Community Fic: there’s a guide to this one too
IDK IDK IDK IDK. This is because 0penhearts told me to do it and I listened and yeah, I guess. That’s all I have. I BLAME YOU, 0penhearts. I BLAME YOU.
there’s a guide to this one too
community ; annie/jeff ; 3,200 ; pg13
they’d make terrible spies, but everybody knows that one. spoilers for intermediate documentary filmmaking and intro to political science.
-
Britta buys her coffee. It's Monday, and Annie's half-asleep over her arms, staring down her Anthropology text.
"You could move," the other girl says dryly. She pushes the coffee towards Annie too as she sits across from her. "I mean there's like plenty of roommate opportunities, I'm sure. If you look."
"If I look," Annie echoes. She doesn't really finish; it's as simple as last night's noise, the sudden drilling in the stupid ceiling that cut her out of a pretty great dream about beaches and those cute little cocktails with umbrellas. She can't remember where it was going, but the sounds that came from downstairs make her, like, throw up in her mouth just a little bit. This is better than living at home.
Britta shrugs though. She opens her book and Annie lets herself give up a half-hearted sigh, closing her eyes again.
The others, they come slowly, Troy and Abed lost to some kind of conversation about a game, or a movie, or a game and a movie - Annie's trying not to listen, but there's something about aliens and Freddy Krueger and how really Inception just totally blows your mind. Her mouth quirks at that and she can hear herself agreeing with Shirley, all of the sudden, about how that Arthur guy is totally, totally dreamy.
"You look awful."
She feels herself tense. "And you smell like the Macy's counter," she mutters. There's a snicker - it's Britta and Annie feels her face flush. She still doesn't move. "Sorry," she adds shyly.
"What's with her?" Jeff asks, and there's a response, a chorus, and Annie tries not to listen to Britta as she throws around something about the neighborhood and Annie and a condescending growing up. She's too tired to act offended and then suddenly, as if it were nothing, Jeff's leg is resting lightly against hers. He's next to her.
When Annie looks up to glare, everybody is watching. She flushes and draws back, unable to move her leg far away or if anything, far enough without pretending to know that he's too, like, ridiculously close. She hates him, she decides. Whether he knows it or not, this is the stuff that still makes her angry. Or gives her a headache. Or makes her want to grab him, kiss him, and make him ridiculously uncomfortable just because she can.
That makes her feel a little bit better.
"I'm fine," she says to everybody. She pulls back, clutching her book to her chest. Pierce comes finally, sitting down at the head of the table. His mouth opens and Annie groans softly, biting her lip and choosing to shy away from whatever is bound to happen as a result.
And it happens, okay, that Pierce says something stupid to Jeff, and Jeff decides to say something arrogantly annoyed, which in turn tracks back to Britta and Shirley, one who tries to be diplomatic and the other one who tries to be diplomatically annoyed. Or condescending. She can't say the latter because Britta was the one that brought her coffee and she's Team Britta today, solidarity and all.
"I'm just going to go," she murmurs.
"Go where?" Shirley asks.
"To infinity and beyond!" Troy grins. Or is it Abed? They're both suddenly in front of her and she doesn't know who to look at.
Annie shakes her head. There’s usually a lot of missing moments anyway.
The thing with Pierce is just stupid, stupid but endearing, endearing only so that she can get past thinking it's completely creepy. She comes back though; she doesn't say a word to Shirley or Britta, carrying a tea and a copy of Gun Enthusiasts and Scientology Now because Troy mentioned that Pierce is in between phases again.
The hospital is quiet though. She can't remember if Pierce is one hallway or the other, the waiting room too empty for her to piece back together the day. She holds the magazines to her chest and frowns.
"You too?"
She blinks, and Jeff steps forward, gripping a coffee. His mouth twists and he shrugs when she raises an eyebrow. "I mean, really. I guess I'd expect you. But - ugh."
"Whatever," she shrugs.
