To say that Pam was having a minor crisis would be something of an understatement. Almost every item of clothing she owned was strewn across the floor of her bedroom, or in a heap by the door. She was gazing at herself in a mirror, expression appearing incredibly focused, with squinted eyes and pursed lips. 

It had been three weeks since she’d gone to dinner with Jim. And two weeks since their second date. And a week since their third. But, no. She wasn’t supposed to call them dates— it was simply two friends going to dinner, to talk about his failed relationship. There wasn’t supposed to be anything more to it. They had gone out to lunch all the time before he’d gone to Stamford, as friends. So what had changed?

Well, that didn’t take a genius. He’d confessed his love to her, prompting the aforementioned move to Stamford. Now whenever Pam looked at him, she could only think about that night and his hands holding hers. Her mind dwelled upon it now as she tore her eyes away from her reflection, and at the dress on the floor, the one she’d worn that night. At the time of Jim returning from Stamford with Karen, she’d wanted to burn it. Now, she wasn’t so sure how to feel. The night of the confession, she’d felt so pretty in this dress. It was something new and very different for her, and when she’d seen it in a store window some few days before, she had known it was special. The only thing was, at that point in time, she couldn’t figure out why.

Glancing away from the dress, she looked at herself for another few moments, before scrambling to find her phone and calling the one person who she knew would most likely be able to help her out here. 

The recipient answered immediately.

“Oh my God, hey Pam! I was just thinking about you.” The voice of Kelly came crashing into her ear drums, loud as ever.  

She perked up a little bit. “Oh, really?”

“Totally! I just saw Katy at the store. You know, the girl Jim dated?”

She deflated. “Oh. Right. Cool. Um, Kelly?”

“Yeah?”

“Would you say my dress sense is…boring?”

Silence. 

“Kelly?”

“Huh?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Yeah, I did. I just didn’t say anything because I think you already know the answer.”

“So that’s a ‘yes’.”

“I mean, the fact that you have to ask me in the first place shows that you have doubts about your style. Why? Where’s this come from?” Classic Kelly.

“No reason. Just…sorta thinking about reinventing myself.” Realising this may not be the best thing to say to a makeover-obsessed Kelly, she winced and immediately fought to correct herself before she could get an excitable word in edgeways. “Maybe a little bit, that’s all. Nothing too crazy.” An edge of warning to her voice audibly calmed Kelly slightly, who was giggling with glee at the prospect of this.

“You totally should! It’d be such a cool change in aesthetic for you. I think you’d feel better about yourself in general too. Less…sad.”

“…yeah. Maybe.”

***

It started with a haircut. Nothing too extreme, like she’d said. Certain ground rules had been set— by Pam herself, who left the hair salon feeling lighter in more ways than one. Only a few inches, but it felt like enough to make a difference. A single glance in the mirror was enough to satisfy her in that particular department. 

Along with some newer, slightly more casual clothes that still appealed to her more soft but practical sense of dress, she felt comfortable enough to unload a few old items of clothing that she felt she had outgrown, even if only in spirit. Though perhaps also in a more literal sense, as she had recently gained a couple of pounds. Strangely enough, she was pleased with this— after seeing some of the footage taken by the camera crew from a couple of years ago, she took note of how pallid and despondent she appeared. Thin wrists, sunken eyes. Not exactly sickly, but simply a victim of self-inflicted setbacks, from a dead relationship to a crippling lack of self-confidence. As a result, Pam vowed to never allow herself to become so emotionally and physically worn down again.

This desperation to build a better version of herself translated into work, too. On Monday morning, she was in the same position as before, staring at herself in the mirror, deciding what to do. In the end, she chose to not put her hair up. If she let her hair hang loose, then perhaps she could make the rest of herself feel the same sense of freedom. Typically she only wore her hair down on special occasions, but then again, what could be more special than deciding to reinvent herself and finally taking the plunge to actually do it?

Admittedly, it was partly for Jim’s benefit. Pam had seen how he looked at her when she didn’t put a clip in her hair. The large-eyed, lips pressed together look, one that could only be aptly described as some form of longing. Getting the same look from him when she walked in, every single day? Now that would certainly be something.

However, to her dismay, he wasn’t at his desk when she walked in, and a small, insane part of her wanted to walk back out, go back to her car and wait to see when he did arrive, just so she could redo her entrance. Of course she decided against it, but the temptation was strong. 

When Jim finally rolled in a few minutes past nine, ignoring Dwight’s comments about tardiness, he didn’t look her way. Her brow furrowed as she looked down at her keyboard, nibbling away at her lip like a distressed beaver. He was probably busy. Very busy. 

Not to mention, he’d still only recently split up with Karen. There was likely a lot on his mind at the moment.

Still, the nagging feeling that something was wrong couldn’t be shaken from her somewhat turbulent mind, and after twenty minutes she decided to message him.

pbeesly: hey, are you alright? you seem a little distracted

jhalpert: sorry beesly, im really swamped with work right now :(

jhalpert: ill talk to you at lunch?

Thankfully, she received a phone call from David Wallace— one for none other than Jim, a message regarding his position at the Scranton branch and the assumption that he was still acting as Assistant Regional Manager. Fortunately for her, he was in the bathroom at that point, and so she’d have to tell him herself.

“I’ll ask him about it. Thanks, Wallace.”

“Thank you, Pam.”

