Nightmares Chapter 6/7
Title: Nightmares
Author: hobbitgrl
Spoilers: References up through "Documentary Filmmaking: Redux"
Rating: NC-17 (for serious)
Warning: There's serious angst here. I'm not being hyperbolic. Serious angst. There's also smut in future chapters. And angsty smut. And language.
A/N: Yeah...this was just a whole lot harder to wrap up than I ever dreamed so here it is. If I don't post it now it's never going to happen.
Word Count: 2,787
Disclaimer: I own no part of Community or it's awesomeness.
Chapter 1 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3543.html#cutid1
Chapter 2:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3758.html
Chapter 3:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3850.html
Chapter 4:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/4159.html
Chapter 5:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/4495.html
Chapter 7:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/6326.html#cutid2
Chapter 6
Jeff had no idea how long he and Annie stayed on the bathroom floor. At some point he remembered thinking surely he’d cried himself out? But once he started there was no stopping; years of anguish were pouring out of him-pain he’d long forgotten he carried-and he couldn’t even remember what started it or what he was crying about. Maybe it was about his father. Maybe it was about Annie. Maybe it was about himself. Maybe it was none of that or all of it.
Eventually he and Annie moved to her bed, her arms never leaving him and her comforting embrace and unconditional support a soothing presence that made him cry all that much harder. He felt her bed underneath him and let himself fall into it limply; he was curled around one of her lacy pink pillows like a three year old and his favorite stuffed animal. Annie placed her body behind his, one arm around his torso while the other curled up by his head, her fingers still stroking his hair. Just before he fell asleep the magnitude of their situation hit him with a panic attack; he hadn’t just cried in front of her, he had poured his soul out-literally. All the mangled broken pieces of it were left strewn about her bathroom like so much garbage. She felt him tense suddenly and whispered something in his ear, her arms holding him tight. He was embarrassed at how good-how safe-she made him feel; Annie wasn’t supposed to carry him like this. His heart racing he decided to get up and go home, to save whatever dignity he had left, but his body wasn’t responding to his orders. It seemed only the thought of movement was enough to make each limb weigh a million pounds. He never so much as sat up on the bed.
He passed out too exhausted to feel.
He didn’t dream that night and there were no words for how grateful he was when he woke up. He was always grateful when he didn’t dream, but they’d been happening so frequently lately he’d begun to think of them as portentous or something-maybe he had just watched too many movies with Abed. Maybe his mind was revolting against therapy. Maybe he was in love with Annie. That thought jolted him awake; the only other time he had dreamed this steadily had been in his twenties and there’d been that brunette. She’d been too easy to run off, even if Jeff had wanted to. He had stopped trying to connect to people after that. But then there was this stupid study group-and Annie.
Annie hadn’t run off.
Unwilling to examine his train of thought he crinkled his nose; why did his room smell different? No wonder he woke up with Annie on his mind, her scent was everywhere-it surrounded him. Feminine without being sweet or obnoxious-no overabundance coconut and jasmine for Annie-it was a smell Jeff found he could never get enough of. It was a smell her affinity for bubblegum lip gloss couldn’t ruin, musky and spicy.
Cracking one eye open, he couldn’t figure out where he was. He was on his back and he had one arm wrapped around a pillow; the other was wrapped around a soft, very warm body that fit perfectly along his side. When was the last time he’d woken up with someone? He didn’t even know.
That was the thought that vaulted him fully back into reality, and his head shot up as he remembered. He remembered coming over here on some half-cocked notion of talking to Annie. He remembered the nightmare feeling too close and throwing up. He remembered screaming at her as Troy and Abed busted into the bathroom. They’d been worried he was going to hurt Annie. They’d been justified.
The shame of crying hit him fast and hard. Tears were a weakness he couldn’t afford growing up, and he’d learned early how to shut them off, his emotions turning into psychosomatic nausea and purging themselves through drinking, sex, and making other people hurt as much as he did. One of the side effects of therapy was a tendency to feel again, often inappropriately-or what Jeff considered inappropriate. Everything set him off since this summer making him furious or hurt alternately-usually both. It was like once he acknowledged he had a problem his body lost whatever stabilizing mechanisms it had.
