So. If you guys see anything...
Title: Things That Happen When You Drink Too Much
Author: GreenFish
Rating: T
Pairing: Jim/Pam, Ensemble
Spoilers: E-Mail Surveillance, Season 2
Word Count: 10,260
Disclaimer: I do not own these folks. I just write with them for fun. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: I felt that a pivotal moment during E-Mail Surveillance was when Phyllis brought the Jim/Pam dynamic to Pam’s awareness. What would have happened at Jim’s party if Phyllis hadn’t said anything about them? Slightly AU.
Author’s Note: This idea came about when I was leaving a comment in paper_jam11's LJ about "The Dundies." I was commenting on Jim’s obsession with Pam and how when you’re so into someone, you just look for those opportunities to have a moment -- or even the perfect night with that person, even if you don’t think they'll ever really be yours. That’s basically the thought that inspired this story.
Thanks a trillion to my betas, paper_jam11, killersharky and angryhaiku. You guys are the BEST!
===
"I've got three cases of imported beer. Karaoke machine. And I didn't invite Michael. So, three ingredients for a great party."
===
Jim was glad Michael wasn't coming to the party. But more than that, Jim was glad Roy wasn't, either. He knew it was selfish of him to be glad that his friend's fiancé wasn't coming, but if he wanted to really be honest with himself, he'd admit that he wished Pam didn't even have a fiancé, because maybe then, he'd finally have her for himself.
He was pacing around the house, trying to make sure everything was in order for that night.
All the dishes were put away? Check.
Beer was stocked in the cooler? Check.
No reason to be nervous, Halpert. It's just a party.
With alcohol. And no Roy.
That doesn't mean anything's actually going to happen.
Even if the last time you hung out with her alone, you had a great time. And you called it a date.
Idiot.
He wasn't going to make that mistake today. He would just ... host his party, and have fun, and ... see what happened. And, if something happened... well...
Nothing was going to happen. It didn't work that way. She was engaged.
Still, you never knew... remember what happened at the Dundies?
No, he thought to himself. She was just excited about the award, and was caught up in the moment. It didn't mean anything. But still... it had been their first kiss, and who knew? Maybe something would happen...
Jim shook his head to clear his mind. He had to get ready for the party. People would be getting there any minute.
===
To Jim's surprise, Oscar was the first to arrive at the party, five minutes early. He thought for sure that Angela would be there first. She actually arrived precisely at seven o'clock on the dot, which made complete sense, in retrospect. Pretty much everyone else started to filter in slowly over the next half-hour or so, including Kevin and his fiancée, Phyllis, Ryan, Kelly, Meredith, Stanley, his wife Terri -- even the corporate IT guy, Sadiq.
Jim had thought for sure that Dwight would be one of the early arrivals as well. Dwight finally arrived around 7:40, explaining that he was late because he had to help Mose "gather up the livestock," whatever that meant. (In Dwight's case, it could be literal or figurative. You never knew.) After he introduced Dwight to Mark, he realized that Pam was still missing.
Had she decided not to show up? Maybe Roy asked her to do whatever it was he was doing and she went there instead? He didn't want to think about that. Part of the reason (if he was being completely honest, the reason) he was having the party was so he could have Pam over at his house. She'd never seen where he lived. And if she didn't show up...
Well, he couldn't worry about that. He headed over to the small group of office people gathered around his couch.
He motioned to his co-workers. "I just wanted to let you guys know that we will be taking the tour like I promised --"
"Hey," a voice said next to him.
Jim turned to see Pam standing before him, clad in a brown coat, a scarf, and jeans ... Oh, my God, this girl was adorable.
"Hey!" he said, grinning at her. "Just in time. Do you want to go on a group tour? We were about to leave."
"Definitely," she said, smiling at him.
Jim had to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. He couldn't believe she'd finally made it. He couldn't wait for her to see his house. There was something exhilarating about it. He had to force himself to concentrate on the guests in front of him. Pam is not the only person in the room. Even if you'd like her to be.
"Well, the group tour is now leaving, then," Jim announced, leading his co-workers down the hall and into his house. He continued to make snappy comments as they headed towards the stairs. Jim felt his stomach starting to tighten as he thought about Pam actually seeing his bedroom, when Ryan interrupted his thoughts.
"Hey, is Katy coming?"
Katy? What? "Um, actually, I haven't talked to her in a while," Jim said as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this night with talk about another girl he'd been half-heartedly seeing on-and-off. He really didn't want Pam to hear him talking about Katy at all.
"Huh. Oh. Is it cool if I call her?" Ryan asked.
Jim tried to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "We'll talk about that later," Jim said as they rounded the stairs. He cleared his throat in an effort to clear his head as well.
"Okay, folks," he said as they got to the top of the stairs, "you'll notice on your right the second of the two bathrooms in the house." He opened up the door and flicked on the light. "You may also notice this is the more spacious of the two, for when you need a little more breathing room."
Everyone turned to look at Kevin.
"Heeyyy..." Kevin said.
Jim smiled. "Extra paper is under the sink, in case you need it," Jim said with a smirk. He led the group out into the hallway and opened the door to his bedroom.
"On your left, you'll see the bedroom owned by yours truly. It's a state-of-the-art bachelor pad, complete with bookshelves and an underused acoustic guitar. And no, before you ask, I don't know how to play 'Stairway to Heaven.'"
"How about 'Smoke on the Water'?" Kevin asked.
"'Master of Puppets'?" Ryan asked.
Jim gave Ryan an odd look. "Um," he said. "Moving along."
He led everyone out of his bedroom and down the hall towards Mark's.
"This is my roommate Mark's bedroom. Please refrain from utilizing this bedroom for any type of sexual activity. In fact, please refrain from using any of the rooms for inappropriate activities; that's what your own house is for."
"Too bad Meredith isn't here to hear that," Ryan said under his breath.
"Ryan!" Phyllis said, as Kevin snickered.
Ryan shrugged.
Jim ignored him, gesturing towards the stairwell. "I think that about concludes the tour; please be sure to check your seats for purses and hats as you leave, and enjoy the rest of your stay at Casa de Halpert!"
"I have my hat," Kevin said as they headed back downstairs.
"I noticed," Jim said.
It wasn't until they got back downstairs that Jim noticed that Pam wasn't with the group. He headed back upstairs to see where she had gone.
He was half-surprised to catch her in his room, and tried to conceal his disappointment when he noticed one of the cameramen and a sound guy hiding out in the corner of his bedroom. Of course, he thought.
Jim and Pam made some small talk about his room and where everything was, but he could tell she was a little put-off by the crew being there, too. After a minute, he was torn between wanting to suggest that they go back to the party and wanting to have her (mostly) to himself for as long as possible. That was when she started poking around his bookshelf and found his yearbook.
"All right, yes -- that's not going to be awkward at all," he said, trying to suppress a smile. While on one hand, he really didn't want her seeing what he looked like back in high school, on the other hand, he wanted to share everything with her.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed when she got to the page with his picture.
"Oh, yeah," he said. He hated that year's picture. His mom had made him wear a dark V-neck sweater with an especially wide opening and a white a t-shirt underneath. It had the effect of making him look like he was wearing a sailor suit. His friends had called him "Popeye" for the next couple months after that.
"You were so dorky!" she squealed, poring over the book.
Jim continued to watch her, loving the way that her finger traced across the page. He tried to imagine what she was thinking at that moment. Was she wondering what would have happened if she'd met Jim in high school instead of Roy? Would they have dated if they'd known each other? (Jim thought they probably would have.) Would they still be together if they'd dated in high school? He was considering these thoughts when he realized that the camera crew was watching him, and his head snapped up, turning to look around the room.
Way to look casual there, Halpert, he thought.
"Do you have any other pictures in this yearbook?" Pam asked, grinning at him. Obviously, she was very amused by the prospect of a high-school Jim. Something about that made his stomach do a little flip.
"Um, well, I really only have one other one --" Jim said, coming over to sit next to her so he could turn to the right page. He noticed the cameraman sidling around to get a better angle of them, when a shout came from downstairs.
"Oh my God, Meredith's actually going to do it!"
A series of chants started as everyone called her name in succession, "Mere-dith, Mere-dith, Mere-dith!"
Jack, the cameraman, and Dan, the sound guy looked at each other, quickly assessing the situation. They both looked at Jim and Pam, who were glancing out the door. A decision was made in that moment that Jim was forever grateful for, as little as it was worth.
Jack shifted the camera off his shoulder and started towards the door. Almost as a secondary thought, he turned and said, "You two behave, okay?" and jogged out of Jim's bedroom and downstairs. Jim watched Dan follow him, almost knocking the boom mike into the doorway as he did so.
"What do you think he meant by that?" Pam asked with a funny look on her face.
"I don't know," Jim said, immediately wanting to change the subject. He almost wanted to ask her what Meredith might possibly be doing, but if he did that, she'd want to leave the room, and then they wouldn't be alone anymore. Instead, he went back to concentrating on the yearbook. "My other picture's in here somewhere," he said, licking his lips in concentration as he flipped through the pages.
"Ha!" Pam said; her attention diverted again.
"Here we go," Jim said, pointing to the page. "That ... is me."
It was a picture of Jim playing basketball. He was performing a lay-up, and his tongue was sticking out slightly, ála Michael Jordan. Pam immediately started giggling.
"That -- is awesome! Look at you, all basketball star-ish."
Jim looked away, suddenly embarrassed, but unable to keep the smile off his face.
"Wait. That's why you were so good when we played that company basketball game. You played in high school. You never told me that!" Pam said, smacking him lightly on the arm.
He looked up at the same time she did, and suddenly realized how close they were actually sitting, his knee resting against hers, their faces inches apart. They both stopped for a moment, as if neither knew what to say.
It was one of those moments where, in the movies, the guy who had feelings for the girl would slowly start to lean in, and they would kiss. His eyes searched Pam's. Her lips parted slightly, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was...
He knew he wouldn't do it. He couldn't do it then. There was too much ... too much at risk. He couldn't...
Jim sighed lightly, murmuring, "Yeah, I guess I didn't."
"Yeah," Pam said quietly. She looked down at the yearbook and then up at Jim. She forced a smile onto her face. "I could really use a beer," she said suddenly.
"Yeah, me, too," Jim said, standing up.
===
Ryan approached him about a half-hour later in the living room. "So, about Katy."
"Dude," Jim said. "Are you serious? You really want to know if I'll give you her number?"
Ryan shrugged. He seemed to do that a lot.
Jim rolled his eyes again. "Look," Jim said, eyeing the room to see where Pam was standing. She was talking to Phyllis, it looked like. He walked over to the kitchen counter where his phone was sitting. Ryan followed him. "If I give this to you, I don't want you telling her that I gave it to you."
"What do you want me to say, that I found her number just 'laying around,' or something?" Ryan asked sarcastically.
"I don't know. Say whatever. I just don't want her to think I think she's a revolving door, you know? She's just --"
"Hot? Sexy? She has a nice rack?"
Ryan had obviously had a few beers at that point. He was a little more loose-lipped than Jim was used to. "Um, not exactly," Jim said. "But, whatever."
He wrote down the number and handed it to Ryan. Maybe if Jim was lucky, Ryan and Katy would hit it off, and Katy would finally stop calling him. She was okay, really, but not exactly his type. He glanced over in Pam's direction again. She was pointing at Dwight -- so she's really trying to figure out if he's dating Angela,, Jim thought. He chuckled to himself.
"What's so funny?" Ryan asked, as he reached into the fridge to grab a beer. Ryan held one out for Jim, who took it.
"Ah -- nothing," Jim said. "I was just thinking about something."
Ryan gave him a weird look. "Is your Playstation hooked up?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Yeah," Jim said. "I think some people were already playing it. Have at it."
===
Jim had to help set up the karaoke machine, and Phyllis agreed to be the first to sing. Kevin had apparently bet her twenty dollars that he would pick a song she wouldn't know. It turned out that Phyllis was familiar with "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake, much to everyone's surprise. She couldn't really get the intonation down (Phyllis wasn't the type to belt out anything), but she knew the tune.
Kevin slapped the twenty onto the coffee table halfway through the song and went to get another beer.
Jim had just grabbed a hot dog and sat down next to Pam. "Oh, hey," he said. "How's your little side project going?"
"Well, apparently," Pam said, leaning in conspiratorially, "Phyllis thinks I might be onto something, too."
"Really?" Jim asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah," she whispered. "At first, she didn't really know what I was talking about, but when I pointed to Dwight and I told her about the candy bar, she totally agreed with me!"