The second he’d taken his seat again, she rose with only the slightest of trepidation in her bones at the thought of him seeing her, and Pam made her way to his desk with the Fancy New Beesly confidence that he had recently instilled within her.

“Hey, Jim?”

“What’s up, Pam?” He inquired, not looking away from his screen— though his voice was still kind and warm, and a small smile played ar his lips.

“Wallace wanted to ask whether you wanted to continue with the position of Assistant Regional Manager, after you, uh, declined his potential job offer. I mean, it seems pretty obvious to me, but I get where she’s coming from, since the last few months have been so hectic in terms of jobs.”

At long last Jim looked up at her, and they locked eyes for a long moment as Dwight muttered something under his breath about being the true Assistant Regional manager, and his breath hitched. All that came from his lips was a slightly strained “uh” as his gaze went from her hair to the short-sleeved navy blouse she was wearing, with two of the three buttons undone, then to her slightly above the knee black skirt. Now that was the sort of reaction she’d been silently hoping to elicit.

“They’re probably just checking you're not looking elsewhere.” It was only after she’d said it that Pam realised the fact that there was a double meaning in what she’d said.

“What?” His voice cracked, and the slight innuendo was obviously not lost on him. She swallowed a laugh, attempting to remain composed.

“Jobs. They might think that if you turned down such a good job, there must have been a reason.”

Once he had finished staring at the rest of her with somewhat disbelieving eyes, they resumed the previously held gaze, and he once again found his voice. “There was definitely a reason.” He uttered it so softly that she could only just hear him, and they smiled at each other.

“You can tell Wallace ‘yes’, by the way. I’m not planning on up and leaving this position anytime soon, like Josh did. It should at least be a bit of respite for him, if anything.”

“Makes two of us.” She murmured, and continued to smile as she went back to her desk.

Aware of how busy he was, Pam also continued working for a period of time, but quickly became bored, as it was an incredibly slow day. Unable to stop herself, she began to message him on the office’s Direct Message system before she could stop herself.

pbeesly: im glad you’ve decided to stay on here. though that goes without saying

pbeesly: because i happen to find assistant regional managers pretty sexy

From the corner of her eye, Jim, who had evidently done all his work for the day within the span of two or three hours, eagerly shot a message back to her.

jhalpert: ill let dwight know, he’ll be flattered

pbeesly: and just like that, my attraction has disappeared into thin air 

jhalpert: i see…anything i can do to rectify this?

pbeesly: come over tonight?

jhalpert: hmm. yes, i think i can manage that. anything else?

Pam considered this for a little while, pretending to be flicking through some copies as her mind travelled through the possibilities she could reply with. The old Pam would play it safe naturally, probably saying something along the lines of ‘bring food’ or, more likely, the joke answer of ‘maybe if you can get through the evening without mentioning ideas for pranks’. But that was just so insipid, and she found that if she always played life safe, she wouldn’t get anywhere. She hadn’t played it safe when she’d made the decision to break up with Roy, to make a fresh start in her own apartment, when she’d written the note for Jim’s interview, along with the medal. And now, she was reinventing herself, and honestly felt much better for it. Perhaps this would cement how he saw her now, in a newer light.

So that’s how she came to the answer that she eventually gave.

pbeesly: let me sit on your face?

She deleted the message as soon as he had read it, snorting quietly to herself as she watched his eyes widen and his mouth drop slightly. Admittedly, it was even funnier to observe as he glanced over his neck to see if anyone had also borne witness to this insane response, lips pressed together. His fingers typed faster than she’d ever seen them do before, and it brought her mind back to the conversation they had had about how many words they both typed per minute. This definitely broke both of their records, as Jim worked away at the keyboard as if his life depended on it.

jhalpert: okaaay wasn’t expecting that, ill be honest

jhalpert: unfortunately i have recently become a man of the church and have been celibate for the past three years

pbeesly: somehow i doubt that

He glanced at her, eyebrow raised.

jhalpert: what are you insinuating? 

pbeesly: nothing at all ;) so is it a yes, or are you trying to preserve your chastity and good name for as long as possible?

jhalpert: i think i can dip into my salacious side once in a while

pbeesly: i feel the same

jhalpert: oh, i can tell

He shot her a wink, eternally grateful for the cameras being on a break for the summer, before opening a new tab to get on with some well-earned Solitaire.

From that day forward, she maintained her new style of dress at work. And the confidence that came with it.

***

It translated into more than surface level appearance. When he stripped her naked at the end of several work days, his eyebrows raised— and not just because he was still bowled over at the fact that he was in that position, able to see her at her most vulnerable. It was because she had even bought new bras and underwear to match her revamped aesthetic— it was still nothing too over the tops. But the old bras that were once white had gone beige as the years had passed, and though she knew he loved her regardless of what she wore or didn’t wear, it was nice for both of them. 

Kelly had persuaded her to go to Victoria’s Secret the weekend following that fated Monday, and she had relented, with the desire to surprise both of them. Saturday evening, she was over at his place, and was desperate to show him what she’d purchased without jumping his bones the minute he arrived. 

Jim appeared incredibly blind to these advances, and it was only when she put her feet directly in his lap from the opposite end of the sofa as they were watching a movie, that he actually took any note of what was happening. Her foot tapped very gently against his crotch, and he bit down on his lip, likely thinking it was just an accident. She did it a couple more times, taking note of the gradually forming bulge, until she simply paused the movie and said “Jim.”

