Title: Three Movies Kelly Makes Ryan Watch.
Summary: This whole 'three things' thing is a lot of fun and gives me a lot of good ideas. The title pretty much is the summary. Duh.
Author's Note: I own none of the films mentioned in this fic and I do not own The Office, sadly. But my daddy might be buying me a "Free Ryan" tee shirt. Yay!
Oh and I posted a "extra scene" type thing on my LiveJournal; it's Ryan's list for Kelly. The link is on my profile, listed under my stories section. Be sure to check it out.
001.
Grease
Jesus, I hate this movie. My mom would watch it all the time when I was a kid. I could stand it then. When I was 10. But being 26, the cheesy lines and terrible songs are enough to give me a headache.
I tried to convince Kelly to pick another movie. Hell, I even sunk as low as to suggest the Notebook. But she had her mind set. And it took a lot to change it.
"Ooh, Ryan, I am so excited!" she says, bouncing slightly as she curls her feet comfortably underneath her. I shift slightly, resting my feet on the coffee table in front of me.
"It's just a movie," I say irritably, earning myself a dirty look.
She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Whatever. John Travolta's in it and he used to be so sexy. Then he got totally fat." She pulls a face but it quickly clears as the start menu appears.
I wince slightly as the cheesy beach scene starts and Kelly lets out a quiet, loving sigh. She cuddles next to me and I put my arm around her shoulders.
Half way through the film, she sits up, looking at me. "What?" I ask, meeting her gaze and wiping the spittle off the side of my mouth. I managed to stay awake for about 20 minutes.
"Why don't you ever sing to me?" she asks. "It would be so romantic, Ryan!"
I furrow my brow, leaning back slightly as to look at her better. "Kelly, are you serious?"
The look on her face confirms this.
"Kelly, come on, don't do this," I say, narrowing my eyes, hating when she played this stupid guilt game and tried to get me to do some fruity Prince Charming act.
"Do what?" she demands, turning her back completely to the movie. "I was just asking."
"Well don't."
She looks hurt and I know I've really screwed myself. She straightens up, tensing as I place my arm around her once more.
I attempt to give her a smile as we finish the movie but she ignores it, flipping off the TV and haughtily stalking to her room. I sigh, following along after her. I was spending the night, like I usually did on Friday, and I didn't think this would be changing.
She leaves her door open, so I assume that maybe she got over it. But we dress for bed in silence and she mutters a toneless goodnight as she climbs under her violet blankets.
The lights fall, and goddamn she can be so stubborn. I curl up a few inches away from her, watching her shoulders rise and fall gently.
"Kelly," I hiss after a moment of thought. She doesn't say anything but I hear her breathing catch slightly. Grimacing, I scoot closer, wrapping my arm around her.
"Are you still mad at me?" I ask in her ear, feeling her shiver at the feel of my breath against her skin.
"You aren't going to worm your way into sex, Ryan Bailey Howard," she mutters darkly.
I bite back my grin. "No, I'm not… not yet anyway."
She shoots a dirty look over her shoulder.
"Just don't be mad at me anymore, please," I say, kissing her neck.
She brushes it off, shutting her eyes tightly.
I sigh, nerves jumping in my stomach, knowing what I'd have to do.
"You're the one that I want," I sing, low and totally off key.
"Oh, oh, oh. You're the one that I want." My face flushes in the dark, but she shifts her body towards me, her eyes cracking open slightly.
"Baby, you're the one that I want, yeah." I don't even think she cares that I'm showing absolutely no excitement over this whatsoever. Her face splits into a sweet grin and she finishes singing with me.
"Oh Ryan, that was so beautiful!" she croons, reaching up and kissing me.
"Better then Travolta?" I ask.
She purses her lips.
"We'll work on it."
002.
Bridget Jones Diary
"No Kelly, we've seen this movie 10 times all ready. I refuse to watch it again."
Her face is pleading and eyes wide, but won't fall for it this time. "Ry, please!" she begs, grabbing my hands. "Just one more time."
"You said that about the Notebook, but I have that movie memorized thanks to you," I counter, giving her a look.
"I only did that so maybe you'd like, be inspired or something, and kiss me in the rain like Noah did," she says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, which it's totally not.
"So if I wear a crappy Christmas sweater, can we watch something else?" I ask hopefully.
The look on her face is nothing short of horrified. "No, Ryan, that is a way to get your ass dumped."
"Good to know," I say under my breath, but she hears me.
She glares at me, grabbing the DVD remote and pressing start. "I'm getting something to drink." She looks at me. "Don't change the movie," she adds before spinning on her heel and walking into the kitchen.
"Grab me a beer?" I call to her, resting my chin on the palm of my hand as I lean against the arm of the couch. I stare at the TV, hating how familiar the opening scene is. Renee Zellweger is king of hot, though.
I hear the clanking of dish wear ten minutes later, and I look up. Kelly's slowly walking into the room, a set of tea cups sitting nearly on a silver tray.
"Er, what is that?" I ask as she sets the tray on the coffee table.
"Tea, Ryan," she says, rolling her eyes. I stare at her. "You drink it."
I blink. "But… I wanted a beer," I say.
"Well, we're drinking tea tonight," she says firmly. "Like the British." She sits next to me, handing me my teacup. I take careful sip.
"Kelly, this is awful," I say, pursing my lips and looking at her.
She looks like she's forcing herself to drink her own tea. "Ryan, it's fine, just drink it," she says, swallowing hard.
I smirk slightly at the expression on her face, turning back towards the TV.
