Basically Anyone That Is Awesome (The Office/Arrested Development, Kelly/GOB, R, INSANITY.)
Title: Basically Anyone That Is Awesome (The Fic That Gmail Did Not Want You To See.)
Author:kaitoujeanne & lingeringday
Fandom: The Office/Arrested Development
Pairing: Kelly/GOB
Rating: R (for cussin' and boozin' and stripper pants.)
Spoilers: Through Season 3 of the Office, and through 3 of Arrested Development to be safe.
Word Count: 1,969
Summary: Allison Jones casting is awesome.
Or Kelly decides to take a little vacation after her breakup with Ryan and have a little rebound sex.
a/n: Kati: I don't think we should be allowed to Gchat anymore. CLEARLY I AM INSANE.
Jeanne: KELLY/GOB KILLED MY GMAIL.
Disclaimer: Do not own characters, for which I am glad, because, hello, insane, and for which Jeanne is sad, because GOB should be her Valentine.
After Ryan breaks up with her, Kelly is, like, devastated. She named their stupid fictional baby already, and he just wants to throw that all away with a “Nobody. You and I are done.” Well fuck that. Kelly is going on a vacation. One really far away from Ryan effing Howard and all his crappy mccrapperstein ways. Someplace exotic, with really hot guys who will, like, bring her fruity drinks and help her not think about old what’s his face.
Turns out she can’t really afford exotic on a Dunder-Mifflin salary, so she goes to crash on the couch of her sorority sister who managed to get the heck out of Scranton. Kelly doesn't know how she did it, but whatever. It's not like she went to Stamford like Jim did, but all the way to LA, which, hello, is a big difference.
The point is, LA. Kelly's finally here, and okay, sure, all her LA fantasies clearly used to involve her and Ryan and like, George Clooney. And shopping on Rodeo while George Clooney held her bags. And then her and George Clooney making fun of Ryan. Followed by that one where she, George Clooney, and Ryan had a totally hot threesome. Right. And even though her sorority sister's got a baby (which omg! she has a baby! crazy!), she still knows where all the hot spots are and Kelly's 99.9% sure that she'll probably wind up in the background of someone's paparazzi shot, and that'll show YOU, RYAN HOWARD.
Of course, Ryan totally never read the gossip columns, at least not the really juicy ones with the paparazzi shots, so she'll have to forward the stupid thing to him, and that will kind of defeat the point. But whatever. She's here now, in LA, and maybe Tiffany could like, get a babysitter or shut that baby up for like two minutes so they could go out tonight and get Kelly laid. Because spending like 98% of her time thinking of Ryan stupidass Howard is not working for her.
So when Tiffany tells her to tilt back over the bar, close her eyes, and open her mouth and they're pouring salt and ice and tequila in there, and Tiffany's holding her hair, and then she sits up, sloshes it in her mouth quickly (because hello, blended margaritas are the best), and... there's a balding dude looking at her. Like he's never seen someone getting a margarita made in her mouth before. Which, hello? Happens all the time here. And also, balding? Ew. Like, how old is this loser anyway? And, like, why is he staring?
And he's wearing mandals.
Oh my god, he is wearing MANDALS.
...Doesn't he know the rules of FASHION? Of LIFE?
No, seriously, who is this loser and why is he staring?
He comes up to her, and oh my god, he talks to her. "My name's GOB," he says.
"What?"
"My name is GOB," he says again, "and I'm rich." Oh. Awesome. "Check out my five thousand dollar suit," he says, popping the lapels on his suit.
Tiffany is still holding onto her hair and gives it a tug like she's a pony (which, hello, Kelly is kind of busy talking to a dude in an expensive suit; maybe he bought that instead of hairplugs or official shoes, and besides, sometimes hairplugs look really awful, like when Michael had them first put in and Kelly is No Longer Thinking About Scranton Tonight), and Kelly shakes her hair out of Tiffany's hands and smiles. Besides, if he's got an expensive suit, that means he's probably out of business school (RYAN) and very successful (RYAN AGAIN) and besides, he lives in LA (EVERYBODY KELLY KNOWS EXCEPT TIFFANY AND HER BABY). Tiffany's trying to give her the Drinking Buddy Logic eye that says "Come on, no, girl, no," but Kelly is totally ignoring it.