Panic smothered him and he fought to keep his breathing even as his pulse kicked up. How the hell was he supposed to talk to Annie today? Or Troy or Abed? They would tell Shirley and Britta and Pierce and Shirley would tell everyone else about Jeff Winger’s “breakdown;” it wouldn’t be malicious, she just wouldn’t be able to help herself. By the end of the semester he’d be ostracized and pitied, his friends would be playing cards-without him. Pierce took the fall after he axed the study table, but there was no one to blame for last night, no one but him.
Easing away from Annie’s pliant body, his heart broke when she made a little sound of disappointment. He had his shoes on and he was unlocking his car before he realized he still had the pink pillow with him.
It was well into morning when he got home; he and Annie had slept a long time. He drove around for a while, considering heading up into the mountains to clear his head before settling on a run and a latte. He didn’t want to leave Greendale. He didn’t want to leave his friends, but there was no way he could face them. He could just pack the Lexus and take off; he could be in Utah before anyone realized he was gone and in Vegas before they thought to come looking for him. He could have a lot of fun in Vegas. It was a move the old Jeff Winger would have made.
That ended up being the only reason he didn’t.
As he paced his apartment, exhausted and caged, he jerked the phone out of his pocket when he felt it vibrate. Are you okay? He could practically feel her pity through the text. He was going to be her little project now; a broken pet to be healed and domesticated. That thought made him wing the phone at the couch. After another hour of pacing he finally settled on calling his therapist. She was busy, but she agreed to meet with him once he explained what had happened. They had talked about this in therapy. He wasn’t supposed to “dwell.” Or drink til he was numb. Staring at the bottle of scotch on the table Jeff struggled with not doing both of those. Maybe just one drink? No-in the mood he was in, once he cracked the bottle open he wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Running his hands through his hair he decided on a shower; Jeff stripped on his way in, leaving his clothes from the night before strewn about haphazardly as he entered the bathroom.
He just stood there as the hot water beat down on the back of his neck and shoulders. His arms were braced on the wall in front of him, his muscles moving and shifting under his skin as he fought to relax. Two hours until he could talk to someone. He just had to make it two hours and he could figure out how to put his life back together. Two hours until someone could explain to him how to live without Annie in his life.
He wanted her. He had always wanted her, but since sleeping with her the attraction had funneled into something animalistic that rode him hard and never let up. He could never be with her now; maybe she would forgive him for yelling at her and losing his temper-hell, she probably would because she was Annie-but that was just more proof he was bad for her. She had no sense of self-preservation when it came to him. And now that he had balled like a baby in front of her, well, chances were she wouldn’t be looking at him like a man anytime soon.
And he wanted her to look at him as a man. Her easy acceptance of his anguish last night did something to him, even as he fought the shame of being so out of control in front of her. She hadn’t judged him, hadn’t been scared of him. She never doubted her safety with him, and she didn’t pull away from him or look lost when he broke down. She just took care of him.
Ironic-the thing that finally forced him to acknowledge how he felt-really felt-for her was the reason he couldn’t bear for her to look at him.
His growing arousal didn’t really surprise him. He’d known where this was going when he decided to get in the shower. As fucked up and wrong as it was, he wanted Annie Edison more than ever. Her ability to handle him at his worst made him want something familiar and easy with her; if he wasn’t who he was he could have rolled over this morning and woken her with a kiss. His hand eased down his chest, his strong fingers wrapping around himself as he daydreamed about how the morning should have gone.
Annie would open her eyes and gaze up at him, her emotions making the dark blue of her eyes lighten and sparkle in the morning light. They would take it slow and easy, a sweet reaffirmation of their feelings and their relationship. She would push him down onto his back, taking control as her deft fingers worked through his hair, down his chest. He would give himself up to her, relinquishing control as she took him in her hand, stroking him slow and easy applying just enough pressure to drive him crazy, stopping at the top to run her fingertips around the tip and make him insane with need. Unafraid of his body she would explore and giggle, and when he retaliated with wandering fingers of his own she would gasp and shake on top of him.
When she finally eased him inside he would capture her mouth in a kiss, their breath mingling with their moans as he held onto her for dear life. She would throw her head back the way she did right before she came, and he would latch onto her neck, nipping and licking as her breasts rubbed against him. She would tremble in his arms as the contractions shook her and he would roar in satisfaction as he followed.