Jeff gets this look, the one where it alternates between a really awful taste in his mouth and guilt. She’s usually good at picking it apart but it’s a hospital. She hates hospitals.
"Want company?"
She holds up the magazines and Jeff snorts. "Really," she says before him. "I figured it's better than whatever channels they have in here. And ... I don't know. Hospitals are scary," she adds.
Annie doesn't answer his question though and Jeff, Jeff makes no mention of the fact either. She doesn't flush and manages to shift her weight, foot to foot, and then push herself to move forward towards Pierce's room. She goes down one end of the hallway and Jeff doesn't correct her, he follows her, so she guesses that it's a good thing she sort of remembers.
They're weird though, alone, her and Jeff - there's no her and Jeff, but when the two of them are just around each other, she feels like it is just the two of them and tries not to let her head get overwhelmed with confronting him about answers. Jeff isn't really that great about answers and Annie's learned to trust herself with patience. It's a work-in-progress kind of thing.
"Maybe he's sleeping," she says, stopping suddenly. They're a few feet away from Pierce's door and watch as a frazzled nurse forces herself out of the room slamming the door. Annie's eyes are wide and the woman passes them, muttering to herself. She looks to Jeff too, who sighs.
"Or not," he mutters.
"How long were you here?"
He shrugs. "Does it matter?" he says quickly too. She raises an eyebrow, loosening her grip around the magazines. "Don't -"
Annie rolls her eyes. "I'm not doing anything."
She decides not to wait for him, stepping forward with every intention of going inside and dropping off the magazines - just dropping them off - and then heading back out to go home. She barely makes it a few more steps before another nurse comes barreling out of the room, Pierce yelling something about those "goddamn lesbians"which is loud enough to make everybody stare. Annie recoils and Jeff grabs her arm, pulling her out of view.
The magazines slip from her grip and she's pressing back against the wall, Jeff leaning over her. He frowns and she catches her breath, her fingers twisting in her blouse to try and steady herself.
"What?" she breathes.
"He didn't see us," he tells her, and Annie rolls her eyes. His mouth curls and she rolls her eyes again. "I mean I could've let you wandered into inevitable irritation, but what are friends for?"
"Thanks, I think."
Jeff's mouth twitches and Annie looks away, picking a spot on the floor to stare at - stare awkwardly at, she reminds herself. She can't move, or doesn't want to move, or doesn't and can't; there some strange, awkward variation of sense running around in her head. Pierce's magazines are somewhere on the floor and she's starting to feel a little guilty because this was about the best intentions, or something like that.
"You're being weird," Jeff says, and what that means, she's not entirely sure. Okay, so she's a little bit aware of the fact that he's too close and too too close in that kind of way that friends don't like friends do. She forces herself to swallow and presses her hand against his chest. She doesn't push. "Seriously," he murmurs.
"I'm not," she insists.
"Annie -"
"I just came to give Pierce his magazines, and then go home because I've got a project to finish and I need to get to bed early because I'll at least get a few hours in before that awful, awful noise starts up downstairs and then I'm up all night and I've already sat through quiz show reruns and I just - I really hate the quiz show, Jeff. I hate it so much."
He laughs.
Jeff laughs and it's that low sound, the thick one that makes her stomach flip with knots and totally, totally hate him - with good reason, of course. Because she doesn't hate Jeff without any good reasons to hold onto - it has to work this way.
"Sorry," he says.
"You're so not."
He grins, shrugs, and then pulls back too. Her hand drops from his chest, dangling slightly, mid-air, before she lets fold against her hip. Jeff picks up the magazines from the floor, snorting when he catches their titles - I guessed, she almost wants to say.
"Come on," he tells her. She takes the magazines and he reaches forward, brushing a hand against the small of her back. "Ten minutes with Pierce, then you're buying me coffee. It's the right thing to do," he says.
His hand is steady.
