Ryan Howard had been in a fraternity in college. Everyone in the office knew it. Michael and Dwight liked to tease him about the initiations, asking questions about egg yolk and itch-powder condoms. One April Fool’s, he came into the office to see a paddle with a hole in the center partially encased in Jello lying on his desk. Kevin routinely asked him questions about sex, and Meredith liked to ask him about beer. “I don’t know if any of these people have ever been in a fraternity,” he had once told the camera guy off the record. “Actually, sometimes I question if any of these people have ever been on a date.”

The subject of his fraternity never ceased to bring Dwight amusement. After the first disastrous initiation at Schrute Farm – an experience Ryan preferred to block out of memory – Dwight had tried numerous other times to “initiate” him into the salesman’s life. The attempts had ceased after he had been forced to move within ten feet of Kelly’s desk, but the teasing hadn’t. The office was always dangerous for him – Michael liked to send the two of them on “joint errands” – and over time he had learned to look out for himself.

It was only natural, then, that when he pulled onto his street that afternoon and saw the familiar cars lined up on his driveway, he panicked.

“Ryan?” His roommates were standing awkwardly by the mailbox. They had been frat buddies in college – how convenient. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan muttered, closing the car door and locking it. “Where are they?”

“Backyard, on the deck.” Dylan crossed his arms and grinned. “Your girlfriend’s here too.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Ryan whispered as he walked briskly to the house and made his way toward the deck.

“Ron!” Creed nodded and lifted a can of Big K in his direction. “Nice of you to join us!”

“Why are you in my house?”

He shrugged and pointed to Kelly, who was bright pink. If possible. “I’m sorry, Ryan, they wanted a place to meet and they all suggested your house and they knew I had a key and – “

“What? How did you get a key?” Ryan ran a hand through his hair as he heard Dylan’s mocking laughter. “Dammit. Okay. What do you all want, is it that ridiculous committee again – “

Kevin snickered from where he was poking Dylan’s girlfriend’s plants. “Is this a fern, Ryan?”

“Shut up, Kevin.”

Creed raised his Big K again and motioned for Ryan to sit. “C’mon, c’mon. We’re in session.”

Ryan sat down with a scowl, and Creed continued. “Phase One was an immense success. Now we need to determine a course of action for Phase Two. Suggestions?”

“Uh,” Kelly stood up with a sheet of notebook paper in her hand. “I’ve got a few ideas here that I think are…worth mentioning.”

Ryan almost raised a hand to stop her, but reached down to grab a Sunkist instead.

“Number one, have Jim and Pam go to the Heathrow Airport in London. Hugh Grant says that love is big there, so…that’d be good. Number two, have Pam disappear for seven years, so that Jim builds a house for her and then when she gets back, have him canoe her out onto a lake with a bunch of swans and then have it rain, and…that’d be pretty good too. And number three, have them do a play together and then give Pam, like, I don’t know, the flu or something, ‘cause we can’t give her cancer.”

Dwight raised his hand. “Question: Why would Jim build a house?”

Creed sighed and shook his head. Phyllis went back onto her laptop and Googled “hugh grant heathrow airport”. Stanley finished his crossword puzzle and moved on to the sudoku, and Meredith went back inside to find the beer.

~~~!~~~

By midnight, they had hammered out a plan of action under porch floodlights and five of Dwight’s portable mosquito candles. Kelly was leaning against Ryan’s shoulder, pretending to be asleep. Meredith had given up long ago and was inside having shot contests with Ryan’s roommates. Stanley had finished all his puzzles and had commandeered Phyllis’ laptop.

Creed and Dwight were huddled in a corner right beside the floodlight, a slightly crumpled piece of paper smoothed out on the table before them. Dwight held a pencil between his teeth and Creed knocked back his fourth Big K. When he came down from the last swig, Dwight was holding the paper at arm’s length.

“Is it complete?” Creed gasped, tossing his empty can onto a growing pile behind him.

“Yes,” Dwight whispered. “Yes.”

