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Story Notes:

Happy birthday Warrior! We really hope you enjoy this birthday fluff, and that we got it vaguely accurate for you.

We don't own anything here, but YB does in fact own an alcohol intolerance.

Pam Beesly sat at the reception desk of Dunder Mifflin, as she usually did each day at 11am, staring at the empty desk in front of her whilst eating her mixed berry yoghurt. She'd already finished three sudoku's, four games of Freecell and had written out her shopping list for later: jelly beans, grape soda, sliced cheese, fabric softener. Even though Dwight was sitting at his desk directly in front of her, he rarely spoke to her outside of various commands. 

"Pamela, please fax this immediately."

"I require three copies of this expense report."

"Michael would like you to get him a triple caramel mocha latte with extra cream and cinnamon right now."

So right now, Pam was bored. She wished there was someone to joke around with, someone to make the time in this office go a little faster, someone that she could call a friend. She looked around the bullpen, weighing up her options of who she could call a friend.

Dwight - only sees me as a receptionist, and he just smells of beets

Stanley - we could discuss puzzles maybe

Phyllis - motherly, but overbearing and just wants to talk about Bob Vance, Vance Refrigeration

Andy - rit dit dit di no

Meredith - possibly on a night out, if I've had a couple of glasses of wine

Creed - just, no

Michael - he seems desperate to be friends, I'm not sure how many times I can turn down his invitations to his improv class, or to visit his grandmother, or to go to Hooters

Oscar - he's actually kind of ok, as long as we don't end up discussing...anything

Kevin - stares at my boobs too much

Angela - too judgemental

Kelly - good in small quantities. Very small quantities

Toby - I guess he's... oh wait, why is he coming over here?

"Hey Pam," Toby said as he approached the reception desk with a large smile on his face.

"Oh hey Toby," Pam said, snapping herself out of her daydream. "What's up?"

"I just won a competition on Froggy 101!" he exclaimed, if what Toby looked like exclaiming something could be described as. Maybe slightly loudly announced fit better. 

"Oh wow, congratulations Toby! That's awesome. I'm really happy for you," Pam said, with genuine excitement in her voice. "What did you win?"

"I won a whiskey tasting experience. There's a distillery that just opened up another location over by Big Boulder Mountain," Toby explained.

"Oh wow that's cool," she smiled. "My dad was really into whiskey growing up, but I didn't really know too much. He'd never let me drink it when I was younger, and then when I was with Roy, they just drank together. But that's awesome, I'm really happy for you."

"Would you, I mean, um," Toby stammered, his face turning red. "The experience is for two people, would you, um, would you want to go with, uh, me?"

Pam felt slightly nervous. She liked Toby well enough, possibly the most out of anyone in the office, but she'd suspected for a little while that he might have a crush on her. If she accepted his invitation, especially where a lot of alcohol would be involved, would he think it would mean something more than two colleagues hanging out? She realised that she must have been overthinking this for a little while, as Toby was standing in front of her looking pale and shifting from foot to foot.

"It's um, next weekend, April 11th. It's an overnight stay, but I'm sure we can arrange, uh, two rooms," Toby said, trying to fill the silence. "I think the place overlooks the lake, and there's activities to do in the day as well, but um, if you don't want to, it's..."

"Um, no," Pam interrupted. "It would be great to go with you, thank you for inviting me." What have I got to lose? Pam thought, it'll be nice to do something different for once, and maybe make that friend too.


The following weekend rolled around, and before Pam knew it, Toby was going to be picking her up in his car for the 45 minute drive over to the distillery on Big Boulder Mountain. Pam felt a little nervous being alone with Toby for that long, so had already pre-planned some car games to help pass the journey quicker, plus some snacks and music to help as well. She saw the silver-blue Saab pull up outside her house, grabbed her overnight bag and then walked out to his waiting car. She threw her bag into the back seat, before taking her seat up front next to Toby.

"Morning Toby," Pam said brightly.

"Hey Pam," Toby said, somewhat nervously.

As Toby put the car into drive and pulled away from the curb, Pam already felt the awkwardness in the car. She was about to suggest they play the first of her car games, the Number Plate Game, but she noticed the sweat marks on the steering wheel from where Toby's tight grip had shifted, and thought better of any game that involved punching him. Likewise, I Spy, was probably out too, as she didn't want his concentration wandering off of the road.

"Mind if I put some music on?" Pam asked, trying desperately to break the silence that was filling the car.

