Oh this one was easy. Pam knew from the moment she saw him walk out of the bathroom wearing his grey Scranton University t-shirt and black basketball shorts, that she was going to find that particular Thursday incredibly hard to focus on anything other than Jim Halpert.
As she watched him leaning over in the grey chair to tie up his shoe, doing her best not to let her eyes linger for too long, Pam watched how the grey fabric stretched across his shoulders. His shoulders, that now she thought about it, were much broader than she'd realised. She'd only really seen his forearms under his rolled up button downs, but the sleeves of the t-shirt stopped much higher, exposing flesh of his that she'd never seen before. She watched as his biceps and triceps flexed against each other, and she felt a blush creep up from her chest. Her eyes darted away before he could catch her staring at his arms, and she did the only thing she knew how to deflect the situation, make a joke and talk about Roy.
But it didn't work. Even with her then fiancé running around the warehouse right in front of her, Pam couldn't keep her eyes off of Jim. He sank hoop after hoop after hoop, and each time he jumped to throw the ball into the net, his grey shirt rode up just a little bit so that Pam could see a sliver of his toned stomach. The first time it happened, she grew wide eyed and quickly looked down at the floor, wondering if anyone else had noticed, or if they had noticed her noticing his stomach. But when she realised that no one sitting with her was paying attention to the game or to her, she allowed herself to look, and to pray it happened again. And it did, several times.
The more Jim played, the sweatier he got and Pam couldn't get enough. His hair clung to his forehead and the shirt got dark stains in all the right places. She watched his chest move up and down under heavy breaths, not realising before that she'd never seen how defined he was. She got lost in a daydream wondering what it would be like to slowly peel the damp grey shirt from him to reveal his toned stomach and muscular chest. It was only when the kerfuffle of Roy elbowing Jim in the face broke her out of her trance, that she knew she needed to pull herself together.
It was Roy. Roy was who she was with. Jim would need to stay firmly locked away in a box deep, deep down. Because she was with Roy. She loved Roy. And she really shouldn't be thinking about Jim, with his sweaty hair clinging to his head, deep gasping breaths and pulling off that damn grey t-shirt.
But the next time she saw that Scranton University t-shirt, she absolutely could think those things. And more. Jim and Pam had been together about six weeks when she first went to watch him play basketball. It had been more of an accident really, rather than actively acting like a teenager watching her boyfriend from the bleachers. She'd been at the community centre one Saturday afternoon to discuss a project for her art class with her tutor and wasn't due to meet up with Jim until later that evening for dinner. She knew he was seeing Mark, but they hadn't decided what they were going to do yet. So as Pam passed by one of the gyms and happened to look through one of the porthole windows, she wasn't expecting to see an old grey t-shirt for the first time in almost three years.
As she stood at the door and stared at Jim's effortless dribbling before he jumped to make a hoop, Pam couldn't help but bite her lower lip. After weeks of dating, a sweaty, heavy breathing Jim was something she had grown accustomed to, but seeing him out on the court for the first time in years stirred something different in her. It reminded her of the secret lust that she held so deeply hidden within herself. Of the years that she'd spent convincing herself that Jim was just a friend. Of how she'd lied to herself, and to him. And immediately she knew that she needed to make it up to him.
She opened the door just enough so that she could slip in unnoticed and stood so flat against the wall, a passerby would think that she was trying to become part of it. She watched Jim running up and down the court, just as she had all those years ago, and she still couldn't take her eyes off of him. Just as he was high fiving Mark for scoring another point, Jim noticed Pam standing at the side and his face broke out into a huge smile.
"Hey," he panted as he jogged over to where Pam was leaning against the wall. He stopped just short of her and ran his hand through his damp hair, before grabbing the hem of his t-shirt and pulling it up to mop his sweaty forehead. Pam's eyes were instantly drawn to his toned stomach, just as they had been back at the warehouse years prior, and she felt a pooling low in her belly.
Before she could even say hi back, Pam practically launched herself at Jim. She grabbed onto the old t-shirt and fisted it in her hand as she kissed him hard on the lips. Immediately there was whooping and cheering coming from somewhere behind Jim, but he just waved them off, before bringing his hand around to Pam's cheek. She moaned into the kiss before she tried to pull him even closer. When they eventually pulled apart, Jim was grinning like a maniac, while Pam felt herself flushing red at what she had just done in front of Jim's friends, and also a bunch of random strangers.
"You ok there, Beesly?" he asked with a small laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Sorry," she said shyly. "I was just kind of excited to see you."
"You never need to apologise for that," he said, his own cheeks tingeing slightly with pinkness.
"And I wasn't expecting to see this," she said, tugging on his t-shirt.
"My ratty old Scranton U shirt?" he laughed. "Does it do it for you or something?" When she didn't answer, but quirked her eyebrow slightly before looking down at the ground, he audibly gulped. "Oh," he whispered.
"Come on Halpert," one of the guys on the court shouted.
"Want to, um, wanna wait for me? I'm almost done here," Jim asked. Pam nodded before sending him back to finish the game with a kiss.
As her back hit the wall of Jim's hallway some 30 minutes later, Pam clung to Jim's sweat-soaked t-shirt. She wanted to do everything she could to show him that he was the one she wanted, he was the one she'd always wanted, that he always would be. She poured herself into him, hoping that every kiss, every caress, would show him just how much she loved him. And when his damp t-shirt hit the floor with a thud, and he was breathing heavily over her, because of her, with his hair yet again clinging to his forehead, she knew that he absolutely did, and always would.