Fic: Bad
Title: Bad
Author: x_avecia_x
Rating: PG-13
Warning: A sweary word or two I reckon, nothing too graphic :)
Word Count: 1,753
Disclaimer: I do not own Community - although I would totally marry Dan Harmon then claim half in our (inevitable) divorce settlement - that is unless he concedes to my end game Jeff/Annie demands. If you recognize any of it, it isn't mine.
Summary: Who knew a Bad CD could cause a crisis of commitment-type proportions?
Author's Note: So I actually wrote this for a fandom about 4 years ago, never got around to posting it (at least I don't think I did) and I found it today. I decided to re-work it for Community and that is it. Just a bit of random non-canon future-fic fluff. It's honestly not even that good but I felt like posting something and this was it.
Now, I'm working on like, THREE different multi-chapters (one being a one-shot that refuses to die) just now whilst trying to find time to work Monday to Friday 9-5 so I'll post as quickly as I can but can't promise updates daily (how I wish I could make money from this...) x
_____
This was going to be a problem for her. A BIG problem.
For a while she’d been looking for signs from the powers that be, whoever they were, telling her that this was not a good idea. But until then, until that point, everything had been indicating that this was the most rational thing she could do, and she could barely believe it was her luck that she was moving into a great apartment with a great guy. She had finally started to believe.
That was until that funny guy upstairs, if He even existed, had dealt her a hammer blow…in the form of a CD case.
He walked in with yet another cardboard box placing them next to the large mahogany CD shelf unit. For a couple who never really expressed their love of music openly, they sure had a lot of CDs to find a home for.
And clearly for Annie, this was a subject she thought should have been explored well before now.
“So that’s the last of the boxes from the truck. I was thinking we could get dinner before we start…unpack…ing…” He stuttered on the last word as he noticed the boxes ripped open and CDs already in piles of alphabetical order, and he didn’t doubt that they were in chronological order too after being alphabetized.
From the way Annie held the CD in her hands it should have been obvious to Jeff that there was a problem. And that dinner would have to wait.
“Uh-huh…Jeff what is this?” She held up the CD.
“What do you mean what is it? It’s a CD. Ok, I know I’m old but even I know you aren’t that young to not know what a CD is, you’re taunting me. It’s not funny.”
He looked confused. And normally she would be amused by this. But this was much more serious.
“Come on Jeff, pay attention. I know it’s a CD, but what CD exactly?” How could he not understand?
But clearly he didn’t.
“It’s Michael Jackson. I might understand if you’d come across my copy of George Michael’s greatest hits but why is this a problem?” So what? He liked Michael Jackson, he thought everyone did.
“Oh no no no no no Jeff, this is not Michael Jackson, this…” she felt the need to emphasize the last word by pointing to the CD as she moved closer to him, “…this is a man on the edge. This is a man gone mad with money, and might I add ludicrously hideous fashion sense. This…” she pointed again to the CD now slap bang in front of his eyes, “…is just noise!”
He clearly had no idea where this all came from and looked at the CD and then back to her serious look etched on her face, genuinely not able to make the connection as to why she was so goddamn upset about it.
“Annie, you don’t see me having a shit-fit over your Barenaked Ladies CDs, which by the way you failed miserably at hiding in the box.”
She waited long enough for an appropriate response and when she didn’t get it moments later the truth emerged.
“It’s just, this might seem like just any other CD, but clearly we are coming at each other from two completely different sides of the reality spectrum here. I mean sure it starts off with just a bad Michael Jackson CD, and when I say bad, I don’t mean the title, and then where do we end up? What hope do we have for teaching our children huh?” The pale, shocked look on his face made her quickly run some damage control, “of course, I mean if or, when they eventually might…or might not come along, how are we going to guide them to make good choices in their lives if we can’t even agree on the basics of a solid education in 20th Century pop culture?”
He stopped her from frantically looking through the rest of his CD’s for anymore blatant errors of musical judgment on his part.
“Where are they? I know you have a Wham! CD in there somewhere too…’
“Annie…will you just…” he managed to pull her out of the box he’d brought up moments before causing her to flail her arms, “Annie just stop a minute! Why on earth is this such a major problem? You’re completely overreacting!”
