Thanks go out to lowriseflare for her beta, suggestions, and for being generally awesome.

There are other things, like how Toby is pretty sure he's in love with Pam but is also fairly certain that Jim's in love with her and is sure nothing would ever happen between any of them and Toby would never talk about any of that to anyone... ever. Kelly's sure that Ryan was sexually abused as a child-from some hints he'd dropped, late at night in bed-but can't bring herself to ask him to open up because she knows he doesn't love her at all, so she doesn't say anything.

Phyllis knows that Stanley's daughter hates him and that-at fourteen-she's sleeping around with older men; she knows all of this and can't muster the strength to offer him any sort of advice. Pam knows that Angela knows that

Dwight has been hiding his great-aunt Esther's engagement ring in her desk and waiting for the perfect moment.

Karen's on anti-depressants, everyone knows that too and feels horrible about it because everyone is pretty sure that they like Karen and don't want to spread the rumor around but... it's such good gossip. Andy's back and so docile that it freaks people out, like they're waiting for him to burst in with an uzi and take hostages.

There's nothing to say for Kevin except he's the only person that Oscar has come out to, and they feel closer because of that. It's a nice secret for Kevin to keep because he feels like he's being included and Oscar is happy because he doesn't have to hide from everyone anymore. That would be great gossip too, and Kevin knows it and that's why he keeps it a secret, because it excites him, and that's all that matters, that he's in the know and no one else is.

Creed knows that Angela once made out with Daryll at a Christmas party six or so years ago and that he'd been very interested in her until she found out that he wasn't a Christian and he found out that she wasn't as fancy-free as alcohol made her seem.

But everyone, everyone knew about Roy and Pam and how he was rude and would probably become abusive and drank too much and didn't treat her the way she deserves to be treated. But Pam liked him and so they all liked him because they like Pam, there isn't one person in the office that doesn't like Pam and so they never told her that they all saw it coming.

Jim thinks about how big and palpable his heart is, how fast it beats when he thinks about Roy rushing towards him, when he thinks about how he should have hooked his arm around and caught Roy in the jaw. He thinks about what an enormous pussy he is and how he wishes someone could write him as the knight in shining armor so he could

work up the courage to finally get something that he wanted, that he quite possibly needed.

He wishes he could be selfish for once, break up with Karen (because she didn't deserve any of this either, none of it, she was too good for this) and lay it all on the line, pretend like he didn't care when she shot him down. And everyone knows that she would, because she can't stand having what she know she wants.

Mark has told him a hundred times, hundreds and hundreds (and continues to tell him, even after he moved out on him and then back) that everyone knows he wants her, likes her, loves her, but Jim doesn't seem to listen. He rolls his eyes at his roommate and asks him how he knows more about office gossip than he does.

When he asks these things, these questions that he already knows the answer to, Mark just shakes his head and reminds him that he talks too much and he should learn to shut up sometime.

The first thing that Jim hears Pam say to the cameras, but maybe it's the first thing he chooses to hear her say, is that "No, Roy and I are over... Roy and I are... never again," and she does that thing where she bites her lip and lowers her eyes briefly and pretends that what she has said isn't that big a deal.

Like that, Jim knows that Pam knows that she's too good for Roy and that Roy was nowhere near right for her and that Karen is too good for him.

Jim never wanted drama like this, abhorred it in high school and was so laid back in college that it never touched him, but now, now that he actually cares about something, it seems to gravitate towards him like a positive to a negative.

He, of course, is always the negative.

There are two days filled with he and Karen and long talks about the future; her smile is sad when she tells him that she knows about him and knows that he's a good guy and that she's just sorry she didn't see it sooner. She says she's not sorry she can never be enough and that she's happy that he's found out what's right for him. Karen is meticulous as she gathers this and that from his apartment, and leaves him with a kiss on the cheek and the number for that pizza place she'd found that he really loves.

There's a sadness that overcomes him as he goes to bed in the evening, the feeling of the cold sheet to his left too starchy and too foreign and as his eyes slip closed, Jim can't help but think that he had lost a good thing. There are no dreams for him that night, just a constant sort of toss and turn that leaves his sheets in elaborate knots and leave him sleepy and disheveled as he makes his way into work.

He finds her at the front desk, waiting with a banana and a playful smile. "Potassium, you need it."

His mouth does that half-smirk thing that never fails to make her smile, "I do?" He asks even as he begins peeling the banana.

Pam nods and her smile disappears, "Thanks for, you know, not hating me." She attempts the smile again but it falls flat, as though he knows his smile is the only thing holding it up.

Jim's face is a mask of nothing, and his pretty teeth sink into the pliant fruit as he thinks of what he wants to say, "I could never hate you," he says and swallows, allowing his smile to appear just as he turns to meander to his desk.

He raises his chin to Karen in a casual "Hi," and she does the same, giving him a genuine look of sympathy.

At lunch time, Jim and Pam decide that it's so nice outside that they should eat at the weather-worn picnic table on the east side of the building. He has a ham and cheese and some Baked Lays-the sour cream and onion kind that he knows she likes-a coke and some carrots. They look pretty meager next to the sandwich she brought from home, chicken and lettuce, cheese and tomatoes, onions and sauce.

He wonders if he kisses her if he'd taste the onion; he doesn't bother trying to find out, just watches her chew and allows them to fall into a casual conversation that's lovely and easy and the sun is on his face and there's a nice breeze and he thinks that this might be the closest to perfect he's ever felt.