Coffee with Jeff is like coffee with Britta - it's quick, it's uneventful, and then you go onto your separate pastures, greener, better, whatever. She doesn't expect a series of moments that she can totally, like, explain or anything, or catalog for later use, later use being something where this thing, this stupid thing between her and Jeff finally comes to pass yet again.
But coffee with Jeff doesn't come back until after the student government debates, when he's walking her to his car not offering to take her back to her apartment but offering to give her a ride anyway. She sits next him, carefully snapping her seatbelt into place as he jerks the car back. She grabs the door and holds her breath, her nails digging into the leather handle as he roars out of the Greendale parking lot.
"You're a scary driver," she mutters.
He says nothing though. He slides his sunglasses on and she's about to make a comment about a late afternoon but holds back - really, she holds back - and reaches for the radio instead.
"You're the only one," he says.
"What?"
Her fingers turn the dial, drifting over a Bieber medley that she thinks about stopping for but she doesn't want Jeff to kill her and himself since she's going home. There's nineties alternative and a weird, weird jazz station that she doesn't ask about but catches Jeff's smirk and thinks girls as she nearly throws up in her mouth - just a little bit. Gross, she thinks.
"You're the only one," he says again. "That I've let touch my radio," he finishes.
"Is that code for you like me?" she asks, grinning.
He snorts. "No code," he says.
She shrugs and they're fine, she thinks. They're okay. They're weird - she's weird a lot, and he's just Jeff, Jeff who, in his own way, maintains that small spot of inappropriate feelings that she carries for him. Actually, it's a steady torch - can torches be steady? She's got to stop trying for the metaphors. They're not going to get her anywhere.
"Thanks for taking me home," she murmurs.
He shrugs. She looks away too, her head resting carefully against the glass. It's cool and she really is tired, sort of still tired from the latest couple of days spent at her apartment. Who knew the shop downstairs could even be that loud? She keeps trying to avoid thinking about it because she'll blush and anyhow, it was the perfect excuse to attach to Jeff’s Real World footage had her apology fallen through.
"You can ask, you know."
Annie blinks. She shakes her head too.
"What?" Jeff asks. "I'm serious. Just ask."
"You won't give me a speech?"
"I -" he stops and she's looking back at him, her lips pursed into a shy kind of smile. She's teases him and doesn't want to admit to where this is coming from. He laughs softly. "You're not worried about a speech," he says.
"No," she agrees. "I'm not."
They're quiet again and she's half-listening to the radio now, almost following the words but not quite. It's a nice silence, if silences can be nice; she doesn't feel the need to talk too much to him, or to apologize, or to fall into those old, relentless habits that she still goes to when she's in these situations. It's one of those moments that stands with complete and utter sense.
He makes the turn onto her street, slowing down just a little bit - she almost wants to see if he remembers where she is. But that's stupid and why - why would she do that?
"You know," Annie tells him, "I never told you why I'm doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Living here," she says. "I've explained myself to Shirley and Britta and Pierce -" she pauses, wrinkling her nose, "but I don't know. I've never told you why."
"Does that bother you?" Jeff parks the car, right in front of her place. He's blocking another car and there's no one on her street, for whatever reason. The comment almost grabs her, but he’s looking at her, waiting for her to continue and she remembers that being alone with Jeff is different when she’s with everybody else.
It’s kind of nice.
She takes a deep breath. "No, I mean - it did. But it doesn't. I guess. I guess I'm glad that you didn't ask me or don't continue to ask me or tried to take advantage of a scenario and ultimately, well, I don't know. So ... thanks?"
She leans over without thinking, and maybe, maybe it's all part of how great the day has kind of ended. Her hand brushes against his arm and her mouth presses against his jaw and she just kisses him like this, her heart in her throat and that long, tired awareness that is just for her to have.
Annie smiles a little against him and she feels his hand turn back against her - her leg, his fingers wrapping around her knee and they just lean into each other. Her head falls against his shoulder and she lets out a little sigh, just a small one, soft and warm.
