“Party planning committee, I need you, stat! ASAP! Front and center! Phyllis, Angela, Pam, let’s see some hustle!” Michael is standing at the entrance of the conference room, impatiently gesturing through the doorway. Pam ignores him; its too early to be corralled and she's in the middle of receiving a sixteen page fax, so. Plus, there isn’t even a party scheduled anytime soon. The next one would be the Dundies in September, but its only May. Surely he doesn't want to start planning the Dundies this early? But she wouldn't put it past him, she remembers last year when-
“Pam, please? This is important. We have less than 6 hours to get a party together, probably the most important party of our lives. Get a move on.”
“Michael, there’s a big fax coming through. I need to make sure it doesn’t get jammed.” Which ss a definite possibility considering the age of the fax machine, but she also wants to stall as long as possible. She's not really in the mood to be judged by Angela for something as innocuous as banners or napkins, something that happens pretty much any time Pam makes a suggestion. “What party are we even supposed to be planning? There’s nothing on the calendar.”
“Pam, that’s top secret. I can’t tell you until you get your tiny tushie in here.” He almost immediately looks around for the cameras, but they're on break for the summer. He explains himself away anyway; Pam supposes he needs the practice before the doc crew comes back. “Not offensive because I didn’t mean it sexually and also I called her tiny, so I gave her a compliment. Now, Pam, move it!”
The fax is finished and none of the pages had gotten eaten and she can’t think of another excuse, so she rounds the corner of reception and heads to the conference room. Jim follows her path from his chair, swinging it towards her as she passes by his desk. “Good luck in there.” Its early enough in the morning that his voice hasn’t gotten all the sleep out of it yet. It makes his words come out low and soft, intimate, which makes Pam blush, which is silly, because its just a voice and its only like that because its barely 9:00 and Jim likes to sleep in as much as possible (she knows that because he told her, once) and he just hasn't talked much yet.
“Um, thanks. Yeah, looks like I’m gonna need it.” Michael is glaring at her from inside the conference room so she doesn’t linger even though she wants to, just heads inside.
“Thank you for joining us, finally. Not like this is time sensitive or anything,” Michael says snarkily as he shuts the door behind her.
“Michael, what is going on here? You haven’t given us any advance notice, our supply of decorations is running low, we don’t have a budget-“
“Angela, shut it. We do have a budget, corporate pre-approved money for a party at the beginning of the year. I couldn’t give you advance notice because I didn’t realize that such a huge day was upon us until I saw it on my Far Side calendar this morning.”
“What day, Michael? Cinco de Mayo? We’ve never had a Cinco de Mayo party before, but it could be fun. We could-“
“No, Phyllis not Cinco de Mayo. 05-05-05!” His exclamation is met with a confused look from Phyllis, a scowl from Angela, and a blank stare from Pam. "You guys, come on! We have to have a party. This only happens once every billion years."
That earns another scowl from Angela. "That's wrong. It happens every hundred years."
Michael rolls his eyes. "Okay, do you want to plan this party or do you want to go back to accounting? Since you seem to be so worried about numbers?" When Angela doesn't respond past a straightening of her shoulders, Michael knew he'd won. "Thank you. Now listen. It's 05-05-05 and it just happens to be Cinco de Mayo-"
"Yes, Cinco de Mayo. As in fifth day of the fifth month, May."
"Pam, please? Have some respect. This is a big deal. We have to throw a great party, okay? Todd Packer is coming."
Yep. There it is. There's almost always an ulterior motive when Michael wants to spontaneously throw a party, which happens with alarming regularity. There's almost never a way out of it and its always easier to just let it ride. "What do we need to do, Michael?"
Michael quickly gets to delegating: Angela is put in charge of snacks (five cookie trays, five dips with five types of chips, etc...continuing on the theme, of course), Phyllis is in charge of getting extra decorations and supplies. They both leave quickly, and that means Pam in charge of finding what they had on hand and start setting up.
She glances at the clock. It was 9:30, and Michael wants the party to start at 3. If she's lucky, she can make this project last all day. Maybe she can shut the door (under the pretense of making super secret decorations, obviously) and take a nap. Maybe she can grab her sketchbook out of her purse and finish the drawing she'd started for her mom. Maybe she can recruit Jim into goofing off with her all day.
That last thought sounds like the most fun. He was the most fun. Jim makes coming to work bearable; she thought she'd die without his company to look forward to. Lately she'd even started missing him over the weekend, and that makes her kind of...sad? She doesn't know how it makes her feel.
It was probably just because she doesn't have many friends outside of Roy, and Roy is usually either with his warehouse buddies or with his brother, Kenny. And it's just that its nice to have someone to talk to, someone who appreciates her sense of humor and says nice things about her art and makes her feel listened to instead of listened at.