"Uh, yeah, ahem," Toby cleared his throat. "Sure, go ahead."

The journey continued in relative silence, Pam staring out of the window, and desperately trying not to notice the glances that Toby kept sending her way. Thankfully, there was little traffic on the way to the mountains, and they made it there pretty quickly. Pam took a huge breath of relief when she stepped out of the car, which Toby misinterpreted.

"Yeah, that fresh mountain air is something huh?" Toby smiled at her.

Pam tried to smile back, but felt a pulling in her stomach that told her she really shouldn't have agreed to this trip. What were you thinking? He clearly likes you more than just as a colleague. God this is going to be so awkward. 

Before Pam had too much time to think more about what she'd gotten herself into, an older woman and a younger guy walked out of the smaller of the two large wooden barns in front of them, down the gravel driveway and came over to greet Pam and Toby. 

"Hi there," the woman called out. "I'm Betsy, and this is my son Jim. Welcome to Warrior Liquor." Betsy extended her arms out, as if showcasing the distillery behind her, whilst Jim did a kind of half wave at Pam and Toby with his mouth pulled into a slight grin. 

Pam couldn't help but stare at Jim. He was tall, and was clearly hiding a lot of muscles under his dark blue, plaid shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing his lightly tanned forearms. Pam's eyes took in his dark jeans and heavy tan hiking books, and it was only when she heard Toby say her name, that she snapped herself out of her Jim-induced trance. 

"Um, yeah I'm Pam," she stuttered, trying to regain a little composure in front of Jim. "Nice to meet you guys, this place looks awesome."

"We've just moved over from Spokane, Washington to set this place up. We've only been open two weeks, so bear with us this weekend as things are still a little new around here," Betsy explained. Toby and Pam nodded their heads. "Jim here is gonna be looking after you, so anything you need, just let him know." Pam turned to look at Jim as Betsy spoke, catching Jim's eye and causing him to snap his head down to look at his feet. "Jim, help them with their bags, please honey."

Jim moved to take Pam's bag from her, but accidentally brushed her fingers in the process. Pam felt the electricity jolt through her, and thought that she heard Jim's breath hitch ever so slightly at their touch. They pulled their hands away, and the bag fell to the floor. 

"I'm so sorry," Jim said.

"Oh, sorry," Pam said at the same time. 

Jim bent down to grab the bag again, and smiled up at Pam as his fair flopped forward. She smiled back at him, and gingerly tucked a loose curl behind her ear. 

"Do you want to take mine too?" Toby asked, breaking them out of their trance. 

"Oh, um, yeah sure man," Jim replied, as he reached out to grab Toby's bag. "Um, do you guys wanna follow me?"

Pam and Toby followed Jim through the double glass doors into the smaller wooden barn. They immediately felt the warmth of the building both in temperature and in the decor of their surroundings as they moved through the entrance hall and up some stairs to the upper floor. 

"So we've got five rooms here, and there's a couple of other guests here this weekend too. I saw on your notes that you need two rooms?" 

"Yup, we're definitely not together, so we definitely need the two rooms. We're definitely single, definitely not together," Pam spat out as quickly as she could. Jim smirked a little at this information, and Toby looked as though he'd been punched in the gut. 

"Ok so we've got one room here," Jim motioned with his hand. "Toby, was it?" Toby nodded. "Would you like this one? It's a little bigger and seeing as you won the competition, it seems fair."

"Oh, um, thanks. Although, Pam would you like it? Or you know if it's big, we could share?" Toby asked hopefully. 

"Oh no, that's ok, you go ahead," Pam replied. 

Toby's smile dropped. He took his bag from Jim and opened the door to the room. 

"Alright, one more flight I'm afraid, but I think it'll be worth it," Jim said. "Follow me."

They climbed up the next flight of stairs, before Jim opened the wooden door in front of him and motioned for Pam to head inside. 

"Oh wow," Pam breathed, as she entered the room. The shabby chic room was dominated by a comfy looking king bed, made up with crisp white sheets and huge pillows. White walls were adorned with a variety of watercolour paintings, and a deep red rug covered the wooden floors. A small table held a bottle of water and two glasses and was flanked by a pair of comfy looking brown leather chairs. As Pam looked up, she noticed string lights hanging from the beams of the attic style ceiling. But her focus was drawn to a pair of floor length white linen curtains, blowing gently in the breeze. She went over to them, and gently pulled one aside and walked out through the open French door onto a small terrace. Pam gasped at the view in front of her. Rolling green hills went on for as far as she could see, only to be punctuated by the ripples of Big Boulder Lake to her left and Lake Harmony to her right. The midday sun was hitting her face just so, making the cool spring day seem much warmer than it was. Pam was lost for words, just whispering "wow," again.