"You're welcome," he says, and she listens to him sigh or swallow. She doesn't know which, but he's uncomfortable. She lets out a little laugh, husky even as his fingers digging into her skin. She pulls her head back, just to see him, and her cheek catches his jaw. There's a lot of heat and Annie is fumbling through her awareness, keen on the kind of patience that she suddenly holds.
When he pulls back too, she gets to look at him, really look at him, with wide eyes and her mouth parting just slightly. He reaches forward and his fingers drift over her lips.
"This is stupid," he says. He's serious. Annie hates when he's serious. Well, most of the time. "I mean, we're -"
"Shut up," she says.
She doesn't kiss him here. No, not yet. But her fingers wrap around his jaw, her thumb catching against his skin and his throat. Her seat belt is pressing awkwardly into her hip and she's turned, just so that she can lean closer to him and see how far this whole jeff gets uncomfortable close to me can go. But her head is starting to spin.
Her lips curl and she can't quite bring herself to say something to him because if she does and if it's not right, she doesn't know how if she can go another round of what ifs and maybes.
So she declares: "I'm going to kiss you again."
And her mouth covers his.
Yes, she went there.
Jeff is still double-parked. They are somehow in the back seat of his car, and Annie's hand is making a fist in his hair. She's kissing him fiercely, her teeth scraping over his lip as he makes this sound.
"Stupid," he growls, and she's straddling his lap, pressing forward, her other hand curling around the collar of his shirt. His tie is somewhere on the floor of the car and she can't remember how long they've been here - the street gets busy only in the late, late, and early mornings.
But his mouth is hot, still hot, and there is nothing slopping about kissing him. She doesn't taste alcohol. She doesn't taste hesitations or misgivings and Jeff's hand slips underneath her skirt, his fingers spreading against her thigh and oh god, yeah, stupid.
"Resolved," she breathes and doesn't mean to say it, he kind of laughs into the kiss and it's really, really hot catching the sound against her mouth. She stops too, pauses in his lap, only to draw back and rest her forehead against his. She trembles a little and then laughs too. "I want to invite you upstairs," she says. Her fingers catch against the buttons of his shirt and she can't remember how long the two of them have just been here, making out. Like legitimately making out. "But that," she manages, "is such a terrible idea."
"The worst," he agrees.
She can feel Jeff's fingers brush lightly against her skin again, her thigh, and then there's a hand against her back, under her shirt, and hey, hey, hey when did that get there? She doesn't care.
"So -" she exhales. "Um, I should probably go upstairs," she says.
It's not a question, it's a reassurance, and it's not for him, it's for her because she's not about waiting around for him to decide whether or not he wants to meet her halfway. But she's here, you know, and she's not as coy or as sharp as Britta. She doesn't want to be. This is what has changed.
"You probably should," he says. His voice is gruff and he pats her lightly on the hip. She rolls her eyes and slides off of him, into the seat. He surprises her by catching her mouth again, opening into a brisk kiss.
She pulls back and reaches for his tie. Her cheeks are warm and she's smiling, a little more than usual, her hair everywhere. She bites the inside of her cheek and reaches for the door.
"It's not going to get weird, you know."
She stops, blinking. "What?"
Jeff shrugs. "Us, weird. We'll figure it out."
Annie's mouth opens. It closes quickly too. She smiles then and shakes her head, awkwardly opening the door. She manages to get to her feet. She's a little shaky, a little flushed, still - whatever, she thinks. Whatever. And Jeff shows no signs of moving from the back of his car.
They look at each other and she's still smiling, he's looking at her curiously and she likes this whole lazy gaze thing he's got going on, all of the sudden. He's not smiling at her but there's something genuine, something hers, something hers that she can be okay with and sensible about. And she's picking up her bag without even thinking, letting it dangle from her fingers as she smoothes a hand over her skirt.
