Author's note: It's a lazy Sunday around my house, so I'm updating early! Wow, only two days since my last update. Must be some kind of record (: Aaaaanyway, this is just some nice sort of fluff to hold you over. I actually just finished the next "present" chapter, and it's three whole Word document pages of intense, passion-fueled fighting :D Well, the whole thing isn't fighting. But one whole page out of the three-page chapter is! Hey, if I get a flashback post written, then maybe I'll upload that AND the next present post TODAY! Hahah, I'm so bored. But don't count on it, cause yeah. I really doubt I'll ever post three times in one day, but it's nice to dream, right? (:

Also, thanks again for the amazing reviews! I love going to fanfiction and seeing my review number go up!

Pam sighed as she plopped onto the tiny futon in her boss's living room. Michael was a mere ten feet away, quarrelling with someone on the phone. She focused her ears and struggled to hear who seemed to be winning the "argument," but Michael purposely kept his voice down. She quickly gave up trying to hear the conversation and shifted her gaze to the …coworker sitting beside her. Ryan was sprawled out on an armchair, his feet resting on the coffee table in front of them. She rolled her eyes and prepared to remind him to keep his shoes off of the furniture, but noticed that socks were the only things on his feet. A fast sweep of the room told her that his tennis shoes were casually strewn by the front door. Pam smiled to herself; maybe he had learned some manners from her after all. However, at that moment he shifted his footing slightly and sent a pile of magazines tumbling to the floor. She waited to see if he was going to be polite and clean up his mess, but he showed no indication of doing such. She groaned inwardly and bent down to pick up the scattered magazines.

Suddenly, a second pair of hands was grasping for articles with her. She didn't even need to look up to know who was helping. She'd know those hands anywhere. They worked in silence for a few moments until a soft whistle came from her left. She glanced over and saw Ryan staring open-mouthed at the latest edition of Maxim. A large-breasted bimbo pursed her lips on the cover. Pam rolled her eyes and pulled the "magazine" out of his hands, shoving it toward the bottom of their pile. A low chuckle erupted from her coworker, but she simply shook her head and got back to work.

"I think this is the last one," he said, setting an Us Weekly on the coffee table in front of them.

"Yeah," she muttered. "Thanks."

He attempted to catch her eye, but she continued to stare at the floor. "Hey, no need to thank me. You probably shouldn't have done anything. I was the one to knock them over."

"Yeah, well. I guess I'm just used to cleaning up your messes."

He looked confused for a moment, as if he was trying to figure out whether her comment was sarcastic or serious. She couldn't tell either. He gave up with a sigh. "Sorry," he whispered.

She rolled her eyes. "Ryan, it was just a couple of magazines. Not a big deal."

"I wasn't talking about that," he muttered a little more bravely. She shifted in her chair uncomfortably. She was not going to have that conversation. They sat together in silence once more and strained to hear the phone discussion their boss was still having. "So," he began. She closed her eyes and attempted to make herself believe he wasn't trying to strike up another conversation, but he continued to talk anyway. "You sure you don't need another pair of shoes? Cause I did take the time to find your size. I think you should be appreciative."

She smiled slightly at his obvious attempt at humor. "Who wears bowling shoes on a regular basis?" He simply nodded toward the man in front of them. "Oh Michael," she sighed. Their boss had apparently decided that a pair of used, beat-up bowling shoes went perfectly with his Target-brand suit. Ryan let another soft laugh escape his throat as she shook her head sarcastically.

"No, not there. That would be humiliating," Michael groaned. The pair whipped their heads around to look into his panicked eyes. He looked utterly defeated. Pam glanced toward Ryan, who simply shrugged in response. Suddenly, Michael snapped his cell phone shut and turned to them with false enthusiasm. "Alright! Who wants to go check out our new office?"

Pam smiled back as warmly as she could. Michael's previous comment hadn't reassured her that their "office" wouldn't be a box on the side of the highway. "You really found us an office?" she attempted to cheer. It hadn't sounded very convincing to her, but Michael seemed to buy it.

"I guess I did! Let's go!" he shouted, gesturing wildly toward the front door. She hopped up and began to follow, while Ryan sighed and reached for his tennis shoes. She wished that he could at least pretend to be interested, for Michael's sake. She knew he could do it. After all, he had used his "acting skills" on her plenty of times in the past. He "acted" like he cared for her. He "acted" like she was the most important thing in his life. He "acted" like she mattered. The trio arrived at Michael's small car, and she was surprised when he didn't put up a fuss about sitting in the front seat. Soon enough, they turned onto the familiar street that would lead them toward the old office building. Michael wanted to park inside the gates, but Pam convinced him to stay on the side of the road until they for sure had an office of their own.

She was surprised to see the entire office in the parking lot playing soccer. It was nice, almost relaxing, to watch Andy attempt to head-butt the black and white ball while Dwight shouted orders to the entire clan. Angela and Kelly were standing off to the side, admiring Charles from afar, and Kevin seemed to be panting for breath. Jim's eyes quickly met hers and she simply shrugged as Michael yanked her toward the doors. She didn't like the way her fiancé's gaze shifted to the man walking behind her, and she didn't like hearing Ryan's growl in response. It was a quiet noise, almost silent, but she still managed to hear it. Her ears still seemed to be attuned to his voice.

Billy, the building manager, directed them down a small, dimly-lit corridor. Pam was surprised when he stopped in front of a door that looked like it led to a small closet. Ryan bravely burst through the door, Michael quickly following behind. She decided to hang back a moment to catch her breath. When she had gathered enough courage, she strutted through the open doorway.

The room was a pretty average size, if you're talking about a college dorm or a one-person bedroom in a cheap apartment. For an office, however, it was tiny. Layers of boxes lined the walls and the floor, and assorted trash formed a shell over the ground. An old, rusty shower stood against a wall, pipes jutting out all over the ceiling. A broken chair and what looked like the remains of an outdated computer sat in the corner. Pam took a moment to look around, before settling on her boss's expectant face. Ryan continued to wander around the tiny room as Michael sighed beside her. "I could work here. I could see this." Michael muttered something in response, but she was too busy watching Ryan's every move.

"I'm good. You good?" Michael asked, forcing her to snap out of the daydream.

She smiled before responding, hoping to calm his fears. "I'm good." She actually was beginning to feel confident in their small business, but Ryan dashed that hope with one sentence.

"This place is a hole."

"Ryan…" she sighed. Way to go, temp.