"Cowboy?"

"Nope."

"Spaceman?"

"Nope."

"Ghost?"

"Beesly, you're thinking way too costumey here," Jim said with a shake of his head on the pillow as he looked up at the ceiling from his bed. He turned his head sideways to look at Pam. "Lower the bar."

"It is low! It's so low you couldn't even limbo under it. You'd have to wriggle across the floor like a snake," Pam replied with a laugh in her voice. "A ghost is literally a sheet over your head."

"Ah but then it would mess up my hair," he smirked. 

"How about your sixers jersey? You can go as a sub or something."

"See, now you're getting it," he laughed, before rolling over to give her a quick kiss. "Ugh," Jim whined as he pulled back the covers and turned to sit on the edge of the bed, "I really don't wanna get up." He rummaged around on the floor for his underwear and pulled them on, lifting his ass briefly to do so. He turned to look at Pam who was still laying in the bed with the sheet pulled up, tucked underneath her bare arms. He bent over to give her a kiss on the forehead. "Sure you don't wanna join me?"

"We can't be late again," Pam grinned, "plus I want five more minutes in bed." 

"Alright," he sighed as he pressed his hands on his thighs and stood. She smiled as she watched him walk over to the bathroom, before returning her gaze to the ceiling. She sighed a contented breath through her nose and rolled over onto her side to face the bathroom door. She lay in silence until she heard the sound of water starting to run from the bathroom. Her mind wandered first to Jim standing under the shower and her immediate regret over her choice not to join him, but then it moved to the Halloween party that she and Jim were due to go to the following evening. Pam had known Jim long enough to know that he wasn't likely to dress up that much, but she still hoped she might persuade him to do something a little more adventurous than wear his own clothes.

She was lost in her own daydream of what Jim's costume could be when the door to the bathroom opened and startled her. He walked towards her, his blue towel slung low on his hips and water dripping down his slightly muscled torso, completely oblivious of the effect that he was having on her. Pam continued to stare at Jim as he walked towards the dresser and pulled out a pair of black boxer briefs and a white undershirt. He dropped the towel onto the carpet, and pulled his boxer briefs up, the thick elastic at the top snapping slightly as it hit his taut skin. Pam was transfixed by the way the water droplets clung to the hairs on his chest and the ones snaking a line down to the elastic. She swallowed and blinked hard as Jim pulled the white t-shirt over his head and down onto his damp body.

"You ok there?" he laughed at Pam's unmoving gaze.

"Huh? Oh, um, yeah," she tried to say, clearing her throat slightly, her eyes never leaving Jim.

Jim moved over to the mirror and grabbed his comb from the top of the dresser. Even though to the untrained eye, it looked as if the only thing Jim Halpert did to hair in the morning was to roll it across his pillow, he did in fact attempt to style it. It just didn't really do very much. He'd start by combing all of his long, shaggy hair backwards on top of his head, and then as it started to fall down around his ears, he'd comb the sides back. The result was a somewhat slicked back pompadour, but by the time he'd buttoned up his shirt and tied his tie, his hair would have dried and just fallen back into his eyes. And at that point, he'd just brush it out of the way with his fingers and call it a day.

Standing in front of the mirror with his long hair slicked back, wearing his white t-shirt, he saw Pam still staring at him through the mirror and was about to ask her when she was thinking about getting up, when she gasped.

"Ohmygod that's it!" she shrieked.

"What's it?" he asked, clearly confused, as he turned round to look at her.

"Your costume!" she squealed. 

"What are you talking about?" he laughed.

"James Dean. You can go as James Dean to the party!"

"I look nothing like James Dean," Jim scoffed as he walked over to the bed. 

Pam knelt up on the bed, bringing the sheet with her and tucking it around her body. She wrapped one arm around her chest to keep the sheet in place and used her free hand to brush back the strands of hair that were already starting to dry and fall into Jim's eyes. He placed his hands on her hips to steady her on the bed and pulled her closer to him as she tried to get his hair back into place. "Just a little bit of gel or wax or something here," she said, gazing up at his hair, "and it'd all be slicked back." She carried on fussing with his hair as Jim was letting his hands wander around to the back of the sheet where Pam's skin was exposed. "And maybe we get you like a packet of cigarettes to tuck under your sleeve here," she murmured, trying to roll up his t-shirt as Jim's hands began to caress her ass, pulling her even closer to him. "Mmm," she hummed as Jim ducked down to kiss her neck, feeling the effects of what he was doing to her evident in his underwear.

"What about you?" he asked as he nuzzled her.

"Hmm?" Pam couldn't quite think clearly as Jim's lips and tongue moved across her skin.

"How about James Dean's girlfriend? You could wear a tight little skirt?" he said with a slight thrust of his hips.

"Yeah," she moaned, not quite sure what she was agreeing to. 

"Maybe do that red lip thing that I like?" Jim said before he kissed her lips, pushing her backwards slightly. And as they went crashing down onto the bed, Pam suddenly didn't care in the slightest if they were going to be late for work again. But at least Jim had a costume.