"Yeah, it's pretty special up here," Jim agreed. Pam turned to face him, appreciating how the sun was giving him a slight glow that made his green eyes shine even more than they had done when they first met. "I'm gonna head down to the distillery, but take your time and I'll see you later," he said with a smile that nearly melted Pam into the floorboards of the terrace.

Pam looked around at her surroundings again. The terrace held window boxes all along the top rail that were overflowing with fuchsia and white petunias, their sweet scent wafting over to Pam as she sat down at the small wrought iron table. She wished she'd brought her sketchpad with her to capture the beauty that lay in front of her, and also to help her memorise the sparkle of Jim's eyes and the way his mouth curled into a half smile, half smirk. Just as she felt herself getting lost in the memory of his musky-manly scent, with just a hint of fabric softener, that she'd smelled walking up the stairs behind him, there was a soft knock at the door. She sighed and went to answer it. Her face fell when she saw it was Toby.

"Hey Pam," Toby said, his face already visibly flushed. ‘Ready to go down and taste some whiskey?"

"Um, yeah sure," Pam weakly smiled.


They made their way down to the distillery in the larger barn and waited in the little lobby area for Jim. Out of the corner of her eye, Pam could see Toby opening and closing his mouth as if he was trying to work up the nerve to talk to her. She felt bad, she really did. Toby was a sweet guy, but she didn't want to lead him on, thinking that they were going to be more than friends. If he was able to get the sweating and blushing and general nervousness under control, then she felt like they'd be able to find things they had in common; she'd long suspected she'd be able to talk to him about art or music or books that she loved to read. But for now, she needed to quash whatever was bubbling in his mind in terms of ‘them.'

Before Toby was able to actually form a word, Jim appeared through a wooden archway and made his way over to them. "Hey guys, are you ready to start the tasting?" Toby and Pam nodded. "Alright, well then follow me." He turned and walked back through the arch, leading them into a huge room that seemed to take up most of the large barn and was full of different types of enormous equipment.

"Oh wow, what's that smell?" Pam said, covering her nose with her hand to stop the tangy, yeasty smell as much as she could.

"Yeah," Jim chuckled, "it can be a little intense on your first time in a distillery. That's the smell of the fermentation. You'll get used to it, don't worry," he smiled. He walked them over to the first piece of equipment. "Ok, so before we head on over to the tasting room, I'm going to give you a quick tour of the distillery. That all cool?" Toby and Pam both nodded. "So the first thing to know about whiskey making is, you need three main ingredients. A grain, like barely, rye or corn, water and yeast. This is called a mash tun," he said, putting his hand on the giant silver machine next to him, "and it's essentially a really big mixing bowl. The milled grain and water get mixed up in here to create a sugar water, or what we call, the wort. We drain it through these pipes over here, and it goes into one of our six wash backs, or really big pots," he smirked, "over there. We add yeast into the wash backs, and leave it for three to five days to ferment."

They walked over to the wash backs, and Pam could smell the yeasty smell getting even stronger, but found it easier to ignore than before. She was too focused on the animated way that Jim was describing the process, and the way that his arm and chest muscles pulled against the fabric of his shirt. 

"Once it's fermented, it gets drained and added to the stills over here," Jim said as he pointed to huge copper pots. "The stills are basically like huge kettles that boil the mix. It first goes into the wash still and gets boiled so that it evaporates up into this neck up here, and then cools and condenses along and down over there into what we call the little wine. But it's kinda gross and isn't alcoholic enough," he said with a chuckle. Pam couldn't help but stare at the small sliver of tanned skin that was exposed just above his hip as he lifted his arm up to point to the still and pipes. She felt herself flush as she tried to read the words on the band of his blue boxer briefs that were poking out from his low slung jeans and forced herself to snap out of it and listen to what Jim was saying. 

"So we then need to drain it again and add it to the next still, which we call the spirit still, and that's what produces the spirit that will eventually turn into whiskey. And that's essentially everything we do up here. We then pipe the spirit down into our basement, where we fill the barrels so that the whiskey can mature. And once it's finally ready, we can then bottle it. And that is your rapid fire introduction to whiskey making. Any questions?" Jim smiled warmly and looked at them both.

