Spill - Community fic
My first piece of Community fic, or at least the first to be finished enough for sharing with the public. At this point, it stands well enough on its own, but as always I reserve the right to come back and add sequels. So, on that note, enjoy!
Title: Spill
Summary: The beans. The news. The pills.
Spoilers: Anything thru 3.10 is fair game
Rating: PG/T
Characters: Annie, Abed, Jeff. No pairings at this point.
Standard Disclaimer: Community belongs to NBC and Wizard Master Dan Harmon. This little tidbit was written out of nothing but pure love for the show and a desire to show the network just how much we want it back. #sixseasonsandamovie!
A/N: Set in the heretofore unseen second semester of season 3.
This was a fight. They were fighting. Again.
Britta, Jeff, and Shirley had each stormed out in different directions. Troy had gone after Britta and Pierce had excused himself shortly after, chortling under his breath about how easily ruffled some people were. Annie couldn’t remember exactly what the fight had been about, but she was pretty sure it had started with something their elderly friend had callously thrown out into the conversation. Tempers had flared, knee-jerk reactions from the various extreme opinions in the group leading to more offenses, more arguing, and, finally, this.
The room was in chaos, made all the sadder by the sudden silence. Shirley had knocked over her chair she’d run out so quickly, clutching her large handbag to her chest and continuing her tirade about how bound for hell they all were until her voice had faded away down the hallway. Feeling numb, Annie slowly rose to set the chair right, as, across the table, Abed did the same for Britta’s seat. Wordlessly, he knelt to begin picking up the stray items that had scattered across the floor in the wake of their friends’ heated exits. Annie came around the table to help without a word.
The lipstick and mascara went into Britta’s purse. The comb, mints, and hair gel to Jeff’s messenger bag. For the condoms they briefly glanced at each other and then decided to divide them evenly between the two. Textbooks and notebooks could be identified by the handwriting inside them. They were down to a few odd pens and pencils when they both saw the little orange canister by the table leg.
Annie froze, the remembered feeling of little white pills in her fingers and against her lips suddenly far too loud, and then Abed mercifully reached over and plucked it up off the carpet.
“Hm. Anti-psychotics,” he said, looking over the label on the front, and then calmly placed the bottle in Jeff’s bag.
Title: Spill
Summary: The beans. The news. The pills.
Spoilers: Anything thru 3.10 is fair game
Rating: PG/T
Characters: Annie, Abed, Jeff. No pairings at this point.
Standard Disclaimer: Community belongs to NBC and Wizard Master Dan Harmon. This little tidbit was written out of nothing but pure love for the show and a desire to show the network just how much we want it back. #sixseasonsandamovie!
A/N: Set in the heretofore unseen second semester of season 3.
This was a fight. They were fighting. Again.
Britta, Jeff, and Shirley had each stormed out in different directions. Troy had gone after Britta and Pierce had excused himself shortly after, chortling under his breath about how easily ruffled some people were. Annie couldn’t remember exactly what the fight had been about, but she was pretty sure it had started with something their elderly friend had callously thrown out into the conversation. Tempers had flared, knee-jerk reactions from the various extreme opinions in the group leading to more offenses, more arguing, and, finally, this.
The room was in chaos, made all the sadder by the sudden silence. Shirley had knocked over her chair she’d run out so quickly, clutching her large handbag to her chest and continuing her tirade about how bound for hell they all were until her voice had faded away down the hallway. Feeling numb, Annie slowly rose to set the chair right, as, across the table, Abed did the same for Britta’s seat. Wordlessly, he knelt to begin picking up the stray items that had scattered across the floor in the wake of their friends’ heated exits. Annie came around the table to help without a word.
The lipstick and mascara went into Britta’s purse. The comb, mints, and hair gel to Jeff’s messenger bag. For the condoms they briefly glanced at each other and then decided to divide them evenly between the two. Textbooks and notebooks could be identified by the handwriting inside them. They were down to a few odd pens and pencils when they both saw the little orange canister by the table leg.
Annie froze, the remembered feeling of little white pills in her fingers and against her lips suddenly far too loud, and then Abed mercifully reached over and plucked it up off the carpet.
“Hm. Anti-psychotics,” he said, looking over the label on the front, and then calmly placed the bottle in Jeff’s bag.