His first barbeque was a success, so he threw another a few months later.

         He didn’t have to invite anyone just so Mark could meet them, and he didn’t have to clean the place as well, and he didn’t have to buy as much beer, even though he probably should have.

         And it was a much nicer time than it had been. For the most part.

         Kevin, Oscar, Toby and Meredith all left relative early after the food was served, and he was okay with that. He’d planned the thing in advance and didn’t feel much like entertaining when the day had rolled around.

         Ryan stayed late because he and Mark discovered they were attending the same business school, and though they’d never shared a class, they had a few professors in common. And Pam stayed late because Roy was going to the lake that weekend with his brother and she didn’t want to spend the evening alone with Law and Order reruns.

         Also, she’d mixed her drinks a little strong.

         That was a tiny bit his fault though.

         When the beer was gone (and most of the crowd), Mark and Lisa had broken into the (rather impressive) stash of hard liquor and Lisa, who was a bartender in college (and thus insisted they own something like Sour Apple Schnapps at all times), had been testing out various concoctions that  most of them had never heard of before.

         “Beer before liquor, never been sicker!” Jim recited to them like he was taking the boy scouts pledge.

         “Fuck off, Halpert! Let these fine people enjoy their Friday night!” Maybe listening to Mark was his first mistake.

         Ryan loved the Irish Car Bombs and had about 3 shots worth, in addition to all the beer, and he was pretty far gone by midnight.

         Mark was partial to the Gay Uncle, which made everyone laugh but him, (And eventually him, after he’d had enough).

         Pam stuck to the beer mostly, but she’d tried one of the Sexaholics, because she said she liked the name. The bottle of whiskey was getting low at that point, and Lisa had made two, sliding the pair to Jim and Pam who clinked glasses and swallowed them quickly.

         She’d winked at him when they set the glasses down. His head was already spinning from the drinks and his tongue was going a little numb. She was staring up at him, as if she was waiting for something, and he tried to pretend that he couldn’t see her out of the corner of his eye.

         When Lisa mixed up something called a Royal Fuck (“Just like you!” Ryan laughed) to finish up the whiskey, Jim did the last two shots worth, and split the third with Pam. Who, turns out, was more of a lightweight when it came to shots than she was with mixed drinks.

         Lisa’d been sampling along the way and she was just as drunk as they were. She went to collapse on the sofa and they all followed her.

         Mark sat under her, her head on his lap, Ryan grabbed a pillow from the corner and reclined on the floor, and Pam and Jim squeezed next to each other on the oversized recliner that was probably only designed to fit one and half.

         Her legs were swung overtop of his to make more room and she rested her head against the back of the chair. He watched her through lidded eyes, smiling. She giggled.

         Ryan flicked on the TV and they ended up watching a PBS Fundraising Program with old concert footage from Cream and The Stones.

         The music was creating a lull in the room that was almost tangible.

         “Shit, my eyes burn like a mother fucker!” Mark interrupted the silence and rubbed his eyes violently. Lisa headbutted him in the stomach.

         “You curse like a fucking sailor, man! Just turn the goddamned lights of or something! Shit!”

         Ryan giggled drunkenly on the floor (“Sailorman!”) and Pam chuckled silently, her body rocking slightly and moving the chair enough that Jim could feel it. Mark clicked out the lights and room was plunged into darkness save the black and white footage on the TV.

         He didn’t exactly know where to put his hands. On her legs? In his lap? Her feet tapped gently with the rhythm of the song and his fingers felt heavy and foreign when he rested his hands on her legs, his palms over her knees.

         She looked at him and smiled before curling into a tighter ball, so her head could rest on his shoulder. She linked her arm through his gently.

         Everyone was paying attention to the TV but he was trying his hardest not to jump up and dance around at the fact that she was touching him. Touching him like how you would touch someone you were dating.

         He realized his fingers were moving without him knowing it, pressing into the soft skin of her knees though the denim. She pressed closer to him, the hand on his arm creeping under his t-shirt sleeve and stroking the skin of his arm.