~~~!~~~

“And that is why, Michael, I believe that we should have a morale boosting activity today.”

Michael reached a hand over to fiddle with the Chris Rock bobblehead on his desk. “So you’re sure that they’re all very depressed about that squirrel?”

“Absolutely. They printed pictures and framed them.” Dwight placed two hands on Michael’s desk and leaned forward. “Some are considering drastic measures.”

“Oh, okay, Dwight,” Michael nodded and stared into the space just above Dwight’s left ear. “I suppose we could…I mean, if you have the contacts at the hotel, I don’t see why not.”

“Excellent.” Dwight nodded. “Will you make the announcement?”

“Sure, fine.” Michael sighed and leaped out of his chair, opened the door to his office and let out a breath he’d been holding. “Ladies and gentlemen, it has come to my attention that the morale in this office is at a low. Therefore, we are taking a relaxing mental health day, effective immediately. At a spa. Together.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “A spa, Michael? You mean a place where people take off their clothes?”

“Michael, you can’t really…” Toby piped up, shuffling his feet.

“Oh, shut up, Toby. When somebody in this office chooses to…kick their own bucket, it can be on your conscience.”

“Michael, where is this spa?” Kelly asked. “None of us have bathing suits.”

“There will be a store at the spa,” Dwight placed his hands on his hips. “As long as you all have money, you will be fine. Those of you who do not, come see me, and we can arrange for some other method of payment. Indentured servitude.”

“Let’s go!” Michael motioned to the door. “C’mon now!”

Jim casually sauntered by Pam’s desk and stole a Skittle from her private stash. “Thanks for the candy, Beesley.”

Pam gave him a look of mock annoyance and stood up with her purse, following him toward the door. She put on her jacket and reached over her desk for a hidden packet of M&Ms, throwing it at Jim. He caught it effortlessly and tucked it away into his pocket. “No problem, Halpert.”

~~~!~~~

“Dwight, I need some money.”

“For a bathing suit?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I don’t carry swimsuits around with me in my purse…”

“And you shouldn’t. Risk of infecting the swimsuit with a bacterium from inside your purse. Then the next time the swimsuit comes in contact with your bare flesh – “

“Dwight.”

“Fine. I’ll pay for a swimsuit for you, but I get to choose.”

“That’s not fair, Dwight.”

“Would you prefer to walk into the pool completely naked?”

“Thanks for your help, Dwight.”

“You’re welcome, Pam.”

~~~!~~~

“Jim, do you need a pair of swimming trunks?”

“Actually, us guys are just planning to, uh, jump in with our boys hanging free.”

“Absolutely not. Public health nightmare.”

“I was kidding, Dwight.”

“Do you need a Speedo?”

“I’m not wearing a Speedo, but y’know who needs one? I think you need a Speedo, Dwight. Show off your muscular body.”

“I’m not gay, Jim, so stop hitting on me. And I already have a Speedo for myself.”

“All right then. And I have money, I can buy something for myself at the hotel.”

“Fine.”

"Is Andy wearing a Speedo?"

"Andy...won't be joining us today."

“Is Michael wearing a Speedo?”