He turned his head to look at her, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “Hmm?”

Rolling her eyes, she picked up the nearest throw pillow and chucked it lightly at him. “Come on. I thought I was the one who was bad at receiving signals.”

“What?”

“My foot is on your groin right now, and you're doing nothing about it.”

He scratched the back of his head, glancing down at her feet. “Am I supposed to? I thought you were just…resting them there.”

“I’m practically giving you a footjob.”

His nose wrinkled. “Ew.”

“Exactly.” A light giggle left her lips, and she shifted closer to him. “Although, to be fair. There’s no easy way to say ‘I want to have sex with you’ to someone. It’s just kind of awkward. Either people initiate it without speaking, which is awkward, or they try some flirty joke which makes you cringe. Which is even more awkward.”

Jim shrugged half-heartedly. “There is, actually. You tell the person ‘I want to have sex with you’.”

Pam laughed, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Oh yeah, like you’d ever say that. Before the first time we did it, you had to put a pillow on your lap because of how embarrassed you were.” 

“I wasn’t embarrassed, I was just…cold.” He wasn’t trying very hard to convince her as he chucked the throw pillow back at her, though she caught it.

She turned it over in her hands, considering this for a few seconds before putting it down. “Really? I thought it was pretty hot.”

As she shifted into his lap with another laugh, he sat back in amazement, both hands resting on her hips. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but I have to say I like it.”

“Well, this is Fancy New Beesly, Jim. I hope you like her.”

Visibly, he pretended to deliberate on this, before coming to a conclusive answer. “I’d have to say yes, yes I do.”

Not wanting to waste anymore time, she leant in and kissed him heartily, delving both hands into his hair with the full intention of messing it up. Although she appreciated his attention to detail when it came to foreplay, she was currently desperate to impress him, so she immediately ground herself against him, though this proved fatal as she accidentally moaned quite loudly, pulling her lips from his.

“Holy fuck.” 

“What?” He questioned breathlessly. His hair was pointing in all different directions, and if she wasn’t so turned on she would take a moment to laugh at the spectacle.

“I’m wearing a thong, along with jeans, and I’m currently sat on your erection. It’s like triple heaven for me right now.”

Instantly, his eyebrows pricked up. “I’ve heard stories about women and the inseam of their jeans, so I won’t question that. But I thought thongs were uncomfortable?”

“What, like you’d know?”

“Hey, I’ll try anything once.”

“Shelve that for another time.”

“I will. I’m more interested in seeing this thong.”

“That’s not all.”

When he cocked his head to the side inquisitively, she reached down and pulled at the hem of her shirt, and he immediately gave her help, mad with curiosity. Once the shirt had been discarded, now in a disgruntled heap near the coffee table, Jim once again struggled to remember how to breathe when he saw the bra she was wearing. It was lacy and white, with black bows adorning the end of both straps, and a slightly larger bow in the valley between her breasts.

Jim breathed out slowly, not clocking the fact that his mouth was hanging wide open. “This is definitely new.” He managed to get it out after a while, having remembered that he had a voice.

For a moment Pam found herself somewhat bashful again, almost reverting to Old Beesly’s vaguely prudish nature. Her fingers fiddled with the buttons on his polo shirt as she avoided his gaze. “Don’t get used to it. Being a woman is expensive.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “If that’s the case, I won’t make any comments about ‘ripping it off you’. Plus it’s not my style to say that, I’d find it embarrassing and start laughing.”

She chuckled, thinking about the fact that Roy would have definitely spat out a line like that. “That makes two of us. But seriously, I appreciate that. It’s somewhat impractical, but looks good.”

“Can’t argue with that.”

“I wish I could argue with the cost.”

He ran a hand up her bare arm, as it had gained some goosebumps from the new exposure to air. “Well, I’d definitely fund this. And your art supplies.”

It was important to her that he should mention her art too, and her heart swelled. “I’d like that in writing.”

“Only issue is that it could be considered prostitution, upon further inspection.”

She laughed, pressing her head against his. “The first bit, maybe. But the second bit, I don’t think so. You’d be a Patron of the Arts.”

“Hmm. I like that. Especially since the artist is this beautiful.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag—” at this point his lips were on her neck, and it was Pam’s turn to lose her voice as her words drifted off into nothing but soft moans.

As she undid her jeans, she locked eyes with him again. “You’ll be pleased to know the aforementioned thong matches the bra.”

Jim’s lips turned up into a grin, and shook his head a little. “You really are the best.”

“I know, right?”

***

She became more confident in her art, too. With Roy, she’d often hide her art supplies for fear of him tripping over them and kicking up a huge storm. And although she obviously kept them tidy, since it was her own apartment and she didn’t want clutter, Jim never complained if her pencils were scattered across a counter, or if her watercolour set was peeking out from under the coffee table. It was nice.

So, Pam took it upon herself to draw or paint when they were together. She’d often sit in his lap to do this— she sat in his lap often, in a sexual nature or otherwise. As it turned out, Jim was big on physical contact, sexually or otherwise. So he’d either wrap an arm around her waist to watch her, or he’d rest his head on the back of hers and close his eyes for a little while. 

“Isn’t that uncomfortable?” She’d asked him once with a small grin, as she’d taken a small break to sharpen a couple of pencils.

