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Chapter 1 in a series of wedding fics. This is only my second "Office" fic, so I'm not sure how much of a grasp I have on the characters yet, but hopefully it's good.

For Unfold, because she's been bugging me to write it.
They’ve been “dating” for almost three years when he realizes that this is commitment. Not because he’s had any say in it, but just because it’s what happens when you wake up with pink lipstick smeared across your cheek every day for more than a week and you can’t remember the last time you had a night just-to-yourself. She starts making up excuses for him to spend time with her family, forcing him into awkward conversations with her parents. Eventually he reaches a point where he’s bought an x-box and she’s practically moved into his apartment and he really doesn’t have an excuse anymore. It’s commit or get out, kind of like his relationship with Dunder-Mifflin, and he gives in.

His proposal is nothing special. They’re at Poor Richards, Jim and Pam and Toby and Meredith and Creed and Oscar and Kevin are all there and no one’s really paying any attention to them. She’s already had three and a half drinks and he’s not even kind of sober. She’s leaning in really close and he just asks: “Marry me?”

And she screams and starts giggling and he resists the urge to plug his ears like Creed.

This is going to be the worst engagement ever.


Her parents are mad that he never asked their permission, but they get over it. They’re happy to see Kelly getting married—he hears her mother mutter “it’s about time” when they think he can’t hear them and he almost feels defensive.

All she talks about anymore is wedding plans. She pulls out a book full of patterns and dresses and flower arrangements. He starts to find scraps of fabric all over his apartment, little stray threads all over his clothes. He’s never seen her this excited, though. Not even when Jen and Vince confirmed their relationship or when Vanity Fair first published pictures of Suri Cruise. She drags Pam out to shop for dresses one weekend—he’d seen the look of horror on Pam’s face the one time Kelly mentioned a double wedding, but the thought passed and everyone relaxed—and they come home tipsy and laughing. “Oh My God, Ryan! We found it! The perfect dress!” she laughs and he kind of can’t believe he’s smiling.


Michael throws him a bachelor party and invites all the guys at the office. He gets so drunk he passes out and Jim has to drive him home. He regrets it the next morning because Kelly’s screaming so loud about place settings that he thinks his head is going to explode. He takes a couple aspirin and tries to remember what it was like to be in college, when he fucked around and never did any work.

Before he knows it they’re getting married. His parents have flown in from Boston with his kid brother, Drew (his best man), and Kelly’s sisters all look like miniature whores in the dresses she picked out for them. He has to admit she looks pretty coming down the aisle, though. Her make-up isn’t too heavy—“This is serious, Ryan, because I can’t overdo it or anything! What if I start to cry, I know I’m going to cry, I can’t cry if I’ve got mascara on!”—and her dress is beautiful. She’d decided not to go with a traditional Indian wedding. After all, Ryan is Catholic, though he hasn’t been to church since he graduated from high school. She wants to raise their children (“Oh, God, children,” he thinks) with Christmas and Easter dresses and he considers telling her that they don’t have to be Catholic, or even Christian, to celebrate Christmas, but he’s pretty sure this is really about a big white dress and a church wedding, so he says fine.

By the time she reaches him she’s already crying, big sloppy tears that are leaving trails down her cheeks. He brushes one away, and she sniffles, but it’s a happy sniffle. He doesn’t remember much of their vows, just that she cried right through them. When the priest says “you may kiss the bride” he does, and she tastes salty and sweet, not like their first kiss. That had just tasted hot and desperate.

They dance at the reception. He’s awkward, even though they took classes for three months, at her insistence, but she lost feeling in her toes years ago from too many pairs of high heels and it doesn’t really matter. She drinks too many glasses of champagne and when she’s laughing he thinks maybe he does love her, a little.

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