I Wish I Knew (Jeff/Annie)
Title: I Wish I Knew
Fandom: Community
Pairing: Jeff/Annie
Word Count: 950
Rating: PG
Notes: A long while ago, there was a prompt on one of milady-milord's Ficcy Friday posts about Annie being Jeff's divorce lawyer. I started writing it, but only finished it up now (and it's pretty open-ended). Season two is not taken into account at all, canon-wise, for this fic.
Summary: Jeff makes a surprise visit.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue!
*
When Ann hears her assistant's voice through the intercom, she's not thinking about work. Maybe that's part of the reason why she agrees to see a possible client (she should be thinking about work, she shouldn't be fraying at the edges at thirty-six), a man who walked into her waiting room without an appointment.
She rises to meet the man halfway, but suddenly stops before she makes it, breaking out into a smile and squealing. (He can still make her act that way -- girlish, silly -- mostly because she associates him with the time when she was a teenager who was just learning how to be happy.) "Jeff."
After she closes the rest of the distance, she throws her arms around him (a younger version of her would have hesitated... a less young -- but too young for him, in the end -- version would have kissed him as they hugged), briefly embracing Jeff before she steps back and takes in the sight of him. He's as handsome as he ever was, his hair is the same color -- he must dye it; Ann refuses to believe she started to find gray hairs before he did -- but he looks his age. Looks more tired than the last time she saw him, and his smile seems subdued; polite. It makes her calm down -- was this his intention? -- and she gestures to the couch.
"Have a seat."
He does, and she sits down next to him. She smoothes out her skirt and crosses her legs.
"So, I guess you were in the neighborhood?"
He nods. "Something like that."
She waits for him to elaborate but he just sits there, mouth evening out into a thin line. As she's about to speak, about to make an attempt to get the conversation going, he says:
"Thing is, I need a lawyer."
And she reacts the way one of those younger versions of herself would have, her mouth forming an 'O' as she tries to figure out what to say to an ex-boyfriend, no, a friend, who announces his divorce in such a matter-of-fact way. "I'm sorry, Jeff. I'm so sorry."
(She only met Jeff's wife once in the five years they've been married. It was at a Study Group reunion three years ago -- something they promised to do every year, something they haven't done since three years ago -- and it was obvious Beth didn't like her. Or Britta, for that matter.
"It's because of Jeff," Britta said.
"But that's... that's over, Jeff and I. And you and Jeff are over. It's in the past. And we don't hate each other."
"It's different for her. We've never been her friends. We're just a couple of women her husband has seen naked. *And* she's betting her future on Jeff Winger, which has to be nerve-wracking already, so when she's looking at two of his ex-girlfriends she's *going* to be on edge."
Beth glanced over at them. Ann waved. Beth scowled.
"It's a good thing both of us were too smart to marry him," Britta said.
"Yeah," she replied, instead of saying, He never asked either of us. Instead of pondering whether she would've said yes had he made a proposal.)
"I'm not sorry," he insists. "So--"
"I can't be your lawyer. We used to... we've been in a relationship."
"A long time ago."
She shakes her head. "That doesn't matter."
"You always tell me what a long time ago it was whenever I bring it up--"
"Because when you bring it up--" Reminiscing, off-color remarks that always make her uncomfortable and, once, a drunken call where he insisted they should try again. "--how long ago it was matters--" It's been a while since he's brought it up in any of those ways. "--but this will always--"
"--and, essentially, the rule isn't about not representing people you've slept with, but not sleeping with people you represent. Which, if you're wondering, is a very fun rule to break."
Ann can't tell if he's flirting. She doesn't know if she wants him to. "It's not about ethics; *I* wouldn't feel comfortable. Trust me, you wouldn't feel comfortable." She exhales. Sits up straighter. Tries to sound nonchalant bordering on cheery. "I know a lot of great lawyers--"
"I think you'd be proud to know that I did a lot of research on this subject, and you're the best divorce attorney in this state." He pauses. Emphasizes: "I need you."
Part of her already waivers. "There are plenty of lawyers as skilled as I am--"
"Don't sell yourself short."
"Jeff--"
"Annie--" (He's the only one who calls her that anymore.) "I would like to have someone involved in this process who doesn't hate me."
His smile returns, and there's something false in it. She wants to look away because, often, it's the flash of vulnerability that can get her easier than the charm he covers it with. "I'll have to think about it." She pauses. "Then we can have a consultation and consider whether or not your case is one I want to take on, and whether you feel I would be the best choice to represent you--"
"You're still way too careful."
His smile turns warmer -- also: a touch condescending -- and there are so many things she could say. So many times when he was too careful or too careless and that's what ruined them, a lack of consistency. A lack of knowing where she stood, and she always should have been more careful with him.
"That's who I am, Jeff." She thinks she succeeds in being casual. "That's why you're here."