         Jim tried not to move, afraid that any sound, any fraction of a centimeter difference from this position and he would break that spell. She would pull away and yawn and tell him she needed to find a place a sleep, and did he have a sleeping bag or something.

         His body wasn’t listening. Her fingers ran over his bicep again and again and he inhaled sharply on one of their rotations.

         She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at him. He bit his lip, his eyes darting around her face. She smiled and brought her head back down to his arm, stroking wider circles.

         His pants were starting to get a little tight and he wanted to cross his legs, but hers were still thrown across his. He starting rubbing her knees again, every so often expanding his circle so he was on her thigh.

         There was a tiny hole in one of the legs; she’d told him earlier it was from catching on the latch of Roy’s truck. He slid his index finger delicately in the hole, so as not to tear it further, and brushed against her skin.

         He heard her breath catch and her hand stilled its motions, clutching instead of stroking.

         When he removed his finger, he felt her sink lower in the seat, pushing her legs further onto his lap. He looked down and saw her eyes were closed. She’d moved enough that now, when he was resting his hands, they fell mid-thigh and no longer on her knees.

         “These guys are really amazing,” Ryan spoke from the floor; Jim could see him tapping out chords on his chest as if his ribs were guitar strings.

         “Yeah, they are,” his voice was thick and drowsy. His hand moved higher up Pam’s thigh. He could hear her labored breathing as though she was right next to his ear, but the TV drowned them out for the others. He felt like they were in a bubble.

         His pants were really uncomfortable now, but if he moved and this stopped, he’d hate himself forever. He shifted his hips gently until the pressure was a little more tolerable.

         She hadn’t even noticed. Her eyes were still closed and her chest was still rising and falling rapidly with her breathing. She moved slowly, opening her legs wider, her hips pressing up and down so minutely that if he wasn’t feeling it, he certainly wouldn’t be able to see it.

         He pushed his hand higher up her thigh until he was at her hip. His thumb rolled down over the inseam of her jeans until it was resting on her inner thigh, just below where they both wanted him the most.

         Jim tried to mask his own breathing so that no one would look over at them. The lights were off, but they weren’t really hidden.

         His thumb followed the inseam down her leg to her knees and back up. When he was where he started again, her hips pressed upwards insistently, begging.

         She kept pressing her hips upwards and backwards as he followed the seam again. This time, when he reached the top again, her fingers pressed relentlessly into his arm.

         He gave in, pushing his hand against her through the thick fabric. It was already damp.

         Her legs closed quickly on his hand, trapping it against her. He rubbed at her gently, her hips still pumping slowly against him.

         At 1 am, the concert was ending and the call center was back onscreen.

         “I am fucking beat,” Mark said suddenly. He flicked on the light and Jim moved his hand suddenly. Pam bolted upright, her legs swinging suddenly off his lap.

         His heart was racing and he lifted his hand to his face, rubbing his eyes, blinking against the light. He could smell her on his hand and had to cross his legs immediately.

         Pam leaned forward, her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. Jim watched her, wondered what she was thinking.

         Mark nudged Lisa awake and they said their goodnights before heading off to Mark’s bedroom at the bottom of the stairs.

         “Is it cool if I take the couch or, Pam? Were you gonna, I mean, I can sleep on the floor if...” He looked at Jim for an answer, not Pam.

         He opened his mouth to speak, but Pam was talking over his thoughts. “It’s fine, you take the couch.”

         “You sure?” Ryan was already crawling across it to lie down.

         “Yeah, it’s not a problem.” She turned to Jim. “Can I use your bathroom?”

         “Oh, uh. Yeah. Ryan man, you know where the bathroom is right?” Ryan grunted in response.

         Jim reached for Pam’s hand and led her to the steps. “You should probably use mine. The one down here is... well, for Ryan. And also I didn't clean it really well.” He smiled weakly but his thoughts were racing, he was still really turned on, and had no idea where Pam was intending to sleep.

         She nodded at him and slipped into the bathroom. He heard the lock click quietly and started to undress himself.