Can you take your shirt off? Are you as good a kisser as you look? Do you have a girlfriend? Can I run my fingers through your hair? Pam shook her head at Jim, realising that none of the questions she wanted to ask him were anywhere near appropriate, or anything to do with whiskey making. She looked at Toby, who equally looked as lost for words, but what she suspected was for slightly different reasons to herself.

"Alright then, let's go taste some whiskey shall we?" Jim led them through to a dark wood panelled room, which was dominated by the large wooden table in the centre and flanked by eight brown leather club chairs. He pulled out a chair for Pam, and Toby took a seat next to her, before Jim moved to the other side of the table. "I've got six different whiskeys for you to taste today," he said, as he gathered different bottles from shelves behind him. He placed them on the table in front of him, before taking a seat opposite Pam. "We've got the more ‘normal' whiskeys," he said using finger air quotes, "and a couple of more adventurous ones that I've started playing with." He began showing them the bottles as he spoke. "We've got our classic single malt, a bourbon and a rye and then my own creations of Xpresso, cherry bomb and my personal favourite peanut butter cup." Jim then stood again to collect the whiskey tasting glasses for the three of them.

"How come you're called Warrior Liquor?" Pam asked.

"It's from my dad really. When we were growing up, he always wanted to make sure that we had courage, and were brave and most importantly, bold. He'd call us, my brothers and sister, his little warriors. And then when we were setting the company up and we were trying to think of a name, my mom read this thing that ‘fortune favours the bold'. And it kind of hit us that it should be named after us, because what we were doing was pretty bold of us, and maybe it would bring us a little luck and fortune. So Warrior it is," he smiled sheepishly.

"That's really lovely," Pam smiled back warmly. "My dad called me his doodlebug, because I like to draw, not quite as inspiring as a warrior though." They both laughed, before Toby interrupted them with a small cough.

"Oh sorry, right, let's start our first tasting. So I'm going to put a small amount of whiskey in the glass," he said, holding up a glass that was like an elongated sherry glass, with a stubby stem. "So after looking at the colour of the whiskey, you're going to want to swirl it in the glass, and then slowly bring it to your nose to smell. But be gentle because there's a lot of alcohol in this and you don't want to over power your senses. And you might even find that the smell triggers something in your memory. Then go ahead and taste the whiskey, but concentrate on the feel of the whiskey in your mouth and then what it tastes like when you've swallowed it."

"That's what she said," Pam blurted out. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. It's this thing our boss does." She was flushing bright red and turned to Toby as if for backup who just laughed at her. 

"Don't worry at all," Jim laughed with them. "There's a huge debate about whether to taste with water or not, as water can help to bring out more of the flavours of the whiskey. So it's up to you if you want to add it or not. But, um, that's it really. Shall we?"

Toby and Pam nodded, and they were on their third tasting when Pam noticed Toby's face was red and blotchy. His face seemed to be covered in red patches, was sweating and looked like he was visibly uncomfortable.

"Are you ok Toby?" Pam asked, genuinely concerned.

"Um, I'm not really sure. I feel really weird and hot, and my stomach is really cramping," he said breathlessly as if he was gasping for breath.

"Oh wow man, it sounds like you might be allergic to whiskey. Has this ever happened before?" Jim asked, his voice full of concern.

"Um, maybe once?" Toby said, as he doubled over in pain, "I don't really drink whiskey though, so I guess the last time I just thought I was drunk. I'm really sorry Pam, I'm gonna have to go lie down." Before Pam could even reply, Toby pushed his chair back and was running out of the room, clutching his stomach and covering his mouth.

"Do you, uh, do you want to go after him?" Jim asked.

"Um, I think I'll leave him for now, but I'll check on him later on," Pam said, wondering if it made her a bad friend. She shook the thought out of her head. If Toby was as ill as he looked, she was sure he'd appreciate some privacy. "Should we, uh, carry on with the tasting?"

"Definitely," Jim smiled.

After trying the Xpresso whiskey, and agreeing with Jim that it would be a great alternative to an espresso martini, they moved on to the final two whiskeys. Jim poured out the amber liquid into a glass for Pam, and immediately she was hit with the scent of peanut butter.

"Ohmygod," she exclaimed, "it really is just like peanut butter!" She brought the glass closer to her nose to smell as she swirled the liquid around.

"Just wait until you try it," Jim said knowingly, raising his glass to hers.

They clinked their glasses, and Pam found herself lost in those green eyes that were staring at her from the other side of the table. After what seemed like minutes, but was just 27 seconds, they finally pulled their gaze away from each other and took a sip.