“No,” he mumbled, sounding as if he’d actually been somewhat drifting off to sleep, “because it’s you I get to do this with. It’s worth the sore neck.” 

This surprised her, though she wasn’t sure why at first. She was so used to him having a smart quip to most things people said, that these small words of love got to her, and Pam had to blink away the beginnings of tears. Another realisation dawned on her as she resumed cross-hatching an area of her current drawing— it wasn’t the kind of thing that Roy would ever say. Or something that he’d even do in the first place. And as much as she hated making comparisons between the two of them, as it was seldom helpful, she had to admit to herself that there was more than a modicum of truth behind it.

“Sorry,” he said after a few moments, lifting his head and running a hand through her hair, “was that as totally lame as I now realise it sounded?”

“No. Well, yes, to some extent, but probably only to people who have no sense of what real romance looks like.”

“I don’t claim to be some kind of renaissance poet, but…I think I see your point.” They both silently understood that they were talking about Roy, or people with a similar romantic viewpoint.

However, this got her thinking. Maybe a more romantic approach would be an interesting path to take when it came to what she chose to sketch, and additionally paint. Her mind wandered to various different angles, and ultimately she decided to shift away from still life, for the time being. Not only did the nature of what she was sketching shift, but also the colours she used, becoming more vibrant here and there. 

Her art teacher took note of this, as although most of her art class consisted of the mandatory still life that had become her main focal point, Pam also liked to show her various other pieces she did outside of class.

“I hope you won’t mind me saying this, but you seem a lot happier these days.” Her teacher admitted one evening, after the end of the class, as Pam was showing her the latest watercolour piece of two hands half laced together, slightly reminiscent of The Creation of Adam. 

After a moment, Pam allowed herself a soft sigh. “I feel it, too. It’s this guy. He’s…really, really great. I mean, he’s made me feel so much better about myself, but I…I think it’s also me. I think it’s down to the person I’m trying to become. More confident, more comfortable in my own skin.”

“And it shows in your art. You know,” she said, gently pushing the piece away, “you should consider doing a bigger piece. Don’t get me wrong, these are great, but I think you’d do well with a bigger piece. Sure, it’d take longer, but I think it’d be more fruitful in the end.”

“You might be right.”

“I think you should pursue this more romantic aspect as well. It’s clearly making you happier, you're producing these pieces at lightning speed. Not to mention they’re incredibly quality.”

Suddenly, it was as if a lightbulb had gone off in her head, and Pam sat up straighter, shoulders pushed back. “I’ve just had an idea for what I can do.”

A genuine smile spurred her on further with her idea, along with her teacher’s response. “Well, I can’t wait to see it come to life.”

***

Her teacher was right. It would take much longer to do these ‘bigger’ pieces. Almost immediately, she’d gone out and purchased a 24x36 sized canvas to enact her idea, underestimating just how fucking long a canvas of this size would take her to paint. Whenever Jim came over she’d swiftly hide it, though he’d always whine about it.

“Why not? Aren’t I worthy?” He asked one evening, as they were making dinner.

“Of course, silly. But it’s taking me ages, it’s not finished and it’s a surprise. So you definitely can’t see it yet.” She informed him from the living room, plumping the pillows on her sofa.

“Is it so mind-bogglingly impressive that an uncultured oaf such as myself couldn’t begin to comprehend it?” He ventured, and she rolled her eyes, throwing the pillow in her hand at his back. It bounced off his arm, and he turned around, laughing as she spoke. “Did you not hear me or something? I said it’s not finished.” 

“Why do you always throw pillows at me?”

“Because,” Pam explained, walking into the kitchen, “I hope one day I’ll be able to fluff some sense into you.”

“You’ll be waiting for that day for some time.”

“I have the same worry. Look, you can see it when it’s complete.”

“Do I get first dibs on buying it when you inevitably become a famous artist, like Frida Kahlo?”

“Ha, I wish.”

Jim considered this for a little bit. “I like her art. I remember at school when they showed us The Two Fridas. I thought it was a good examination of her having to cut ties with her Mexican identity as a result of being thrust into an American environment. Struggling to maintain her identity as a result, that kind of thing.”

“That’s right.” She sounded impressed, and he shot her a look before beginning to dice some carrots. “What? Just because I’m lazy doesn’t mean I’m uneducated.”

“No, I know. I’m proud of you.” She wrapped her arms around his waist, and he laughed softly.

Once again, the thought of Roy invaded her mind, as he’d likely just peg Frida Kahlo as ‘the one with the unibrow’, which undermined her art and legacy entirely.

“Well. If you think that’s a little unrealistic, then I guess you’ll just have to settle for killing me for my money then burying me in my own back yard.” Pam released his waist, rolling her eyes again.

She reached out and, without thinking, shoved a carrot in his mouth to stop him from talking, which surprised him so much that he almost choked on it, causing her to cackle. “Sorry!”

“Starting the black widow plans early, huh?” Jim accused her with a faux shocked expression, once he’d removed the carrot from his mouth.

“I didn’t think you’d actually choke on it.”

“That’s what she said. So, you just accidentally shoved the carrot all the way down my throat?”

“A little hyperbolic.”

“You're lucky I don’t know what that means.”

“Seriously? Did you miss that day of eighth grade English?”

“I was probably too busy thinking about what other artists I could learn about in order to impress my future girlfriend.”

“You're nothing if not goal-driven.”

“So are you, except your goal is to bump me off.”