Jim made a face. "'The candy bar'--? What?"
"Didn't I tell you? I caught Angela buying two candy bars this afternoon, and Jeff pointed out that Dwight was eating one of them!"
"Jeff the camera guy?" Jim asked, confused.
"Yeah!" Pam said. She smiled again, reveling in the fun of their mission. "I told him to tell me if he saw anything, and they did! It's so awesome, Jim. Do you realize what this means?"
"That the two people I would have imagined least-likely to find dates have found each other?" Jim asked, amused.
"Well, yes, but also -- okay," she said, leaning in again. He could feel her breath on his cheek. "They obviously think no one else knows, so we have to work that to our advantage. Think of the possibilities!" she said, leaning back to grin at him.
He grinned back at her. He loved when she got into this mode. It was his favorite side of Pam.
She stood up suddenly. "Hey, I'm going to grab another beer -- you want one?"
"Just got one," Jim said, holding his up. "You gettin' drunk there, Beesly?"
"No," Pam said, standing up primly. "I'm just having a good time. At your party. Is that against the law?"
"Only if you get a little too rowdy," he said, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her.
"I promise to behave, Officer Halpert," she said, smiling sweetly. "If only so that means Dwight doesn't try to take me down, volunteer deputy-style," she added, as they both started snickering.
"Yeah, having Dwight pin you seems like a frightening concept."
"Tell me about it," Pam said from across the room. "I've been there before. Shirtless Dwight is not --"
"I am not what?" Dwight asked, coming into the kitchen.
Pam grimaced involuntarily. Jim snorted, covering his mouth and turning away.
"Taking your shirt off -- that is not appropriate party behavior," Pam said, trying to look serious. "So, you know -- keep your shirt on."
Dwight made a face. "Huh," he said. "The only reason I would ever need to take my shirt off was if there was an emergency, Pamela. Like when you fell off that stool during this year's Dundies. If the manager hadn't stopped me, I could have dealt with the situation like it needed to be --"
"Right, right," Pam said, heading back over towards Jim, and sitting down. Dwight followed her. "You were a true hero that night, Dwight. At least, you tried to be, and that's what's important. Right, Jim?" she asked.
Jim was still trying to cover the smile on his face. "Absolutely," he said through his hand. He rubbed his face with his hand, looking up at Dwight with a newly serious expression. "So, yeah, I expect you to keep a close watch on the safety of people tonight, Dwight. Especially given Pam's past history."
"Jim!" Pam said, frowning. She looked at Dwight. "I'm fine -- the Dundies were -- I'll be fine tonight."
Dwight leaned down to look at Pam. "Your pupils already look a little bloodshot." He started to reach for Pam's beer, but Jim stopped him.
"What are you doing?" Jim asked.
"I was going to tell her to lay off the beer a little bit. She's already showing signs of slight intoxication," Dwight said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I'm fine, Dwight!"
"Dwight--" Jim said. "She's fine for now. I was kidding. I'll keep an eye on her. I promise."
"Yeah, just like you did at the Dundies, Jim? She could have cracked her head open!"
"Dwight?" Jim said. He regretted saying anything to Dwight at all. It was easy to forget how annoying Dwight could be sometimes. "Seriously."
"Fine," Dwight said, exasperated. "If you need me, I'll be surveying the grounds to make sure there aren't any party crashers hanging around the edge of your property."
"Great--" Jim said. "That sounds ... great. Please do that."
By now, Creed had stepped up to the machine and was singing a really decent version of "Let it Be." Jim had heard a rumor that Creed had been a singer in some band in the sixties, but no one knew whether that was really true, or if Creed was just a good singer. He glanced over at Pam, who was swaying back and forth to the music. On an impulse, Jim grabbed her hand and raised it up into the air, swinging it back and forth. At first, she looked surprised, but she didn't say anything, and after a few seconds, she grinned at him and took Meredith's hand on her other side. Before long, the whole room was swaying back and forth.
===
Kevin was in the middle of probably the most awful version of "I Will Survive" that Jim had ever heard, when Michael burst into the room. Dwight jumped up with an excited, "Surprise!"
Jim really wasn't shocked that Michael had decided to crash the party. He knew Michael knew about it but that no one had wanted to be the one to invite him (save for Dwight, who thought that the whole party was a surprise for Michael, of course). Now that he was here -- well, there wasn't anything to do but humor him and try to keep everyone from leaving.
Michael said, "Come on. Let's-- let's get this party staaaaa-arted. Ha! Okay. Where's that wine?" He looked at Jim.
Jim quickly rushed into the kitchen to pour the wine that Michael had brought. Maybe if he had a drink or two, Michael would mellow out. Jim hoped.
Pam had followed him into the kitchen, and picked up the bottle Jim had just poured. "Pinot Grigio?" she asked, giggling. "Isn't this a girl wine?"
Jim looked at her, grinning. "Maybe, but we know that Michael sometimes has very, um, sensitive tastes, so..."
Pam set the bottle down on the counter a bit too hard. It clinked loudly. "I like Pinot Grigio," she said.
"I'm sure you do. Now, I have to deliver this wine to Michael, so why don't you sit on the couch next to Terri, and I'll be right over." Jim gestured to where Stanley and his wife were sitting.
Michael was pacing impatiently around the back porch and popped his head in. "Don't you have any Dijon mustard for the brats?" Michael asked. "You know --" he said, changing his voice to resemble a so-called posh accent, "Pardon me, do you happen to have any Grey Poupon?" Michael snorted.
"Um," Jim said. "I will check." He handed Michael the glass of wine and started rooting around the fridge for the mustard. A second later, he pulled out a small, squat bottle of mustard. "I have Cajun mustard," Jim called back out onto the porch.
"Blech," Michael said, coming into the house. "Hot stuff gives me gas. I'll go without."
Jim glanced over at Pam to see if she'd heard that, but she was busy talking to Terri. Smiling to himself, he walked over to the couch and settled in next to her. Kelly had stepped up to the karaoke machine and started singing "Lucky" by Britney Spears.
"Oh, I love this song!" Michael said, his mouth full of food.
"Dude," Ryan said, brushing crumbs off his sleeve.
"What?" Michael asked. "It's a good song." He started humming to the tune, swaying back and forth.
"Hey!" Meredith said as he bumped into her.
"Get into the mood, Meredith. It's a par-tay!" Michael turned to look at Jim. "Hey, when do I get to sing? I called dibs."
"After this song," Jim said. "Kelly's been wanting to do this all night."
"Fine," Michael said, leaning back against the couch arm and stuffing another brat into his mouth.
===
Jim wasn't exactly sure what it was about Michael that made him want to help him. Maybe it was something about the way Michael begged for a song partner. Or the fact that he persevered, despite everyone rejecting him. Maybe it was just because he looked so pathetic up there by himself.
Whatever it was, Jim found himself in front of everyone, singing a duet with Michael. He also couldn't explain why he'd winked at Pam when he sang the part about "makin' love." Maybe it was the beer, of the camaraderie, or the mood of the moment -- but she'd giggled in response to his gesture, so.
He wondered if she just thought he was being silly, and that's why she'd laughed. He was kind of being silly, but still. Something made him wish it was Pam up there singing a duet with him, not Michael.
As they finished the song, he sat back down next to her, grabbing his beer. "You know," he started to say, "there's a bunch more duets in that karaoke catalog, and I'm sure you're getting a hankering to sing some --"
"Jim!" Pam interrupted him, much louder than necessary. He wondered if she was drunk already.
"What?" he asked, amused.
"Do you know where Dwight and Angela are?"
Jim looked around, realizing that he actually hadn't seen Dwight for a while. Or Angela, for that matter. Jim's eyes widened as he turned back to look at Pam. "You don't think they left together, do you?"
"No!" Pam said, grabbing his arm. "No -- wait! I definitely know they're still here." She grinned mischievously.
"How?"
She gestured for him to follow her. Standing in front of the patio door, she pointed to the tree house structure in Jim's backyard. Jim looked at the little house, but didn't see anything.
"What? What am I looking at?"
Pam gestured again. "Do you see those shoes sticking out?" Pam whispered. He watched her glance behind them and turned to check as well. Luckily, the cameramen were focused on Michael's antics as he badgered Ryan and Kelly by the couch.
Jim turned around and squinted to get a better view. "Oh ... my God -- yeah. I think those are -- Birkenstocks."
Pam nodded, smiling. "And who wears Birkenstocks?"
"Dwight," Jim whispered. "And there's another set of feet there -- oh my God, Dwight and Angela are making out in my backyard tree house!" Jim shook his hands suddenly, as if infected. "Oh -- God."
"Shhh!" Pam said. "We've got to keep it a secret."
"Right, right. Okay -- what are we going to do with this newfound information?"
Pam smiled. "Trust me; I have a plan. We just have to wait for Dwight to come back in the house."
===
Dwight didn't emerge back into the house until about fifteen minutes later, and went straight for the refrigerator. Jim and Pam followed him into the kitchen.
"Hey, Dwight," Pam said cheerfully.
"Hey," Dwight said, obviously ignoring her while rooting through Jim's fridge.
"May I help you?" Jim asked.
"I was just looking to see if you had any apple cider," Dwight said.
"Uh ... nope."
"Blackhaus?"
"Blackhaus?" Jim repeated. "The raspberry schnapps?" He looked over at Pam, who shrugged.
"It's German," Dwight explained. "How about prune juice?"
"Uh ... no, seriously, Dwight, why would you want that?"
"Good antioxidant," Dwight said, popping his head up. "And good for the digestive system." He bent back down, sighing. "I guess this will have to do." He pulled a container of cranberry juice out of the fridge, glancing at the bottle. "I'll at least do my urinary tract some good."
Jim and Pam both looked at each other at the same time.
"Well, Dwight -- " Pam said, "I was looking for you earlier because I started choking on part of a hot dog, and didn't know if anyone else knew the Heimlich maneuver." Dwight instantly made a face of disgust. "Of course, Jim managed to make it work, but--"
"You're lucky he didn't accidentally bruise part of your lung, or hit your pancreas. If the procedure is done incorrectly, it can have serious permanent effects." Dwight flattened his lips together, shaking his head slightly. "And why you would have trusted Jim to help you..."
"Well, I told you, Dwight, I couldn't find you anywhere..."
"Yeah, Dwight. Where were you all that time, anyway?" Jim piped in.
Dwight looked momentarily stunned. Then: "I told you, Jim. I was checking the perimeter of your house for possible party crashers. Or intruders."
"For almost two hours?"
"You obviously underestimate the thoroughness of my surveillance. Plus, you have a lot of shrubs and dark spaces I had to check under..."
"Right," Jim said. He looked at Pam. "Oh -- Pam, have you seen Angela at all?"
"No, I haven't," Pam said, pretending to look quizzical. She glanced at Dwight. "Have you seen Angela, Dwight?"
Again, Dwight looked surprised for a few seconds. "Um, no, actually, I haven't. I mean, I might have seen her in the backyard at one point a while ago, but -- yeah. No idea where she could be."
Jim looked at Pam and could tell that she was trying not to laugh.
"Well," Pam said. "If you do see her, tell her that I've been looking for her."
"No problem," Dwight said, making a quick exit from the kitchen.
As soon as Dwight left, they both immediately burst out laughing.
===
"Jim -- Jim!"
He turned around, feeling someone grabbing and pulling on his arm frantically. To Jim's surprise, it was Ryan. "What?" Jim asked, half-amused.
"Dude," Ryan said, propping himself up against the wall. "Do you know what we totally have to do now?"
"Um, no," Jim said.
"A drinking game. It is definitely ... we should totally do a drinking game, y'know? Drinking games are ... fun." Ryan flashed a sloppy grin at him.
"Wow. Okay," Jim said. "Um. But are you sure you'll be okay? I mean... you've had a lot to drink already."
"Toby's going to give me a ride home. I was hoping to meet a chick, but, you know -- kind of slim pickings. No offense." Ryan shrugged.
"Yeah -- right," Jim said. "Gotcha. Well, let me see who's in."
There weren't that many people left at that point, but Jim still managed to get a small group gathered around his couch. Pam was on his left, and around the circle were Kelly, Ryan, Meredith, Creed, Toby and Michael.
"Can I use my wine?" Michael asked. "'Cause, you know, beer is kind of gross." He made a face.
"Yes, you can use whatever you're drinking," Jim said. "Just as long as you have something."
"No problem-o, there, slick," Creed said, holding up a flask.
"Hey -- I think I have one that looks just like that!" Meredith said.
Jim and Pam exchanged looks. "Okay, then -- what are we playing?" Jim asked, looking at Ryan.