Taking deep breaths Jeff dropped his arm and gave a bark of laughter without humor as he realized he felt worse than before. He wasn’t someone else and this wasn’t some Lifetime movie. Here he was, fantasizing about how beautiful being like that with Annie would be when he had snuck out of her apartment less than four hours ago. This wasn’t just some fight; they weren’t a couple and Jeff didn’t want them to be. She deserved tender and sweet, someone that could protect and be gentle with her; he’d never been tender in his life. He might love her, but he didn’t have it in him to be gentle-never had. Dropping his towel in the hallway he made his way into his bedroom and got dressed mechanically, operating on muscle memory more than any real intention.
When he finally walked into his therapist’s office his expensive shades were in place and his hair was carefully mussed to look exactly tousled enough. His Jeff Winger façade was back in place and he even mustered a smile for the secretary who looked up at him with the tender eyes of someone who genuinely enjoyed other people. Most days he found her kindness exasperating but today it offered him an anchor as he waited for his appointment.
When the door finally opened and he was escorted back his mood had shifted again; he was beginning to feel like maybe he could do this, like maybe he wasn’t completely lost yet.
“Hello Jeffrey,” she greeted him. “Why don’t we start by you just telling me what happened?”
“I had sex with Annie,” he blurted.
“Did you both enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“But then I sat there while she left in tears.”
God it sounded bad when he said it out loud. He related the whole mess to her, careful to include every detail no matter how minute like she’d taught him months ago. He told her how he’d screamed at Annie and how she’d forgiven him. He told her how he wished he wasn’t who he was and that sometimes he wished he’d never come to Greendale. He admitted that part of the reason he hated Greendale was because it was the first thing to truly make him unequivocally happy; the study group was more than a family to him-they were safe. He told her how even when he hated Pierce he still loved him and it was that love that made him hate him so much. He told her he was terrified that if he tried this thing with Annie and hurt her he would lose the only real thing in his life.
He admitted out loud, albeit in complete confidence, that he loved Annie Edison. He admitted that if he hurt her if would kill him.
She talked to him longer than she had to, but when he left he wasn’t any surer of himself than when he went in. He just wanted her to tell him what to do; how was he supposed to act? What should he say to Annie? The damn woman had somehow managed to wrangle a promise out of him to talk to Annie, but she told him he had to figure out what he wanted to say himself.
Suddenly Jeff found himself wishing his biggest problem was being disbarred.
It was Abed, of course, that came to Jeff’s door that night. He still hadn’t called Annie-maybe he never would. When he heard a knock on his door he was still torn between Vegas and scotch. Abed called to him through the door before he could look out the peephole and Jeff opened it slowly, unsure of what waited for him on the other side.
“I brought Manos: Hands of Fate and The Punisher starring Dolph Lundgren,” the slim man greeted him as he pushed his way through the door.
“I really don’t want to watch either of those Abed,” Jeff sighed.
“Cool. We can watch TV or something,” Abed said easily, dropping down on the couch.
“I was hoping to be alone.”
“I think you were hoping to avoid all of us, and while I understand from a thematic standpoint, Annie assured me this evening that was not the best decision for your continued character development,” he explained.
“Abed-“ Jeff began.
“Easy Jeff,” Abed said in a more serious voice. “Troy and I left right after Annie pushed us out of the bathroom. We went to Pavel’s so I don’t know what happened, but based on your prevalence to reenact Michael Douglas I decided you might need a calming influence tonight.”
With a dramatic sigh Jeff gave up the fight and plopped down next to Abed on the couch. “Fine. Punisher then.”
“An excellent choice.”
Jeff was in the middle of a riveting game of bejeweled when Abed spoke again. Dolph was in the middle of taking off his shirt-again-and Jeff just couldn’t take it. This was a terrible movie.
“I’m sorry I pressured you into talking to Annie.”
The comment caught Jeff so off-guard he forgot to pause his game, his hands dropping forgotten into his lap as he looked up at his friend.
“You two need to figure things out on your own,” Abed explained. “It was wrong of me to intervene, that’s not what friends do.”
“Who really told you to come talk to me tonight?” Jeff asked, finally seeing the signs.
“Troy,” Abed confessed. “I told him about our chat, and he reminded me how poorly it ended when you and Britta tried to matchmake he and Annie.”
“I’m not sorry you talked to me,” Jeff admitted. And, once he said it out loud, he realized it was true.
“You’re not?” Abed asked, tilting his head.
“No,” Jeff said slowly, realization dawning, “I’m not. Abed would you excuse me?”
“Cool,” Abed said as Jeff got up and ran out of his apartment. “Cool cool cool.”