Because that's how it got, right? When you've been with someone as long as she's been with Roy? You got settled and comfortable and things weren't as passionate or exciting, but that was normal. She figures that it has to be normal; that's how her own parents are, that's the type of relationship that makes for a long and happy marriage.
But for some weird reason, she can't stop thinking about that time a few months back that Jim warned her about her expired yogurt. Why does that moment play on repeat in her brain?
She shakes her head and brings herself back to reality. If she thinks too much about her relationship, her engagement, her head starts to hurt and her chest gets kind of tight and she feels sort of itchy all over. She always chalks it up to pre-wedding jitters and nevermind the fact that that they're jitters for a wedding that hasn't been planned or even set. So she doesn't think about it anymore, and anyway, she has more pressing matters: Michael's 05-05-05 party.
After forwarding the reception desk phone to the one in the conference room, she checks out the closet where all the miscellaneous crap is kept. There's several sheets of poster board and various rolls of crepe paper streamers and she figures that's enough to keep her busy for a while. Jim raises an eyebrow at her as she deposits her findings into the conference room and she rolls her eyes at him. He grins his big toothy lopsided grin and she grins, too, as she walks past him and into Michael's office.
"Um, Michael? I think I might need some help with decorating. Since Phyllis and Angela aren't here--"
"Get Kelly to help you. Wait, no. She'll just blab to everybody, it has to be a surprise." Pam doesn't remind him that he'd essentially announced that there'd be a party to the entire office first thing that morning. "Get Meredith, she's a girl, kind of, she'll be good at that stuff." He glances around, once again looking for the cameras so he can make a justification for whatever offensive thing he's said now, but they of course aren't there. He looks at Pam instead and she furrows her brow at him and hopes she looked annoyed. God help me, she thinks. I've been here long enough that I know what Michael Scott is thinking.
And sure enough: "I mean, I'm not sexist, men and women are just as good at decorating for parties. Just because Meredith is...I mean, a woman in today's world...you know, just get Jim. He's kind of girly, got that long hair. He can help you."
Pam decides to not acknowledge Michael's aspersions on Jim's masculinity (not that Jim would care, anyway) and instead promises that they'll work tirelessly to make this the best party the office has ever seen. She practically skips over to Jim's desk and bumps her hip against the side of it. He's on the phone but he turns towards her and cocks his head to one side. She can read the expression on his face as plain as day: how are we blowing off work today, Beesly? She presses her lips together and tries not to smile, but she knows that he can read her expression, too. He always seems to know exactly what she's thinking.
There's enough room on his desk for her to rest against the edge of it, so she does. She thinks that he tenses up for a second, which is weird, and she swears that she hears him suck in a sharp breath, but the weirdness passes before she can really decide if it was there or not. The call he's on wraps up soon and he turns towards her, leans back in his chair, looks up at her. One of his long legs is underneath his desk and the other is just a few inches away from where her feet are crossed and she feels a blush creep up her neck as she realizes that he's effectively straddling her. Before she can stop herself, her eyes flick across his lanky frame: thighs, belt buckle, exposed forearm resting against the arm of his chair, the knot of his tie, his mouth and the hand curled across it, the hint of a smile hiding behind his fingers. Finally, they make eye contact and she blushes in earnest. He had very obviously been watching her the entire time.
"You okay there, Pam?"
"Yes!" she squeaks, her voice much higher than it usually is. She clears her throat. "I mean, yes. But, um, there is a very sensitive special project I'm working on in the conference room. Michael asked if you could help me with it."
As expected, there's a slight commotion behind her. "Excuse me, Michael asked for Jim to help you with a sensitive special project?" Pam doesn't trust herself to turn around and look at him, she knows she'd start laughing. Instead she watches Jim, who keeps his face carefully arranged so as to not smile and give it away.
"Um, yeah, Michael said that Jim had the expertise that the project needed."
There's the sound of a chair being roughly pushed back and Dwight stalks past her on his way to Michael's office. "No, okay, if anyone in this office has expertise, it's me. None of the rest of you know anything. Michael!"
Pam giggles as she watches the door to Michael's office slam shut. She glances down at Jim, who is beaming up at her in a way that makes feel warm all over. "But seriously, want to help me make decorations for Michael's secret party?"
"Oh, that wasn't just to mess with Dwight?" Pam shakes her head. "And you're just handing me a Michael-sanctioned reason to put off work?" She nods. "Nice work, Beesly! I'm all yours."