"Oh wow," Pam said after her sip. "That really is amazing. I can taste the chocolate in it now! It really is like a peanut butter cup."

"Yeah, it's something pretty special isn't it? It's my favourite one that we make here and it also happens to be the first flavoured whiskey that we made. Both really are on account of how much I love PB."

Pam's smile widened at the unknowing use of her initials and took another sip, drinking in the warmth of the liquid, wondering if Jim would taste like peanut butter if she kissed him.

"And that brings us to our final tasting for today," Jim said as he opened the last bottle on the table. "This is our cherry bomb whiskey." Again, he poured them both a small amount into new glasses, and for the last time they clinked their glasses together.

"Wow, that immediately takes me back to my grandma making cherry jam in her kitchen," Pam said as she smelled her glass. She took a sip and enjoyed the flavour rolling around her mouth. "I loved that jam so much, and this really takes me back."

"Yeah, this one is pretty jammy in flavour. I like it a lot, I'd say it's a close second for me," Jim told Pam before taking another sip of his whiskey.

"Have you ever combined them? You know, made a PB&J whiskey?" Pam asked, raising her eyebrow in question. 

Jim laughed and nodded. "I tried that shortly after we made the cherry bomb flavour. Did not go well, turns out whiskey making isn't quite like sandwich making." Pam giggled at him. "Which always kind of amazes me that I know how to create whiskey, yet my culinary expertise extends to said PB&J sandwiches and grilled cheese ones. If it weren't for my mom's cooking here, I think I'd be surviving on those plus jelly beans alone," he laughed.

"Well, it sounds like you've got a couple more new flavours to try there," Pam laughed, silently amazed of the favourite snacks they had in common.

"Wow, remind me to never let you in our inventing room," Jim chuckled before finishing the last of his glass. "So, Doodlebug," Pam felt her heart turn at the way Jim's voice coated her nickname, "you said you like to draw?"

"Yeah, I've been drawing since I was a child, my parents used to get really annoyed because I'd draw all over their newspapers before they got to read them. I haven't changed, although now I'm a homeowner I can draw on whatever I want!" 

"I'll know who to charge if I find graffiti on our stack of newspapers then." They laughed, "So, you're an artist?" he asked honestly.

"Well, no.. I'm a receptionist, technically I get paid to draw but don't tell my boss that." Jim mimicked zipping his mouth and placing the invisible key on the table in front of her. "When I was younger I always thought I'd be an art teacher," her face lit up as she spoke, "and have some of my pieces sold in a cute little art shop." Jim remained silent, a smile tugging at his lips and his eyebrows defying gravity, but he didn't speak. She was confused, so continued to talk to avoid an awkward silence, "What about you? Did eight year old Jim always dream of making his own whiskey?"

He stared back at her, blankly. Sending a feeling of rejection through her body, and a look of confusion to her face. After Pam had gone through all five stages of grief, Jim referenced his lips with a shrug and a pout.

"Ohh!" she exclaimed as if he'd just told her the meaning of life. She picked up the invisible key and held her hand out, as if to drop it into his. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned forward, cutting his eyes at her. She paused for a second, second guessing herself. Was he scowling at her because he was confused at what she was doing or was he really wanting her to go along with this bit? The words he spoke earlier flashed through her mind: have courage, be brave, be bold. She hovered her fingertips above the corner of his mouth, she twisted her fingers to mimic the lock and slid the invisible zip across his lips. She made sure not to touch him but that didn't mean the heat he radiated didn't make its way through her hand to send blush to her cheeks.

"First of all, you are an artist. Second, my mom gave me whiskey instead of milk as a baby and now I'm dependent on it." They laughed. "I actually always wanted to own a bike shop. I wanted to ride my bike everywhere as a kid, of course I fell off and got many DUIs because of the alcoholism. I went through a phase of wanting to ride it everywhere. We road tripped across state to go kayaking, while I was in my bike phase, and I cried the entire way because my parents wouldn't let me cycle there instead of joining them in the car." 

They both went back and forth telling childhood stories. Finding out the experiences that helped to craft them into who they had become had a level of intimacy that neither of them had felt before, although they didn't admit this to each other. They continued to taste the same whiskey they had earlier, because of how long they had been sitting at the table it would be rude not to. 

"I'm definitely leaving a review of this place." Pam stated as she took a sip of the peanut butter whiskey.

"Oh yeah?" Jim asked.