"Oh! I know -- let's do 'I Never!'" Kelly said. "That game is totally awesome."
"What's 'I Never?'" Michael asked.
Pam spoke up. "That's where someone says, 'I never ...' something, and then whoever has done it has to drink."
"That doesn't sound very interesting," Michael said.
"You might be surprised," Toby quipped.
"Right," Michael said, rolling his eyes. "Somehow I doubt you'll have anything interesting to say."
"Okay. How about we get started, then?" Jim said. "Pam, go ahead."
Pam looked at him, surprised. "Oh -- wow. Okay. I totally didn't expect to have to come up with something right away. Okay," she said, smiling. "Let's see. Um... I never ... have had sex in public." She took a drink.
"Wait --" Michael said. "Why did she take a drink? Does that mean Pam's done it in public?"
"No," Ryan said. "The person that says their 'I never' always drinks, whether or not they've actually done it. The important thing is to see who else drinks..."
"Ooohhh," Michael said. "So -- who else drank? Who else has had sex in public?" Michael started giggling to himself.
"You have to pay attention and see, Michael," Pam said.
"I'll drink again," Meredith said, taking another slug from her plastic cup. "I'm not afraid of admitting it."
"Oh -- yuck," Michael said.
"All right," Pam said. "Kelly, I think it's your turn."
The game went on fairly uneventfully until Creed's turn came up. "I have never ... done several types of hallucinogenic drugs while engaging in sexual intercourse with several people at once. Oh -- and I think it was in the mud. Or the beach. I can't remember, exactly."
Almost everyone was so busy staring at Creed that they didn't notice Toby sneaking a sip. Except for Pam, who started giggling loudly. "Ohhh my God..." Pam whispered. She poked Jim repeatedly in the side until he turned to look at her.
"What?" he said.
She was laughing too hard to answer, and by that time, Toby was saying his 'I Never.' Jim just smiled at her, shaking his head.
When Michael's turn came up, he couldn't stop laughing to himself. "Okay... um, heh -- wow, okay, um ... I never, um ... gosh, let's see. Um."
"Michael, just say something," Meredith said.
"Sheesh, fine - um, I've ... never done, um --" Michael started giggling to himself again. "Um... okay, I've never ... had oral sex. Hee!"
Everyone took a drink.
"Wow!" Michael said. "Everyone here has -- um, done that? Even Meredith?"
Meredith made a face.
"Um, I think that oral, um -- stimulation is kind of, um, common sexual practice," Toby said.
"Yeah, you would think so -- pervert," Michael said.
Jim looked at Pam again. "Okay, then," Jim said. "Moving along. Since we've gone around in a circle, why don't we just go, uh -- randomly? Ryan?" Jim said.
Ryan was fairly drunk at that point, so Jim figured he might say something interesting.
"Thanks, Jim. Okay. Um. I've never ... had a crush on someone in the office." He looked right at Jim as he raised the beer bottle to his lips.
"Define 'crush,'" Michael said, as Jim quickly took a sip of his beer, trying to look casual. His eyes widened as he noticed Pam sipping her beer as well.
"Pam -- warehouse doesn't count," Kelly said.
"Yeah, I know," Pam said quickly. Jim had to force himself not to stare at her. What was that supposed to mean? Oh, my God, he thought.
Michael continued: "Because if you mean, like, sort of a fatherly appreciation for someone's good looks, like Pam, for instance, or even Ryan..."
"Dude," Ryan said.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Pam, why don't you go next?" Kelly said.
Pam looked nervous. "Um, I don't really know..."
"Just say whatever you're thinking," Meredith said.
"I do that all the time," Creed said. "Someone smells like Polish sausage."
"Wow," Jim said.
"Okay -- um," Pam pursed her lips together. She picked at the label on the beer bottle. "I never ... had a fantasy about someone in the office."
"You mean -- like, a sexual fantasy?" Toby asked.
"Um, okay," Pam said.
Everyone drank, except for Michael, who looked confused. Pam couldn't stop glancing at Jim, though, whose neck was turning redder by the second. He refused to look at her.
"I mean, does that mean, like -- you have to picture having sex with them, or can it be other things -- like touching breasts?"
"Okay, wow -- too much information," Jim said, standing up suddenly. "I really think I've had enough of this game. I'm going to go ... uh, get some fresh air, I think."
"Can't take the heat, Halpert?" Ryan asked as he stood up. Jim didn't answer, but made a beeline for the back door. This was not what he had been expecting at all.
"Shut up, Ryan," Jim heard Pam say from across the room. He immediately turned to look at her, but she had headed off in the other direction.
===
"Hey."
Jim looked up to where he was sitting on the back step to see Pam standing over him. "Oh -- uh, hey," Jim said.
"You mind if I sit down?"
"No," Jim said. Yes, Jim thought. God. Is she thinking about how I said I had a crush on someone in the office? Or a sexual fantasy? Does she know it was her? Who else would it be? What was hers about? Was it about me? Could it be about me? God. We never should have played that stupid game.
"Um. Yeah, I, um -- did you notice that Toby drank to Creed's 'I Never'?"
"What?" Jim asked. He couldn't even remember at that point what Creed had said.
"You know, um... yeah. Wow, it was just that it was kind of ... shocking, and, Toby..." She trailed off. "I don't know."
"When isn't something that Creed says kind of shocking? Or at least -- weird?"
"Yeah," Pam said, giggling.
"Yeah," Jim said.
They settled into a semi-awkward silence. Jim really didn't know what to say at that point. He was afraid anything he might say would make her think of what had just happened. He didn't know ... God. Pam had a crush on someone in the office. That wasn't Roy. Had? Has ... Oh ... man.
His brain raced back and forth with possibilities. He sipped his beer nervously. He really didn't even want to drink anymore, but wasn't sure what else to do with himself at that point.
"So," Pam said. "This has been a ... good party so far."
"Yeah?" Jim asked. He couldn't help but feel a little surprised. He hoped Pam was having fun, but still...
"Yeah, I mean. I'm glad you invited me."
Jim smiled. "Of course I would have invited you. I mean, I invited everyone in the office, but -- you know."
"Well, except Michael," Pam said.
"Who still managed to show up anyway," Jim grinned.
"Yeah, funny how that happened," Pam said.
"Yeah," Jim said, still smiling. They stared at each other for a few more seconds. Jim wondered what she was thinking. Her eyes looked serious, her lips pressed together.
"Hey, um --" Pam started to say, when the door slid open.
"Oh," a voice said. They both looked up to see Toby standing in the doorway. "Um, I'm not ... interrupting anything, am I?" he asked.
"No," Jim said immediately. "I mean..." He looked at Pam.
"No," Pam said. "We were just ... talking."
"Right," Toby said softly. "Listen, I'm going to take off, so. Thanks for the great party."
"Yeah," Jim said. "Let me ... see you out, then." He stood up and followed Toby into the house. Something made him halfway grateful for the excuse to get away, but he wasn't quite sure why.
===
By 12:30, everyone had left, except for Pam, who was sprawled out across Jim's couch, one leg propped up on the top cushions. She grinned lazily at Jim, who was sitting at the other edge of the couch, her other leg resting on his lap.
"I'm kinda drunk," she said, her words slurring slightly.
"I know," Jim said, trying not to smile.
"I don't think I can drive," Pam said, lifting her hands as if grasping an invisible steering wheel.
"I don't think you should," Jim said. "I can, uh--" He stopped for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. Should he offer her a ride home? It would be the polite thing to do, but he'd been drinking quite a bit himself, and while he wasn't drunk, it still probably wasn't the best idea.
He could call a cab for her, but then Roy would have to drive her back the next day to get her car, and he just wasn't sure he wanted to see Roy at his house. Something about that made him feel weird.
Would she be willing to stay over? Jim wondered. Considering that made his stomach flip suddenly. Pam. Sleeping. In my house. Oh my God. Would he be able to handle that? That had been his fantasy since -- well, since -- forever. She wouldn't actually stay over, though. Would she?
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. How do you ask someone to stay over? How do you say it so you don't sound like you want to have sex with them -- even though there was nothing more in the world Jim wanted than to really know Pam that way. Damn it, he thought to himself. Get yourself together.
"Jim?" Pam said meekly.
"Yeah?" he asked, startled out of his thoughts. God, I hope she doesn't think I've been thinking about her. Damn it. Now I can't stop thinking about her. Pam. Pam in my house. Pam in my bed. Pam with no clothes... oh, God. Wow. Oh ... God.
"You're really quiet," she said.
"Yeah," Jim said. "I think I'm just tired; I don't know." Damn it -- why did you just say that? She's going to think you don't want to hang out with her--
"Me, too," Pam sighed. There was a long pause between them. Then she said, "Jim?"
"Yeah?" he asked again.
"I really, I mean -- I don't normally, um, but -- uh..."
Jim chuckled, despite himself. He felt his abdomen tighten suddenly. "But what?" he managed to say.
"Can I stay over?" she asked, in a rush. "I mean, I can probably call Roy to pick me up, but, you know, he's probably still out and drinking, and--"
"No," Jim said, more strongly than he intended. "I mean, I want you -- um, everyone, I mean -- to be safe. You're welcome to stay here any time, Pam." He patted her foot gently, which made her sit up on her elbow and smile at him. He felt his stomach jump again.
"Jim," she said, making a face as she pulled herself up to sitting. She re-positioned herself so both feet were on his lap. "I just want to say, that, you know, if I wasn't with Roy, well..." She trailed off, leaving Jim to gaze at her quizzically.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? "Um," Jim said. He hadn't meant to say anything.
"I mean," Pam said, looking sheepish suddenly. "I just mean -- you're a really great friend."
"Thanks," Jim said softly. Not exactly what he had been hoping for, but still.
"No," Pam said, her face growing serious. "You're, like, my best friend. And, you know, you take care of me, and you help me out, and -- you let me sleep over when I drink too much, so. That's pretty awesome."
Jim grinned. She really was adorable. "Well, I do take some partial blame, since I provided the alcohol that made you drunk."
She considered this for a second. "Wait a minute -- does this mean you were trying to get me drunk?"
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender. "Oh my God, you figured out my plan. To get you and a house full of partygoers drunk so I could take advantage of you and learn all of your deepest, darkest secrets." Jim shrugged. "Unfortunately, Dunder-Mifflin employees seem to be more impervious to alcohol than I anticipated. You're the only one that succumbed."
"Who said I succ -- um, who said it worked?" Pam asked, twisting her mouth up.
"Well," Jim said. He moved down the couch, picking her legs up so he could slide under them.
"I admit to nothing," Pam said, sticking her tongue out.
She leaned back, letting her arm fall over the arm of the leather couch. He suddenly imagined what her hair would look like, splayed over his pillow, her eyes gazing up at him as he hovered over her...
"Shit," he murmured to himself.
He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until she asked, "What?"
"Huh?" Jim said.
"You said 'shit,'" she replied, yawning.
"Oh, yeah, I was just thinking about -- um -- never mind. Sorry."
"I'm tired," Pam said, yawning again, and turning on her side.
"Oh," Jim said. "Do you want me to, uh -- get you a blanket and pillow?"
"Yeah," she said sleepily.
Jim ran upstairs, frantically searching through the linen closet for the extra pillows and throw blanket. He found them stuffed at the bottom. He sniffed the pillow as he walked back downstairs. A little musty, he thought, shaking it out slightly. He wondered when they had last been washed. He briefly considered going back upstairs to get his own pillow for her, but stopped when he reached the living room again and saw her lying on the couch. Her hands were curled up together under her cheek, and her hair fanned out in a half-circle around her face.
He padded over towards her as quietly as possible, and crouched down. Gently, he tapped her arm. "Pam? Pam, I have your blanket and pillow."
"Mmm," she mumbled. She opened her eyes halfway to look at him.
"Do you want this?" he asked, holding the blanket and the pillow up.
She nodded, not bothering to lift her head. Jim opened up the blanket and spread it over her, and then lifted up her head to put the pillow under her cheek. Her hair felt a lot softer than he had imagined it would. He stroked her hair once, then forced himself to stand up. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"Are you okay, Pam?" he asked.
"Mmm," she said again. He started to walk away, when he heard her say, "Jim?"
He turned around. "Yeah?"
A few seconds passed, and then she sighed lightly. "Will you lay with me?" she whispered, barely loud enough to him to hear.
"Um," he said. He really didn't know how to respond to that. Of course he wanted to lay down next to her. But there really wasn't enough room for the both of them, and--
"Please?" she asked. "I'm just--" She stopped suddenly, and he wondered what she meant to say.