***

Though it took roughly a month and a half of diligent continuous work, Pam finally completed the piece on Friday night. She stepped back to admire it, wiping her warm forehead— although getting a smudge of navy blue paint on her forehead in the process. She thought about inviting Jim over right at that moment, until she realised just how late it was. Nevertheless, she grabbed her phone and began to type out a message to him.

‘Hey, are you awake?’

‘Yeah, I was just about to go to bed. Why? You alright?’

‘Yeah :) I was just wondering if you wanted to come over tomorrow?’

‘Sure, it’ll have to be a little later though. I have a basketball game at ten.’

‘At Crowley Park?’

‘That’s right. Anytime after 12:30 should work for me. Then I can come over? :)’

‘Sure :) See you tomorrow xx.’

She paused, thinking this through for a couple of seconds, before an idea popped into her head. She grinned, deciding to finally head to bed after so much lost sleep over what was currently her magnum opus.

***

“Shit, shit, shit!”

As she frantically threw on a jacket, Pam not so silently cursed herself for oversleeping. So much for making a good impression on Jim’s basketball friends— showing up to his game incredibly late would not score her major girlfriend points. She was in such a hurry that she only had time to put on some hasty mascara and some even swifter lipgloss, before setting off on what would hopefully be a quick journey. At least she’d had time to put in her contacts, even if she’d made a pretty poor job of it.

It was five to eleven when she finally arrived, out of breath thanks to the walk from her faraway parking spot to the basketball court. Pam looked at the crowd of men on the court, heart thumping, praying that she was in the right place and that he was there. There was no way to discern by height, since almost every man on the court was over six foot, but she finally spotted his unruly mop of hair and thin body near the hoop— he had possession of the ball. She clasped her hands together and observed as he managed to skilfully dodge a taller man, sliding past him with a move not unlike the one he’d done on Roy a few years ago during the office basketball game. He shot the ball up, and it slipped through the net with no issue. There were both cheers and grumbles from the rest of the men, as Pam began to clap from somewhat afar.

Admittedly, there was a passing period of about ten seconds as she pondered what to do. The men continued on with their game, not taking much note of her— even Jim, who was fully focused on the game as it continued on. Still, if she didn’t say something, then there’d be no point of her coming along to support him. Without much regard for how awkward she’d probably be, Pam decided to take the plunge.

“Jim!”

At once he turned to face her, instantly able to recognise her voice. An immediate grin spread across his face, and she was so overwhelmed with excitement at seeing his smile that she gave him a wave. He gave a gentle wave back. “Hey, Beesly—” 

The ball suddenly smacked into the side of Jim’s face, and there was a collective gasp from the court. “Shit! Sorry, Jim.” The perpetrator called, rushing over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “You alright, man?”

Jim rubbed at his cheek, which was gradually turning bright red from the force of the ball. Despite it all, he was laughing softly, even if it was only to mask the pain. “Yeah, it’s all good. Just got a little distracted there.”

“I think we should make that half time.” The tallest of the bunch suggested, and they all nodded in agreement. “Yeah, take a few minutes, Jim. Go see your girl.” After another pat on the shoulder from the man who’d accidentally hit him, Jim jogged over to Pam at the edge of the court, who was wincing on his behalf.

“Hey.”

“Hi…sorry I almost got you killed. Again.”

He laughed, and she reached up to gently rub her fingers against the affected cheek. Automatically, he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes for a couple of seconds.

“Are you okay, baby? Do you need an ice pack?” She spoke in her softest sincere voice, and he visibly perked up at the use of the endearing nickname. He waved a dismissive hand. “No, I’ll probably be okay. Don’t worry about it, I’ve had worse. Way, way worse.”

“Like when Roy elbowed you in the face?” She offered, removing her fingers, but he shook his head, not even flinching at the use of his name.

“Mm, that’s still not my worst. I’ve taken so many bumps to the nose over the collective years, no wonder it’s so big.”

“No complaints from me.” She said with a grin, and he looked away, blushing for reasons that had nothing to do with the damage to his face. “So, is your team winning?”

“No. But I appreciate you coming regardless, even if it means you have to watch me suffer a tremendous defeat.” Jim went over to the nearby bench and picked up his water bottle, chugging from it heartily. Pam gazed at him, taking note of how good he looked, if a little dishevelled— fringe stuck to his warm forehead, cheeks tinted red, personalised basketball jersey adorned with ‘HALPERT’ clinging to him. Her eyes travelled further down, past his exposed arms and neck.  Even his leg hair was strangely appealing. Now that was a bizarre revelation. How the fuck could he make leg hair sexy? It was a modern mystery. He looked so damn good, there would now be two reasons to bring him back to her place. The thought of a sweaty Jim Halpert pressed against her was such an enticing thought, yet there was still another half of this game to be played.

Evidently, he took note of her gawking at him, as he smirked at her once he’d finished most of his water. “Everything alright there, Beesly? Seen something you like?” Fuck, how could he manage to be so seductive with only eight words?

“You could say that.” She murmured in response. It was only now that she saw him not-so-subtly gazing at her chest, as she was wearing a tank top beneath her jacket, and she knew herself well enough to comprehend that she was well-endowed in that department. “And yourself?”

His brow raised a little, though he was obviously not sorry he had been caught. “How could you blame me? But, uh.”

“What?”

“You have paint on your forehead.”