Pam nodded, "absolutely, people need to know how great this place is!"

"Well thank you in advance, I always appreciate the reviews. I'm not opposed to constructive criticism, but the nice ones always make my day." 

They smiled over their glasses as they took another sip. "So, have I got you hooked on whiskey yet? Is it your new favourite drink?"

The table echoed with a slight thud at Pam's glass being placed down, "hmm.. I'd say it's third," Jim gave her a disappointed look. "Tea, grape soda, then whiskey."

Jim smiled, "What if I told you I could combine two of your favourites?"

"Then I'd say, I've tried putting grape soda in my tea and it didn't taste nice."

He chuckled, "follow me."


Pam followed him into the basement, and without the worry of Toby catching her, she studied Jim's back profile. The way his soft hair curled away from his neck. The way his shirt stretched at his shoulder blades, the shape of it constantly moving as he walked. Then he stopped, and Pam almost ran into the back of him.

"Here's a little something I've been working on. It's still in the trialling stage so it's not perfect... yet." He filled a glass, which he brought from the table, from the tap of a barrel and handed it to Pam. 

She repeated the tasting routine he had shown her earlier and took a sip. Her eyes immediately widened, "OH MY GOD, I COULD KISS YOU." She immediately blushed at her outburst, the whiskey having gone straight to her head.

"That good, huh?" He laughed. 

"Yeah I'm sorry, that was just a reflex. I was saying it to the whiskey more so you," she joked.

He tried to take the glass from her but she batted his hand away, taking another sip in protest. "Why don't you leave us alone for a bit?"

"Grape soda whiskey's a winner?" He asked. 

"Yep, I'll be needing a bottle of this stuff a week."

"Oh no, you mean I have to see more of you?" He leaned with his hand above him, holding onto a metal pipe that ran above them. She stood a foot in front of him, cradling a now empty glass. 

"Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to go for a bike ride tomorrow... but I guess you wouldn't want to see more of me." 

"Well it's bike riding Pam, I'm never going to turn that down," he replied in a hushed tone. 

She smiled up at him, admiring his height after they had been sitting down for so long. 

His eyes travelled to her lips, as his brain caught up he forced himself to travel further to the empty glass. Their fingers caught as he took the glass from her. The feeling sent an overload of sensations through his body, an error code labelled ‘Pam' flashing in his mind. He placed the glass on a flat surface next to them. 

"I, uh-," he tried to find something to say, and realised there was nothing. He shook his head and chanced looking at her, maybe he could read what she was thinking. Just as he looked at her, her eyes flicked to his lips. The error code turned to a green light, go. 

He touched his lips to hers, tasting the grape soda concoction, as if her lips were the rim of a glass, he wanted to drink her all in. As if he had been in drought his entire life, and he had only just realised that this is what has been missing. 

His hands landed at the base of her spine, his hands were cold from where he had gripped the metal, but that wasn't the reason a shiver got sent through her spine. She could tell he was hesitant, even with her fingers threading through his hair, desperately trying to stay grounded, he was careful. But she felt how sure he was and how the two feelings were conflicting. She didn't think that Jim Halpert would be the most delicious thing at this tasting. She should tell him to make a Jim Halpert whiskey, the taste of whiskey off his tongue was revolutionary. 

He moved his hands to her waist, pushing the barrel into her back, and she couldn't think of anything at all. He pulled back, lips parted and desperately inhaled air into his lungs.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he whispered. 

Pam felt her knees buck, she leaned into the barrel more to keep her steady. Her eyes flicked to his lips, a new force of habit. "Hmm," humour washed over her face, "I'd say somewhere between..." she checked her watch, "two minutes and two hours."

He wasn't able to come up with a quick remark, he decided he had to kiss her and maybe she'd taste any words he'd stopped from falling from his tongue. 

"Yep, definitely leaving a review," she mumbled against his lips. 

"Just don't mention this part ‘cause my Mom will go nuts and all the guests will expect the same treatment." Pam pulled away as she laughed at his joke, studying his face carefully. 

"So, bike riding tomorrow?" She asked, reluctantly taking her hands from his neck.

"Mmmhmm." He hummed through a small smile, worried that if he tried to open his mouth he'd only kiss her again.

"Then it's a date."

Chapter End Notes:

There really is a Warrior Liquor and all of those flavours are really theirs.

This is the view from Pam's terrace, just have a scroll around.

If anyone's interested this is the virtual whiskey making tour that immensely helped with this fic.

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