"Let's try an actual meal, next time," she says.
Tomorrow, there's breakfast.
That’s kind of great too.
there’s a guide to this one too
community ; annie/jeff ; 3,200 ; pg13
they’d make terrible spies, but everybody knows that one. spoilers for intermediate documentary filmmaking and intro to political science.
-
Britta buys her coffee. It's Monday, and Annie's half-asleep over her arms, staring down her Anthropology text.
"You could move," the other girl says dryly. She pushes the coffee towards Annie too as she sits across from her. "I mean there's like plenty of roommate opportunities, I'm sure. If you look."
"If I look," Annie echoes. She doesn't really finish; it's as simple as last night's noise, the sudden drilling in the stupid ceiling that cut her out of a pretty great dream about beaches and those cute little cocktails with umbrellas. She can't remember where it was going, but the sounds that came from downstairs make her, like, throw up in her mouth just a little bit. This is better than living at home.
Britta shrugs though. She opens her book and Annie lets herself give up a half-hearted sigh, closing her eyes again.
The others, they come slowly, Troy and Abed lost to some kind of conversation about a game, or a movie, or a game and a movie - Annie's trying not to listen, but there's something about aliens and Freddy Krueger and how really Inception just totally blows your mind. Her mouth quirks at that and she can hear herself agreeing with Shirley, all of the sudden, about how that Arthur guy is totally, totally dreamy.
"You look awful."
She feels herself tense. "And you smell like the Macy's counter," she mutters. There's a snicker - it's Britta and Annie feels her face flush. She still doesn't move. "Sorry," she adds shyly.
"What's with her?" Jeff asks, and there's a response, a chorus, and Annie tries not to listen to Britta as she throws around something about the neighborhood and Annie and a condescending growing up. She's too tired to act offended and then suddenly, as if it were nothing, Jeff's leg is resting lightly against hers. He's next to her.
When Annie looks up to glare, everybody is watching. She flushes and draws back, unable to move her leg far away or if anything, far enough without pretending to know that he's too, like, ridiculously close. She hates him, she decides. Whether he knows it or not, this is the stuff that still makes her angry. Or gives her a headache. Or makes her want to grab him, kiss him, and make him ridiculously uncomfortable just because she can.
That makes her feel a little bit better.
"I'm fine," she says to everybody. She pulls back, clutching her book to her chest. Pierce comes finally, sitting down at the head of the table. His mouth opens and Annie groans softly, biting her lip and choosing to shy away from whatever is bound to happen as a result.
And it happens, okay, that Pierce says something stupid to Jeff, and Jeff decides to say something arrogantly annoyed, which in turn tracks back to Britta and Shirley, one who tries to be diplomatic and the other one who tries to be diplomatically annoyed. Or condescending. She can't say the latter because Britta was the one that brought her coffee and she's Team Britta today, solidarity and all.
"I'm just going to go," she murmurs.
"Go where?" Shirley asks.
"To infinity and beyond!" Troy grins. Or is it Abed? They're both suddenly in front of her and she doesn't know who to look at.
Annie shakes her head. There’s usually a lot of missing moments anyway.
The thing with Pierce is just stupid, stupid but endearing, endearing only so that she can get past thinking it's completely creepy. She comes back though; she doesn't say a word to Shirley or Britta, carrying a tea and a copy of Gun Enthusiasts and Scientology Now because Troy mentioned that Pierce is in between phases again.
The hospital is quiet though. She can't remember if Pierce is one hallway or the other, the waiting room too empty for her to piece back together the day. She holds the magazines to her chest and frowns.
"You too?"
She blinks, and Jeff steps forward, gripping a coffee. His mouth twists and he shrugs when she raises an eyebrow. "I mean, really. I guess I'd expect you. But - ugh."
"Whatever," she shrugs.
Jeff gets this look, the one where it alternates between a really awful taste in his mouth and guilt. She’s usually good at picking it apart but it’s a hospital. She hates hospitals.