“What? Seriously? Dammit.” She frantically attempted to wipe it away with her jacket, but given Jim’s face, it didn’t appear to be very helpful.

“Just as bad as each other, it would appear.” He motioned towards his sweaty figure.

“Don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.” Pam looked past him at the other guys, who were occasionally glancing at the pair. “One of the guys called me ‘your girl’. Just how much have you told them about me?”

“Oh, this and that.” He replied, smooth as butter. 

“Wish I had some friends to talk to about my love life.”

“Thought you had Isabel? And your sister, of course.”

She hadn’t brought up Isabel that much to him, so she was somewhat surprised he could recall her name. “Yeah, I do. But we don’t meet up that often. We don’t have an excuse to, like basketball games.”

“Maybe you could arrange to meet up more often?” Jim suggested, lifting his foot up and resting it on the bench to do up the laces of one of his shoes. “Under the guise of art. Like, you all do some kind of drawing and see who does the best rendition. You know, so you can show off to them. If I was as skilled as you, I’d probably be showboating all the time. Or, failing that, you can all just get drunk whenever you feel like it. Under the guise of gossip and alcohol being awesome.”

She laughed, the compliments he had delivered not going amiss. “I will definitely have to consider that.”

“Good to know. Look, I’m going to have to get back to my team. I’ll talk to you again when the game’s over.” He took her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it softly. She grinned, and for a moment they became the only two people in the world. It was reminiscent of their first kiss— not casino night, but the Chili’s kiss, the one which Jim had recounted to her several times recently, though she had been so drunk she didn’t really recall it. Despite the people surrounding them, it felt like they had the power to escape from the physical world, even if just for a few seconds.

She took a seat on the bench, offering her warmest smile to any of the guys who looked at her. At last the game resumed again, and Pam watched on politely. It appeared that even Jim couldn’t make a sports game interesting, but she’d still make an effort for him. Plus, getting to ogle him the entire time wasn’t entirely without merit. 

At one point the ball fell out of play, slipping just past someone’s fingers and ultimately towards the bench she was sat on. Thankfully it had lost its momentum by the time it got over to her, gently bouncing off her ankle. She picked it up somewhat awkwardly, getting up to head closer to the court and hand it to the man whose fingers it had almost brushed against. 

“Thanks, uh…Pam, is it?” The man was so tall she felt absolutely minuscule, which was impressive considering she was a decent height for a woman. 

“That’s right.” She gave what she hoped was her friendliest nod, which included a grin. 

As she made her way back to her seat, she heard the man murmur something to Jim. Fortunately, she caught it. “She’s cute. Real cute.”

Although she had her back turned to him as she made her way back to her seat, she could hear the smile in Jim’s voice as he responded with “I know.”

She’d been called cute many times before, or even adorable, but hadn’t really considered it until now. ‘I guess I am kind of adorable.’ It wasn’t very often Pam allowed herself such flowers.

The game went on. She gradually managed to piece together who was on Jim’s team, and gave a small whoop every time one of them scored, including the two more times that Jim himself sank the ball in again. Another injury was sustained by the aforementioned tallest man there, who tripped over another guy’s ankle and ended up scraping his knees decently badly. He went off, ending up sitting down next to Pam on the bench for a few minutes as he used a pack of tissues to wipe off some of the blood.

Pam decided to cut through the silence after an incredibly difficult minute of silence. “Are you alright there? Do you need a hand? I probably have another pack of tissues in my car. Might be covered in lint, though.”

He offered her a kind smile, and she deciphered he was most likely the Gentle Giant type. “Nah, I’m good. There’s no point pausing the game when there’s not much longer left.” It was impressive how he didn’t even wince as he dabbed at his knee. “Anyway, this isn’t the worst I’ve ever gotten. I have a five-inch long scar on my elbow from a game we played last winter. It was dumb, but one of the guys suggested we play in fucking freezing conditions. ‘For the Hell of it’. That being said, was a pretty fun game.” He paused to get a new tissue from the pack, and looked at her again. “It’s good to finally meet you, Pam. I’m actually Jim’s cousin, Evan.”

“Explains the height.” She said without thinking, making Evan chuckle. “He’s one of the little ones in the family, actually.”

“That’s pretty crazy.” She thought about it some more, then realised he’d brought up a cousin a few times; though not as much as his equally-prankster brothers. And the more she looked at this man, she could note the subtle resemblances, such as similar shades of eye colour and decently sized noses— though that could also be put down to the series of games over the years. “It’s not so bad at work when I sometimes wear heels, but everytime I take them off I feel tiny next to him.”

“You don’t really seem the heel type.”

“I’m not.” Small wave of realisation. “Though I’m wondering if you know that from him.”

Evan held up his free hand with a grin. “Ha, guilty. He finds a way to bring you up at almost every single game, I’m starting to wonder if you're a celebrity or something.”

The thought of this caused her to share a similar grin. “Good to know.”

“It’s not really my business, but I’m just glad you guys have patched all that stuff up. He had it bad for you, for a really long time. I felt for him. Anytime there was some kind of family get-together, almost all of us would have wives or fiancés, or at the very least a girlfriend. But he was always just standing there, alone. Or he’d swerve out of it at the last minute, probably to avoid the silent humiliation. But sometimes we’d go off alone— mostly to get away from his brothers, or our parents, and he’d always talk about you. And whenever he did, he’d kinda…light up. So even if he went to these gatherings alone, I don’t think he was alone in spirit. Or at least, that’s what he’d like to think.”