I'm just used to having someone sleep next to me. I'm just scared. I'm just wanting to see what you feel like.
No, he thought. This kind of thinking was only going to get him into trouble. "Um," he said again. "I mean, there's really not enough room, I mean, I'm sort of tall, and..."
He heard Pam chuckling lightly under her breath. Then, suddenly, she was silent. Again, he wondered what she was thinking.
She said, "I don't want to sleep alone."
"Okay," Jim said, his breath coming out in a rush. What did that mean? Should I ask her to come upstairs?
But she's engaged.
We're just friends. It's not like anything will happen.
Unless she wants it to.
You can't take advantage of someone while they're drunk. Especially not your best friend. Not Pam.
When are you ever going to have this opportunity again? Go with it.
"Um," Jim said. "You could, you know -- I mean -- I wouldn't, um, I mean, if you want, we could, um..."
"Go upstairs?" Pam asked. She sounded as breathless as he felt.
"Yeah," Jim said, suddenly unable to breathe. Oh, God. Pam. In my bed. Oh... God. Oh, crap.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Um, okay," Jim said, walking over to the couch. His stomach was doing flip-flops, imagining being in bed next to her. Waking up to her scent, and her soft hair, and smooth skin...
He went to help her stand up, but it quickly became apparent that she was having trouble walking. She must have had more to drink than he realized. He stopped her, quickly reaching down into the crook of her knees and swinging her up. She yelped in surprise.
"What are you doing?" she asked, half-dazed.
"Carrying you upstairs," he said, rounding the corner towards the front hall. "Just... relax. You need to sleep."
"Yeah," she murmured, leaning against his chest.
As he ambled up the stairs, trying to make sure they didn't collide into the railing or wall on the narrow stairway, he leaned down into her head, feeling her so-soft hair tickle his nose. He breathed in lightly, letting the scent overwhelm him. He left himself getting light-headed, and willed himself to make it up the stairs and to his bedroom as soon as possible.
"Mmm," Pam said as they reached his room and he set her down. She immediately collapsed to the ground, curling up at his feet. "So sleepy," she mumbled.
"I know," Jim said, feeling his fingers trembling as he peeled back the sheets. Thank God he had just washed his sheets. Not that he was expecting this, but -- shit. He picked her up carefully off the floor and laid her down onto the bed. It wasn't until she was lying down that he realized her shoes were still on, so he pulled those off and set them next to the bed. After he had covered her with the blanket, he stood in front of the bed for a second, trying to figure out what to do next.
He took off his sweater, wondering whether to get changed into shorts--? He would be too hot in jeans, he reasoned to himself. He pulled a pair of gym shorts out of his drawer and started to head across to the bathroom. He heard Pam's voice right as he got to the doorway.
"Jim?"
"Yeah?" he asked, turning towards her.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be right back. I promise." He slipped into the bathroom, quickly throwing water on his face as he studied his reflection in the mirror. What were the chances of something like this? Could he have ever imagined Pam, in his bed? Shit. He needed to calm down.
To distract himself, Jim brushed his teeth quickly; telling himself it was only because Pam wouldn't want to smell his beer breath. It didn't mean anything else. Definitely.
Probably. Maybe.
Steeling himself with a deep breath, he glanced at himself once more before dashing back across to his bedroom. He half-expected Pam to be asleep when he got there, but she opened her eyes when he came in. "I'm back!" he stage-whispered, slowly walking around to his side of the bed.
As he slid into bed next to her, careful not to brush up against her, she turned towards him, reaching down. He nearly jumped when her hand slid over his bare knee. "Did you change?" she asked.
"Yeah," Jim said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Should he have asked her if she wanted to change? Most of his stuff would have been too big, but, still...
"Oh," Pam said, not offering anything more. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing.
"Did you, uh -- I mean, I could borrow you, um..."
"No, that's okay," Pam said, turning back around again.
Jim wasn't sure if she was annoyed, or just going to sleep. "You sure?" he asked.
"Yeah." She reached over and patted his arm. "I just need--" she yawned suddenly, "--sleep."
"Okay," Jim said, staring up at the ceiling.
"By the way," she said, turning her head towards him. "Thanks... for everything." Jim smiled. When he didn't respond, she added, "I'm really glad I ... um. You're a good person, Jim."
"Thanks," Jim said finally. He wondered if she'd think he was so good if she knew what he was thinking just then. He sighed softly, and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come.
===
He woke up hazily the next morning, feeling warmth around his stomach and the right side of his body. The feeling of bare skin against his hand made him confused, and he opened his eyes. He was immediately confronted with the sight of Pam -- her arm sprawled across his stomach, her body pressed up into his side -- and her pants -- mysteriously missing? The memories of the night before rushed back to him. He hadn't -- they didn't --
He'd gone right to sleep! How had her pants come off? And ... oh, God, her legs were so soft...
He couldn't resist the urge to rest his hand on her inner thigh where it pressed up against him. After all, he had nowhere to put his hand, and --
Jim felt his face start to burn as that thought evolved.
Crap. What if Pam woke up and her hand moved down? What if she thought he was thinking about her--?
It wasn't a healthy train of thought. I've got to get out of here, he thought. But something wouldn't let him move. Something in him wanted Pam to wake up and see him next to her. How many times had he imagined that maybe one day, she'd wake up next to him everyday, not Roy. Maybe she'd think about that, and --
"Oh my God -- Jim?"
Jim's hand immediately flew up, instinctively covering his crotch. He yelped, surprised by Pam's outburst.
He sat up, backing himself up against the wall, and crossing his arms. "Pam," he said. "Nothing happened."
"Nothing happened?" Pam asked, her eyes wide. She started to get up off the bed, when she noticed she didn't have any jeans on. She quickly pulled the comforter up high over her waist. She looked over at Jim again. "Okay, but, um -- what happened to my pants?"
Jim made a face, trying to be light. "I do not know the answer to that."
"Jim," Pam said warningly.
"Seriously," Jim said, getting out of bed and holding his hands up. This definitely was not going the way he had imagined. "When we went to sleep last night -- which is all that happened -- your jeans were on, so..."
"Well," Pam said, looking ruefully down at the ground where her jeans were balled up. "I don't usually sleep with pants on, so -- I guess, I probably took them off while I was sleeping." She attempted a small smile at him.
He smiled back. "Yeah. Apparently, your sleeping legs will not tolerate pants. Or, um, something." He looked away, making a face. How fucking stupid are you, Halpert?
There was an awkward pause as Jim stood at the edge of the bed, wringing his hands, and Pam clutched the comforter, looking down at it and then up at Jim.
"I should probably, uh -- let you get dressed -- um, fully." He quickly backed himself up and out of the room. Before heading downstairs, he double-checked to make sure Mark wasn't around. The last thing he needed was Mark making lewd comments about the "girl he'd had over." Pam was probably uncomfortable as it was, and Roy -- Oh God,, Jim thought. If Roy found out, he was dead.
He never should have let Pam stay over. It was a bad idea. He should have gotten her a cab. He shouldn't have --
"Hey," he heard a small voice say.
Pam had wandered into the kitchen, her hands stuffed into her pockets.
"You okay?" Jim asked tentatively. He busied himself by reaching into the fridge for a carton of orange juice and the can of ground coffee.
"Yeah," he heard her say. She sat down at one of the stools in front of his breakfast counter. "I called Roy." Jim's stomach immediately lurched when she said that. She shrugged. "I told him I drank too much and I passed out on your couch. He just laughed." Her eyes flit up to meet his.
Jim didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. Instead, he poured out a glass of orange juice for her, setting it down in front of her.
She sighed, spreading her hands out on the countertop and studying them. "What did happen, Jim?" she asked, not looking at him.
Jim bit his lip. There was nothing bad about the story. Nothing had actually happened. But somehow, the whole intent of the thing stuck in his throat. Had she wanted to sleep with him? Had she, subconsciously, wanted something to happen? Could he look at her today if something actually had happened? He didn't know the answers to any of that. Instead, he said: "Nothing happened, Pam." He licked his lip, and faced her. "You -- had a little too much to drink and didn't think you could drive home. You... were falling asleep on the couch, but, I mean, I guess, you, um..." Jim trailed off. He felt really weird about telling her what she said.
"I what?" Pam asked, a worried expression on her face.
Jim couldn't look at her. "You just said, you know, you didn't want to sleep alone, so I just brought you upstairs, and -- I mean, that was it, Pam. I just put you into bed." He looked up at her again. "Nothing happened."
Pam nodded. "I believe you," she said, smiling. She let out a slow breath, then picked up the glass. "Thanks for the orange juice, by the way."
"Do you want me to make breakfast?" Jim asked. "I make a pretty mean omelet. It even rivals my famous grilled-cheese sandwich." He winked at her.
Pam smiled, looking down. "Why is it that all your best cooking efforts involve cheese? Were you a cow in a past life?"
Jim made a face. "Now, Pam. If I was a cow, wouldn't eating cheese sort of be like cannibalizing myself?"
"Not exactly. But if your famous cooking involved beef, then maybe I'd say that..."
"I guess you didn't try a world-renowned Halpert Burger yesterday, then."
"No, I didn't, but, um." Pam stopped, finishing off her orange juice. She glanced over at him again, where he was leaning against the counter, waiting for a pot of coffee to brew. "As tempting as the omelet offer sounds, I should really get going..."
"Oh, yeah--" Jim said.
"I mean, I have a lot of errands to run, and laundry, and, you know how everything gets done on the weekends, so--"
"Definitely," Jim said, making a face. "It's a good thing you didn't look under the bed, because that's where all of my laundry is hiding right now."
"Ooh," Pam said, her face scrunching up. "Wow. Okay, then."
"Yeah, that was probably ... okay." Jim set his glass down, and it made an unusually loud noise. It suddenly reminded him of Pam almost dropping the wine bottle onto the countertop the night before; her loud proclamation that Michael's wine was a "girl wine." The thought suddenly made him smile.
"What's so funny?" Pam asked.
"Nothing -- it's just -- you were really funny yesterday, that's all."
"What -- did I say something stupid?" Pam asked.
"No," Jim smiled. "You were very ... nice. Except when you said that Michael drank 'girl wine.'" Jim smirked.
"Ha!" Pam exclaimed. "I remember that! Because he had Pinot Grigio, and -- c'mon, Jim. That's totally a girl wine, isn't it?"
"Well, we know Michael's kind of a woman sometimes, so..." Jim winced inwardly. Hadn't he said that yesterday, too? He turned back, trying to look casual. "Anyway."
"Yeah," Pam said, lingering in front of the entrance to the kitchen. "Um, I just want to say thank you again, for, you know, taking care of me."
Jim shook his head. "It's really nothing, Pam, I mean..."
"No," Pam said, looking up at him. He was standing right over her now. He hadn't remembered walking over towards her, but here they were, and... "You were really nice, and, just --" She reached up, and touched his cheek lightly. Jim felt the skin underneath her fingertips start to tingle. "I mean, not every guy would have, you know, been so, um ... honorable, I guess." She smiled warmly at him.
Jim felt himself starting to blush as she took her hand away. "Pam, I mean -- you know I would never --"
Pam nodded. "I know," she said softly. "I'm just -- really glad you're in my life."
"Me, too," Jim said, as she stepped in to hug him. "I mean -- I'm glad I have you, not, um ... yeah," he sighed into her hair. He felt the vibration of her chuckling lightly against his chest. He paused for a moment, feeling her soft hair against his face. She didn't let go until a couple seconds later.
As she did, she held onto his arms, looking up at him. "Thank you -- for taking care of me." She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He felt his face immediately start to burn again as she stepped away, smiling shyly at the floor.
He walked to the door, where he'd stashed her coat and purse into his front closet.
"Now," he said, opening the door, "are you sure you're going to be all right to drive?"
Pam grinned lightly. "I'm pretty sure I slept all the alcohol out of my system, yes."
"All right," Jim said, patting her arm. "I'll see you Monday?"
"Definitely," Pam said.
"Hey, Pam," Jim called out to her suddenly. She turned around to look at him. "Make sure you ask Dwight how he enjoyed my tree house on Monday."
It took her a moment, but her face suddenly lit up in recognition. "Oh, my God, yes! Definitely!" she said, grinning. She continued grinning at him for another second before waving and heading back down the sidewalk.
He didn't close the door until he saw her get into her car and drive off down the street.