Author: hobbitgrl
Spoilers: References up through "Documentary Filmmaking: Redux"
Rating: NC-17 (for serious)
Warning: There's serious angst here. I'm not being hyperbolic. Serious angst. There's also smut in future chapters. And angsty smut. And language.
A/N: Yeah...this was just a whole lot harder to wrap up than I ever dreamed so here it is. If I don't post it now it's never going to happen.
Word Count: 2,787
Disclaimer: I own no part of Community or it's awesomeness.
Chapter 1 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3543.html#cutid1
Chapter 2:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3758.html
Chapter 3:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3850.html
Chapter 4:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/4159.html
Chapter 5:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/4495.html
Chapter 7:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/6326.html#cutid2
Chapter 6
Jeff had no idea how long he and Annie stayed on the bathroom floor. At some point he remembered thinking surely he’d cried himself out? But once he started there was no stopping; years of anguish were pouring out of him-pain he’d long forgotten he carried-and he couldn’t even remember what started it or what he was crying about. Maybe it was about his father. Maybe it was about Annie. Maybe it was about himself. Maybe it was none of that or all of it.
Eventually he and Annie moved to her bed, her arms never leaving him and her comforting embrace and unconditional support a soothing presence that made him cry all that much harder. He felt her bed underneath him and let himself fall into it limply; he was curled around one of her lacy pink pillows like a three year old and his favorite stuffed animal. Annie placed her body behind his, one arm around his torso while the other curled up by his head, her fingers still stroking his hair. Just before he fell asleep the magnitude of their situation hit him with a panic attack; he hadn’t just cried in front of her, he had poured his soul out-literally. All the mangled broken pieces of it were left strewn about her bathroom like so much garbage. She felt him tense suddenly and whispered something in his ear, her arms holding him tight. He was embarrassed at how good-how safe-she made him feel; Annie wasn’t supposed to carry him like this. His heart racing he decided to get up and go home, to save whatever dignity he had left, but his body wasn’t responding to his orders. It seemed only the thought of movement was enough to make each limb weigh a million pounds. He never so much as sat up on the bed.
He passed out too exhausted to feel.
He didn’t dream that night and there were no words for how grateful he was when he woke up. He was always grateful when he didn’t dream, but they’d been happening so frequently lately he’d begun to think of them as portentous or something-maybe he had just watched too many movies with Abed. Maybe his mind was revolting against therapy. Maybe he was in love with Annie. That thought jolted him awake; the only other time he had dreamed this steadily had been in his twenties and there’d been that brunette. She’d been too easy to run off, even if Jeff had wanted to. He had stopped trying to connect to people after that. But then there was this stupid study group-and Annie.
Annie hadn’t run off.
Unwilling to examine his train of thought he crinkled his nose; why did his room smell different? No wonder he woke up with Annie on his mind, her scent was everywhere-it surrounded him. Feminine without being sweet or obnoxious-no overabundance coconut and jasmine for Annie-it was a smell Jeff found he could never get enough of. It was a smell her affinity for bubblegum lip gloss couldn’t ruin, musky and spicy.
Cracking one eye open, he couldn’t figure out where he was. He was on his back and he had one arm wrapped around a pillow; the other was wrapped around a soft, very warm body that fit perfectly along his side. When was the last time he’d woken up with someone? He didn’t even know.
That was the thought that vaulted him fully back into reality, and his head shot up as he remembered. He remembered coming over here on some half-cocked notion of talking to Annie. He remembered the nightmare feeling too close and throwing up. He remembered screaming at her as Troy and Abed busted into the bathroom. They’d been worried he was going to hurt Annie. They’d been justified.
The shame of crying hit him fast and hard. Tears were a weakness he couldn’t afford growing up, and he’d learned early how to shut them off, his emotions turning into psychosomatic nausea and purging themselves through drinking, sex, and making other people hurt as much as he did. One of the side effects of therapy was a tendency to feel again, often inappropriately-or what Jeff considered inappropriate. Everything set him off since this summer making him furious or hurt alternately-usually both. It was like once he acknowledged he had a problem his body lost whatever stabilizing mechanisms it had.
Panic smothered him and he fought to keep his breathing even as his pulse kicked up. How the hell was he supposed to talk to Annie today? Or Troy or Abed? They would tell Shirley and Britta and Pierce and Shirley would tell everyone else about Jeff Winger’s “breakdown;” it wouldn’t be malicious, she just wouldn’t be able to help herself. By the end of the semester he’d be ostracized and pitied, his friends would be playing cards-without him. Pierce took the fall after he axed the study table, but there was no one to blame for last night, no one but him.