He nods.
He's still smiling.
END
Fandom: Community
Pairing: Jeff/Annie
Word Count: 950
Rating: PG
Notes: A long while ago, there was a prompt on one of milady-milord's Ficcy Friday posts about Annie being Jeff's divorce lawyer. I started writing it, but only finished it up now (and it's pretty open-ended). Season two is not taken into account at all, canon-wise, for this fic.
Summary: Jeff makes a surprise visit.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue!
*
When Ann hears her assistant's voice through the intercom, she's not thinking about work. Maybe that's part of the reason why she agrees to see a possible client (she should be thinking about work, she shouldn't be fraying at the edges at thirty-six), a man who walked into her waiting room without an appointment.
She rises to meet the man halfway, but suddenly stops before she makes it, breaking out into a smile and squealing. (He can still make her act that way -- girlish, silly -- mostly because she associates him with the time when she was a teenager who was just learning how to be happy.) "Jeff."
After she closes the rest of the distance, she throws her arms around him (a younger version of her would have hesitated... a less young -- but too young for him, in the end -- version would have kissed him as they hugged), briefly embracing Jeff before she steps back and takes in the sight of him. He's as handsome as he ever was, his hair is the same color -- he must dye it; Ann refuses to believe she started to find gray hairs before he did -- but he looks his age. Looks more tired than the last time she saw him, and his smile seems subdued; polite. It makes her calm down -- was this his intention? -- and she gestures to the couch.
"Have a seat."
He does, and she sits down next to him. She smoothes out her skirt and crosses her legs.
"So, I guess you were in the neighborhood?"
He nods. "Something like that."
She waits for him to elaborate but he just sits there, mouth evening out into a thin line. As she's about to speak, about to make an attempt to get the conversation going, he says:
"Thing is, I need a lawyer."
And she reacts the way one of those younger versions of herself would have, her mouth forming an 'O' as she tries to figure out what to say to an ex-boyfriend, no, a friend, who announces his divorce in such a matter-of-fact way. "I'm sorry, Jeff. I'm so sorry."
(She only met Jeff's wife once in the five years they've been married. It was at a Study Group reunion three years ago -- something they promised to do every year, something they haven't done since three years ago -- and it was obvious Beth didn't like her. Or Britta, for that matter.
"It's because of Jeff," Britta said.
"But that's... that's over, Jeff and I. And you and Jeff are over. It's in the past. And we don't hate each other."
"It's different for her. We've never been her friends. We're just a couple of women her husband has seen naked. *And* she's betting her future on Jeff Winger, which has to be nerve-wracking already, so when she's looking at two of his ex-girlfriends she's *going* to be on edge."
Beth glanced over at them. Ann waved. Beth scowled.
"It's a good thing both of us were too smart to marry him," Britta said.
"Yeah," she replied, instead of saying, He never asked either of us. Instead of pondering whether she would've said yes had he made a proposal.)
"I'm not sorry," he insists. "So--"
"I can't be your lawyer. We used to... we've been in a relationship."
"A long time ago."
She shakes her head. "That doesn't matter."
"You always tell me what a long time ago it was whenever I bring it up--"
"Because when you bring it up--" Reminiscing, off-color remarks that always make her uncomfortable and, once, a drunken call where he insisted they should try again. "--how long ago it was matters--" It's been a while since he's brought it up in any of those ways. "--but this will always--"
"--and, essentially, the rule isn't about not representing people you've slept with, but not sleeping with people you represent. Which, if you're wondering, is a very fun rule to break."
Ann can't tell if he's flirting. She doesn't know if she wants him to. "It's not about ethics; *I* wouldn't feel comfortable. Trust me, you wouldn't feel comfortable." She exhales. Sits up straighter. Tries to sound nonchalant bordering on cheery. "I know a lot of great lawyers--"
"I think you'd be proud to know that I did a lot of research on this subject, and you're the best divorce attorney in this state." He pauses. Emphasizes: "I need you."
Part of her already waivers. "There are plenty of lawyers as skilled as I am--"
"Don't sell yourself short."
"Jeff--"
"Annie--" (He's the only one who calls her that anymore.) "I would like to have someone involved in this process who doesn't hate me."
His smile returns, and there's something false in it. She wants to look away because, often, it's the flash of vulnerability that can get her easier than the charm he covers it with. "I'll have to think about it." She pauses. "Then we can have a consultation and consider whether or not your case is one I want to take on, and whether you feel I would be the best choice to represent you--"
"You're still way too careful."
His smile turns warmer -- also: a touch condescending -- and there are so many things she could say. So many times when he was too careful or too careless and that's what ruined them, a lack of consistency. A lack of knowing where she stood, and she always should have been more careful with him.
"That's who I am, Jeff." She thinks she succeeds in being casual. "That's why you're here."
He nods.
He's still smiling.
END