A/N: I fought with this chapter. A lot. To the point where I was just going to wave the white flag and surrender. But I'm not a quitter! Thank you guys for being so patient and I hope this chapter still lives up to the praise you've been giving previous chapters. As always, feedback is extremely appreciated. I'm thinking maybe one more chapter, or if you guys feel this is a good place to end it, well that's okay too. Just let me know! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own a thing.

"Please don't make me relive that."

"Why not? It'll improve our communication skills, don'tcha think?" Jim drew out his words slowly, enunciating every syllable. As he swayed a little at her doorway, Pam finally understood.

"You're drunk."

"No," Jim shook his head vigorously, moving into the apartment and tumbling into Pam's arms.

"Jim, you smell like beer."

"You smell like flowers."

Pam pried him off of her and gripped his shoulders tightly, wanting to get a look at him in better light. He wasn't completely trashed, but not quite in a sober state of mind either. His eyes were glazed over and his smile was more lopsided than usual. Pam shook her head at the sight of him, chastising herself for still finding him charming even in his inebriated state.

She led him to her couch, easing him gently on to the cushions.

"Lie down," she instructed, making her way to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

"So bossy," she heard him murmur from the couch, his face buried into one of the arm rests.

She set the coffee pot to brew and returned to the couch, finding him lying on his back with an arm over his head, staring at her ceiling.

"Hard day?" she asked, arms folded across her chest.

He scoffed. "You could say that." Jim sighed before continuing. "Karen and I got in a fight after work."

"Which explains your current state."

"No, I was drinking long before she came home. Communication takes a lot out of me apparently."

"I don't seem to remember you being up there," Pam said with irritation, taking a seat at the edge of her coffee table.

"Oh, I was up there. Jim Halpert as 'The Cup,'" he said, spreading his hands out in the air, framing an imaginary marquee.

Pam had had enough. "Alright, listen cup boy. Today was extremely hard for me too. I was embarrassed and made a joke of in front of everyone, including your girlfriend no less. So I would sincerely appreciate it if instead of coming up with a yet another way to bring up the cup, you could just tell me why you're here." She was slightly out of breath after she finished her rant, and swallowed hard to keep from becoming too emotional.

Jim's eyes widened at her scolding, and sat upright to face her.

"I'm sorry…humor, defense-mechanism, it's a habit." He took her hand in his and she jumped a bit and the unexpected contact.

"What do you want to do?" He asked quietly, keeping steady eye contact with her, stroking the top of her hand with his thumb.

Pam bit her lip, searching for the right words, the right answer. She gave a sigh before responding.

"I want to talk."

And so they did, well into the night until sleep found them, resting their heads on each other and fingers held in a loose embrace.

xxx

Pam awoke with a stiff pain in her neck, and gingerly lifted it to stretch the muscles out. She felt something land on her shoulder with a thud, and turned with half-opened eyes to find Jim leaning awkwardly on her arm, stirring awake in the uncomfortable position he found himself in.

He turned over on his back and plopped his head in Pam's lap, staring up at her with tired eyes and a crooked smile.

"Morn—okay, it hurts to talk." He rubbed his temples to ease what Pam assumed was a bit of a hangover.

"Serves you right for endangering your life and those around you."

"Love made me sober, Pam," he stated dramatically, his voice low and hoarse with fatigue. Pam glanced at her watch and groaned.

"We have work."

"We're taking a sick day."

"Sorry, but unlike some Assistant Regional Managers who have increased pay, I need the money."

"Assistant to the Regional Manager," Jim held up his finger in a correcting way, still grinning broadly.

"Thank you, Dwight," Pam laughed and nudged Jim off of her lap. He stood up slowly, stretching his arms over his head and letting out a large yawn.

"I don't know about you, but I think our communication skills are just fine. We should be teaching that seminar."

Pam smiled and gave a small laugh as she thought back on the previous night. "True. Though maybe next time we communicate minus the entire six pack you consumed."

"Are you kidding? Alcohol is what makes people honest. If anything, we have the next seminar at Poor Richard's." Jim began to laugh until he saw Pam's face fall.

"Okay—bad idea. We'll have it at Chili's…oh wait," he looked down with mock disapproval.

Her face brightened and she hit him playfully on the arm. "I hate you."

Jim grabbed his keys off of her coffee table and made his way to her door. Pam opened it for him and leaned her head against the door and he stood lingering in the entrance.

"There's still a lot to do," he said quietly, looking down at this scuffed dress shoes.

Pam merely nodded, rubbing her lips together tightly.

"But at least now we have successfully opened the lines of communication and can properly express ourselves using the key pillars outlined in—"

"Okay okay, enough!" Pam pushed him playfully out the door. He smiled at her, turning toward his car with hesitance. Pam raised her eyebrows questioningly till he finally leaned in and kissed her softly. He kept his forehead pressed to hers, their noses touching and causing both to break out into shy smiles.

"Bye," he whispered.

"Bye."

And with that, he gave her one last wink before heading to his car. Pam closed the door behind him and let out a happy sigh. In a matter of twenty-four hours, her life had gone from bad to worse to now the best she'd felt in months. All thanks to a little honesty.