They spend a good portion of the morning making posters with huge '05's all over them. Pam sketches the numbers and Jim helps fill them in. She teases him about whether or not he can color inside the lines and he retaliates by throwing a roll of crepe paper at her. As it sails through the air it reminds her of her junior year of high school when she sat in Roy's truck and watched him toilet paper the vice principal's house, feeling uneasy about being the lookout and guilty about the mess and angry about being dragged along to do something she disagreed with in the first place. The roll of streamers lands square on the top of her head and as it rolls away, she decides to replace that unpleasant memory with this happy one.
Angela returns around lunchtime, her lips pressed into a hard line and her arms full of grocery sacks. Pam is pulling her lunch out of the fridge when Angela deposits the groceries on the kitchen counter and Jim joins her in the kitchen then just in time to witness Angela telling Michael that no, she didn't get five margarita buckets and he could just plan his ridiculous party without her help before she stops out of the kitchen with Michael hot on her heels. Jim and Pam lean their heads together and laugh.
Phyllis comes back in after lunch and tells Pam she'll help finish getting the rest of the decorations up. "Oh thanks, Phyllis! Angela, um, bowed out. It's just been me and Jim this morning."
"Oh, Jim's been helping you? He's such a sweet young man." Pam nods in agreement and starts looking through the rest of the decorations. With her attention turned towards the shopping bags, Pam misses the look that comes over Phyllis' face: the look of someone making up a little white lie. "Oh, Pam, dear, I forgot all about a sales call I scheduled this afternoon. And I've just been terribly busy. Do you think you and Jim can finish setting everything up?"
"No, I think we can handle it. Great job on the decorations. I can't believe you found so much stuff with "5" or "05" on it. Let me guess: kids birthday party section and graduation party section?" She pulls out a package of cardboard and tinsel table decorations with a huge glittery '5' in the center.
Phyllis giggles. "A little here, a little there."
Back in the conference room, Pam enlists JIm's help in hanging streamers around the room--five rows, of course. He acts affronted, puts his hands on his hips. "You're just using me for my reach, aren't you?"
Pam smirks. "You caught me. Put those freakishly long fingers to good use," she teases as she hands him a strip of tape. Their fingertips brush together as he tries to unstick it and images of those long fingers being put to very good use in a way very different from taping up bits of crepe paper. It distracts her from noticing that he has his hand extended towards her and is asking for another piece of tape.
"Uh, hello, calling space cadet Beesly. Stay with me here, this is important stuff we're doing."
"Sorry! I just got...I was thinking." She glances up at him, hoping that this would be the one time he couldn't tell what she's thinking (don't think about your best friend like that) and notices for the first time that he's doing an absolutely terrible job. "Jim, seriously? That's how you hang streamers?"
His eyebrows disappear underneath his hair and he does a remarkable job of looking truly offended. "Oh, I didn't realize that I was talking to the authority on streamer hanging. Care to show me how it's done, then?" He hands her the roll he's holding and she playfully snatches it away from him.
"Yes, I do. Watch and learn, Halpert." She climbs up on a chair and demonstrates how you have to turn crepe paper so that it twisted and doesn't he know anything? He laughs at (with) her as she tapes it back up and does a polite golf clap as she turns back towards him and gives a small bow. "See? Not so hard. Now help me down or I'm going to break an ankle."
He steps towards her and reaches out a hand. Its an innocent gesture, a response to an innocent request, but when her hand slides across his palm and she feels his fingers curl across her skin...well. The images that flashed through her mind earlier come back in full force and are accompanied by a several new ones. Out of the corner of her eye she sees him hold out his other hand and she doesn't think twice about taking it. The world, the universe, time itself seem to slow as he helps her step down. And then the world, the universe, time itself, they all froze, just for a second, at the moment that Jim and Pam are eye to eye.
Jim's eyes are dark, the pupils so huge that she can barely see any green. Pam wishes that she can just stay where she is and look at them for...for forever? She doesn't know, she doesn't want to think about it, just wants to stay where she is if it means she can look at him looking at her.
Gravity has other plans, however, and she continues to move towards the ground. Her eyes travel down his face as her feet touch the floor--when she's level with his mouth, with his lips slightly parted and a hitched breath escaping from between them, she changes her mind and decides she wanted to stay there.
And then its over, her feet are on the ground and she thinks she feels his thumbs slide across the backs of her hands but she can't be sure. She wants to ask him to do it again (or do it for the first time) but he drops her hands and steps away. He clears his throat and scrubs the back of his neck with a hand (a hand that was just holding hers) and finally lamely gestures towards the streamers. "Um, looks great. You know what you're doing."
Pam laughed, kind of, more of a breathy exhale that only slightly resembled a laugh. "Thanks. I was voted 'Most Likely to Succeed in Decorating for Office Parties' in high school, so." It's a lame joke but she can't think of anything else to say because she can't...she doesn't know why she...it's those pre-wedding jitters again. It has to be, because that's the only explanation for how she's feeling. She's just nervous because she's getting married soon(ish) and Jim is cute (objectively) and they're close and Roy's been so busy lately and it's just an innocent, friendly thing.
