They skip lunch and make love in the back of Jim's car. Jim jokes that such a combination might get him down the eight pounds Scranton needs to win the weight loss competition. Pam laughs, tracing their initials in the steamy window, enclosing them in a heart.

Their lunch break ends far too soon and they head their separate ways after lingering kisses and promises to talk on iChat as soon as they can.

On the highway to New York, Pam is so thrilled she can't even find the words. That's when she realizes she doesn't want to have to find them. She wants to hold this feeling in her heart, let it wrap around her and warm her insides. She doesn't want to share it.

If she goes back to school, her new friends will ask about the new bling she's sporting on her left hand. She could tell them about Jim and they would be happy for her, but they wouldn't understand, not really. They wouldn't know everything she and Jim had been through, together and apart. Jim is the only one who can understand.

Pam realizes that she does want to share this feeling, but only with one person.

--

Jim beams through the stupid weigh-in even though they lose. He beams (but ignores him) when Dwight gives him the job of emptying the rotting fruit from the vending machine. He beams when he tells Michael he's taking the next day off. He beams as he steps back out into the pouring rain, gets into his car, and points it towards New York. Pam has agreed to marry him - nothing can bring him down.

He hums along with the radio as he drives through the rain on the way to his fiancée. He knows she isn't expecting him, they had tried to be rational, had agreed to wait until the weekend like they had planned before his impromptu lunch suggestion. She has classes, he has work. But he can't stay away.

He's almost to New York when the catchy tune of "I'll Melt with You," Pam's personalized ring tone, fills the car. He hits speakerphone.

"Hey future wife."

"Hey future husband." He is grinning like an idiot and from Pam's voice, he guesses she is too. "Where are you?" she asks. "It sounds like you're on the highway."

"Well, secret's out I guess. I'm waiting in line for the Holland Tunnel."

"Oh, Jim, you're not!" The distress in her voice to the news of his visit is not what he expects to hear from a woman who has just agreed to be his wife.

"Uh, yes, I am. Why? What's going on?"

"I'm not there!" Pam exclaimed.

"What? Where are you?"

"Naked, in your bed, with a bottle of champagne, waiting for you to come home and ravish me." Jim's entire body reacts to the visual she's created. Then, he realizes that he's just driven an hour and a half through pouring rain for nothing and wants to pound his head against the steering wheel. "I thought you'd be home after work, but it's getting late, so I called."

'Okay, hold tight, I'll be home soon." He swings a probably illegal u-turn and drives back to Scranton faster than he ever has.

--

Jim lets himself into the house, peeling off his wet clothes in the foyer and leaving them on the tile. He rushes to the bedroom in just his boxers, wanting to turn the mental picture he's had in his head into a reality. But the reality isn't quite what Pam had described. His fiancée has crawled under the blankets and fallen asleep, no doubt having gotten cold waiting for him.

She is naked as promised though and he grins as he trails his cool hands over her bare back. He can't believe she's here after all his years of pining, that she will soon become Mrs. Halpert. She wakes at his touch, blinking up at him sleepily.

"Hey."

"Hi." He kisses her softly, joining her on the bed.

--

AN: I think this can stand as a cute, quick, one-off. So if you are not an "M" rated story reader, stop here. I'm going to change the rating for part 2: the smutty epilogue. Comments are love!