"Dwight!"

He had been peering over the baby, a bit closer than Angela preferred. Dwight snapped to attention, watching Angela with even more enthusiasm than he'd allotted to Phillip. She sighed at this.

"What?" his voice was gentle, a sea-foam in contrast to her tsunami.

Phillip studied his crib, which Dwight was careful in latching.

"Why do you have to do that?"

"Do what, look at my son?" he added slight laugh at the end, hoping it would make things more comfortable, more casual.

"No. Come into my house when you know very well that the senator is busy with…"

"Last I checked, you gave me the key, not the useless, pathetic, senator."

"Suppose you stole my baby."

"My baby? I was going to steal him… anyway, how is it stealing if he…?"

"Dwight, that's enough!"

He stared down into her eyes.

"Regardless," began Angela, failing at ignoring him, "some events have transpired… and I wanted to tell you that I may have changed my opinions of… of you. Of Phillip. And you."

Half-smiling, Dwight took her hand. He had to turn her away from the crib. Phillip's fingers twitched, ever so slightly, as he fell asleep.

"I wanted to tell you. But you just had to show up unannounced and ruin everything. Dwight…"

He caught her as she started to cry. The tears were cold and plentiful.

"Monkey…" he retrieved a handkerchief from his coat pocket and had to force it into her hands. She crumpled it up before smearing it over her face.

"I can't tell you now, Dwight. I can't."

"Don't..." his satisfaction didn't depend on it. He focused once again on Phillip, gazing longingly over Angela's shoulders.

"But I want to."

Dwight patted her shoulder. Softly, and only once, as a way of reassuring her. But, ultimately, leaving her to make her own decision. He walked over to the crib and watched Phillip, smiling cautiously.

"Angela," he said formally, "I want you to stay with me."

"I am with you." He could almost feel her eyes as they rolled.

"No. Only with me. If I were to leave Dunder-Mifflin tomorrow, would you come with me?"

"Dwight, I can't quit my job for you."

He nodded, despite them each gazing off in opposite directions. "I'd quit mine for you. I have quit mine for you."

Suddenly, he turned. Phillip moved his head, but his eyes remained shut. Both parents stopped, silent, to make sure they didn't wake him. Dwight proceeded at a whisper:

"I won't upset you, Monkey."

She sighed as the habitual response passed her lips:

"Oh, D…"

Their eyes met, encouraging Angela to continue. She checked frequently on Phillip, as did Dwight. She had to admire the love he already showed for the baby.

"It's about Phillip, Dwight." She sat down in the rocking chair, facing Dwight and the crib, "He wasn't… he wasn't… conceived out of wedlock. He…"

"That's impossible."

"Let me finish."

Phillip awoke, due to Angela's snap in temper, and thus, volume. Dwight had a friendly smile and a bar of humming ready to prevent his crying. Angela gave an appreciative nod.

"This isn't a premature baby." Recited Dwight.

"He wasn't conceived out of wedlock, I promise you. "

"Why are you lying to me?" Dwight immediately regretted sounding so cold with her. He stopped himself and waved for her to continue, forming a slow 'sorry' with his lips and staring at the floor.

"There were legal documents," began Angela, pacing and playing with her wedding ring, "which I was supposed to deal with. I did not 'deal with' them. I left them in a drawer in my desk."

"Wait, you mean the senator's…?"

"Our marriage, Dwight. Ours."

He pondered this, grin widening with each spinning thought.

"You sly dog."

"Cat." Snapped Angela. Dwight swore that her accompanying sigh was a purr in disguise.

"Monkey…" he decided, nodding. She turned to face him and was welcomed into his arms.

"So… yes, Dwight. I will come with you. For Phillip."

They embraced beside the crib, with Angela muttering into his shoulder the demerits of a 'broken home.'

"I won't disappoint you, Mrs. Schrute."

While she stared only at her baby, Dwight leaned down to kiss her. Once; softly, simply.