“Absolutely. What does he have to hide?”

~~~!~~~

Jim, Kevin, Ryan, and Toby had all changed relatively quickly. They left Oscar in the locker room pulling his wetsuit on and hit the pool first. Kevin had taken over the Jacuzzi and kicked another young couple out. His shorts kept ballooning, and Jim was fairly sure it was not just because of the water. Ryan and Toby were sitting under the massage waterfalls, shoulders slumped over, and Jim decided to swim a few laps. That all changed, though, when the girls’ locker room door opened and they all came strutting in.

Kelly was first, in a bright pink bikini with little yellow flowers. She leaped eagerly into the pool and swam over to Ryan with remarkable speed, taking root on his arm again. Phyllis was wearing a one-piece with stars over her front, and she sat down on the stairs in the shallow end, feebly kicking her legs now and then. Angela was wearing an old-fashioned one-piece with a skirt. Meredith’s one-piece had several dubious stains on the front, and Pam was wearing a light green bikini.

Jim stopped swimming and lifted his goggles.

Pam and Angela sat on the shallow-end stairs with Phyllis for a while, and then Pam swam over to talk to Jim.

“So what’s this I hear about Dwight and a Speedo?”

Jim strategically kept his eyes on her face, drumming his fingers against the pool edge. “And Michael. Can’t forget that. What’s this I hear about Dwight picking your swimsuit?”

“Oh, that,” Pam flustered a little and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, nervously pulling on her right strap. Jim dropped his goggles under water and quickly reached down to pick them back up. “I didn’t have any money, so I asked him for some, and he decided to pick what he bought.”

“Could’ve asked me,” Jim offered. “I bought my trunks on my own.”

Pam couldn’t help it – her eyes traveled down Jim’s body and to the dark blue trunks. She flustered more, and Jim dropped his goggles again. “Um, yeah, next time I’ll definitely ask.”

“That’s what she said!” came an enormous shout. Michael and Dwight barreled out of the locker room and came running toward the pool. Jim grabbed Pam by the arm and pulled her toward him, out of their way.

“Cannon ball!” And a giant splash sent water raining over the edge of the pool. The few other guests who were still there quickly left. From the safety of his Jacuzzi, Kevin snickered.

Pam’s shoulder was pressed against Jim’s chest from when he’d pulled her out of the way. Her head was turned away from him, looking at Michael and Dwight play splashing games with everyone in the pool, and her neck looked so soft and inviting. The skin on her shoulder felt like cream, and her right arm was braced against his, clinging to the edge of the pool.

She turned, and Jim backed away slightly. Her cheeks were tinged slightly with red, but she smiled at him and said, “How long do you think we could get away with calling Michael ‘Hasselhoff’?”

“Oh, gee, I don’t know,” Jim reached down and pretended to get his goggles from where they’d fallen a while ago. Pam felt a sharp tug on her right ankle, and suddenly she was underwater.

With a bubbling laugh, she resurfaced to a grinning Jim. “Oh my God, I think you just dunked me.”

“I’m pretty sure I did.”

“How old are you?”

“It’s not a matter of how old you are,” Jim said, smiling ear to ear with water dripping from his matted hair. “It’s how fast.”

And then his arm snaked out, and Pam was underwater again. This time, however, she was smarter, and at the exact moment he had started smiling, her hand was already out.

They pulled each other underwater with cheeks full of air and arms flailing to keep each other down. Pam’s hand brushed against Jim’s shoulder, pressed lightly on his chest. Jim ran one hand through her halo of hair and another down the side of her arm. His touch shocked her, and she let go of her air. She flailed upward to regain oxygen.

They burst out of the water with simultaneous gasps, and Jim’s hands were immediately at Pam’s elbows, steadying her. “You all right? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she gasped, unconsciously placing a hand on his chest. “I’m okay.” She noticed too late that she was touching him again and jolted backward as if he had electrocuted her. “I’m, uh, going to go check on Angela.”

“Yeah, um, I’m gonna go talk to Kev.”

“Okay.”

“All right.”

They parted ways. Dwight glanced around to see if he needed to use the established signals, but every eye was on their retreating figures. Dwight grinned like the Cheshire Cat. Phase 2b to now commence.   

“Everyone, I have an announcement.” He clambered over the edge of the pool and stood with his hands on his hips, in his Speedo. “We are now moving to the hotel sauna, to cleanse the illness from your pores. Please retreat to your respective locker rooms, undress, put on a towel, and make your way to the sauna. Attendance will be taken upon entry. That is all.”

From the look on his face, Dwight could tell that the only word Jim had heard was ‘undress’. Closer inspection of Pam’s hunched shoulders revealed that the same held true for her.