She looked at him with a bemused smile, if there ever was such a thing, silently acknowledging the fact that she could be a little neurotic sometimes, but also a little pissed that he didn’t see the bigger picture.
“Ok ok, what’s this really all about?”
His hands didn’t move from her own, calming the beating rhythm of her heart to a slower pace from full on panic.
“Well Jeff, even I liked Michael Jackson right up until he made Bad…then it just got all too ridiculous.”
She thought she’d averted his interrogation but she was wrong.
“Annie…”
The hint of frustration was clear in his voice, particularly after trailing boxes up three flights of stairs to their beautiful new apartment.
She gave in.
“It’s just…this is a really big step for us, you know the apartment, moving in together, looking to the future. I just keep thinking that one day I’m gonna wake up and it’ll all be some crazy dream. You know, like I made it all up in my head?”
She could still make him feel like shit about that whole situation if she really wanted to.
“Jeff, if we can’t even appreciate the same music then how can we appreciate the bigger differences in our lives?”
And then he goes and floors her, calming the tailspin she always finds herself in when some relationship drama comes her way.
“Annie, this….CD, it doesn’t mean anything. We’re not supposed to like the same things, because we’re gonna be pretty screwed if we are, and I’d question how we’ve lasted so long together if that is the case…”
“Sex Jeff, it’s the sex…”
He eyed her suggestively, this time it was him silently acknowledging the fact that indeed if they had nothing else they connected physically at least….really, REALLY well.
“I’m not just talking about that, as great as that is.”
He smiled, kissing her before getting up from the floor.
“Couples are meant to complete each other, not become carbon copies of one and other. Did Pierce and his eighth wife teach you nothing?”
She hated it when he was right - that racist Chinese woman had literally made Pierce look like the most well adjusted, middle aged man she knew.
“Yeah ok, I guess I had a little meltdown didn’t I?”
Annie cleared the hair from her eyes and looked around her to see the very Annie-ish mess she’d created around her - a tidy one of course, all CDs at right angles amongst her, but a mess none the less.
He smiled again at her and she swore he was doing it one purpose to make her feel even more like a lunatic.
“Yeah you kinda did,” he replied as he moved another box on top of the one he’d brought in from the truck, “which means Britta owes me twenty bucks!”
He stopped as soon as he said it and wished he could suck every word back in.
“Britta owes you what now?”
Well, shit.
“Well, uh, yeah when I told Britta about us moving in together she said that she was gonna be like the cat that got the cream when I freaked out about it all…you know, commitment. And I said that if anyone was gonna freak out it would be you.”
Jeff turned towards her, taking his stare away from the point on the wall which he had chosen to focus on while he confessed all to Annie.
“So now you’re making bets on me acting all crazy. Well that’s just great. And really Britta is one to talk when it comes to commitment. The words pot, kettle and black come to mind. Didn’t she run off to Brazil when her last boyfriend even suggested going steady?”
“Going steady? What are you, forty?”
She full on slapped his shoulder in protest.
“Hey hey, come on, it was just a little joke…”
Jeff smiled at her yet again. She knew he liked her neurotic side, but to bet on it as a likely occurrence in this scenario, was just so…typical! How did he know her so well?
“…and you’re normally so together Annie - honestly, I didn’t really think I would win the bet.”
“Oh really?”
The sarcasm was clearly not lost on him as he moved towards where she sat on the floor, cross-legged, surrounded by plastic CD cases.
“Really, now come on, how about we sit down on the sofa here, open the champagne the group left us, put on some music and order in some food huh?”
He gestured with his hand to help her up.
Annie hesitated, still unsure of the change that was happening all around her, but happy in the knowledge that Jeff was in it for the long haul, she put her hand in his and he helped her from the floor.
“You’re lucky I like Champagne; you are just a bonus in that equation...”