===
THE END
Comments of any kind always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
Author: GreenFish
Rating: T
Pairing: Jim/Pam, Ensemble
Spoilers: E-Mail Surveillance, Season 2
Word Count: 10,260
Disclaimer: I do not own these folks. I just write with them for fun. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: I felt that a pivotal moment during E-Mail Surveillance was when Phyllis brought the Jim/Pam dynamic to Pam’s awareness. What would have happened at Jim’s party if Phyllis hadn’t said anything about them? Slightly AU.
Author’s Note: This idea came about when I was leaving a comment in paper_jam11's LJ about "The Dundies." I was commenting on Jim’s obsession with Pam and how when you’re so into someone, you just look for those opportunities to have a moment -- or even the perfect night with that person, even if you don’t think they'll ever really be yours. That’s basically the thought that inspired this story.
Thanks a trillion to my betas, paper_jam11, killersharky and angryhaiku. You guys are the BEST!
===
"I've got three cases of imported beer. Karaoke machine. And I didn't invite Michael. So, three ingredients for a great party."
===
Jim was glad Michael wasn't coming to the party. But more than that, Jim was glad Roy wasn't, either. He knew it was selfish of him to be glad that his friend's fiancé wasn't coming, but if he wanted to really be honest with himself, he'd admit that he wished Pam didn't even have a fiancé, because maybe then, he'd finally have her for himself.
He was pacing around the house, trying to make sure everything was in order for that night.
All the dishes were put away? Check.
Beer was stocked in the cooler? Check.
No reason to be nervous, Halpert. It's just a party.
With alcohol. And no Roy.
That doesn't mean anything's actually going to happen.
Even if the last time you hung out with her alone, you had a great time. And you called it a date.
Idiot.
He wasn't going to make that mistake today. He would just ... host his party, and have fun, and ... see what happened. And, if something happened... well...
Nothing was going to happen. It didn't work that way. She was engaged.
Still, you never knew... remember what happened at the Dundies?
No, he thought to himself. She was just excited about the award, and was caught up in the moment. It didn't mean anything. But still... it had been their first kiss, and who knew? Maybe something would happen...
Jim shook his head to clear his mind. He had to get ready for the party. People would be getting there any minute.
===
To Jim's surprise, Oscar was the first to arrive at the party, five minutes early. He thought for sure that Angela would be there first. She actually arrived precisely at seven o'clock on the dot, which made complete sense, in retrospect. Pretty much everyone else started to filter in slowly over the next half-hour or so, including Kevin and his fiancée, Phyllis, Ryan, Kelly, Meredith, Stanley, his wife Terri -- even the corporate IT guy, Sadiq.
Jim had thought for sure that Dwight would be one of the early arrivals as well. Dwight finally arrived around 7:40, explaining that he was late because he had to help Mose "gather up the livestock," whatever that meant. (In Dwight's case, it could be literal or figurative. You never knew.) After he introduced Dwight to Mark, he realized that Pam was still missing.
Had she decided not to show up? Maybe Roy asked her to do whatever it was he was doing and she went there instead? He didn't want to think about that. Part of the reason (if he was being completely honest, the reason) he was having the party was so he could have Pam over at his house. She'd never seen where he lived. And if she didn't show up...
Well, he couldn't worry about that. He headed over to the small group of office people gathered around his couch.
He motioned to his co-workers. "I just wanted to let you guys know that we will be taking the tour like I promised --"
"Hey," a voice said next to him.
Jim turned to see Pam standing before him, clad in a brown coat, a scarf, and jeans ... Oh, my God, this girl was adorable.
"Hey!" he said, grinning at her. "Just in time. Do you want to go on a group tour? We were about to leave."
"Definitely," she said, smiling at him.
Jim had to stop himself from grinning like an idiot. He couldn't believe she'd finally made it. He couldn't wait for her to see his house. There was something exhilarating about it. He had to force himself to concentrate on the guests in front of him. Pam is not the only person in the room. Even if you'd like her to be.
"Well, the group tour is now leaving, then," Jim announced, leading his co-workers down the hall and into his house. He continued to make snappy comments as they headed towards the stairs. Jim felt his stomach starting to tighten as he thought about Pam actually seeing his bedroom, when Ryan interrupted his thoughts.
"Hey, is Katy coming?"
Katy? What? "Um, actually, I haven't talked to her in a while," Jim said as quietly as he could. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin this night with talk about another girl he'd been half-heartedly seeing on-and-off. He really didn't want Pam to hear him talking about Katy at all.
"Huh. Oh. Is it cool if I call her?" Ryan asked.
Jim tried to stop himself from rolling his eyes. "We'll talk about that later," Jim said as they rounded the stairs. He cleared his throat in an effort to clear his head as well.
"Okay, folks," he said as they got to the top of the stairs, "you'll notice on your right the second of the two bathrooms in the house." He opened up the door and flicked on the light. "You may also notice this is the more spacious of the two, for when you need a little more breathing room."
Everyone turned to look at Kevin.
"Heeyyy..." Kevin said.
Jim smiled. "Extra paper is under the sink, in case you need it," Jim said with a smirk. He led the group out into the hallway and opened the door to his bedroom.
"On your left, you'll see the bedroom owned by yours truly. It's a state-of-the-art bachelor pad, complete with bookshelves and an underused acoustic guitar. And no, before you ask, I don't know how to play 'Stairway to Heaven.'"
"How about 'Smoke on the Water'?" Kevin asked.
"'Master of Puppets'?" Ryan asked.
Jim gave Ryan an odd look. "Um," he said. "Moving along."
He led everyone out of his bedroom and down the hall towards Mark's.
"This is my roommate Mark's bedroom. Please refrain from utilizing this bedroom for any type of sexual activity. In fact, please refrain from using any of the rooms for inappropriate activities; that's what your own house is for."
"Too bad Meredith isn't here to hear that," Ryan said under his breath.
"Ryan!" Phyllis said, as Kevin snickered.
Ryan shrugged.
Jim ignored him, gesturing towards the stairwell. "I think that about concludes the tour; please be sure to check your seats for purses and hats as you leave, and enjoy the rest of your stay at Casa de Halpert!"
"I have my hat," Kevin said as they headed back downstairs.
"I noticed," Jim said.
It wasn't until they got back downstairs that Jim noticed that Pam wasn't with the group. He headed back upstairs to see where she had gone.
He was half-surprised to catch her in his room, and tried to conceal his disappointment when he noticed one of the cameramen and a sound guy hiding out in the corner of his bedroom. Of course, he thought.
Jim and Pam made some small talk about his room and where everything was, but he could tell she was a little put-off by the crew being there, too. After a minute, he was torn between wanting to suggest that they go back to the party and wanting to have her (mostly) to himself for as long as possible. That was when she started poking around his bookshelf and found his yearbook.
"All right, yes -- that's not going to be awkward at all," he said, trying to suppress a smile. While on one hand, he really didn't want her seeing what he looked like back in high school, on the other hand, he wanted to share everything with her.
"Oh, no!" she exclaimed when she got to the page with his picture.
"Oh, yeah," he said. He hated that year's picture. His mom had made him wear a dark V-neck sweater with an especially wide opening and a white a t-shirt underneath. It had the effect of making him look like he was wearing a sailor suit. His friends had called him "Popeye" for the next couple months after that.
"You were so dorky!" she squealed, poring over the book.
Jim continued to watch her, loving the way that her finger traced across the page. He tried to imagine what she was thinking at that moment. Was she wondering what would have happened if she'd met Jim in high school instead of Roy? Would they have dated if they'd known each other? (Jim thought they probably would have.) Would they still be together if they'd dated in high school? He was considering these thoughts when he realized that the camera crew was watching him, and his head snapped up, turning to look around the room.
Way to look casual there, Halpert, he thought.
"Do you have any other pictures in this yearbook?" Pam asked, grinning at him. Obviously, she was very amused by the prospect of a high-school Jim. Something about that made his stomach do a little flip.
"Um, well, I really only have one other one --" Jim said, coming over to sit next to her so he could turn to the right page. He noticed the cameraman sidling around to get a better angle of them, when a shout came from downstairs.
"Oh my God, Meredith's actually going to do it!"
A series of chants started as everyone called her name in succession, "Mere-dith, Mere-dith, Mere-dith!"
Jack, the cameraman, and Dan, the sound guy looked at each other, quickly assessing the situation. They both looked at Jim and Pam, who were glancing out the door. A decision was made in that moment that Jim was forever grateful for, as little as it was worth.
Jack shifted the camera off his shoulder and started towards the door. Almost as a secondary thought, he turned and said, "You two behave, okay?" and jogged out of Jim's bedroom and downstairs. Jim watched Dan follow him, almost knocking the boom mike into the doorway as he did so.
"What do you think he meant by that?" Pam asked with a funny look on her face.
"I don't know," Jim said, immediately wanting to change the subject. He almost wanted to ask her what Meredith might possibly be doing, but if he did that, she'd want to leave the room, and then they wouldn't be alone anymore. Instead, he went back to concentrating on the yearbook. "My other picture's in here somewhere," he said, licking his lips in concentration as he flipped through the pages.
"Ha!" Pam said; her attention diverted again.
"Here we go," Jim said, pointing to the page. "That ... is me."
It was a picture of Jim playing basketball. He was performing a lay-up, and his tongue was sticking out slightly, ála Michael Jordan. Pam immediately started giggling.
"That -- is awesome! Look at you, all basketball star-ish."
Jim looked away, suddenly embarrassed, but unable to keep the smile off his face.
"Wait. That's why you were so good when we played that company basketball game. You played in high school. You never told me that!" Pam said, smacking him lightly on the arm.
He looked up at the same time she did, and suddenly realized how close they were actually sitting, his knee resting against hers, their faces inches apart. They both stopped for a moment, as if neither knew what to say.
It was one of those moments where, in the movies, the guy who had feelings for the girl would slowly start to lean in, and they would kiss. His eyes searched Pam's. Her lips parted slightly, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was...
He knew he wouldn't do it. He couldn't do it then. There was too much ... too much at risk. He couldn't...
Jim sighed lightly, murmuring, "Yeah, I guess I didn't."
"Yeah," Pam said quietly. She looked down at the yearbook and then up at Jim. She forced a smile onto her face. "I could really use a beer," she said suddenly.
"Yeah, me, too," Jim said, standing up.
===
Ryan approached him about a half-hour later in the living room. "So, about Katy."
"Dude," Jim said. "Are you serious? You really want to know if I'll give you her number?"
Ryan shrugged. He seemed to do that a lot.
Jim rolled his eyes again. "Look," Jim said, eyeing the room to see where Pam was standing. She was talking to Phyllis, it looked like. He walked over to the kitchen counter where his phone was sitting. Ryan followed him. "If I give this to you, I don't want you telling her that I gave it to you."
"What do you want me to say, that I found her number just 'laying around,' or something?" Ryan asked sarcastically.
"I don't know. Say whatever. I just don't want her to think I think she's a revolving door, you know? She's just --"
"Hot? Sexy? She has a nice rack?"
Ryan had obviously had a few beers at that point. He was a little more loose-lipped than Jim was used to. "Um, not exactly," Jim said. "But, whatever."
He wrote down the number and handed it to Ryan. Maybe if Jim was lucky, Ryan and Katy would hit it off, and Katy would finally stop calling him. She was okay, really, but not exactly his type. He glanced over in Pam's direction again. She was pointing at Dwight -- so she's really trying to figure out if he's dating Angela,, Jim thought. He chuckled to himself.
"What's so funny?" Ryan asked, as he reached into the fridge to grab a beer. Ryan held one out for Jim, who took it.
"Ah -- nothing," Jim said. "I was just thinking about something."
Ryan gave him a weird look. "Is your Playstation hooked up?" he asked, changing the subject.
"Yeah," Jim said. "I think some people were already playing it. Have at it."
===
Jim had to help set up the karaoke machine, and Phyllis agreed to be the first to sing. Kevin had apparently bet her twenty dollars that he would pick a song she wouldn't know. It turned out that Phyllis was familiar with "Here I Go Again" by Whitesnake, much to everyone's surprise. She couldn't really get the intonation down (Phyllis wasn't the type to belt out anything), but she knew the tune.
Kevin slapped the twenty onto the coffee table halfway through the song and went to get another beer.
Jim had just grabbed a hot dog and sat down next to Pam. "Oh, hey," he said. "How's your little side project going?"
"Well, apparently," Pam said, leaning in conspiratorially, "Phyllis thinks I might be onto something, too."
"Really?" Jim asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Yeah," she whispered. "At first, she didn't really know what I was talking about, but when I pointed to Dwight and I told her about the candy bar, she totally agreed with me!"
Jim made a face. "'The candy bar'--? What?"