~~~!~~~

The sauna, surprisingly enough, was not the hotbed of awkward that Pam had previously imagined. Her coworkers seemed perfectly used to chatting with half-naked people. Pam’s towel, wrapped around her just below the armpit and extending about as far as a pair of Soffes, seemed far too short, and she had wrapped her hair up in a towel on her head to avoid overheating the back of her neck. She sat between Michael and Jim and couldn’t help but feel that it was a sabotaged situation.

Jim, for his part, seemed perfectly relaxed. He had leaned back and rested with his elbows on the top edge of the wooden bench, legs extended and ankles crossed. He had a single towel wrapped around his waist. Pam refused to think about anything below it. She kept her eyes focused on the shining wooden floor and on occasionally rubbing the sweat from her body. She noticed too late that people were slowly filtering out of the room.

The last two in the sauna with her and Jim were Dwight and Angela. She could have sworn Angela looked at her and smiled before Dwight closed the door.

She was alone. In a sauna. With Jim.

Now it was awkward.

“So, uh…” Jim coughed a little. “You go to saunas often?”

“Not really,” Pam said, sounding much louder than she meant to. “Too sweaty for me.”

“Really,” Jim turned and gave her an amused Jim-face. “Too sweaty, Beesly? You not a fan of exercise? Of cleansing the illness from your pores?”

A laugh bubbled out of Pam before she could hold it back. “Nope,” she clicked her tongue. “Can’t say that I am.”

They lapsed into silence again for a while, and then the heat in the room seemed to go up another five degrees. Pam let out something of a strangled moan and subtly pulled her towel a little higher, rubbed at the back of her neck.

Jim’s eyes nearly glazed over at the sound of that moan. Without thinking, he blindly reached to his left for a small, dry towel and handed it to Pam.

Pam took the towel, fingers brushing only slightly against his palm, and rubbed at the back of her neck, her forehead, and then across her collarbone. Every single one of Jim’s nerves was quite literally on fire.

Then Pam leaned over to drop the towel back onto the tray, reaching her arm over him just enough so that he could feel her heat, and Jim lost control.

He reached up and cupped her face with his hand, gently stroking her cheek with his thumb. Pam’s eyes closed shut and her mouth opened just enough. Her reaching hand dropped to the space on the other side of Jim, and her other hand seemingly guided itself on its own back to the familiar space on his chest.

Jim reached forward to whisper into Pam’s ear, but she turned her head and it was just a split second that her lips brushed against his cheek, but it was enough. They were too far gone. Pam’s hands wrapped into Jim’s hair, over his broad shoulder to cling to his back. One of his hands brushed the side of her towel-covered stomach and rested on her hip, the other bracing the side of her cheek. The kiss was long, languid, and relieved, as though a toothpick had been holding up all the weight of Lake Michigan and was finally, blissfully, simply letting go. Pam kept her eyes closed the entire time, her hands pulling him into her and her into him.

It wasn’t until Pam felt the knot at the back of her towel coming apart that her eyes snapped open and she pulled abruptly back. Jim felt her move away from him and realized himself that they had let it get too far again, and the shadow of a memory from a distant parking lot passed briefly through his mind.

Pam reached forward, as if to say something, but then pulled her towel back up and ran out of the sauna. Jim waited, hardly breathing, until the door was firmly closed and her footsteps could no longer be heard in the hall. Then he leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, his body suddenly colder in that scorching sauna without her warmth.

~~~!~~~

Stanley Hudson was very good at sneaking off. He had utilized his powers to avoid the ridiculous morale-boosting spa activity Michael had planned. He figured that Jim and Pam would realize sooner or later that they were in love with each other, and it just wasn’t his problem. So he felt very little of the panic expressed in Dwight and Creed’s email the next morning.

From: dkschrute@dundermifflin.com; creed@dundermifflin.com
To: shudson@dundermifflin.com
Subject:  <no subject>

Lunch today, break room
Emergency plans need to be formulated
Drastic measures must be resorted to
If you choose to skip, bear in mind that I, Dwight K Schrute, have the company address book and I DO know where you live. 

~~~!~~~