He has his back towards her and is rifling through the shopping bags, but he laughs at her joke and he can't see her face to read what she's thinking, thankfully. His laugh makes her feel better, makes the tension roll away and lets things get back to normal. Normal, where she's engaged to Roy and she's happy and yeah maybe she's had some...inappropriate thoughts about her best (work) friend, but Roy has just all but admitted to having those same types of thoughts about all kinds of people, like Katy--
"Katy."
Jim whips his head towards her. "What's that?"
Shit. "Um, Katy, right? That's the name of the girl you...of the girl who sold purses?"
Jim turns back away and picks at the cellophane around a pack of napkins. "Yeah, that's right. What about her? Need a purse?"
"No, just, uh, just wondering how she's doing. How you guys are doing."
"Oh, fine, I guess. It's not really a serious thing." He turns to face her and about twenty different emotions flit across his face. She picks up on a few: hopefulness, desperation, indifference, fear. "We've only hung out once or twice. She's nice. I don't...she's not exactly my type, really."
And for Pam, that settles it. Its nervousness about her upcoming wedding, just like she'd decided earlier, and if it isn't? It doesn't matter. She and Jim are friends, they will always be friends, and they will never be more. Could never be more. Engagement aside, if someone like Katy wasn't Jim's type, then meek and mousy Pam Beesly never could be. So none of it matters. Their friendship was just friendship; she just feels so close to him because he's the only one in the office that she can relate to (because he's the only other sane one). She needs friends outside of work, she needs to appreciate her friendship with Jim for what it was, and she needs to always remember that love with Roy was the only love that mattered.
She clears her throat and helps him smooth out wrinkles in the table cloth he'd just laid down. "Oh. Well, that's too bad. You guys are cute together."
"Yeah. Hey, where should these go?" He holds up the centerpieces and she points out where she thought they'd look best. They finished setting up that way; Jim asking questions and Pam answering and neither making eye contact. Angela comes in as they're finishing up and asks Pam to help her put the food out. Jim takes that opportunity to head back to his desk and get to work on something that's apparently very engrossing.
Todd Packer swaggered in as Pam and Angela finish setting out the food. Michael immediately insists that everyone abandon what they're doing and come to the conference room for the party. Packer immediately dubs it a Cinco de Mayo party, asks where the margaritas were (earning Angela a nasty look from Michael) and makes a crude joke about finding a girl to "sink-o his may-o" in.
The party seems to be a success, though, even if people are a little confused by the theme. There's laughing and socializing and its always nice to not have to work and eat guacamole instead. Pam chats with each of her co-workers and nibbles on party food and carefully and deliberately avoids Jim. Its stupid, really, there isn't a point to it, she should just go talk to him, but then she finds herself in a conversation with Oscar and Toby and she can always just talk to Jim tomorrow.
But then he meets her eye from across the room and she feels bad for him because Kelly has him cornered. Pam makes her way towards them and tells Kelly that Creed is looking for her. Jim looks relieved when Kelly leaves and gives Pam a small smile. "Thank god for Creed, huh?"
"Oh no, I made that up. I figured he'd never know the difference, anyway." Jim laughs and Pam knows things would be okay. They were probably never not okay; she was probably over analyzing every little thing just like she always does. Fleeting thoughts and warm feelings in the pit of her stomach because Jim Halpert held her hands didn't mean anything, because they were Jim and Pam, coworkers and good friends.
"Great party, by the way. Streamers look like they were done by a real professional."
"Well, I had excellent help. Thank you."
"No problem. It was fun."
"Yeah. Yeah, it was."
"Hey! I can't believe I haven't told you this, it's so cool. Do you remember that-"
"Pammy. Hey, Pammy!" Pam turns towards the door and sees Roy standing just outside the conference room. He looks impatient. She turns back towards Jim and his expression is, for once, unreadable. She wants to ask what was wrong, but she doesn't get a chance before Roy calls her name again. "Pam! I'm ready to go. I'll meet you downstairs." He leaves before she can acknowledge him.
"Um, yeah. I gotta get going. Tell me later?"
"Sure. Have a good night, Pam. See you tomorrow."
"Yeah. Look, really, thanks. You were a huge help today. You keep me from losing my mind, here, Jim."
A smile broke across his face, the kind that lit up his eyes and was kind of lopsided but incredibly endearing. "Same here, Pam."
On her ride home, she leans her head against the window and lets the cool air from the AC blow across her face. She keeps thinking about Jim, about the way he laughs with her and helps her and looks at her and how he was just so great.
She can't wait until tomorrow, so she can see him again.
