crittab Inception crossover- Annie sets up a dream-world for Jeff to figure out how he really feels about her.
All Our Joys Are But Fantastical, PG-13, 980 words A/N: So this isn't a straight crossover - the dreaming rules here are some weird combination of Inception and the Dreamatorium. (With an extra -ish on the end of that statement.)
"Annie," says Abed with a slight frown, "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
She shakes her head. "I can't live with not knowing."
Abed and Troy exchange a quick glance, but Troy looks back at her first, straightening his shoulders, her faithful soldier. Abed strums his fingers on the battered wooden table once, twice, but when he finally looks up at her his gaze is steady and unblinking.
"We're in," he says.
First Year, Greendale Gymnasium
The parking lot is dimly lit, and Annie tugs awkwardly on the straps of her backpack, trying to remember how she felt this night - the adrenaline of winning thrumming through her veins and her first kiss with Jeff a sharp, new memory. Jeff's subconscious is filled with duplicates of himself, clothed in the uniforms of college students the world over, streaming out past them into the night. The various Jeff voices are muted in the dark of the parking, layering eerily over each other.
The real Jeff, the one in front of her, clumsily congratulates her on the debate win, and she smiles up at him encouragingly.
He goes in for a hug then, right on schedule, and she sidesteps him to move in close and stands on her toes in her ballet flats to kiss him on the lips. She kisses him close-lipped and gentle, but Jeff goes deathly still, his arm caught still outstretched. She feels it when he takes a quick, short breath in and steps back from her.
"Annie..."
She forces herself to laugh a little, softly. "It's okay, Jeff."
His hand moves then, coming to rest on her arm, and she shivers. "It's just... you're eighteen."
She takes a small step away from him. "I won't be eighteen forever, you know."
He smiles at her, lop-sided. "Maybe not." Then he pats her on the head and makes a graceless retreat, and Annie almost has sympathy for the tense way he walks, shoulders hitched up high and his head down.
She watches until he disappears into the dim light of the parking lot.
"We need to go deeper," she says then, and the world shifts around her.
All Our Joys Are But Fantastical, PG-13, 980 words
A/N: So this isn't a straight crossover - the dreaming rules here are some weird combination of Inception and the Dreamatorium. (With an extra -ish on the end of that statement.)
"Annie," says Abed with a slight frown, "I'm not sure this is a good idea."
She shakes her head. "I can't live with not knowing."
Abed and Troy exchange a quick glance, but Troy looks back at her first, straightening his shoulders, her faithful soldier. Abed strums his fingers on the battered wooden table once, twice, but when he finally looks up at her his gaze is steady and unblinking.
"We're in," he says.
First Year, Greendale Gymnasium
The parking lot is dimly lit, and Annie tugs awkwardly on the straps of her backpack, trying to remember how she felt this night - the adrenaline of winning thrumming through her veins and her first kiss with Jeff a sharp, new memory. Jeff's subconscious is filled with duplicates of himself, clothed in the uniforms of college students the world over, streaming out past them into the night. The various Jeff voices are muted in the dark of the parking, layering eerily over each other.
The real Jeff, the one in front of her, clumsily congratulates her on the debate win, and she smiles up at him encouragingly.
He goes in for a hug then, right on schedule, and she sidesteps him to move in close and stands on her toes in her ballet flats to kiss him on the lips. She kisses him close-lipped and gentle, but Jeff goes deathly still, his arm caught still outstretched. She feels it when he takes a quick, short breath in and steps back from her.
"Annie..."
She forces herself to laugh a little, softly. "It's okay, Jeff."
His hand moves then, coming to rest on her arm, and she shivers. "It's just... you're eighteen."
She takes a small step away from him. "I won't be eighteen forever, you know."
He smiles at her, lop-sided. "Maybe not." Then he pats her on the head and makes a graceless retreat, and Annie almost has sympathy for the tense way he walks, shoulders hitched up high and his head down.
She watches until he disappears into the dim light of the parking lot.
"We need to go deeper," she says then, and the world shifts around her.
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