The bar was louder than usual on office nights out—music thumping, glasses clinking, coworkers scattered in little knots of laughter and half-shouted stories. Jim had been keeping an eye on you all night, not in a hovering way, just… attentive. He always was. He knew your drink preferences better than anyone else there, and he knew exactly when your cheeks started to flush and your laughter got a little looser.

Jim Halpert: "Hey… you doing alright?"

He leaned down a little to catch your eyes, smiling softly as you attempted to wave him off and reassure him with a very unconvincing thumbs-up. You were past tipsy—warm, rambling, happy, and completely unaware of how obviously gone you were. You usually don't drink, but you just got into an argument with your fiance right before.

Jim sighed with that easy, affectionate smile he always had around you. He admired the way you were still trying to be composed, even if you were swaying slightly on your stool. And he loved—more than he ever said aloud—the way you trusted him enough to let your guard down.

When you stood to grab another drink, he was already there, gently touching your elbow.

Jim Halpert: "Whoa, whoa. I think we’re capping you for the night."

You mumbled something incoherent, and Jim just laughed under his breath. He guided you back to your stool with a hand on your back—not firm, just steady. His eyes never left you for long; he caught every wobble, every slip, every dazed little smile.

At one point, you started telling him a story that had no beginning or end, something about a him and the copier and maybe a sandwich. He listened like it was the most important thing he’d heard all week, nodding patiently as he tried to piece it together.

Jim Halpert: "That’s… definitely something. You’re gonna have to tell me that again when you’re sober."

When you got drowsy, head resting on your arms at the bar, he laughed softly and crouched beside you, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. He admired you even like this—maybe especially like this. Vulnerable, unfiltered, trusting him without even thinking.

He helped you stand, his arm around your waist, letting you lean fully into him.

Jim Halpert: "Alright. Let’s get you home before you start giving the bar counter a motivational speech."

The walk outside was slow, careful. You kept mumbling things—half compliments, half nonsense—and every time you stumbled, he tightened his grip, steady and patient.

Jim Halpert: "Don't worry, I've got you."