." He had stilled his fingers momentarily, his expression twisted in confusion as he pulled his lips from her throat. She continued moving, however, and for a split second, he thought she was just really getting into the new movie that they'd taken Phillip to see. He didn't blame her. Chris Evans was an attractive man. But as she lifted her back, simultaneously enveloping his fingers more deeply, a plastic action figure appeared in her hands.

She smiled up at him and cocked an eyebrow. "He was stuck under my ass. I guess the poor guy wanted in on the fun."

Jim chuckled, plucking Phillip's toy from his wife's hand. After tossing it onto the couch behind him, he wrapped an arm around her waist in one swift motion and carried her to their bedroom.

It wasn't like they had gone months without sex. There were stolen moments of groping and over the pants action with some late night or early morning quickies in between. But it wasn't them. When he was pushing into her from behind while they spooned first thing in the morning, he wasn't able to ravish her body like he was now with her balanced on top of him. While she fisted his cock in her hand and grinded against his leg, he took his time running his hands over every available surface that her skin had to offer, becoming reacquainted with her body as if to make up for lost time. Her arms, her sides, her rounded hips, down to her knees. His fingers tickled up her stomach before finding a home on her breasts, squeezing them wholly before pinching her nipples, loving the little mewls that she made and how each time he squeezed, she would return the favor around his cock.

When she finally pulled her body over him, it was like coming home. She was leaning back with her hands on his thighs as she moved up and down his length, taking him in slowly, fully, savoring the way he filled her. He couldn't pull his eyes off her body as it moved against him, the way her lips parted and her head fell back slightly, the way she gripped his thighs tighter each time she pulsed around him. She'd been close before, and the way that her body was smacking harder against his with each thrust told him she was about ready to come apart. He nudged his thumb against her clit, rubbing in quick circles with one hand as he reached for her cheek with the other.

"Look at me, baby," he whispered, pulling her gaze downward. When she opened her eyes, they were huge and dark as the night. With her lips still parted, she thrusted forward towards his touch, locking their gazes as she shuddered around him. His hands moved to her hips, helping her steady the frantic rhythm that had spasmed through her body. While she was still coming down from her high, he flipped them over, still holding himself inside of her.

He set a new, quicker pace, his lips finding hers, his tongue travelling inside her mouth in a way that it hadn't been in far too long. He peppered kisses across her cheeks, at her ears, down her throat, before coming to find her lips again. He peered into her eyes quickly before resting his cheek against hers, feeling his orgasm about to burst.

Through panting breaths he whispered, "Can you come again?" and didn't wait for an answer before finding her clit with three of his fingers, rubbing as furiously as she was nodding against his cheek.

Her thighs clenched around around him, her feet pushing against the back of his calves as he drove them home. He spilled into her sharp and quick, several strings of Fuck, Pam, Jesus, spilling incoherently hitting her ear. Her second orgasm quickly followed, and she pulled at his hair, clutched his back as she shuddered around him.

They stayed there for awhile, with his body laying on top of her, her fingers still pulling lazily at the hair at the nape of his neck. His cheek remained against hers, with his nose buried under her ear, their breathing finding a steady rate while he softened inside of her.

Eventually, she nudged her hands against his chest, pushing him off. But he didn't want to lose the connection, so no sooner was she pinned beneath him than she was pulled tightly against his back.

"Still got it, huh?" he chuckled into her hair.

"Mhm, definitely," she sighed, kissing the back of his hand and snuggling closer to his warm body.

They made love twice more throughout the night, once lazy and slow when he woke up hard behind her and pulled her as tightly to him as he could, painting her shoulders with soft kisses as she writhed against him. The next was more intense, rough and fast and loud. She'd been nipping low on his chest when he awoke in the middle of the night, and when she glanced up at him under the cover of the moon, he could've sworn she growled.

He also knew that human bodies weren't supposed to bend that way, and that he was lucky that he was only coaching basketball the next day.

He was sleeping more soundly than he had in weeks when suddenly he was wet and warm and hard and tingly. He was moaning audibly before he even opened his eyes. He knew before he looked down that she was dangerously close to taking him all the way down her throat.

He threaded his fingers in her hair and gently pushed her down while he rocked into her soft, slick mouth. The sensation was gone, but only for a moment, while she muttered, "Good morning, handsome," around him before licking up his length quickly and pulling her lips around him again.

"Mhm, mor- oh god."

His other hand found her hair, and he began massaging her head as she sucked and licked and worshipped him before he was even fully conscious. His hips were pulsing erratically now, and as he trailed his thumbs to her cheeks and somehow uttered, "Pam, gonna, co-" there was laughter and banging as four children barreled through the front door.

Frozen together, their matching wide eyes met, hearing, "Momma! Daddy! Auntie Risa got us Dunkin!" echoed up the stairs.

Without a word, she slunk down to the edge of the bed, clicked the lock on their door into place, and waltzed back across their bedroom, pushing the hair back on his forehead as she positioned herself over him.

It wasn't long at all before he was biting into her shoulder to stifle the noises that he wanted to scream to the mountaintops.

She kissed him slowly, sensually, caressed his cheek tenderly before grabbing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.

"I'll see you down there, Halpert."

The waggle in her eyebrows sent mixed messages, and he could feel his still pulsing cock twitch as he watched her saunter out the door.

When he made his first appearance in the kitchen, freshly (cold) showered, he took a moment to admire the scene in his kitchen.

His son was playing superheroes with his sister's son.

His older daughter was pulling his younger daughter's hair into pigtails so that she could "Match Sissy" (she still couldn't say Cece, but they Sissy was more than appropriate).

His wife sipped at her iced coffee while she gently rubbed the growing bump that was protruding from his sister's belly.

In all of his years of imagining the life he had ahead, he couldn't have come up with something better than this.

They would be woken up plenty of times over the years. When Phillip tried sneaking out in the middle of the night but wound up stuck halfway out the upstairs window. When Cece, misjudging a party her senior year of high school, needed dad to come pick her up, no questions asked. When Emma's cold symptoms were actually the onset of pneumonia, giving them the scare of a lifetime.

When Phillip called from Hawaii with the news that Mom? Dad? She said yes!

When Cecelia was going into labor for the first time and wanted her mom to be there.

When Emma, on the eve of her graduation with a doctorate in business, snuck back inside for "one more night at mom and dad's."

It would be a lifetime of ups and downs, that was for sure.

But they would always be thankful for her nights of inhibition, of her needing her best friend. Those late night phone calls that turned into more. For three-AM cartoons and stuffed crust pizza and Valentine's Day confessions, and everything in between that led them to finally being awake.