Uncontrolled, the back of her throat began to burn, the threat of tears looming on the horizon. “I hurt him. I know that. But it was complicated. Really complicated.”

“Hey, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. Or anyone, really. I know there was some damage done on both ends. But if you're happy together now, there’s not a lot of point dwelling on the past. Like I’m realising I did just now.” Evan laughed, somewhat ashamed as he shook his head. “Sorry. Little hypocritical of me there.”

“No, it’s fine. You have a good point.”

He nodded, choosing not to say any more about it. After a few moments, he got to his feet. “Gonna get back out there.”

“Good luck!” She called, spirits lifted even more by his words.

At the last few minutes, it was evenly tied, and in her mind, it was like something out of High School Musical, which she’d been bullied into watching by her sister. At the last few seconds, she watched with her heart pounding in her ears as Jim swiped the ball from the opposition and darted for the hoop, and without thinking she stood up, hands clasped together once again. “Go Jim!” Pam had promised herself she wouldn’t embarrass him while she was here, but ultimately found that she couldn’t restrain herself. There was a small change in his expression as he bent his legs and poised his arms to shoot, going from concentration to desperation. The ball left his hands and flew towards the hoop, and there was an agonisingly long pause as the ball travelled around the rim indecisively— before tipping to the favoured side and slipping in.  

There was a flurry of manly whoops and cheers from the court as they crowded round Jim, jostling him in a friendly manner to cries of “This guy!” “You're a fucking legend!” and “You the man!” Just guy stuff.

However, his biggest supporter was indubitably Pam, who rushed to him once the gaggle had gradually begun to dissipate. Once he’d locked eyes on her, he smiled brightly and put out his hand for a high five— only to be forcibly pushed back by Pam enveloping her arms around him, and kissing him fiercely. Though it took Jim a moment to steady himself, he readily accepted this, although he had been physically and mentally taken aback by her passionate action.

The whoops had started up again, including wolf whistles and enthusiastic clapping, even from the team who had lost. “About time.” She heard someone say, though it didn’t register as she was too caught up in Jim, and in the realisation that she didn’t give a damn if anybody saw her behave in this way. She was proud, so proud of him, so why shouldn’t she show it? Even in front of a group full of strangers, she found that she didn’t have a care in the world.

Eventually, it dawned on Pam that one of them would have to pull back before they fainted due to lack of oxygen intake, so she took the plunge. His lips were slightly swollen and also stained somewhat pink by her lip gloss, yet he couldn’t look happier. She placed her hands on his warm cheeks and squeezed them softly. “I’m so proud of you.”

“And it shows!” One of the guys called, followed by a chorus of laughter. At long last reality set in, and she was only hit with a small wave of embarrassment as she released his cheeks. The men began to filter away, some going to collect their water bottles and others filing off to the nearby bathrooms. Jim, who was still trying to regain his breath, raised his eyebrows. “Looks like Fancy New Beesly has an alias. Fancy PDA Beesly.”

“Was it too much?” She questioned, playing with her jacket sleeve as she avoided his gaze. “I’m starting to think it was. I was just happy for you, that’s all. God, and in front of one of your family members, too.” An Old Fashioned Beesly mentality began to wane in again, and her brow furrowed. Her head lifted again as he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Pam, that was…well, it was hot, if I’m totally transparent. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Anyway, none of them have totally awesome girlfriends who come to their basketball games, even Evan. So in all categories today, I have officially won.”

These words lifted her spirits once more, and the corners of her lips turned up. “There’s one more way you could win today.”

“I wonder what it could be?”

She paused, considering this. “Two, actually.”

The faux-confusion act faltered, and subsided into real bemusement. “Two?”

“I’ll show you what I mean. Follow me back to my place.”

***

The minute they both got through the door, the frantic make out session resumed, initiated entirely by Pam. Her hands roamed through his hair desperately, messing it up even more than previously, and it became so passionate that it resulted in Jim being pushed against the front door and banging the back of his head on it.

Pam pulled her lips from his, momentarily mortified as one hand went to the back of his head to rub it. “Shit, sorry, are you alright?”

He blinked a couple of times, chuckling. “Second injury of the day. At least  this one’s in a sexual context, and I get something out of it. Still winning in my eyes.”

“If the first injury had given you a boner, I’d be very concerned right now.” She argued, and he nodded thoughtfully. “You and I both.”

Despite the temporary setback, they resumed the action, Pam pushing her body right up against his and trailing her other hand up his basketball jersey. He reached out to take hold of her wrist gently, an apologetic look in his eye as he pulled away. “I’m very sweaty right now.” He warned her, almost bashfully. Like it was something to be ashamed of. There was a short moment in which Pam could make the case of roles being reversed, with Jim taking on the part of the shyer participant, all the while she was more enthusiastic. 

She cocked her head to the side. “Oh, trust me, I know. It’s weirdly sexy. I kind of want to lick you.” Why on Earth did she admit that? While Pam herself couldn’t quite comprehend it, the glint in Jim’s eye told her he wasn’t dead against it. Though it was also temporary, and swiftly reason overtook him. “I honestly wouldn’t advise it. I don’t think I’d taste amazing.”

Realising he wouldn’t want to do anything while slicked with sweat, she nodded, releasing him. “Understood. I’ll let you shower. Then I have to show you something.”