"Seriously, Kelly? Okay, fine. I'm drinking over by that cute guy." Tiffany says, stomping off in a huff, which, like, god. What did Kelly ever do to her, other than run away from that little rat faced Ryan so they could go shopping and tanning and oh yeah, pick up cute boys together. Which Kelly supposes she's winning the race now (or maybe it's just that fifth margarita talking,) so maybe that's why Tiffany's so mad.
"Can I buy you a drink?" The dude (Jobe? whatever, he's rich, rich people have weird names like Eustace and Carlton (Fresh Prince was so awesome!) so whatever) asks.
"Sure, but I kinda want one in a cup this time," she says.
Johbé or whatever starts flapping his arms around and like, dancing. It takes her a minute to realize he's... bawking? Doing the chicken dance, maybe? In the middle of the bar? God. Rich dudes are totally weird. "Whatever. You're buying." She says, glaring at him until he stops dancing.
After some more drinks and what she thinks are failed magic tricks ("illusions!") he finally says the magic words: "Want to come see my yacht?" And okay, Kelly kind of hates boats unless there's lots of booze on them, but he just asked her to his yacht and this lame dude (who now kinda smells like lighter fluid) might actually be kind of awesome. Because oh my god yacht. If anyone was meant to see a strange (but very rich) dude's yacht after a night of drinking, it would be her.
"Come and take a ride on my automobile," he says, as Kelly looks around expectantly. Is he like, calling for his chauffeur to bring around the car? Does he have a remote-controlled automatic drive option that will bring the car to him? She looks over at Job, who is standing. On a Segway.
It says "Gob" on it, but whatever, his name is Joeb. Gob, like a gob of something or a goblet or gobble or whatever. He stands on it and holds his hand out to her. Oh well; at least it's not that staircar parked down the block.
It's weird, riding tandem on a Segway. But kind of fun. She can pretend she's like Bridget Jones with the wind running through her hair. Only she's got it in a ponytail (thank god she always has a ponytail tie in her purse, if there’s one thing being in a sorority taught her (besides how to do shots without barfing and getting laid,) it’s always be prepared. You never know when some rich dude is going to take you via open air vehicle to his yacht.) so she won't end up looking like a freakshow by the time they get to his yacht. Ha. Take that, Ryan.
So. The yacht isn't as swanky as was unspoken-promised. It looks like a college guy's bachelor pad which, granted, has been fine in the past, but this guy is past college years (hello, receding hairline!) and it's looking more like he's just using it as a place to crash. Because maybe he doesn't have a house. Maybe it's being remodeled or something; there's stuff about Bluth Construction lying here and there, so ideally he's just doing what he can while his super-awesome mansion is having a helipad and/or swimming pool put in. (The swimming pool has a cover so, if necessary, it can become a helipad. California real estate is expensive!)
Whatever. It's not like it matters anymore. The important point is that he. Joefl. Whatever. is not Ryan. And the fact that he's put on Justin Timberlake as mood music (despite an unfortunate stopover on some completely random Kermit inspired song- "It ain’t easy being white?" Random.) is a definite plus in Kelly's book.
She squints at his pants for a moment, considering her options here. Do they really look like they're worth five thousand dollars? In fact, they kinda look like... "Are you wearing stripper pants?" she asks. (Her experience with stripper pants is fairly limited, but does involve Tiffany's bachelorette party, and ha on you, Tiffany, who's on the yacht now, bitch, see where your Drinking Buddy Logic got you, back with your SCREAMING BABY, and also? Thank God she didn't have to deal with this with Ben Franklin when he showed up.)
He whips them off with far too much ease. Yup. Stripper pants. "Now I'm not wearing any pants!" he declares.
She sighs as the CD flips over to SexyBack. Thank god for Justin. Does she have to do all the work around here?
"Shut up. I like you better when you don't talk," she says, as she pushes him down onto the (covered in unfolded laundry) bed. Which is funny, because someone in the office probably said something like that to her once, but whatever, they are thousands of miles away like teeny tiny little ants and teeny tiny little ants are not important right at this moment.