"Want company?"
She holds up the magazines and Jeff snorts. "Really," she says before him. "I figured it's better than whatever channels they have in here. And ... I don't know. Hospitals are scary," she adds.
Annie doesn't answer his question though and Jeff, Jeff makes no mention of the fact either. She doesn't flush and manages to shift her weight, foot to foot, and then push herself to move forward towards Pierce's room. She goes down one end of the hallway and Jeff doesn't correct her, he follows her, so she guesses that it's a good thing she sort of remembers.
They're weird though, alone, her and Jeff - there's no her and Jeff, but when the two of them are just around each other, she feels like it is just the two of them and tries not to let her head get overwhelmed with confronting him about answers. Jeff isn't really that great about answers and Annie's learned to trust herself with patience. It's a work-in-progress kind of thing.
"Maybe he's sleeping," she says, stopping suddenly. They're a few feet away from Pierce's door and watch as a frazzled nurse forces herself out of the room slamming the door. Annie's eyes are wide and the woman passes them, muttering to herself. She looks to Jeff too, who sighs.
"Or not," he mutters.
"How long were you here?"
He shrugs. "Does it matter?" he says quickly too. She raises an eyebrow, loosening her grip around the magazines. "Don't -"
Annie rolls her eyes. "I'm not doing anything."
She decides not to wait for him, stepping forward with every intention of going inside and dropping off the magazines - just dropping them off - and then heading back out to go home. She barely makes it a few more steps before another nurse comes barreling out of the room, Pierce yelling something about those "goddamn lesbians"which is loud enough to make everybody stare. Annie recoils and Jeff grabs her arm, pulling her out of view.
The magazines slip from her grip and she's pressing back against the wall, Jeff leaning over her. He frowns and she catches her breath, her fingers twisting in her blouse to try and steady herself.
"What?" she breathes.
"He didn't see us," he tells her, and Annie rolls her eyes. His mouth curls and she rolls her eyes again. "I mean I could've let you wandered into inevitable irritation, but what are friends for?"
"Thanks, I think."
Jeff's mouth twitches and Annie looks away, picking a spot on the floor to stare at - stare awkwardly at, she reminds herself. She can't move, or doesn't want to move, or doesn't and can't; there some strange, awkward variation of sense running around in her head. Pierce's magazines are somewhere on the floor and she's starting to feel a little guilty because this was about the best intentions, or something like that.
"You're being weird," Jeff says, and what that means, she's not entirely sure. Okay, so she's a little bit aware of the fact that he's too close and too too close in that kind of way that friends don't like friends do. She forces herself to swallow and presses her hand against his chest. She doesn't push. "Seriously," he murmurs.
"I'm not," she insists.
"Annie -"
"I just came to give Pierce his magazines, and then go home because I've got a project to finish and I need to get to bed early because I'll at least get a few hours in before that awful, awful noise starts up downstairs and then I'm up all night and I've already sat through quiz show reruns and I just - I really hate the quiz show, Jeff. I hate it so much."
He laughs.
Jeff laughs and it's that low sound, the thick one that makes her stomach flip with knots and totally, totally hate him - with good reason, of course. Because she doesn't hate Jeff without any good reasons to hold onto - it has to work this way.
"Sorry," he says.
"You're so not."
He grins, shrugs, and then pulls back too. Her hand drops from his chest, dangling slightly, mid-air, before she lets fold against her hip. Jeff picks up the magazines from the floor, snorting when he catches their titles - I guessed, she almost wants to say.
"Come on," he tells her. She takes the magazines and he reaches forward, brushing a hand against the small of her back. "Ten minutes with Pierce, then you're buying me coffee. It's the right thing to do," he says.
His hand is steady.