Jim listens to her talk about the color she's going to paint the kitchen of her new apartment (butter, the color is butter and he thinks that's entirely too endearing, that she'd pick such a hue) and he presses his palms to his pockets, realizing that he forgot his wallet when he left for the day.

There was no point in going for broke then, since he already was, so it won't be such a risk when he says to her, "Hey, let's do something tonight." His voice is casual but it still manages to catch her, leave her hiccoughing a bit around the soda caught in her throat.

Pam blinks and presses a hand to her chest, calming the coughs, "Like, like what?" The sun is in his eyes, so he can't see her that well; Jim shifts over towards her a little and bites his lip when splinters slide through the wool of his pants to poke at his ass. Everything is spurring him on, it seems.

'Like what?' it's as though to him, she's already said yes. What else does he have to lose? She's recently is single and he's recently single and if he doesn't get the chance to remember what her lips feel like, he'll go crazy. Literally. "I... let's sleep together." It seems like a good idea in his head, and all of those times he's fantasized about it

Pam goes intensely still and her eyes go wide in that comical way that is generally reserved for shocking scenes in soap operas. For all the intensity bundled into the moment, Jim can't help but smile at her, softly. "Jim, I..."

Shaking his head, he leans in to place a hand gently on hers, "Just pajamas and television, I just want to...lay next to you Pam." It sounds really strange to his ears, to say something like that to her but he shrugs it off and waits for her to answer.

Absent-mindedly, she pushes a stray onion to the side of her ziplock bag, "I don't have any nice pajamas," she finally says, shyly and Jim breaks into a grin.

"Well I can't really call a ratty basketball shirt and a pair of sweats nice, so I don't think that matters much." She blinks up at him; the sun catches on a blonde highlight nestled in her hair; he's in love so deep he couldn't buy his way out of it. "Come on, wine, Silence of the Lambs… I'll make curry."

Her eyes light up then. "Curry, really?"

Jim nods a little guiltily, knowing that he's used his backup card but not really caring, "Secret recipe, Mark's."

Pam lowers her eyes and pops one of his stolen chips into her mouth, "He's a good influence on you," she whispers.

Jim tips his chip bag towards him and laughs, "He's not the only one." There's a moment then, that they share, soft eyes and soft lips and for a second the air between them is charged and sweet. "So tonight, I'll pick you up at seven; it'll be nice, a quiet evening in and a lazy Saturday morning."

He's prepared to say, 'I just want to try,' but she blinks and crumples her sandwich bag in her head, "You don't have to convince me. And I'll meet you at your place…"

And right there, they have plans for Friday night.

He knows that there will be gossip about this; surely someone must have seen him touch her but he doesn't care. They can stand up to the water cooler.

It's easier than he thinks it will be, cooking something. Mark helps him part of the way and then meanders off to his room with his girlfriend, leaving Jim with a pat on the back and a wish of luck. But Jim doesn't want to get lucky, he wants to finally break even, break the surface.

He just wants them both to break.

Jim adds a little more pepper and tastes his concoction, his mouth on fire but just a little. He rounds the breakfast bar and fights with the cork in the wine, popping it after a minute and sloshing some onto his sweatpants. He begins to curse but the doorbell rings and he has to go answer it.

The evening air is cool and sweet and she's standing in front of him in baggy, pink, plaid pajama pants and a poofy white jacket. It's too sweet, how innocent and cold she looks; her cheeks are pink and her lips are chapped and Pam is just the picture… of what he needs.

There was nothing that he cold help, not one synapse in his body; Jim moved forward and pressed his lips to hers, the liquid on his pants seeping onto hers. She giggled into his mouth and he laughed back, pulling her awkwardly inside.

They ate on the couch and make that odd sound after Hannibal says Chianti and they collapse awkwardly into each other in response. Pam's neck falls awkwardly onto his bicep and he catches the side of her head with the other palm and they laugh until the chuckles subside and they're humming against each other.

Jim doesn't kiss her, not then; he does, however, suggest they go to bed, and Pam grabs her bag and he carries it for her. They sit on his bed as she searches for her toothbrush and toothpaste and after realizing she forgot her toothpaste, he shows her where he keeps his.

It's Colgate, the only brand she likes. "Must be fate," she laughs and he does too but they both know they have to or the moment will turn into something too heavy to handle this soon.

She brushes her teeth and he retreats to the bedroom to turn down the sheets.

He's in bed when she comes in and she shuts the door gingerly with only hand, worrying her hands together as though she were that, that nervous. "You have a side?" Jim asks her, shifting back so that he is sitting against the pillows.

"No, no, no," she shakes her head, almost laughing as she does so. Pam rounds the bed and sits on the left side, testing the density of the bed. "Nice, nice mattress," she whispers, and swings her legs up, calves on top of the thin comforter.

Jim shifts to his side and leans down on his palm, elbow pressing into his pillow. "Not a tempurpedic, but it serves me well." Pam smiles and Jim turns to switch off the bedside lamp. "This okay?"

He can't see her in the dark, but he hears her shift beneath the sheets. "This is… fine," comes her breath, and they settle in next to each other on their respective pillows.

There is nothing but paced breathing, both of them keeping their stomachs tight with nerves. "Are you going to sleep?" His voice is wavy with mirth.

Pam laughs lightly, "No chance."

"Good thing we can sleep in then," he doesn't touch her but he wants to.

Instead, he nestles his head into the pillow lightly and pretends that he can see what her eyes look like in the dark.