"Ay Caramba," he says as she stands in front of him with her hands on her hips. Which like, come on, Jerrb, she's Indian, not Mexican. He's starting to veer dangerously into Michael levels of stupidity, and if he did that, Kelly really could not sleep with him, no matter how rich he was. Kelly has, like, principles. So she straddles his waist (not like how she and he-who-will-not-be-named used to every night on the couch) and leans in and kisses him (not at all).
It's surprisingly over sooner than she expected, (only two and a half minutes of SexyBack, and she’s not ashamed she knows the song down to the second, it’s not like she used to make Ryan listen to it when they were having sex all the time, and two and a half “oh Goob, oh Goob, oh.”s before he comes) and he's suddenly gibbering in her arms about how his dad doesn't love him and his mom hates him and they always compare him to his brother Michael and he's also responsible for his other brother's hand getting eaten by a seal and Kelly has had enough of this nonsense.
"You get really girly after, don't you," she says as he curls up into a ball on his bed.
"No," he sobs.
From somewhere, Kelly hears The Final Countdown playing. "Did you turn the stereo back on so I wouldn't have to hear you cry? Because I'm totally right here, you know." He gulps back a sob and says no, and could she hand him his pants?
She chucks his pants back at him. "You'll have to put them back together yourself," she says, and then looks for the way out. There are no satisfying doors to slam, so she stomps up the steps and onto the pier as loudly as she possibly can. As she walks away, she can hear him answering the phone (oh, so that’s what that was. God, what a random ringtone.) saying, "Hello? Michael, hermano. I’m not really wearing any pants right now."
On the Next...
Kelly tries to rub her rebound sex in Ryan's face, but fails:
"...And his name was Goob and he was super-rich and had a yacht," Kelly says to Toby, who looks nonplussed (he always looks nonplussed).
"GOB, as in GOB Bluth?" Ryan says as he’s packing up his desk, and she totally did not want him to hear about this except for the part where she did.
"Sure, why not," she says, because clearly this dude is even more famous than she thought if stupid Ryan knows about him.
"Yeah, the Bluth family's in my business school textbooks... as the textbook example of what not to do."
"Oh, what do YOU know, Ryan Bailey Howard! You wouldn't know five thousand dollar pants if you saw them in your life!"
"Please... please stop talking about this in front of me," Toby says.
“And that’s...what she said,” says Ron Howard.
Author:kaitoujeanne & lingeringday
Fandom: The Office/Arrested Development
Pairing: Kelly/GOB
Rating: R (for cussin' and boozin' and stripper pants.)
Spoilers: Through Season 3 of the Office, and through 3 of Arrested Development to be safe.
Word Count: 1,969
Summary: Allison Jones casting is awesome.
Or Kelly decides to take a little vacation after her breakup with Ryan and have a little rebound sex.
a/n: Kati: I don't think we should be allowed to Gchat anymore. CLEARLY I AM INSANE.
Jeanne: KELLY/GOB KILLED MY GMAIL.
Disclaimer: Do not own characters, for which I am glad, because, hello, insane, and for which Jeanne is sad, because GOB should be her Valentine.
After Ryan breaks up with her, Kelly is, like, devastated. She named their stupid fictional baby already, and he just wants to throw that all away with a “Nobody. You and I are done.” Well fuck that. Kelly is going on a vacation. One really far away from Ryan effing Howard and all his crappy mccrapperstein ways. Someplace exotic, with really hot guys who will, like, bring her fruity drinks and help her not think about old what’s his face.
Turns out she can’t really afford exotic on a Dunder-Mifflin salary, so she goes to crash on the couch of her sorority sister who managed to get the heck out of Scranton. Kelly doesn't know how she did it, but whatever. It's not like she went to Stamford like Jim did, but all the way to LA, which, hello, is a big difference.
The point is, LA. Kelly's finally here, and okay, sure, all her LA fantasies clearly used to involve her and Ryan and like, George Clooney. And shopping on Rodeo while George Clooney held her bags. And then her and George Clooney making fun of Ryan. Followed by that one where she, George Clooney, and Ryan had a totally hot threesome. Right. And even though her sorority sister's got a baby (which omg! she has a baby! crazy!), she still knows where all the hot spots are and Kelly's 99.9% sure that she'll probably wind up in the background of someone's paparazzi shot, and that'll show YOU, RYAN HOWARD.
