"So, I guess I should have stuck with the old plan and just met you in the middle of the night, huh?"

"I don't wanna say I told you so, Halpert, but I'm pretty sure something along the lines of everyone at work will bombard you if you show up in the parking lot came up in conversation this week."

He sighed in defeat, grinning at her sideways as she giggled. He took her palm in his and brough the back of her hand to his lips.

"I don't want to sound selfish here, but I kind of wanted you all to myself this weekend," he mumbled into her skin.

"While I'm definitely in agreement, I don't mind sharing you for a few hours. And besides, I'm sure you've been dying to catch up on all of Dwight's antics."

"God, Beesly, I thought you knew me better than that." He shook his head comically, and took the time between red light and green to drink her in. Something about the way the setting sun was reflecting off of her curls made her radiate the color of gold you'd only see in the lost city of Atlantis.

"Have you practiced your story?" she asked as they approached the door to the pub.

"Yup. In town visiting my parents, but they had last minute plans tonight, so I made a pit stop by Dunder Mifflin to see some of my old work buddies. Because that sounds at all logical."

"Have you met the people we work with? They'll eat it up," she giggled.

"Hey, c'mere for a sec." She noted with apprehension the change in his inflection as he pulled her by the wrist around the corner near the dumpsters.

"I just want one more second alone with you before I have to pretend you don't exist for a few hours," he said in response to her confused expression that he quickly covered with soft kisses. His hands cupped her chin, then snaked to her back, pulling their bodies together searingly. The small moan that she breathed against him did not escape his ears, and he had to pull away from her, had to stop himself before he threw her over his shoulder and brought her straight home.

"I'm going to head to the ladies room first. Meet you in there?"

Reveling in how flushed and smiley she was, he nodded with a sly grin and gave her hands a quick squeeze before holding the door open and heading to the bar.

He paid for the first round of pitchers, finding the Dunder Mifflin crew already pushing tables together. As much as he hated to admit it, he really did miss the camaraderie that this, his first real job, had given him. With Michael at the center of the inappropriate jokes, Darryl and Kevin keeping him mildly entertained with the latest Sixers trade news, and the comical nature of how closely to Angela that Dwight was hovering, he had to smile contentedly. His grin widened more so, even, as he looked across the table and watched her fingers twisting the straw in her Malibu and pineapple, throwing her head back in laughter at something Phyllis had said.

He wasn't particularly drunk, but the healthy buzz that coursed through his veins only heightened the warmth that crept up his face every time he'd catch her looking at him, or she'd catch him looking at her from across the table.

It was in the way that she just seemed so much freer than she'd ever been. She was laughing, enjoying herself, unafraid to return to the bartender when he'd given her the wrong drink. She was bold, willingly participating in the round of tequila shots that Creed had bought. He'd taken particular note that, in the past, she'd shied away, fearing belittlement from Roy. But now, she was having fun, winking at him across the table every now and then. When their party lined either side of the table to play a few rounds of Up Jenkins, Pam had taken the seat next to him, and while the quarter was being passed stealthily between fingers, she'd snaked her hand in his lap, resting high on his upper thigh and squeezing lightly. He bit back a groan, immediately lifting his beer to his mouth.

"Hey now," he whispered, covering his lips with his pint glass as he brought them to her ear, and covering the hand on his thigh with his other. "If you're trying to be stealthy in front of our coworkers, you're doing a terrible job of it."

"Maybe I don't wanna be stealthy." He could hear in her voice that she was trying to be sexy, trying to entice him. But the giggles that melted her words only confirmed the suspicions that he was having as he turned to face her. By the haze in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks, and his quick mental recollection of the many different types of alcohol she'd consumed in the past few hours, she was pretty healthily drunk, and he made a note to keep an eye on her as the night wore on.

At one point or another, Kelly had put money in the jukebox for a round of nineties, girly, pop songs, and her squeal of delight as she threw her hands up on the dance floor had him laughing out loud, basking in the glow of her truly being happy. As the guys lingered back at the table nursing their beers, Ryan sidled up next to him.

"So, she's definitely happy to see you."

"Who?" He played coy, bringing his glass of water to his lips to hid his grin.

"Don't play dumb with me, man. Pam. She totally has the hots for you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Whatever, dude."

Jim watched Ryan shake his head, order another beer, and head out onto the dance floor, sneaking his arms around Kelly's waist. Darryl and Kevin had found a TV with a game, and with the ladies, Michael, and Ryan on the dance floor, he took a minute to excuse himself to bathroom. What he wasn't expecting was to be forcibly pushed into the wall upon exiting, his hands still damp from where he'd only wiped them on his jeans.

She wasn't kissing him. Really, she was only holding him to the wall, her small hands balanced on his pecs as she glanced up, grinning at him through glassy eyes.

"Hi." Even on two letters, he could hear the aged slur in her voice.

"Hi yourself," he chuckled, steadying her swaying body with his hands on her waist. "Can I do something for you?"

"Well, you could do a lot of things for me, actually," she replied, the alcohol laden words not nearly as sexy as she was trying to make them sound, her fingers tripping clumsily across his chest.

In any other situation, he'd flip their positions and comply. But not like this. Not with drunk Pam literally using his body to hold herself up.

"You, Miss Beesly, are so drunk." Her pouting response only egged on his laughter. She stood and crossed her arms, losing her footing as she righted her body. He caught her, still laughing as he grasped her elbows.

"I am not."

"Oh, you so are. Come on. I think that's enough for one night. Time to take you home."

With an arm wrapped protectively around her, they returned to the table to say their goodbyes.

