Hey there! So I've been experimenting with this idea for a while now, I finally drummed up the effort to put my ideas down. I've got a few chapters up my sleeve and I've probably borrowed some ideas from my own previous (dead) story. I hope you enjoy. Please review. I'm still new to this and I'd really appreciate some constructive criticism if there are some glaring problems that would prove embarrassing for any decent writer.

Read. Enjoy. Review. Come back for Chapter 2!

The familiar tone that played from his phone sounded like the blasting from an air horn in the completely silent and dark house. Jim tossed in his bed and blindly reached for his phone. "Hello?" he groaned, his face still half buried in a pillow.

"Were you sleeping?" Ryan asked with a raised voice, trying to talk over the loud music in the background. Jim could tell he was drunk, he knew exactly what kind of call this was.

"Where are you?" he sighed. The clock on the side table read 2:04. He sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. "It's 2 in the morning Ryan."

"It's not my fault," Ryan said defensively. Jim rolled his eyes as he rolled out of bed, "This fucking idiot bartender took my keys!"

"Where are you Ryan?" he asked again, this time the note of frustration he held back before was deliberately laced in the question.

"Poor Richards," he replied with an apologetic tone. "I don't have enough money to pay my bill either." Shame filled his voice and Jim's frustration started to wane.

He pulled a black shirt over his head and reached for a pair of pants. "I'll be there in 15 minutes."

As he searched for his wallet and keys his breathing became more ragged. He was exhausted and uncertain all over again. Part of him felt the overwhelming want to help Ryan again, to be there for him when he needed it. But it didn't seem fair anymore. The man who just called him was not Jim's closest friend. He wasn't the guy who he had the most fun with, or loved hanging out with. It wasn't his roommate, it wasn't the man he'd… whatever…

If Ryan was acting this way, putting him through the ringer, making it his responsibility to clean him up and take care of him, then he clearly did not value their friendship as much as Jim did.

He gathered his keys and wallet and threw a jacket on.

Someone had to help him.

"Why are you drinking? You know you're not supposed to." Jim asked as he turned the key in the ignition and flicked on the lights.

"I was thirsty," said Ryan with a smug tone. He grinned as if he were the funniest person in the world. The stench of alcohol on his breath was enough to make Jim wince.

"Don't be a smart ass." Jim sighed, his bottom lip curled in anger, "You know you're not supposed to drink. How many fucking times do I have to come down here and do this with you?"

Ryan scoffed, "Can you relax? Second time, Jim."

"Fuck you," he muttered.

"Fuck you back," Ryan said softly.

They drove in silence for the next few miles. The Black Eyed Peas 'I Got A Feeling' started playing on the radio, enough to make Ryan snarl a string of vulgarities and turn the car radio off. Jim involuntarily smiled to himself. Ryan noticed.

"I'm sorry," he said as he shut his eyes and curled onto his left side, "Thank you."

Jim's smile stayed in place as he took a quick glance at his drunk friend, "It's okay."

"I'll work on the drinking too," he said quietly. He winced at the words that fell out of his mouth. He hated the thought of wanting his friend's approval. He sat back up in place and looked at Jim, "I really will."

Jim's hands flexed the steering wheel as he stopped the car at a red light. He looked into the tired blue eyes. He wanted to tell Ryan that it was okay, that he'd be okay and everything would be fine. He wanted to leave him alone, but he couldn't. "It's a slippery slope, Ryan. You need to just stop."

He sighed, "I know-"

"Do you?" Jim asked, the ugly note of frustration reared it's ugly head again, "What happens if I'm not around to pick you up? Or pay your bar tab?"

Ryan looked away from his friend and back out the window as the car started off again, "Are you kicking me out?" he asked, feeling an overwhelming feeling of sadness wash over him.