Coffee with Jeff is like coffee with Britta - it's quick, it's uneventful, and then you go onto your separate pastures, greener, better, whatever. She doesn't expect a series of moments that she can totally, like, explain or anything, or catalog for later use, later use being something where this thing, this stupid thing between her and Jeff finally comes to pass yet again.
But coffee with Jeff doesn't come back until after the student government debates, when he's walking her to his car not offering to take her back to her apartment but offering to give her a ride anyway. She sits next him, carefully snapping her seatbelt into place as he jerks the car back. She grabs the door and holds her breath, her nails digging into the leather handle as he roars out of the Greendale parking lot.
"You're a scary driver," she mutters.
He says nothing though. He slides his sunglasses on and she's about to make a comment about a late afternoon but holds back - really, she holds back - and reaches for the radio instead.
"You're the only one," he says.
"What?"
Her fingers turn the dial, drifting over a Bieber medley that she thinks about stopping for but she doesn't want Jeff to kill her and himself since she's going home. There's nineties alternative and a weird, weird jazz station that she doesn't ask about but catches Jeff's smirk and thinks girls as she nearly throws up in her mouth - just a little bit. Gross, she thinks.
"You're the only one," he says again. "That I've let touch my radio," he finishes.
"Is that code for you like me?" she asks, grinning.
He snorts. "No code," he says.
She shrugs and they're fine, she thinks. They're okay. They're weird - she's weird a lot, and he's just Jeff, Jeff who, in his own way, maintains that small spot of inappropriate feelings that she carries for him. Actually, it's a steady torch - can torches be steady? She's got to stop trying for the metaphors. They're not going to get her anywhere.
"Thanks for taking me home," she murmurs.
He shrugs. She looks away too, her head resting carefully against the glass. It's cool and she really is tired, sort of still tired from the latest couple of days spent at her apartment. Who knew the shop downstairs could even be that loud? She keeps trying to avoid thinking about it because she'll blush and anyhow, it was the perfect excuse to attach to Jeff’s Real World footage had her apology fallen through.
"You can ask, you know."
Annie blinks. She shakes her head too.
"What?" Jeff asks. "I'm serious. Just ask."
"You won't give me a speech?"
"I -" he stops and she's looking back at him, her lips pursed into a shy kind of smile. She's teases him and doesn't want to admit to where this is coming from. He laughs softly. "You're not worried about a speech," he says.
"No," she agrees. "I'm not."
They're quiet again and she's half-listening to the radio now, almost following the words but not quite. It's a nice silence, if silences can be nice; she doesn't feel the need to talk too much to him, or to apologize, or to fall into those old, relentless habits that she still goes to when she's in these situations. It's one of those moments that stands with complete and utter sense.
He makes the turn onto her street, slowing down just a little bit - she almost wants to see if he remembers where she is. But that's stupid and why - why would she do that?
"You know," Annie tells him, "I never told you why I'm doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Living here," she says. "I've explained myself to Shirley and Britta and Pierce -" she pauses, wrinkling her nose, "but I don't know. I've never told you why."
"Does that bother you?" Jeff parks the car, right in front of her place. He's blocking another car and there's no one on her street, for whatever reason. The comment almost grabs her, but he’s looking at her, waiting for her to continue and she remembers that being alone with Jeff is different when she’s with everybody else.
It’s kind of nice.
She takes a deep breath. "No, I mean - it did. But it doesn't. I guess. I guess I'm glad that you didn't ask me or don't continue to ask me or tried to take advantage of a scenario and ultimately, well, I don't know. So ... thanks?"
She leans over without thinking, and maybe, maybe it's all part of how great the day has kind of ended. Her hand brushes against his arm and her mouth presses against his jaw and she just kisses him like this, her heart in her throat and that long, tired awareness that is just for her to have.
Annie smiles a little against him and she feels his hand turn back against her - her leg, his fingers wrapping around her knee and they just lean into each other. Her head falls against his shoulder and she lets out a little sigh, just a small one, soft and warm.