Easing away from Annie’s pliant body, his heart broke when she made a little sound of disappointment. He had his shoes on and he was unlocking his car before he realized he still had the pink pillow with him.
It was well into morning when he got home; he and Annie had slept a long time. He drove around for a while, considering heading up into the mountains to clear his head before settling on a run and a latte. He didn’t want to leave Greendale. He didn’t want to leave his friends, but there was no way he could face them. He could just pack the Lexus and take off; he could be in Utah before anyone realized he was gone and in Vegas before they thought to come looking for him. He could have a lot of fun in Vegas. It was a move the old Jeff Winger would have made.
That ended up being the only reason he didn’t.
As he paced his apartment, exhausted and caged, he jerked the phone out of his pocket when he felt it vibrate. Are you okay? He could practically feel her pity through the text. He was going to be her little project now; a broken pet to be healed and domesticated. That thought made him wing the phone at the couch. After another hour of pacing he finally settled on calling his therapist. She was busy, but she agreed to meet with him once he explained what had happened. They had talked about this in therapy. He wasn’t supposed to “dwell.” Or drink til he was numb. Staring at the bottle of scotch on the table Jeff struggled with not doing both of those. Maybe just one drink? No-in the mood he was in, once he cracked the bottle open he wouldn’t be stopping anytime soon. Running his hands through his hair he decided on a shower; Jeff stripped on his way in, leaving his clothes from the night before strewn about haphazardly as he entered the bathroom.
He just stood there as the hot water beat down on the back of his neck and shoulders. His arms were braced on the wall in front of him, his muscles moving and shifting under his skin as he fought to relax. Two hours until he could talk to someone. He just had to make it two hours and he could figure out how to put his life back together. Two hours until someone could explain to him how to live without Annie in his life.
He wanted her. He had always wanted her, but since sleeping with her the attraction had funneled into something animalistic that rode him hard and never let up. He could never be with her now; maybe she would forgive him for yelling at her and losing his temper-hell, she probably would because she was Annie-but that was just more proof he was bad for her. She had no sense of self-preservation when it came to him. And now that he had balled like a baby in front of her, well, chances were she wouldn’t be looking at him like a man anytime soon.
And he wanted her to look at him as a man. Her easy acceptance of his anguish last night did something to him, even as he fought the shame of being so out of control in front of her. She hadn’t judged him, hadn’t been scared of him. She never doubted her safety with him, and she didn’t pull away from him or look lost when he broke down. She just took care of him.
Ironic-the thing that finally forced him to acknowledge how he felt-really felt-for her was the reason he couldn’t bear for her to look at him.
His growing arousal didn’t really surprise him. He’d known where this was going when he decided to get in the shower. As fucked up and wrong as it was, he wanted Annie Edison more than ever. Her ability to handle him at his worst made him want something familiar and easy with her; if he wasn’t who he was he could have rolled over this morning and woken her with a kiss. His hand eased down his chest, his strong fingers wrapping around himself as he daydreamed about how the morning should have gone.
Annie would open her eyes and gaze up at him, her emotions making the dark blue of her eyes lighten and sparkle in the morning light. They would take it slow and easy, a sweet reaffirmation of their feelings and their relationship. She would push him down onto his back, taking control as her deft fingers worked through his hair, down his chest. He would give himself up to her, relinquishing control as she took him in her hand, stroking him slow and easy applying just enough pressure to drive him crazy, stopping at the top to run her fingertips around the tip and make him insane with need. Unafraid of his body she would explore and giggle, and when he retaliated with wandering fingers of his own she would gasp and shake on top of him.
When she finally eased him inside he would capture her mouth in a kiss, their breath mingling with their moans as he held onto her for dear life. She would throw her head back the way she did right before she came, and he would latch onto her neck, nipping and licking as her breasts rubbed against him. She would tremble in his arms as the contractions shook her and he would roar in satisfaction as he followed.