“Is it more lingerie? Because then, I’d definitely be winning.” Jim called over his shoulder as he made his way to her bathroom.

“Nope. But I think this is a pretty big win.”

“I look forward to it.”

***

Pam was pacing the floor of her bedroom as she looked too and from the door to her painting. The shower had audibly just been turned off, and there was a short pause and some puttering about in the bathroom before Jim called out to her.

“Do you mind if I use one of your towels?”

“No, I want you to walk around naked and get water all over my floor. Yes, of course you can.” The sarcasm had admittedly been brought upon by her slight panic, but she heard him laugh regardless.

Once again her gaze fell upon the painting. Obviously, it was only now that she saw everything wrong with it, all the flaws that could only be brought about by fervent worry. What if he didn’t like it? What if it brought back all the worst memories for him? Evan had said it himself, it was a dark period of Jim’s life, so why would he ever like something that only made him feel worse—

“Beesly?” The hallway. “Are you in there?” Just outside her room. “Am I allowed in?” Probably lingering against the door.

“Yes.” Her voice cracked, and she pushed aside how much she cringed at the sound of it. “Um, yeah. But cover your eyes, please.”

He did as requested as he entered, clad in only a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was still dripping wet and slicked back, and it took every ounce of her will to not rip the towel off and forget all about her shitty painting. “Are you going to ask me to open my mouth? Because the last time someone asked me to do that, a clump of dirt ended up in my mouth. I think there might have been a worm in it. Something was wriggling, and I don’t think most normal rocks wriggle—”

“No.” She cut him off, laughing. “Nothing like that. Just come forward a bit. Little more…yes. Okay, you can look now.”

Excited, though still somewhat confused, Jim pulled his hand away from his eyes. Once he’d focused on what was before him, his mouth dropped open, and his brow furrowed.

“Pam, it’s…” he stared at it for just under half a minute, speechless. 

When he said nothing, she tried to fill in the gaps for him.

“It’s not great, I—I know that. I got the camera crew to give me a hand for still images. But it’s my first piece as big as this, and I probably chose the wrong type of paint for this kind of canvas which is why it looks a little washed out, and I think got the proportions for your height a little bit wrong, and I think I chose the wrong shade of blue for parts of my dress, but…”

When he didn’t cut her off from her ramblings, she stared up at him, hands wringing frantically as she tried to make sense of his reaction.

“Jim? Please say something. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you. It’s probably really fucking stupid, looking back on it. I mean, why would you want to look at a painting that reminds you of what is probably one of the worst moments of your life, right? I mean, after this moment, everything went completely wrong for—”

“Pam, it’s incredible. It’s…really amazing.” When at last he spoke again, he was slightly breathless, and afterwards he pressed his lips together, eyes shiny. 

“Shit, I’m sorry, please don’t cry.” She put her head on his bare shoulder, and he turned after a couple of seconds, shaking his head. “Beesly, I’m not crying because you made me mad or upset me. I’m crying because it’s so beautiful, and I can’t put it into words. Hey, look at me.” He bent down a little bit to meet her level, cupping her cheek with his large hand. “Pam, the truth is, I wish I was a little smarter sometimes so I could choose the right words to compliment something this fucking incredible. I’m…I’m aware I act like I know everything sometimes, but I don’t. If I knew everything, I’d know how to properly give this the praise it deserves.”

She locked eyes with him, and found that they were both being threatened with tears. “Sometimes, you don’t need words. Actions are much louder.” It was her turn to take a moment, before making one of the biggest confessions of her life. “Whether or not you truly believe this, you made me a better person, Jim Halpert. Stronger. And I guess I wanted to dedicate something to you. Or rather, to us. I wouldn’t be where I am today in terms of self belief if I didn’t have you right beside me, loving me regardless of the mistakes I might make.”

He pressed his lips to her forehead for a long while, before pulling away ever so slightly, his voice little more than a whisper. “I’ll always love you. Even if this moment is being entirely underplayed by the fact that I’m standing here in just a bath towel.”

She laughed out loud, wiping her eyes as she reached out and took him in her arms. He delved a hand into her hair and wrapped the curls around his fingers, holding her close. “Thank you.” He said softly. “You're amazing. And I wouldn’t be where I am today if it wasn’t for the fact that I have you beside me.”

This elicited some doubt within her, and Pam pulled back, holding onto his shoulders again.

“Where is that, then? Still in Scranton, working the same shitty job you’ve been doing for ages now?”

“I don’t care about that. I meant I wouldn’t be truly happy without you.”

“I can think of another way I can make you truly happy.” Her hands left his body as she seated herself on the edge of the bed, making direct eye contact with his crotch. He laughed, rubbing his neck as he moved closer to her.

In one swift motion, she reached out and ripped the towel away, trying to hold back her grin and failing. She looked up into his deep green eyes, then cocked her head in the most seductive manner she could manage. “Still winning?”

“You’d best believe it. And I’d say you are too.”

She unzipped her jacket and began to work on her tank top, not breaking eye contact. “Mm, well, I certainly am now.”

Even after the move to Austin, the painting of the unforgettable kiss that took place on that fateful Casino Night stayed in their bedroom. And whenever Cece would ask about it, regardless of whether they were in a fight or if everything was going perfectly fine, Pam would smile and answer with “it was the kiss that changed everything. For us, for him. And definitely for me.”