"No." The answer was quick and emphasized, "You're just…" Jim lost his words, his thoughts trailed back a month earlier when Ryan had handed him the baggie of cocaine he had purchased, begging Jim to destroy it for him. He fell back into his seat and steered the car with one hand, resting his free hand in his own lap, "After what happened… the drugs, and tonight… I just think you need to talk to someone."

Ryan scoffed, "Like who?"

"Go to a meeting," Jim said, a note of urgency in his voice, "Talk to your parents, maybe they'll-"

"They don't want anything to with me Jim!" he snapped, his voice raised much higher than usual, "You know that! Don't call them because they don't want me around anymore!"

Jim slammed the steering wheel with his free hand, "Then stop this shit!" he yelled. Ryan fell back into his seat and stared at his feet. "You're scaring the shit out of me! This ends tonight!"

"Okay." Ryan's voice was soft and hurt.

The car pulled up on the driveway. Ryan slowly exited the car, waiting for Jim to look at him. He hated himself for hurting the only person in the world who wanted to take care of him. Jim locked the car as Ryan unlocked the door and held it open for the taller man.

"Jim, please don't be mad at me," he said softly as he closed the door and slowly kicked off his shoes. "I can't stand it when you're mad at me."

Jim hung his jacket on the coat rack and turned on the hallway light, "Just sleep it off okay? You'll feel better in the morning." He smiled at Ryan and clapped a hand around his shoulder before saying goodnight and retreating to his bedroom.

Ryan's coat joined Jim's on the rack. He walked through the dark house to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. He leaned up against the counter and slowly sipped his drink. He smiled to himself as he recalled the last few months.

He left his glass in the sink before walking down the hallway to the master bedroom. He pushed the door open and smiled to see Jim watching the Tivo'd highlights of the Eagles game. "Can't sleep?"

Jim ran a hand through his dark locks, "Nope."

"Me either," he replied. He unbuckled his jeans and unbuttoned his black shirt before discarding them on the floor and crawling into the bed. Jim used the remote to turn the TV off, Ryan tugged at his shirt and placed a light kiss on his lips, "Can I sleep in here tonight?" he asked, spreading his legs apart and straddling Jim's hips. Their foreheads pressed together. He gasped as he felt Jim's hardness pressing in on his own. He took the man's hand and moved it to rest underneath the elastic of his boxers as he covered the man's mouth with his own. The kiss was passionate and long. Jim started panting as the kiss lasted a little longer than it was supposed to. It was exactly what they both wanted.

Jim's free hand moved to cup his ass as Ryan tugged down his boxers. He broke their kiss. Their eyes met, even in the darkness of the room, Jim could see how vulnerable Ryan was. His gaze lingered on the hardened length, he removed his hand and reached forward, grabbing Ryan by the shoulders as the smaller man leaned in for another kiss, "Not tonight, okay?"

He felt his face burn in humiliation. He quickly tugged up his boxers and climbed off the taller man. Jim grabbed his arm, their eyes locked. He adored those big blue eyes. "Don't you want me?"

The man leaned in for another kiss. He cupped the smaller man's jaw as his lips partially parted. "How could I not? I always want you," he mumbled into Ryan's lips, "Just not when your this wasted." He lowered his head and nuzzled his neck gently. Ryan enjoyed the feel of the man's stubble on his neck.

He laid back down. Jim tugged him close to his side, rolling him over to face him. He smiled when Jim took his hand gently, lacing their fingers together. "I'm kind of embarrassed right now."

Jim smiled, "Why?"

"Because a minute ago I just had my dick out," he chuckled.

Jim smirked at him, "Is this a ploy to get me into bed?"

"I've already got you in bed Halpert."

"It's not a contest," Jim laughed softly.

"It's called scoring for a reason," Ryan said with a laugh.

"Ryan," Jim said, pulling him in tighter and pressing their foreheads together, "Is this because of me or what's been happening with us?"