"You're welcome," he says, and she listens to him sigh or swallow. She doesn't know which, but he's uncomfortable. She lets out a little laugh, husky even as his fingers digging into her skin. She pulls her head back, just to see him, and her cheek catches his jaw. There's a lot of heat and Annie is fumbling through her awareness, keen on the kind of patience that she suddenly holds.
When he pulls back too, she gets to look at him, really look at him, with wide eyes and her mouth parting just slightly. He reaches forward and his fingers drift over her lips.
"This is stupid," he says. He's serious. Annie hates when he's serious. Well, most of the time. "I mean, we're -"
"Shut up," she says.
She doesn't kiss him here. No, not yet. But her fingers wrap around his jaw, her thumb catching against his skin and his throat. Her seat belt is pressing awkwardly into her hip and she's turned, just so that she can lean closer to him and see how far this whole jeff gets uncomfortable close to me can go. But her head is starting to spin.
Her lips curl and she can't quite bring herself to say something to him because if she does and if it's not right, she doesn't know how if she can go another round of what ifs and maybes.
So she declares: "I'm going to kiss you again."
And her mouth covers his.
Yes, she went there.
Jeff is still double-parked. They are somehow in the back seat of his car, and Annie's hand is making a fist in his hair. She's kissing him fiercely, her teeth scraping over his lip as he makes this sound.
"Stupid," he growls, and she's straddling his lap, pressing forward, her other hand curling around the collar of his shirt. His tie is somewhere on the floor of the car and she can't remember how long they've been here - the street gets busy only in the late, late, and early mornings.
But his mouth is hot, still hot, and there is nothing slopping about kissing him. She doesn't taste alcohol. She doesn't taste hesitations or misgivings and Jeff's hand slips underneath her skirt, his fingers spreading against her thigh and oh god, yeah, stupid.
"Resolved," she breathes and doesn't mean to say it, he kind of laughs into the kiss and it's really, really hot catching the sound against her mouth. She stops too, pauses in his lap, only to draw back and rest her forehead against his. She trembles a little and then laughs too. "I want to invite you upstairs," she says. Her fingers catch against the buttons of his shirt and she can't remember how long the two of them have just been here, making out. Like legitimately making out. "But that," she manages, "is such a terrible idea."
"The worst," he agrees.
She can feel Jeff's fingers brush lightly against her skin again, her thigh, and then there's a hand against her back, under her shirt, and hey, hey, hey when did that get there? She doesn't care.
"So -" she exhales. "Um, I should probably go upstairs," she says.
It's not a question, it's a reassurance, and it's not for him, it's for her because she's not about waiting around for him to decide whether or not he wants to meet her halfway. But she's here, you know, and she's not as coy or as sharp as Britta. She doesn't want to be. This is what has changed.
"You probably should," he says. His voice is gruff and he pats her lightly on the hip. She rolls her eyes and slides off of him, into the seat. He surprises her by catching her mouth again, opening into a brisk kiss.
She pulls back and reaches for his tie. Her cheeks are warm and she's smiling, a little more than usual, her hair everywhere. She bites the inside of her cheek and reaches for the door.
"It's not going to get weird, you know."
She stops, blinking. "What?"
Jeff shrugs. "Us, weird. We'll figure it out."
Annie's mouth opens. It closes quickly too. She smiles then and shakes her head, awkwardly opening the door. She manages to get to her feet. She's a little shaky, a little flushed, still - whatever, she thinks. Whatever. And Jeff shows no signs of moving from the back of his car.
They look at each other and she's still smiling, he's looking at her curiously and she likes this whole lazy gaze thing he's got going on, all of the sudden. He's not smiling at her but there's something genuine, something hers, something hers that she can be okay with and sensible about. And she's picking up her bag without even thinking, letting it dangle from her fingers as she smoothes a hand over her skirt.
"Let's try an actual meal, next time," she says.
Tomorrow, there's breakfast.
That’s kind of great too.