"Didn't I tell you? I caught Angela buying two candy bars this afternoon, and Jeff pointed out that Dwight was eating one of them!"
"Jeff the camera guy?" Jim asked, confused.
"Yeah!" Pam said. She smiled again, reveling in the fun of their mission. "I told him to tell me if he saw anything, and they did! It's so awesome, Jim. Do you realize what this means?"
"That the two people I would have imagined least-likely to find dates have found each other?" Jim asked, amused.
"Well, yes, but also -- okay," she said, leaning in again. He could feel her breath on his cheek. "They obviously think no one else knows, so we have to work that to our advantage. Think of the possibilities!" she said, leaning back to grin at him.
He grinned back at her. He loved when she got into this mode. It was his favorite side of Pam.
She stood up suddenly. "Hey, I'm going to grab another beer -- you want one?"
"Just got one," Jim said, holding his up. "You gettin' drunk there, Beesly?"
"No," Pam said, standing up primly. "I'm just having a good time. At your party. Is that against the law?"
"Only if you get a little too rowdy," he said, smirking and raising an eyebrow at her.
"I promise to behave, Officer Halpert," she said, smiling sweetly. "If only so that means Dwight doesn't try to take me down, volunteer deputy-style," she added, as they both started snickering.
"Yeah, having Dwight pin you seems like a frightening concept."
"Tell me about it," Pam said from across the room. "I've been there before. Shirtless Dwight is not --"
"I am not what?" Dwight asked, coming into the kitchen.
Pam grimaced involuntarily. Jim snorted, covering his mouth and turning away.
"Taking your shirt off -- that is not appropriate party behavior," Pam said, trying to look serious. "So, you know -- keep your shirt on."
Dwight made a face. "Huh," he said. "The only reason I would ever need to take my shirt off was if there was an emergency, Pamela. Like when you fell off that stool during this year's Dundies. If the manager hadn't stopped me, I could have dealt with the situation like it needed to be --"
"Right, right," Pam said, heading back over towards Jim, and sitting down. Dwight followed her. "You were a true hero that night, Dwight. At least, you tried to be, and that's what's important. Right, Jim?" she asked.
Jim was still trying to cover the smile on his face. "Absolutely," he said through his hand. He rubbed his face with his hand, looking up at Dwight with a newly serious expression. "So, yeah, I expect you to keep a close watch on the safety of people tonight, Dwight. Especially given Pam's past history."
"Jim!" Pam said, frowning. She looked at Dwight. "I'm fine -- the Dundies were -- I'll be fine tonight."
Dwight leaned down to look at Pam. "Your pupils already look a little bloodshot." He started to reach for Pam's beer, but Jim stopped him.
"What are you doing?" Jim asked.
"I was going to tell her to lay off the beer a little bit. She's already showing signs of slight intoxication," Dwight said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"I'm fine, Dwight!"
"Dwight--" Jim said. "She's fine for now. I was kidding. I'll keep an eye on her. I promise."
"Yeah, just like you did at the Dundies, Jim? She could have cracked her head open!"
"Dwight?" Jim said. He regretted saying anything to Dwight at all. It was easy to forget how annoying Dwight could be sometimes. "Seriously."
"Fine," Dwight said, exasperated. "If you need me, I'll be surveying the grounds to make sure there aren't any party crashers hanging around the edge of your property."
"Great--" Jim said. "That sounds ... great. Please do that."
By now, Creed had stepped up to the machine and was singing a really decent version of "Let it Be." Jim had heard a rumor that Creed had been a singer in some band in the sixties, but no one knew whether that was really true, or if Creed was just a good singer. He glanced over at Pam, who was swaying back and forth to the music. On an impulse, Jim grabbed her hand and raised it up into the air, swinging it back and forth. At first, she looked surprised, but she didn't say anything, and after a few seconds, she grinned at him and took Meredith's hand on her other side. Before long, the whole room was swaying back and forth.
===
Kevin was in the middle of probably the most awful version of "I Will Survive" that Jim had ever heard, when Michael burst into the room. Dwight jumped up with an excited, "Surprise!"
Jim really wasn't shocked that Michael had decided to crash the party. He knew Michael knew about it but that no one had wanted to be the one to invite him (save for Dwight, who thought that the whole party was a surprise for Michael, of course). Now that he was here -- well, there wasn't anything to do but humor him and try to keep everyone from leaving.
Michael said, "Come on. Let's-- let's get this party staaaaa-arted. Ha! Okay. Where's that wine?" He looked at Jim.
Jim quickly rushed into the kitchen to pour the wine that Michael had brought. Maybe if he had a drink or two, Michael would mellow out. Jim hoped.
Pam had followed him into the kitchen, and picked up the bottle Jim had just poured. "Pinot Grigio?" she asked, giggling. "Isn't this a girl wine?"
Jim looked at her, grinning. "Maybe, but we know that Michael sometimes has very, um, sensitive tastes, so..."
Pam set the bottle down on the counter a bit too hard. It clinked loudly. "I like Pinot Grigio," she said.
"I'm sure you do. Now, I have to deliver this wine to Michael, so why don't you sit on the couch next to Terri, and I'll be right over." Jim gestured to where Stanley and his wife were sitting.
Michael was pacing impatiently around the back porch and popped his head in. "Don't you have any Dijon mustard for the brats?" Michael asked. "You know --" he said, changing his voice to resemble a so-called posh accent, "Pardon me, do you happen to have any Grey Poupon?" Michael snorted.
"Um," Jim said. "I will check." He handed Michael the glass of wine and started rooting around the fridge for the mustard. A second later, he pulled out a small, squat bottle of mustard. "I have Cajun mustard," Jim called back out onto the porch.
"Blech," Michael said, coming into the house. "Hot stuff gives me gas. I'll go without."
Jim glanced over at Pam to see if she'd heard that, but she was busy talking to Terri. Smiling to himself, he walked over to the couch and settled in next to her. Kelly had stepped up to the karaoke machine and started singing "Lucky" by Britney Spears.
"Oh, I love this song!" Michael said, his mouth full of food.
"Dude," Ryan said, brushing crumbs off his sleeve.
"What?" Michael asked. "It's a good song." He started humming to the tune, swaying back and forth.
"Hey!" Meredith said as he bumped into her.
"Get into the mood, Meredith. It's a par-tay!" Michael turned to look at Jim. "Hey, when do I get to sing? I called dibs."
"After this song," Jim said. "Kelly's been wanting to do this all night."
"Fine," Michael said, leaning back against the couch arm and stuffing another brat into his mouth.
===
Jim wasn't exactly sure what it was about Michael that made him want to help him. Maybe it was something about the way Michael begged for a song partner. Or the fact that he persevered, despite everyone rejecting him. Maybe it was just because he looked so pathetic up there by himself.
Whatever it was, Jim found himself in front of everyone, singing a duet with Michael. He also couldn't explain why he'd winked at Pam when he sang the part about "makin' love." Maybe it was the beer, of the camaraderie, or the mood of the moment -- but she'd giggled in response to his gesture, so.
He wondered if she just thought he was being silly, and that's why she'd laughed. He was kind of being silly, but still. Something made him wish it was Pam up there singing a duet with him, not Michael.
As they finished the song, he sat back down next to her, grabbing his beer. "You know," he started to say, "there's a bunch more duets in that karaoke catalog, and I'm sure you're getting a hankering to sing some --"
"Jim!" Pam interrupted him, much louder than necessary. He wondered if she was drunk already.
"What?" he asked, amused.
"Do you know where Dwight and Angela are?"
Jim looked around, realizing that he actually hadn't seen Dwight for a while. Or Angela, for that matter. Jim's eyes widened as he turned back to look at Pam. "You don't think they left together, do you?"
"No!" Pam said, grabbing his arm. "No -- wait! I definitely know they're still here." She grinned mischievously.
"How?"
She gestured for him to follow her. Standing in front of the patio door, she pointed to the tree house structure in Jim's backyard. Jim looked at the little house, but didn't see anything.
"What? What am I looking at?"
Pam gestured again. "Do you see those shoes sticking out?" Pam whispered. He watched her glance behind them and turned to check as well. Luckily, the cameramen were focused on Michael's antics as he badgered Ryan and Kelly by the couch.
Jim turned around and squinted to get a better view. "Oh ... my God -- yeah. I think those are -- Birkenstocks."
Pam nodded, smiling. "And who wears Birkenstocks?"
"Dwight," Jim whispered. "And there's another set of feet there -- oh my God, Dwight and Angela are making out in my backyard tree house!" Jim shook his hands suddenly, as if infected. "Oh -- God."
"Shhh!" Pam said. "We've got to keep it a secret."
"Right, right. Okay -- what are we going to do with this newfound information?"
Pam smiled. "Trust me; I have a plan. We just have to wait for Dwight to come back in the house."
===
Dwight didn't emerge back into the house until about fifteen minutes later, and went straight for the refrigerator. Jim and Pam followed him into the kitchen.
"Hey, Dwight," Pam said cheerfully.
"Hey," Dwight said, obviously ignoring her while rooting through Jim's fridge.
"May I help you?" Jim asked.
"I was just looking to see if you had any apple cider," Dwight said.
"Uh ... nope."
"Blackhaus?"
"Blackhaus?" Jim repeated. "The raspberry schnapps?" He looked over at Pam, who shrugged.
"It's German," Dwight explained. "How about prune juice?"
"Uh ... no, seriously, Dwight, why would you want that?"
"Good antioxidant," Dwight said, popping his head up. "And good for the digestive system." He bent back down, sighing. "I guess this will have to do." He pulled a container of cranberry juice out of the fridge, glancing at the bottle. "I'll at least do my urinary tract some good."
Jim and Pam both looked at each other at the same time.
"Well, Dwight -- " Pam said, "I was looking for you earlier because I started choking on part of a hot dog, and didn't know if anyone else knew the Heimlich maneuver." Dwight instantly made a face of disgust. "Of course, Jim managed to make it work, but--"
"You're lucky he didn't accidentally bruise part of your lung, or hit your pancreas. If the procedure is done incorrectly, it can have serious permanent effects." Dwight flattened his lips together, shaking his head slightly. "And why you would have trusted Jim to help you..."
"Well, I told you, Dwight, I couldn't find you anywhere..."
"Yeah, Dwight. Where were you all that time, anyway?" Jim piped in.
Dwight looked momentarily stunned. Then: "I told you, Jim. I was checking the perimeter of your house for possible party crashers. Or intruders."
"For almost two hours?"
"You obviously underestimate the thoroughness of my surveillance. Plus, you have a lot of shrubs and dark spaces I had to check under..."
"Right," Jim said. He looked at Pam. "Oh -- Pam, have you seen Angela at all?"
"No, I haven't," Pam said, pretending to look quizzical. She glanced at Dwight. "Have you seen Angela, Dwight?"
Again, Dwight looked surprised for a few seconds. "Um, no, actually, I haven't. I mean, I might have seen her in the backyard at one point a while ago, but -- yeah. No idea where she could be."
Jim looked at Pam and could tell that she was trying not to laugh.
"Well," Pam said. "If you do see her, tell her that I've been looking for her."
"No problem," Dwight said, making a quick exit from the kitchen.
As soon as Dwight left, they both immediately burst out laughing.
===
"Jim -- Jim!"
He turned around, feeling someone grabbing and pulling on his arm frantically. To Jim's surprise, it was Ryan. "What?" Jim asked, half-amused.
"Dude," Ryan said, propping himself up against the wall. "Do you know what we totally have to do now?"
"Um, no," Jim said.
"A drinking game. It is definitely ... we should totally do a drinking game, y'know? Drinking games are ... fun." Ryan flashed a sloppy grin at him.
"Wow. Okay," Jim said. "Um. But are you sure you'll be okay? I mean... you've had a lot to drink already."
"Toby's going to give me a ride home. I was hoping to meet a chick, but, you know -- kind of slim pickings. No offense." Ryan shrugged.
"Yeah -- right," Jim said. "Gotcha. Well, let me see who's in."
There weren't that many people left at that point, but Jim still managed to get a small group gathered around his couch. Pam was on his left, and around the circle were Kelly, Ryan, Meredith, Creed, Toby and Michael.
"Can I use my wine?" Michael asked. "'Cause, you know, beer is kind of gross." He made a face.
"Yes, you can use whatever you're drinking," Jim said. "Just as long as you have something."
"No problem-o, there, slick," Creed said, holding up a flask.
"Hey -- I think I have one that looks just like that!" Meredith said.
Jim and Pam exchanged looks. "Okay, then -- what are we playing?" Jim asked, looking at Ryan.
