There's Only One Girl In the World For You (48/?)
Title: There’s only one girl in the world for you (48/?)
Author: lapacifidora
Spoilers: Season 1 and into an AU Season 2
Rating/ Warnings: PG-13, for the time being
Word Count: 1,644
Disclaimers: Not mine. Although I think Dan Harmon knows this friend of mine and based Troy on her… The title comes from a Wreckless Eric song.
Author’s note: This is for shan21non ’s Ficcy Friday prompt for Greendale’s inaugural study abroad program. So, this was all going to be one chapter, until I first found the place they have dinner at in the next chapter, and then I signed into Pandora, at which point this turned into two chapters.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 a/ b | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 a/ b | Chapter 21 a/ b | Five Times… | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 a/ b | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 a/ b | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 a/ b | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 a/ b | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 a/ b | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 a/ b | Chapter 43 a/ b | Chapter 44 | Chapter 45 | Chapter 46 | Chapter 47 a/ b |
***
The last time Abed had felt this poorly was the morning after the night before the Valentine’s Day dance, when he and Jeff - and the pizza delivery guy - had drank their weight in alcohol.
(He paused, his coffee mug halfway to his lips, and breathed in the steamy scent of the dark roast. They hadn’t actually drank their weight in alcohol, but that was a nice turn of embellishing phrase. He supposed he could allow himself a radical departure from his regular ‘just-the-facts’ sensibility, so long as it remained in his head.)
Unlike the typical descriptions of hangovers - little men clog dancing or pounding away at wooden blocks or anvils; whispers that sounded like screams; or nausea that flowed and ebbed like the tide - Abed would describe his as the mother of all migraines. There was a faint but persistent pounding behind his right eye, and the bright morning sun streaming in the windows of the Hampton Inn’s breakfast room hurt his vision.
Troy wasn’t doing much better, as he grimaced and chugged away at his third container of orange juice. He stuck his tongue out as he set down the empty bottle and shook his head.
“Dude, why does orange juice have to taste so orangey?”
“A question for the ages.” Abed looked sideways at his friend. “Like who invented liquid soap and why. Or why people can’t manage to keep falafel and gyros straight.”
“I can.” Britta said, setting her plate and glass of milk down on the coffee table and gingerly lowered herself onto a padded bench. “But then you kinda have to when that’s the only street food you can eat.” She speared a slice of melon with her fork and brought it to her mouth, looking down at with distaste before she popped it in and chewed. She swallowed and took a sip of milk before continuing. “Of course, the renaissance of New York street vendors and the uptick in vegetarian options had to happen after I moved back to Greendale.”
“Girl, you don’t know frustration until you go to a family gathering and every single damn thing is diabetic-friendly.” Shirley said as she sat on the couch. Outside, a passing cloud moved on, allowing a bright beam of sunlight to land directly on her. She frowned and stood, making her way over to the window, and messing with the blinds till some of the light was blocked. “Don’t get me wrong: I’m all for tasty food that’s not going to send your blood sugar through the roof. But would it kill them to warn a person so I don’t eat anything with sugar substitute and end up sick to my stomach for the next three days?”
“Lightweight.” Pierce perched on the raised hearth, setting his plate next to him as he took a sip of his coffee. “You didn’t have that much to drink last night.”
“First, that’s not what I’m talking about,” Shirley began, as she wrapped her hands around a steaming latte.
“Second, that’s interesting coming from the guy in the Burt-Reynolds-aviators.” Jeff finished, settling next to Shirley and raising an eyebrow at Pierce’s oversized sunglasses.
“Does a hangover always feel this bad?” Annie asked quietly as she sat next to Britta on the bench and tucked into a plate of scrambled eggs.
“How do you feel?” Britta asked around a chunk of muffin.
“Like I want to die.”
“Then: Yep.”
“Didn’t you have a hangover before?” Abed looked over at Annie. “After we went to the Vancouver Fringe Festival?”
“Um.” Annie met Abed’s inquisitive gaze briefly before her own shot to Jeff, taking in his drawn profile. “No. Britta made all of us eat that cheese, remember?”
“Sure I do. But the rest of us still felt kind of lousy the next morning. What makes you different?”
“I don’t know.” Annie forced a smile and shrugged as she laughed. “Just lucky, I guess.”
“What about you, Jeff?” Abed turned his stare on the man sitting across from him. “Did you have a hangover that morning?”
“I don’t know.” Jeff muttered. He looked up, and rolled his eyes when he saw he was the center of attention. “Look, Abed, I don’t remember.”
“But it was only a few weeks ago.”
