Author's Note: Written for the LiveJournal community 1drabble, for the prompt: kiss. Set right after the season 3 finale. Title comes from the Bright Eyes song, "I Believe in Symmetry."

The first time they kissed, and not as some sloppy, drunk misadventure at Chili's, it was an illicit rendezvous: a moment stolen away from the hecticness of Casino Night. Her heart still skipped a beat whenever she thought about it; he had to let her know how he felt, and words were incapable of saying what he wanted to say in the most accurate of ways. After all, the saying was "actions speak louder than words." And they did, in the most splendid of ways. Every bit of emotion and passion that Jim felt toward her was poured into that first, initial kiss.

She still kept the dress she wore that night. And when Jim asked her out on their first real date - nothing as only friends anymore - she knew exactly what she wanted to wear. Of all the things in her wardrobe, that would be the thing that would surprise him the most to see. The blue still shimmered as bright as it ever did as she pulled it up her body and twirled in the mirror, watching as her reflection repeated her motion in mirror image form.

Someone knocked on the door - once, twice. That would be Jim. After thinking that she would lose him to his wonderful promotion opportunity, and then she didn't, she couldn't risk losing him again. And yet, she had to act with her heart; one of the facets that defined their relationship was both of them allowed their hearts to speak the words they could not say.

She opened the door. "Pam, you look - is that the dress? - so beautiful," Jim said, handing her a small bouquet of daisies with a sheepish grin.

She could only nod as she took the bouquet into her arms and cradled it. This night was off to a good start. "It is. I'll go put these in water, and then we can leave."

"I thought we could go to Valenti's and have as many clams as we want - it's forty cent clam night."

"How romantic."

"They do say it's a natural aphrodisiac, anyway," he called out to her, as she moved around the kitchen, looking for a vase. He arched his eyebrow and suppressed a laugh. "Or you can just have a pasta dish, and I'll take the clams. They're supposed to have an amazing ripiene."

She came back to the door, brushing off her hands. "Sounds like a plan."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him; she could feel his touch radiating out from all around her. And then he kissed her, slow and gentle, but with an underlying deep passion. This would be the kiss against to which all others in the future - and she expected that there would be more - would be compared. He smiled as he pulled back. "Your chariot awaits," he said, gesturing to his car.

This wasn't something that would be a flash in the pan, she thought, a broad smile crossing her face. If she lost him, and lost their friendship along with whatever this relationship was, it would be akin to her navigating in the darkness with a flashlight that needed its batteries replaced.

It wouldn't happen.