"Hand me the remote, mate?" Kelly asks after 15 minutes of silence. I reach forward before pausing and looking at her.
"Yes?" she asks, her voice dripping with a fake British accent.
I stare at her a moment and she gives me a sweet smile.
"Really, Kelly? " I ask. "A British accent?"
"Cheerio! You really should try it, it's quite fun!" I sit up.
"You're insane," I tell her. She pouts her lips.
"I am very well not! C'mon Ry, just try it. It's just fantastic!"
I clear my throat, fidgeting. "Er fine. Bloody hell!" I say, imitating Ron Weasley. She grins as I flush.
"Do it again!" she says, her face excited.
"Ok. Um… Righto, my good man!"
She giggles, tossing her head back. "Oh Ryan, you're so cute." She gasps for breath. "But that was terrible!" She falls over, shaking with laughter.
"Shut up and drink your tea," I mumble.
003.
10 Things I Hate About You
Her feet are nestled in my lap and she's stretched out on the couch, the look on her face calm and relaxed. It's a far cry from the hysterical episode an hour earlier over the heel she broke on her way up the stairs.
We're watching '10 Things I Hate About You.' I can stand this movie, somewhat. More then 'Love Actually' or 'Runaway Bride', anyway. The soundtrack's pretty good and there are some funny parts. Julia Styles is adorable, too, so that's a bonus. I don't tell Kelly this, though, because her broken heel would become a stake in my heart, she'd be sure of it.
She squirms and I look down at her. She has a pleased smile on her lips, dazedly looking up at Heath Ledger as if he was actually in the room. "How could someone so beautiful die so tragically?" she breathes. I suppress an eye roll, patting her leg consolingly.
"At least we have 'A Knight's Tale' and 'Brokeback Mountain' to remember him by," I say, not trying to hide the sarcasm from my voice.
"That's true," she replies knowingly. "Ooh!" she shrieks over my snickering, "I love this part!"
I look up, not that I need to anyway. It's the scene where Julia Styles reads her poem for Heath Ledger before bursting into tears and rushing out of the classroom.
Kelly lets out a sigh. "So beautiful," she whispers, like she's done the five other times we've watched this movie.
"Ryan!" she says suddenly, sitting up abruptly. "We should do that!"
I look at her quizzically. "Go paintballing? You never want to go paintballing."
"That's because I'm afraid we'll run into Dwight or something," she says, an exasperated look on her face. "And that's not what I'm talking about." She swings her legs off my lap, pushing herself off the couch and rushing into her bedroom.
I rub my eyes, sighing. I swear to God, if she's going to make me read 'Loving Your Partner: Sexual Therapy For Young Couples', I'm so out of here.
But no. She returns seconds later with two notebooks and some pens. She tosses a spiral onto my lap before dropping down next to me.
"You write a list of 10 things that you don't like that much about me and I'll do the same about you!" she seems oddly cheerful and optimistic about this idea.
I blink, staring at her. This is a trap, it has to be. I'll write a list and then she'll say I wasn't supposed to write anything because I should love everything about her. And then, there will be no action tonight for me.
But she's scribbling away and I figure I might as well just do it, so I begin writing.
She finishes her list before me and I find it irks me a little. Maybe she's just a fast writer or something.
"About time!" she says and I set my pen down. "I'll go first!"
She clears her throat, straightening up.
"One. You snore really loud."
I blink. "That's because of my sinuses!" I protest.
"Two," she says loudly, cutting me off. "I hate when you eat Doritos and then you kiss me. It's so gross."
She rushes on before I can say anything. "Three. I don't like when you get drunk and then leave me for your friends and then expect me to take you home and take care of you.
I bite my lip, fidgeting. She doesn't seem fazed by the bluntness of this statement.
"Four. I hate when you bring me Teen Vogue instead of Vogue like I ask."
"I did that once!" I interrupt, looking incredulously up at her.
"Twice. And I all ready have a Teen Vogue subscription. You got it for me for my birthday. And don't interrupt me; wait your turn." She glares at me. "Five. I hate when we go shopping and you spend the whole time texting, even when I try something on and ask you how it looks."
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. Why did I agree to do this?
"Six. I hate when you make me watch all the Harry Potter movies and then you spend the whole time comparing them to the books." She pulls a face. "You sound like Dwight."
"Seven. I hate how all the pictures I have of you, you're always frowning or looked pissed off."
I can't figure out if she's intentionally trying to hurt me or if she just possesses a child like honesty that breaks hearts quicker then sharp tongued insults.
"Eight. I hate how sometimes when you kiss me, it's just because you want to fool around and not because you want to kiss me."
"Nine. I really hate that thing you always want me to do in bed. It's so gross, Ryan." She gives me a look.
Yeah, I know what she's talking about. Damn.
"And ten. I hate how you don't look me in the eye when you tell me you love me."
Her voice cuts through me, the statement simple sounding but sadly heartfelt. She lowers her paper, an uncertain look on her face.
"Well, that was fun," she manages and I shift awkwardly. I take the paper from her hands, studying her bubble handwriting, so precise and clear.
"Kelly," I say slowly, setting the list aside. "Why are you with me?"
And my heart sinks, as she actually has to consider this.
"Well… you make me happy," she says carefully. "And you're so super cute. And you make me laugh."
I watch her. I want to crumple up her list.
"I'm sorry I'm not a better boyfriend," I mumble and she has a sad look on her face.
"Aw, I know. You're just a bit stupid when it comes to relationships!" She leans forward, holding my face, and kissing me on the mouth. "But I love you anyway."
"Yeah, I know," I say, smiling against her kiss and pulling her down onto me.