“And if I kept track of every stupid thing I’ve ever done, I’d be remembering a lot of crap.” Jeff bit out, rubbing at his temple as he sipped his coffee. A tiny noise drew his attention, and he looked over at Annie, whose eyes were wide and whose bottom lip was beginning to tremble.
“More than that, you’d have no room left in your brain for anything useful,” Britta said, pointing at him with her fork and glaring. That she leaned forward and in front of Annie registered, and Jeff mentally slapped himself as he realized that the blonde somehow knew - or thought she did - enough to know why Annie looked like she’d been told that her puppy had been run over by a car.
“Good Morning, my eager beavers!” Professor Whitman and Emmaline approached the group, wide smiles on both their faces. “I hope you’re all feeling at your best because today will be filled with adventure and exploration! Now, who’s with me?”
***
In the interest of expediency, Emmaline squeezed onto the back bank seat of the van and spent the hour’s drive south discussing with Abed whether D.W. Griffith’s ‘Intolerance’ really in any way made up for ‘Birth of a Nation’.
When they arrived at the vaguely farm-like compound, the study group piled out of the car and looked around for some sign of what they’d be doing. Whitman led them toward the largest building, from which the faint sound of voices could be heard. Throwing open a door to the left of a set of large sliding doors, he gestured for the group to proceed him before pulling the door closed behind him.
“Here we are, my fellow Greendalians!” Whitman came to stand at the front of his group and stood with his arms wide. “Welcome to HorsePlay Niagara!”
The group exchanged bemused looks while Emmaline shook her head and purposely avoided Whitman’s grinning face.
“Oh, this is not going to end well.” She muttered to herself.
“Agreed and seconded.” Abed said, looking put upon.
***
True to Greendale tradition, the hour long trail ride did not end well. Britta insisted that her horse was the reincarnation of Timothy Leery because of the way it meandered along and kept stopping to nibble at Birch trees.
Abed, Troy and Pierce spent the hour trying to talk ‘horse’ to their mounts. Shirley proved herself a capable, if unexpected, horsewoman when Annie’s horse spooked, and she was the only one who reacted quickly enough to catch up and get the dappled gray mare under control.
Jeff then spent the rest of the ride keeping pace with Annie and Shirley, despite being solidly ignored by the brunette. Shirley looked at them both strangely for the rest of the day.
Whitman and Emmaline trailed behind, heads bent together as they had a heated disagreement.
(“I cannot believe you threw a pinecone at Miss Edison’s horse!”
“But she’s fine!”
“Em, what on Earth were you thinking? What could provoke such an unwarranted act of jackassery?”
“I’m sorry. I thought Jeff would be the one to go after her.”
“What?” Whitman pulled back on the reins, drawing his horse to a stop. Emmaline turned hers around and came back to face him, a frustrated frown on her face.
“Well, I thought he’d go after her, and it’d be all romantic, and OK, I knew she might fall off her horse, but at the pace we’re going, it’s not like she’d be seriously injured. And then I thought maybe he’d leap off his horse and go rushing to her side, and they’d either forget about whatever nonsense has them acting like crazy people, or at the very least, they’d be freaked out enough they’d start talking and apologize to each other, and then everything could go back to normal. And I know you think I don’t have mad matchmaking skills, but I really thought it would work, and I in no way expected Shirley to be such a good horsewoman. I mean, no disrespect, but who would? And, really, what we should be focusing on is that everyone is fine, no animals were harmed in the making of this romantic-comedy moment, and I’ve learned my lesson, so you don’t need to worry, the next time I-” Emmaline stopped short as Whitman leaned forward and kissed her. She blushed when he pulled back. “Walt.”
“Emmy.”
“Not in front of the children.”
“Now who’s concerned about formalities?”)
On the way into the Village of Wainfleet, Whitman tried to reconcile his students to the fact that it could’ve been worse: There was also the St. Catharine’s Parachute Club in the area, and Dean Pelton had been in favor of having them all jump out of a plane.
(“Would it have been a buddy jump? I would’ve picked Big Boobs.”
“PIERCE!”
“Can’t any of you take a joke? You’re all so streets behind.”)
They spent the afternoon exploring the Forks Road Pottery and Marshville Chocolates factories - although Abed didn’t to join Troy next to the enrobing machine, as “at this point, a Lucy-and-Ethel scene is expected and would be derivative at best.”
The group had an early dinner and then headed to the Rink at the Brink for a spot of ice skating and to watch both the light show on the Falls.
Jeff lay in bed later that night and decided he and Annie had said no more than a handful of words to each other. He levered himself out of bed, and went to the bathroom to take an antihistamine, hoping it would help relieve the painful pressure in his chest.
***