The change of tone in the conversation took him slightly off guard. He shook his head as Jim buried his face in the black hair and inhaled deeply, "No." He released his hand from Jim's, "You wouldn't understand. Sometimes it's just easier to feel nothing, then feel like a 31 year old temp who's failed at everything he's ever tried."

"Shut up," Jim mumbled, "That's a fucking stupid thing to say."

Ryan sighed as he rolled over and squeezed the arms that remained locked around his waist, "Yeah right."

"Stop talking shit Howard," Jim said, clearly annoyed, "You're so fucking awesome, you don't even know it." He squeezed Ryan tighter. "You're stronger than you know. Why can't you see that?"

He knew why. He rolled his eyes, "You're so lame." The remark felt good coming out of his mouth. After all, he needed to say something to make Jim's kind words sound less important than they were, he didn't believe a word of them.

His eyes shut while he pressed his face to the nape of the man's neck. His words started to slow down, his voice got softer. "I think about you, and everything we've been talking about lately…"

"About us?"

"Yeah."

"And?"

He smiled as he craned his head to see Jim fast asleep. He squeezed the man's arms and closed his eyes. He pushed the idea of unwrapping himself from the tall man, walking to his bedroom and snorting a line of cocaine from his mind. He wanted to get better. He wanted to stop what he was doing before it spun out of control all over again. He wanted to lie in Jim's strong arms. He wanted to so badly.

Once his bare feet felt the carpet and started moving, he knew he couldn't go back. He remembered what Jim had told him about being strong, he truly hated himself for what he was doing. The nagging inside was too powerful and annoying. He couldn't control himself. He couldn't beat it. He padded down the hallway to his bedroom, as he rifled through his bookshelf, he wondered if he really ever had control over his addiction? He was clean for just over a measly year. He remembered how proud his parents were, how proud Jim was and how proud he was of himself.

As he used the spine of a small book to shape the powder into two thick, long lines and prepared to snort it, he realized there was never anything to be proud of. He was back to his old ways, and somehow, that was okay. Jim didn't have to know. He could control himself around him, and he could control his use of the drug too. He wasn't addicted in the sense that he needed it. He was a consenting adult. He could do whatever he wanted. Besides, it was only the sixth time he had used in the last month. He could stop anytime he wanted.

He shouldn't have gone to Jim the first time. He went to him, begged him to remove the temptation, only to cave in the very next night. Now Jim was worried and suspicious. His big mouth and desire to change had screwed him. He knew he shouldn't try to change. He was what he was. He was an addict. For a few moments, his justifications eased him up, even though deep down he knew it was all a lie. He knew he was pathetic.

It was how it started the first time. Cocaine seemed like his oldest friend. He sat down at his desk and snorted the first line. The powder was sucked through his left nostril. The burn of it felt utterly sensational. Not like the first time he tried it when he coughed and spluttered like an old car.

The drug was good for him. It made him feel powerful when he was in a position of power, but failing at his job. It made him feel secure and confident, because he knew he wasn't. It gave him the energy to keep up with the demanding job he wasn't prepared for. In the end it cost him everything, and now he was back again.

It started to drip down the back of his throat. Ryan's nose hovered over the other line and he snorted it all at once through his right nostril. The two thick lines had disappeared. Two lines, three inches long. They had grown from four small lines, which had grown from two. Just like the first time his addiction grew.

He smiled to himself. His heart gradually started to increase speed. He felt euphoric and energized. It was excellent. It was almost worth breaking his word to Jim.

He wasn't prepared to ask himself what would happen if Jim found out what he was doing. As far as Jim was concerned, he just had a little bender, nothing to worry about, he was fine. It was all he needed to know. Ryan's face scrunched in anger when he imagined Jim's reaction, as if he had the right to tell him what to do. They had been fucking for a couple of weeks now, they hadn't made any rules, so why was he keeping the secret?

Because what he was doing was wrong. No matter how badly he wanted it to be okay.

It would all be fine, as long as he had Jim. Jim would protect him, take care of him, no matter what they were, whatever they were.