As he grabbed their coats, and the girls around the table all exchangeing tipsy, over enthusiastic hugs, he shook hands with the men at the table, promising to stay in touch more than he had been, and to get Pam home safely before he "went to his parent's place."

On their way to his car, she stopped abruptly in his arms, and whined, "But I don't wanna leave! I want to stay and have fun with my friends."

"What?" he said, exasperatingly. "Need I remind you that not minutes ago, you were propositioning me outside the bathroom?"

"Oh. You're right. I was." With lips pursed, she cocked her gaze towards the dark night sky as if contemplating this idea. "Maybe we should go back in there, so I could prospo-propso- try to get in your pants again."

His eyes were pinched shut as laughter coarsed through him. He kissed her forehead sweetly, squeezing her to his side as he ushered her the rest of the way to the car.

He'd cracked the window at her request, and let his fingers soothingly rub at her shoulders while he drove. It was only a ten minute trip to her apartment, and he was glad that she'd given him her address earlier in the week, because her groans were a steady indication that she wouldn't be able to direct them there.

By the time they pulled into her driveway, she had nodded off against the doorframe. With his duffel bag situated on his shoulder and her keys dug out of her purse, he somehow made it through the front door in one trip, only stopping to remove his shoes and close the door behind them. It took some fumbling, but he figured out the light switches and eventually found her bedroom, laying her gently atop the comforter before gathering his bearings and deciding what to do next.

Eventually, he'd decided on gathering a garbage can, glass of water, and a ponytail holder before changing into, the pajamas he'd packed. Hovering at the foot of her bed, watching her sleep so peacefully, he toyed with the thought of helping her change, knowing she'd be uncomfortable sleeping in a pencil skirt and pantyhose. He hated the idea of rifling through her drawers, undressing her for the first time while she was less than conscious, but as she stirred on top of the mattress, he swallowed his pride and set to work.

Her pajamas, he was pleased to discover, were folded at the foot of her bed. Even more pleasing was that all they consisted of was his old little league t-shirt. Gathering the cotton between his fingers, he grinned, their scents mixed on a t-shirt that he had to assume she'd been wearing to bed all week.

Gently, he lifted her into a seated position by her hands.

"Alright, Beesly. We need to get you changed. Can you help me out a little bit here?" His voice was soothing, comforting to the pounding inside her head. She nodded limply, still half asleep, craving a pillow under her head more than anything.

"Okay." Taking a deep breath, he started with her shoes, taking each of her Keds off one by one and setting them on the floor. Next, he found the zipper to her skirt, closing his eyes and shaking his head before dragging it downward.

"You know, I kind of imagined undressing you for the first time a little bit differently than this," he chuckled, trying to cover for the shakiness in his words.

"Mhm?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, for one, you'd actually be awake," he chuckled.

"Sorry. Tired. Kinda drunk," was all she could manage as he eased the skirt to the floor.

"It's okay. I'm not mad."

He set to work on the buttons of her shirt, trying to quell his desire as his fingers grazed her breasts. The top of her head was propped against his chest, and he could feel her move up and down slightly as she breathed. Pushing the shirt off her shoulders, it joined the rest of her clothing on the floor. He was easing the t-shirt over her head when her muffled words warmed the front of his own shirt.

"What was that?"

"Bra. Off. I hate sleeping in bras."

His eyes found the ceiling as nervous laughter filled him once again.

"Don't worry. You can do this again when I'm conscious. Promise."

Her lips moved against his chest, and as his fingers lingered at the clasp on her back, he pulled her tightly to him, his kiss lingering on the top of her head. He kept their bodies pressed tightly together as he unhooked and discarded her bra, doing his best not to notice the way it was trimmed with black lace, or to glance past the top of her head. As he edged the fabric of his t-shirt over her head, she mumbled, "You can look, Halpert. Geez, you don't have to be such a prude."

With eyes still closed, she looked like she was asleep sitting up-which she more or less was.

"How 'bout this? I don't look now, but at a later date and time, I'll look for as long as you want to," he chuckled, pulling the hem of the shirt past her thighs so that he didn't run into this conversation while he removed her pantyhose.

"Sounds good," she mumbled as her head dropped back to her pillow. He pretended not to notice the silky, lacy feeling against his fingertips as he eased the nylon from her hips to the floor.

Placing a tender kiss at her temple, he muttered, "I'm just gonna go grab a few things. I'll be right back, okay? Garbage can is right next to you if you need it."

He felt her subtle nod against his lips and returned to the entryway of her apartment, double checking locks and shutting off lights before returning to her bedroom. He granted himself a minute to just watch her sleeping, curled in a fetal position away from him with her hands tucked under her cheek. After shutting off the lights, he gathered her curls gently behind her head and fastened the ponytail at the base of her head. Just in case.

She woke up twice in the middle of the night to puke. The first, she barely registered. He'd been lucky that he felt her stirring uncomfortably against him; the garbage can was at her chin a split second before she'd puked on the floor. After he'd emptied the garbage can and helped her to sip at the glass of water, she'd snuggled to his chest for a few more hours before waking more consciously. This time, he'd eventually gotten her to the bathroom, rubbing her back soothingly as the evidence of her fun night out burned in her throat. When she was about as spent as she thought she could be, she relaxed between his legs with her back against his front, her head tipped back on his shoulder as he stroked her arms.

"Just to clarify, this is not how I imagined tonight panning out," she sighed, her words hoarse and scratchy. She felt his light laughter vibrate against her back, felt his lips somewhere in her hair.

"'S okay," he muttered. "We've got the rest of our lives to get it right."

She exhaled contentedly, shifting more deeply into his embrace, the smile

"Yeah. We do."