Taking deep breaths Jeff dropped his arm and gave a bark of laughter without humor as he realized he felt worse than before. He wasn’t someone else and this wasn’t some Lifetime movie. Here he was, fantasizing about how beautiful being like that with Annie would be when he had snuck out of her apartment less than four hours ago. This wasn’t just some fight; they weren’t a couple and Jeff didn’t want them to be. She deserved tender and sweet, someone that could protect and be gentle with her; he’d never been tender in his life. He might love her, but he didn’t have it in him to be gentle-never had. Dropping his towel in the hallway he made his way into his bedroom and got dressed mechanically, operating on muscle memory more than any real intention.
When he finally walked into his therapist’s office his expensive shades were in place and his hair was carefully mussed to look exactly tousled enough. His Jeff Winger façade was back in place and he even mustered a smile for the secretary who looked up at him with the tender eyes of someone who genuinely enjoyed other people. Most days he found her kindness exasperating but today it offered him an anchor as he waited for his appointment.
When the door finally opened and he was escorted back his mood had shifted again; he was beginning to feel like maybe he could do this, like maybe he wasn’t completely lost yet.
“Hello Jeffrey,” she greeted him. “Why don’t we start by you just telling me what happened?”
“I had sex with Annie,” he blurted.
“Did you both enjoy it?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
“But then I sat there while she left in tears.”
God it sounded bad when he said it out loud. He related the whole mess to her, careful to include every detail no matter how minute like she’d taught him months ago. He told her how he’d screamed at Annie and how she’d forgiven him. He told her how he wished he wasn’t who he was and that sometimes he wished he’d never come to Greendale. He admitted that part of the reason he hated Greendale was because it was the first thing to truly make him unequivocally happy; the study group was more than a family to him-they were safe. He told her how even when he hated Pierce he still loved him and it was that love that made him hate him so much. He told her he was terrified that if he tried this thing with Annie and hurt her he would lose the only real thing in his life.
He admitted out loud, albeit in complete confidence, that he loved Annie Edison. He admitted that if he hurt her if would kill him.
She talked to him longer than she had to, but when he left he wasn’t any surer of himself than when he went in. He just wanted her to tell him what to do; how was he supposed to act? What should he say to Annie? The damn woman had somehow managed to wrangle a promise out of him to talk to Annie, but she told him he had to figure out what he wanted to say himself.
Suddenly Jeff found himself wishing his biggest problem was being disbarred.
It was Abed, of course, that came to Jeff’s door that night. He still hadn’t called Annie-maybe he never would. When he heard a knock on his door he was still torn between Vegas and scotch. Abed called to him through the door before he could look out the peephole and Jeff opened it slowly, unsure of what waited for him on the other side.
“I brought Manos: Hands of Fate and The Punisher starring Dolph Lundgren,” the slim man greeted him as he pushed his way through the door.
“I really don’t want to watch either of those Abed,” Jeff sighed.
“Cool. We can watch TV or something,” Abed said easily, dropping down on the couch.
“I was hoping to be alone.”
“I think you were hoping to avoid all of us, and while I understand from a thematic standpoint, Annie assured me this evening that was not the best decision for your continued character development,” he explained.
“Abed-“ Jeff began.
“Easy Jeff,” Abed said in a more serious voice. “Troy and I left right after Annie pushed us out of the bathroom. We went to Pavel’s so I don’t know what happened, but based on your prevalence to reenact Michael Douglas I decided you might need a calming influence tonight.”
With a dramatic sigh Jeff gave up the fight and plopped down next to Abed on the couch. “Fine. Punisher then.”
“An excellent choice.”
Jeff was in the middle of a riveting game of bejeweled when Abed spoke again. Dolph was in the middle of taking off his shirt-again-and Jeff just couldn’t take it. This was a terrible movie.
“I’m sorry I pressured you into talking to Annie.”
The comment caught Jeff so off-guard he forgot to pause his game, his hands dropping forgotten into his lap as he looked up at his friend.
“You two need to figure things out on your own,” Abed explained. “It was wrong of me to intervene, that’s not what friends do.”
“Who really told you to come talk to me tonight?” Jeff asked, finally seeing the signs.
“Troy,” Abed confessed. “I told him about our chat, and he reminded me how poorly it ended when you and Britta tried to matchmake he and Annie.”
“I’m not sorry you talked to me,” Jeff admitted. And, once he said it out loud, he realized it was true.
“You’re not?” Abed asked, tilting his head.
“No,” Jeff said slowly, realization dawning, “I’m not. Abed would you excuse me?”
“Cool,” Abed said as Jeff got up and ran out of his apartment. “Cool cool cool.”