Drive, Community, Jeff/Annie, anger, fondnessblithersJanuary 30 2011, 09:31:42 UTC
She's nipping at his heels like a plaid-skirted terrier, and his patience finally snaps. He grabs her wrist and pulls her through the nearest door with him.
"Jeff," she hisses, "this is the men's bathroom."
"And that's the first rational thing you've said in the last half hour."
Her gaze sharpens and she sticks her chin out at him. "You're pissy today. Is it your time of the month on Abed's calendar?"
"Oh, that's rich, coming from Little Miss Don't-Look-At-Me-The-Wrong-Way-Or-I-Will-Flip-My-Fucking-Lid Eddison. Let's get something straight here. Only one of us has ever screamed like a girl to get their way, and you know what? It wasn't me."
She throws her shoulders back and starts to draw a deep breath. "Only one of us is a girl here. Listen, Jeffrey..."
He moves his face in closer to cut her off, throwing all his height behind his words, because she's wearing ballet flats and obviously the best course of action here is intimidation through sheer bulk. "Shut. Up."
Her lips tighten and she draws herself up even straighter, which he hadn't realized was actually possible. "No. You shut up."
So he kisses her.
He's not really thinking about it, and the remaining options for action are rapidly dwindling - occupying her mouth with anything besides talking has become the most attractive option. And, fuck, she's hot when she's angry. He'd be lying if he said she didn't turn him on, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed and her hands in fists by the sides of her stupid 60s era cardigan, glaring at him with those sharp blue eyes and a focus that is almost unnerving.
And the kiss is hot. She's throwing the kiss back at him angrily, scraping her teeth over his lips, and he grabs her hips to stop her from moving the fuck around so much and digs his tongue into her mouth. Because if there's one thing Jeff Winger does, it's win, and no way Annie, with her purple gel pens and extensive handwritten class notes is going to beat him at his own game, on his home court.
"Jeff," she hisses, "this is the men's bathroom."
"And that's the first rational thing you've said in the last half hour."
Her gaze sharpens and she sticks her chin out at him. "You're pissy today. Is it your time of the month on Abed's calendar?"
"Oh, that's rich, coming from Little Miss Don't-Look-At-Me-The-Wrong-Way-Or-I-Will-Flip-My-Fucking-Lid Eddison. Let's get something straight here. Only one of us has ever screamed like a girl to get their way, and you know what? It wasn't me."
She throws her shoulders back and starts to draw a deep breath. "Only one of us is a girl here. Listen, Jeffrey..."
He moves his face in closer to cut her off, throwing all his height behind his words, because she's wearing ballet flats and obviously the best course of action here is intimidation through sheer bulk. "Shut. Up."
Her lips tighten and she draws herself up even straighter, which he hadn't realized was actually possible. "No. You shut up."
So he kisses her.
He's not really thinking about it, and the remaining options for action are rapidly dwindling - occupying her mouth with anything besides talking has become the most attractive option. And, fuck, she's hot when she's angry. He'd be lying if he said she didn't turn him on, with her cheeks flushed and her eyes narrowed and her hands in fists by the sides of her stupid 60s era cardigan, glaring at him with those sharp blue eyes and a focus that is almost unnerving.
And the kiss is hot. She's throwing the kiss back at him angrily, scraping her teeth over his lips, and he grabs her hips to stop her from moving the fuck around so much and digs his tongue into her mouth. Because if there's one thing Jeff Winger does, it's win, and no way Annie, with her purple gel pens and extensive handwritten class notes is going to beat him at his own game, on his home court.
(continued here)
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