"Oh! I know -- let's do 'I Never!'" Kelly said. "That game is totally awesome."
"What's 'I Never?'" Michael asked.
Pam spoke up. "That's where someone says, 'I never ...' something, and then whoever has done it has to drink."
"That doesn't sound very interesting," Michael said.
"You might be surprised," Toby quipped.
"Right," Michael said, rolling his eyes. "Somehow I doubt you'll have anything interesting to say."
"Okay. How about we get started, then?" Jim said. "Pam, go ahead."
Pam looked at him, surprised. "Oh -- wow. Okay. I totally didn't expect to have to come up with something right away. Okay," she said, smiling. "Let's see. Um... I never ... have had sex in public." She took a drink.
"Wait --" Michael said. "Why did she take a drink? Does that mean Pam's done it in public?"
"No," Ryan said. "The person that says their 'I never' always drinks, whether or not they've actually done it. The important thing is to see who else drinks..."
"Ooohhh," Michael said. "So -- who else drank? Who else has had sex in public?" Michael started giggling to himself.
"You have to pay attention and see, Michael," Pam said.
"I'll drink again," Meredith said, taking another slug from her plastic cup. "I'm not afraid of admitting it."
"Oh -- yuck," Michael said.
"All right," Pam said. "Kelly, I think it's your turn."
The game went on fairly uneventfully until Creed's turn came up. "I have never ... done several types of hallucinogenic drugs while engaging in sexual intercourse with several people at once. Oh -- and I think it was in the mud. Or the beach. I can't remember, exactly."
Almost everyone was so busy staring at Creed that they didn't notice Toby sneaking a sip. Except for Pam, who started giggling loudly. "Ohhh my God..." Pam whispered. She poked Jim repeatedly in the side until he turned to look at her.
"What?" he said.
She was laughing too hard to answer, and by that time, Toby was saying his 'I Never.' Jim just smiled at her, shaking his head.
When Michael's turn came up, he couldn't stop laughing to himself. "Okay... um, heh -- wow, okay, um ... I never, um ... gosh, let's see. Um."
"Michael, just say something," Meredith said.
"Sheesh, fine - um, I've ... never done, um --" Michael started giggling to himself again. "Um... okay, I've never ... had oral sex. Hee!"
Everyone took a drink.
"Wow!" Michael said. "Everyone here has -- um, done that? Even Meredith?"
Meredith made a face.
"Um, I think that oral, um -- stimulation is kind of, um, common sexual practice," Toby said.
"Yeah, you would think so -- pervert," Michael said.
Jim looked at Pam again. "Okay, then," Jim said. "Moving along. Since we've gone around in a circle, why don't we just go, uh -- randomly? Ryan?" Jim said.
Ryan was fairly drunk at that point, so Jim figured he might say something interesting.
"Thanks, Jim. Okay. Um. I've never ... had a crush on someone in the office." He looked right at Jim as he raised the beer bottle to his lips.
"Define 'crush,'" Michael said, as Jim quickly took a sip of his beer, trying to look casual. His eyes widened as he noticed Pam sipping her beer as well.
"Pam -- warehouse doesn't count," Kelly said.
"Yeah, I know," Pam said quickly. Jim had to force himself not to stare at her. What was that supposed to mean? Oh, my God, he thought.
Michael continued: "Because if you mean, like, sort of a fatherly appreciation for someone's good looks, like Pam, for instance, or even Ryan..."
"Dude," Ryan said.
"What?" Michael asked.
"Pam, why don't you go next?" Kelly said.
Pam looked nervous. "Um, I don't really know..."
"Just say whatever you're thinking," Meredith said.
"I do that all the time," Creed said. "Someone smells like Polish sausage."
"Wow," Jim said.
"Okay -- um," Pam pursed her lips together. She picked at the label on the beer bottle. "I never ... had a fantasy about someone in the office."
"You mean -- like, a sexual fantasy?" Toby asked.
"Um, okay," Pam said.
Everyone drank, except for Michael, who looked confused. Pam couldn't stop glancing at Jim, though, whose neck was turning redder by the second. He refused to look at her.
"I mean, does that mean, like -- you have to picture having sex with them, or can it be other things -- like touching breasts?"
"Okay, wow -- too much information," Jim said, standing up suddenly. "I really think I've had enough of this game. I'm going to go ... uh, get some fresh air, I think."
"Can't take the heat, Halpert?" Ryan asked as he stood up. Jim didn't answer, but made a beeline for the back door. This was not what he had been expecting at all.
"Shut up, Ryan," Jim heard Pam say from across the room. He immediately turned to look at her, but she had headed off in the other direction.
===
"Hey."
Jim looked up to where he was sitting on the back step to see Pam standing over him. "Oh -- uh, hey," Jim said.
"You mind if I sit down?"
"No," Jim said. Yes, Jim thought. God. Is she thinking about how I said I had a crush on someone in the office? Or a sexual fantasy? Does she know it was her? Who else would it be? What was hers about? Was it about me? Could it be about me? God. We never should have played that stupid game.
"Um. Yeah, I, um -- did you notice that Toby drank to Creed's 'I Never'?"
"What?" Jim asked. He couldn't even remember at that point what Creed had said.
"You know, um... yeah. Wow, it was just that it was kind of ... shocking, and, Toby..." She trailed off. "I don't know."
"When isn't something that Creed says kind of shocking? Or at least -- weird?"
"Yeah," Pam said, giggling.
"Yeah," Jim said.
They settled into a semi-awkward silence. Jim really didn't know what to say at that point. He was afraid anything he might say would make her think of what had just happened. He didn't know ... God. Pam had a crush on someone in the office. That wasn't Roy. Had? Has ... Oh ... man.
His brain raced back and forth with possibilities. He sipped his beer nervously. He really didn't even want to drink anymore, but wasn't sure what else to do with himself at that point.
"So," Pam said. "This has been a ... good party so far."
"Yeah?" Jim asked. He couldn't help but feel a little surprised. He hoped Pam was having fun, but still...
"Yeah, I mean. I'm glad you invited me."
Jim smiled. "Of course I would have invited you. I mean, I invited everyone in the office, but -- you know."
"Well, except Michael," Pam said.
"Who still managed to show up anyway," Jim grinned.
"Yeah, funny how that happened," Pam said.
"Yeah," Jim said, still smiling. They stared at each other for a few more seconds. Jim wondered what she was thinking. Her eyes looked serious, her lips pressed together.
"Hey, um --" Pam started to say, when the door slid open.
"Oh," a voice said. They both looked up to see Toby standing in the doorway. "Um, I'm not ... interrupting anything, am I?" he asked.
"No," Jim said immediately. "I mean..." He looked at Pam.
"No," Pam said. "We were just ... talking."
"Right," Toby said softly. "Listen, I'm going to take off, so. Thanks for the great party."
"Yeah," Jim said. "Let me ... see you out, then." He stood up and followed Toby into the house. Something made him halfway grateful for the excuse to get away, but he wasn't quite sure why.
===
By 12:30, everyone had left, except for Pam, who was sprawled out across Jim's couch, one leg propped up on the top cushions. She grinned lazily at Jim, who was sitting at the other edge of the couch, her other leg resting on his lap.
"I'm kinda drunk," she said, her words slurring slightly.
"I know," Jim said, trying not to smile.
"I don't think I can drive," Pam said, lifting her hands as if grasping an invisible steering wheel.
"I don't think you should," Jim said. "I can, uh--" He stopped for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. Should he offer her a ride home? It would be the polite thing to do, but he'd been drinking quite a bit himself, and while he wasn't drunk, it still probably wasn't the best idea.
He could call a cab for her, but then Roy would have to drive her back the next day to get her car, and he just wasn't sure he wanted to see Roy at his house. Something about that made him feel weird.
Would she be willing to stay over? Jim wondered. Considering that made his stomach flip suddenly. Pam. Sleeping. In my house. Oh my God. Would he be able to handle that? That had been his fantasy since -- well, since -- forever. She wouldn't actually stay over, though. Would she?
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. How do you ask someone to stay over? How do you say it so you don't sound like you want to have sex with them -- even though there was nothing more in the world Jim wanted than to really know Pam that way. Damn it, he thought to himself. Get yourself together.
"Jim?" Pam said meekly.
"Yeah?" he asked, startled out of his thoughts. God, I hope she doesn't think I've been thinking about her. Damn it. Now I can't stop thinking about her. Pam. Pam in my house. Pam in my bed. Pam with no clothes... oh, God. Wow. Oh ... God.
"You're really quiet," she said.
"Yeah," Jim said. "I think I'm just tired; I don't know." Damn it -- why did you just say that? She's going to think you don't want to hang out with her--
"Me, too," Pam sighed. There was a long pause between them. Then she said, "Jim?"
"Yeah?" he asked again.
"I really, I mean -- I don't normally, um, but -- uh..."
Jim chuckled, despite himself. He felt his abdomen tighten suddenly. "But what?" he managed to say.
"Can I stay over?" she asked, in a rush. "I mean, I can probably call Roy to pick me up, but, you know, he's probably still out and drinking, and--"
"No," Jim said, more strongly than he intended. "I mean, I want you -- um, everyone, I mean -- to be safe. You're welcome to stay here any time, Pam." He patted her foot gently, which made her sit up on her elbow and smile at him. He felt his stomach jump again.
"Jim," she said, making a face as she pulled herself up to sitting. She re-positioned herself so both feet were on his lap. "I just want to say, that, you know, if I wasn't with Roy, well..." She trailed off, leaving Jim to gaze at her quizzically.
What the hell was that supposed to mean? "Um," Jim said. He hadn't meant to say anything.
"I mean," Pam said, looking sheepish suddenly. "I just mean -- you're a really great friend."
"Thanks," Jim said softly. Not exactly what he had been hoping for, but still.
"No," Pam said, her face growing serious. "You're, like, my best friend. And, you know, you take care of me, and you help me out, and -- you let me sleep over when I drink too much, so. That's pretty awesome."
Jim grinned. She really was adorable. "Well, I do take some partial blame, since I provided the alcohol that made you drunk."
She considered this for a second. "Wait a minute -- does this mean you were trying to get me drunk?"
Jim held up his hands in mock surrender. "Oh my God, you figured out my plan. To get you and a house full of partygoers drunk so I could take advantage of you and learn all of your deepest, darkest secrets." Jim shrugged. "Unfortunately, Dunder-Mifflin employees seem to be more impervious to alcohol than I anticipated. You're the only one that succumbed."
"Who said I succ -- um, who said it worked?" Pam asked, twisting her mouth up.
"Well," Jim said. He moved down the couch, picking her legs up so he could slide under them.
"I admit to nothing," Pam said, sticking her tongue out.
She leaned back, letting her arm fall over the arm of the leather couch. He suddenly imagined what her hair would look like, splayed over his pillow, her eyes gazing up at him as he hovered over her...
"Shit," he murmured to himself.
He hadn't realized he'd said it aloud until she asked, "What?"
"Huh?" Jim said.
"You said 'shit,'" she replied, yawning.
"Oh, yeah, I was just thinking about -- um -- never mind. Sorry."
"I'm tired," Pam said, yawning again, and turning on her side.
"Oh," Jim said. "Do you want me to, uh -- get you a blanket and pillow?"
"Yeah," she said sleepily.
Jim ran upstairs, frantically searching through the linen closet for the extra pillows and throw blanket. He found them stuffed at the bottom. He sniffed the pillow as he walked back downstairs. A little musty, he thought, shaking it out slightly. He wondered when they had last been washed. He briefly considered going back upstairs to get his own pillow for her, but stopped when he reached the living room again and saw her lying on the couch. Her hands were curled up together under her cheek, and her hair fanned out in a half-circle around her face.
He padded over towards her as quietly as possible, and crouched down. Gently, he tapped her arm. "Pam? Pam, I have your blanket and pillow."
"Mmm," she mumbled. She opened her eyes halfway to look at him.
"Do you want this?" he asked, holding the blanket and the pillow up.
She nodded, not bothering to lift her head. Jim opened up the blanket and spread it over her, and then lifted up her head to put the pillow under her cheek. Her hair felt a lot softer than he had imagined it would. He stroked her hair once, then forced himself to stand up. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.
"Are you okay, Pam?" he asked.
"Mmm," she said again. He started to walk away, when he heard her say, "Jim?"
He turned around. "Yeah?"
A few seconds passed, and then she sighed lightly. "Will you lay with me?" she whispered, barely loud enough to him to hear.