Of course, Ryan totally never read the gossip columns, at least not the really juicy ones with the paparazzi shots, so she'll have to forward the stupid thing to him, and that will kind of defeat the point. But whatever. She's here now, in LA, and maybe Tiffany could like, get a babysitter or shut that baby up for like two minutes so they could go out tonight and get Kelly laid. Because spending like 98% of her time thinking of Ryan stupidass Howard is not working for her.
So when Tiffany tells her to tilt back over the bar, close her eyes, and open her mouth and they're pouring salt and ice and tequila in there, and Tiffany's holding her hair, and then she sits up, sloshes it in her mouth quickly (because hello, blended margaritas are the best), and... there's a balding dude looking at her. Like he's never seen someone getting a margarita made in her mouth before. Which, hello? Happens all the time here. And also, balding? Ew. Like, how old is this loser anyway? And, like, why is he staring?
And he's wearing mandals.
Oh my god, he is wearing MANDALS.
...Doesn't he know the rules of FASHION? Of LIFE?
No, seriously, who is this loser and why is he staring?
He comes up to her, and oh my god, he talks to her. "My name's GOB," he says.
"What?"
"My name is GOB," he says again, "and I'm rich." Oh. Awesome. "Check out my five thousand dollar suit," he says, popping the lapels on his suit.
Tiffany is still holding onto her hair and gives it a tug like she's a pony (which, hello, Kelly is kind of busy talking to a dude in an expensive suit; maybe he bought that instead of hairplugs or official shoes, and besides, sometimes hairplugs look really awful, like when Michael had them first put in and Kelly is No Longer Thinking About Scranton Tonight), and Kelly shakes her hair out of Tiffany's hands and smiles. Besides, if he's got an expensive suit, that means he's probably out of business school (RYAN) and very successful (RYAN AGAIN) and besides, he lives in LA (EVERYBODY KELLY KNOWS EXCEPT TIFFANY AND HER BABY). Tiffany's trying to give her the Drinking Buddy Logic eye that says "Come on, no, girl, no," but Kelly is totally ignoring it.
"Seriously, Kelly? Okay, fine. I'm drinking over by that cute guy." Tiffany says, stomping off in a huff, which, like, god. What did Kelly ever do to her, other than run away from that little rat faced Ryan so they could go shopping and tanning and oh yeah, pick up cute boys together. Which Kelly supposes she's winning the race now (or maybe it's just that fifth margarita talking,) so maybe that's why Tiffany's so mad.
"Can I buy you a drink?" The dude (Jobe? whatever, he's rich, rich people have weird names like Eustace and Carlton (Fresh Prince was so awesome!) so whatever) asks.
"Sure, but I kinda want one in a cup this time," she says.
Johbé or whatever starts flapping his arms around and like, dancing. It takes her a minute to realize he's... bawking? Doing the chicken dance, maybe? In the middle of the bar? God. Rich dudes are totally weird. "Whatever. You're buying." She says, glaring at him until he stops dancing.
After some more drinks and what she thinks are failed magic tricks ("illusions!") he finally says the magic words: "Want to come see my yacht?" And okay, Kelly kind of hates boats unless there's lots of booze on them, but he just asked her to his yacht and this lame dude (who now kinda smells like lighter fluid) might actually be kind of awesome. Because oh my god yacht. If anyone was meant to see a strange (but very rich) dude's yacht after a night of drinking, it would be her.
"Come and take a ride on my automobile," he says, as Kelly looks around expectantly. Is he like, calling for his chauffeur to bring around the car? Does he have a remote-controlled automatic drive option that will bring the car to him? She looks over at Job, who is standing. On a Segway.
It says "Gob" on it, but whatever, his name is Joeb. Gob, like a gob of something or a goblet or gobble or whatever. He stands on it and holds his hand out to her. Oh well; at least it's not that staircar parked down the block.
It's weird, riding tandem on a Segway. But kind of fun. She can pretend she's like Bridget Jones with the wind running through her hair. Only she's got it in a ponytail (thank god she always has a ponytail tie in her purse, if there’s one thing being in a sorority taught her (besides how to do shots without barfing and getting laid,) it’s always be prepared. You never know when some rich dude is going to take you via open air vehicle to his yacht.) so she won't end up looking like a freakshow by the time they get to his yacht. Ha. Take that, Ryan.