"Um," he said. He really didn't know how to respond to that. Of course he wanted to lay down next to her. But there really wasn't enough room for the both of them, and--
"Please?" she asked. "I'm just--" She stopped suddenly, and he wondered what she meant to say.
I'm just used to having someone sleep next to me. I'm just scared. I'm just wanting to see what you feel like.
No, he thought. This kind of thinking was only going to get him into trouble. "Um," he said again. "I mean, there's really not enough room, I mean, I'm sort of tall, and..."
He heard Pam chuckling lightly under her breath. Then, suddenly, she was silent. Again, he wondered what she was thinking.
She said, "I don't want to sleep alone."
"Okay," Jim said, his breath coming out in a rush. What did that mean? Should I ask her to come upstairs?
But she's engaged.
We're just friends. It's not like anything will happen.
Unless she wants it to.
You can't take advantage of someone while they're drunk. Especially not your best friend. Not Pam.
When are you ever going to have this opportunity again? Go with it.
"Um," Jim said. "You could, you know -- I mean -- I wouldn't, um, I mean, if you want, we could, um..."
"Go upstairs?" Pam asked. She sounded as breathless as he felt.
"Yeah," Jim said, suddenly unable to breathe. Oh, God. Pam. In my bed. Oh... God. Oh, crap.
"Okay," she whispered.
"Um, okay," Jim said, walking over to the couch. His stomach was doing flip-flops, imagining being in bed next to her. Waking up to her scent, and her soft hair, and smooth skin...
He went to help her stand up, but it quickly became apparent that she was having trouble walking. She must have had more to drink than he realized. He stopped her, quickly reaching down into the crook of her knees and swinging her up. She yelped in surprise.
"What are you doing?" she asked, half-dazed.
"Carrying you upstairs," he said, rounding the corner towards the front hall. "Just... relax. You need to sleep."
"Yeah," she murmured, leaning against his chest.
As he ambled up the stairs, trying to make sure they didn't collide into the railing or wall on the narrow stairway, he leaned down into her head, feeling her so-soft hair tickle his nose. He breathed in lightly, letting the scent overwhelm him. He left himself getting light-headed, and willed himself to make it up the stairs and to his bedroom as soon as possible.
"Mmm," Pam said as they reached his room and he set her down. She immediately collapsed to the ground, curling up at his feet. "So sleepy," she mumbled.
"I know," Jim said, feeling his fingers trembling as he peeled back the sheets. Thank God he had just washed his sheets. Not that he was expecting this, but -- shit. He picked her up carefully off the floor and laid her down onto the bed. It wasn't until she was lying down that he realized her shoes were still on, so he pulled those off and set them next to the bed. After he had covered her with the blanket, he stood in front of the bed for a second, trying to figure out what to do next.
He took off his sweater, wondering whether to get changed into shorts--? He would be too hot in jeans, he reasoned to himself. He pulled a pair of gym shorts out of his drawer and started to head across to the bathroom. He heard Pam's voice right as he got to the doorway.
"Jim?"
"Yeah?" he asked, turning towards her.
"Where are you going?"
"I'll be right back. I promise." He slipped into the bathroom, quickly throwing water on his face as he studied his reflection in the mirror. What were the chances of something like this? Could he have ever imagined Pam, in his bed? Shit. He needed to calm down.
To distract himself, Jim brushed his teeth quickly; telling himself it was only because Pam wouldn't want to smell his beer breath. It didn't mean anything else. Definitely.
Probably. Maybe.
Steeling himself with a deep breath, he glanced at himself once more before dashing back across to his bedroom. He half-expected Pam to be asleep when he got there, but she opened her eyes when he came in. "I'm back!" he stage-whispered, slowly walking around to his side of the bed.
As he slid into bed next to her, careful not to brush up against her, she turned towards him, reaching down. He nearly jumped when her hand slid over his bare knee. "Did you change?" she asked.
"Yeah," Jim said, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Should he have asked her if she wanted to change? Most of his stuff would have been too big, but, still...
"Oh," Pam said, not offering anything more. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing.
"Did you, uh -- I mean, I could borrow you, um..."
"No, that's okay," Pam said, turning back around again.
Jim wasn't sure if she was annoyed, or just going to sleep. "You sure?" he asked.
"Yeah." She reached over and patted his arm. "I just need--" she yawned suddenly, "--sleep."
"Okay," Jim said, staring up at the ceiling.
"By the way," she said, turning her head towards him. "Thanks... for everything." Jim smiled. When he didn't respond, she added, "I'm really glad I ... um. You're a good person, Jim."
"Thanks," Jim said finally. He wondered if she'd think he was so good if she knew what he was thinking just then. He sighed softly, and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come.
===
He woke up hazily the next morning, feeling warmth around his stomach and the right side of his body. The feeling of bare skin against his hand made him confused, and he opened his eyes. He was immediately confronted with the sight of Pam -- her arm sprawled across his stomach, her body pressed up into his side -- and her pants -- mysteriously missing? The memories of the night before rushed back to him. He hadn't -- they didn't --
He'd gone right to sleep! How had her pants come off? And ... oh, God, her legs were so soft...
He couldn't resist the urge to rest his hand on her inner thigh where it pressed up against him. After all, he had nowhere to put his hand, and --
Jim felt his face start to burn as that thought evolved.
Crap. What if Pam woke up and her hand moved down? What if she thought he was thinking about her--?
It wasn't a healthy train of thought. I've got to get out of here, he thought. But something wouldn't let him move. Something in him wanted Pam to wake up and see him next to her. How many times had he imagined that maybe one day, she'd wake up next to him everyday, not Roy. Maybe she'd think about that, and --
"Oh my God -- Jim?"
Jim's hand immediately flew up, instinctively covering his crotch. He yelped, surprised by Pam's outburst.
He sat up, backing himself up against the wall, and crossing his arms. "Pam," he said. "Nothing happened."
"Nothing happened?" Pam asked, her eyes wide. She started to get up off the bed, when she noticed she didn't have any jeans on. She quickly pulled the comforter up high over her waist. She looked over at Jim again. "Okay, but, um -- what happened to my pants?"
Jim made a face, trying to be light. "I do not know the answer to that."
"Jim," Pam said warningly.
"Seriously," Jim said, getting out of bed and holding his hands up. This definitely was not going the way he had imagined. "When we went to sleep last night -- which is all that happened -- your jeans were on, so..."
"Well," Pam said, looking ruefully down at the ground where her jeans were balled up. "I don't usually sleep with pants on, so -- I guess, I probably took them off while I was sleeping." She attempted a small smile at him.
He smiled back. "Yeah. Apparently, your sleeping legs will not tolerate pants. Or, um, something." He looked away, making a face. How fucking stupid are you, Halpert?
There was an awkward pause as Jim stood at the edge of the bed, wringing his hands, and Pam clutched the comforter, looking down at it and then up at Jim.
"I should probably, uh -- let you get dressed -- um, fully." He quickly backed himself up and out of the room. Before heading downstairs, he double-checked to make sure Mark wasn't around. The last thing he needed was Mark making lewd comments about the "girl he'd had over." Pam was probably uncomfortable as it was, and Roy -- Oh God,, Jim thought. If Roy found out, he was dead.
He never should have let Pam stay over. It was a bad idea. He should have gotten her a cab. He shouldn't have --
"Hey," he heard a small voice say.
Pam had wandered into the kitchen, her hands stuffed into her pockets.
"You okay?" Jim asked tentatively. He busied himself by reaching into the fridge for a carton of orange juice and the can of ground coffee.
"Yeah," he heard her say. She sat down at one of the stools in front of his breakfast counter. "I called Roy." Jim's stomach immediately lurched when she said that. She shrugged. "I told him I drank too much and I passed out on your couch. He just laughed." Her eyes flit up to meet his.
Jim didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. Instead, he poured out a glass of orange juice for her, setting it down in front of her.
She sighed, spreading her hands out on the countertop and studying them. "What did happen, Jim?" she asked, not looking at him.
Jim bit his lip. There was nothing bad about the story. Nothing had actually happened. But somehow, the whole intent of the thing stuck in his throat. Had she wanted to sleep with him? Had she, subconsciously, wanted something to happen? Could he look at her today if something actually had happened? He didn't know the answers to any of that. Instead, he said: "Nothing happened, Pam." He licked his lip, and faced her. "You -- had a little too much to drink and didn't think you could drive home. You... were falling asleep on the couch, but, I mean, I guess, you, um..." Jim trailed off. He felt really weird about telling her what she said.
"I what?" Pam asked, a worried expression on her face.
Jim couldn't look at her. "You just said, you know, you didn't want to sleep alone, so I just brought you upstairs, and -- I mean, that was it, Pam. I just put you into bed." He looked up at her again. "Nothing happened."
Pam nodded. "I believe you," she said, smiling. She let out a slow breath, then picked up the glass. "Thanks for the orange juice, by the way."
"Do you want me to make breakfast?" Jim asked. "I make a pretty mean omelet. It even rivals my famous grilled-cheese sandwich." He winked at her.
Pam smiled, looking down. "Why is it that all your best cooking efforts involve cheese? Were you a cow in a past life?"
Jim made a face. "Now, Pam. If I was a cow, wouldn't eating cheese sort of be like cannibalizing myself?"
"Not exactly. But if your famous cooking involved beef, then maybe I'd say that..."
"I guess you didn't try a world-renowned Halpert Burger yesterday, then."
"No, I didn't, but, um." Pam stopped, finishing off her orange juice. She glanced over at him again, where he was leaning against the counter, waiting for a pot of coffee to brew. "As tempting as the omelet offer sounds, I should really get going..."
"Oh, yeah--" Jim said.
"I mean, I have a lot of errands to run, and laundry, and, you know how everything gets done on the weekends, so--"
"Definitely," Jim said, making a face. "It's a good thing you didn't look under the bed, because that's where all of my laundry is hiding right now."
"Ooh," Pam said, her face scrunching up. "Wow. Okay, then."
"Yeah, that was probably ... okay." Jim set his glass down, and it made an unusually loud noise. It suddenly reminded him of Pam almost dropping the wine bottle onto the countertop the night before; her loud proclamation that Michael's wine was a "girl wine." The thought suddenly made him smile.
"What's so funny?" Pam asked.
"Nothing -- it's just -- you were really funny yesterday, that's all."
"What -- did I say something stupid?" Pam asked.
"No," Jim smiled. "You were very ... nice. Except when you said that Michael drank 'girl wine.'" Jim smirked.
"Ha!" Pam exclaimed. "I remember that! Because he had Pinot Grigio, and -- c'mon, Jim. That's totally a girl wine, isn't it?"
"Well, we know Michael's kind of a woman sometimes, so..." Jim winced inwardly. Hadn't he said that yesterday, too? He turned back, trying to look casual. "Anyway."
"Yeah," Pam said, lingering in front of the entrance to the kitchen. "Um, I just want to say thank you again, for, you know, taking care of me."
Jim shook his head. "It's really nothing, Pam, I mean..."
"No," Pam said, looking up at him. He was standing right over her now. He hadn't remembered walking over towards her, but here they were, and... "You were really nice, and, just --" She reached up, and touched his cheek lightly. Jim felt the skin underneath her fingertips start to tingle. "I mean, not every guy would have, you know, been so, um ... honorable, I guess." She smiled warmly at him.
Jim felt himself starting to blush as she took her hand away. "Pam, I mean -- you know I would never --"
Pam nodded. "I know," she said softly. "I'm just -- really glad you're in my life."
"Me, too," Jim said, as she stepped in to hug him. "I mean -- I'm glad I have you, not, um ... yeah," he sighed into her hair. He felt the vibration of her chuckling lightly against his chest. He paused for a moment, feeling her soft hair against his face. She didn't let go until a couple seconds later.
As she did, she held onto his arms, looking up at him. "Thank you -- for taking care of me." She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the cheek. He felt his face immediately start to burn again as she stepped away, smiling shyly at the floor.
He walked to the door, where he'd stashed her coat and purse into his front closet.
"Now," he said, opening the door, "are you sure you're going to be all right to drive?"
Pam grinned lightly. "I'm pretty sure I slept all the alcohol out of my system, yes."
"All right," Jim said, patting her arm. "I'll see you Monday?"
"Definitely," Pam said.
"Hey, Pam," Jim called out to her suddenly. She turned around to look at him. "Make sure you ask Dwight how he enjoyed my tree house on Monday."
It took her a moment, but her face suddenly lit up in recognition. "Oh, my God, yes! Definitely!" she said, grinning. She continued grinning at him for another second before waving and heading back down the sidewalk.
He didn't close the door until he saw her get into her car and drive off down the street.
===
THE END
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