So. The yacht isn't as swanky as was unspoken-promised. It looks like a college guy's bachelor pad which, granted, has been fine in the past, but this guy is past college years (hello, receding hairline!) and it's looking more like he's just using it as a place to crash. Because maybe he doesn't have a house. Maybe it's being remodeled or something; there's stuff about Bluth Construction lying here and there, so ideally he's just doing what he can while his super-awesome mansion is having a helipad and/or swimming pool put in. (The swimming pool has a cover so, if necessary, it can become a helipad. California real estate is expensive!)
Whatever. It's not like it matters anymore. The important point is that he. Joefl. Whatever. is not Ryan. And the fact that he's put on Justin Timberlake as mood music (despite an unfortunate stopover on some completely random Kermit inspired song- "It ain’t easy being white?" Random.) is a definite plus in Kelly's book.
She squints at his pants for a moment, considering her options here. Do they really look like they're worth five thousand dollars? In fact, they kinda look like... "Are you wearing stripper pants?" she asks. (Her experience with stripper pants is fairly limited, but does involve Tiffany's bachelorette party, and ha on you, Tiffany, who's on the yacht now, bitch, see where your Drinking Buddy Logic got you, back with your SCREAMING BABY, and also? Thank God she didn't have to deal with this with Ben Franklin when he showed up.)
He whips them off with far too much ease. Yup. Stripper pants. "Now I'm not wearing any pants!" he declares.
She sighs as the CD flips over to SexyBack. Thank god for Justin. Does she have to do all the work around here?
"Shut up. I like you better when you don't talk," she says, as she pushes him down onto the (covered in unfolded laundry) bed. Which is funny, because someone in the office probably said something like that to her once, but whatever, they are thousands of miles away like teeny tiny little ants and teeny tiny little ants are not important right at this moment.
"Ay Caramba," he says as she stands in front of him with her hands on her hips. Which like, come on, Jerrb, she's Indian, not Mexican. He's starting to veer dangerously into Michael levels of stupidity, and if he did that, Kelly really could not sleep with him, no matter how rich he was. Kelly has, like, principles. So she straddles his waist (not like how she and he-who-will-not-be-named used to every night on the couch) and leans in and kisses him (not at all).
It's surprisingly over sooner than she expected, (only two and a half minutes of SexyBack, and she’s not ashamed she knows the song down to the second, it’s not like she used to make Ryan listen to it when they were having sex all the time, and two and a half “oh Goob, oh Goob, oh.”s before he comes) and he's suddenly gibbering in her arms about how his dad doesn't love him and his mom hates him and they always compare him to his brother Michael and he's also responsible for his other brother's hand getting eaten by a seal and Kelly has had enough of this nonsense.
"You get really girly after, don't you," she says as he curls up into a ball on his bed.
"No," he sobs.
From somewhere, Kelly hears The Final Countdown playing. "Did you turn the stereo back on so I wouldn't have to hear you cry? Because I'm totally right here, you know." He gulps back a sob and says no, and could she hand him his pants?
She chucks his pants back at him. "You'll have to put them back together yourself," she says, and then looks for the way out. There are no satisfying doors to slam, so she stomps up the steps and onto the pier as loudly as she possibly can. As she walks away, she can hear him answering the phone (oh, so that’s what that was. God, what a random ringtone.) saying, "Hello? Michael, hermano. I’m not really wearing any pants right now."
On the Next...
Kelly tries to rub her rebound sex in Ryan's face, but fails:
"...And his name was Goob and he was super-rich and had a yacht," Kelly says to Toby, who looks nonplussed (he always looks nonplussed).
"GOB, as in GOB Bluth?" Ryan says as he’s packing up his desk, and she totally did not want him to hear about this except for the part where she did.
"Sure, why not," she says, because clearly this dude is even more famous than she thought if stupid Ryan knows about him.
"Yeah, the Bluth family's in my business school textbooks... as the textbook example of what not to do."
"Oh, what do YOU know, Ryan Bailey Howard! You wouldn't know five thousand dollar pants if you saw them in your life!"
"Please... please stop talking about this in front of me," Toby says.
“And that’s...what she said,” says Ron Howard.