Annie shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the sofa, feeling his tight, muscular arms around her waist. As he took in her scent, she stared at the sofa; that worn leather one Jeff had kept throughout Greendale in his old apartment, the one he couldn’t, strike that….wouldn’t leave behind; the one Annie had agreed to let him keep as long as she got to keep her vast collection of penis-shaped vases she’d made in pottery class, the ones which quite frankly gave him the creeps. She didn’t let Jeff know that she actually quite like the sofa, it was incredibly comfortable. It wasn’t all about sacrifices, it was about compromise...well, on most things at least.
“…But I warn you,” she piped up again, “no Michael Jackson post 1987.”
She felt his muscles ripple under his form-fitting t-shirt, as he laughed inwardly at how stubborn she could be. But he carried on regardless.
As he turned her around, and backed her up onto that very comfortable sofa, he whispered softly, but eagerly, into her ear in response to her statement.
“Mmm, but Annie…” he kissed along her jaw and then along her neckline before making it around to her other ear “you know I’m bad.”
Author: x_avecia_x
Rating: PG-13
Warning: A sweary word or two I reckon, nothing too graphic :)
Word Count: 1,753
Disclaimer: I do not own Community - although I would totally marry Dan Harmon then claim half in our (inevitable) divorce settlement - that is unless he concedes to my end game Jeff/Annie demands. If you recognize any of it, it isn't mine.
Summary: Who knew a Bad CD could cause a crisis of commitment-type proportions?
Author's Note: So I actually wrote this for a fandom about 4 years ago, never got around to posting it (at least I don't think I did) and I found it today. I decided to re-work it for Community and that is it. Just a bit of random non-canon future-fic fluff. It's honestly not even that good but I felt like posting something and this was it.
Now, I'm working on like, THREE different multi-chapters (one being a one-shot that refuses to die) just now whilst trying to find time to work Monday to Friday 9-5 so I'll post as quickly as I can but can't promise updates daily (how I wish I could make money from this...) x
_____
This was going to be a problem for her. A BIG problem.
For a while she’d been looking for signs from the powers that be, whoever they were, telling her that this was not a good idea. But until then, until that point, everything had been indicating that this was the most rational thing she could do, and she could barely believe it was her luck that she was moving into a great apartment with a great guy. She had finally started to believe.
That was until that funny guy upstairs, if He even existed, had dealt her a hammer blow…in the form of a CD case.
He walked in with yet another cardboard box placing them next to the large mahogany CD shelf unit. For a couple who never really expressed their love of music openly, they sure had a lot of CDs to find a home for.
And clearly for Annie, this was a subject she thought should have been explored well before now.
“So that’s the last of the boxes from the truck. I was thinking we could get dinner before we start…unpack…ing…” He stuttered on the last word as he noticed the boxes ripped open and CDs already in piles of alphabetical order, and he didn’t doubt that they were in chronological order too after being alphabetized.
From the way Annie held the CD in her hands it should have been obvious to Jeff that there was a problem. And that dinner would have to wait.
“Uh-huh…Jeff what is this?” She held up the CD.
“What do you mean what is it? It’s a CD. Ok, I know I’m old but even I know you aren’t that young to not know what a CD is, you’re taunting me. It’s not funny.”
He looked confused. And normally she would be amused by this. But this was much more serious.
“Come on Jeff, pay attention. I know it’s a CD, but what CD exactly?” How could he not understand?
But clearly he didn’t.
“It’s Michael Jackson. I might understand if you’d come across my copy of George Michael’s greatest hits but why is this a problem?” So what? He liked Michael Jackson, he thought everyone did.
“Oh no no no no no Jeff, this is not Michael Jackson, this…” she felt the need to emphasize the last word by pointing to the CD as she moved closer to him, “…this is a man on the edge. This is a man gone mad with money, and might I add ludicrously hideous fashion sense. This…” she pointed again to the CD now slap bang in front of his eyes, “…is just noise!”
He clearly had no idea where this all came from and looked at the CD and then back to her serious look etched on her face, genuinely not able to make the connection as to why she was so goddamn upset about it.
“Annie, you don’t see me having a shit-fit over your Barenaked Ladies CDs, which by the way you failed miserably at hiding in the box.”
She waited long enough for an appropriate response and when she didn’t get it moments later the truth emerged.
“It’s just, this might seem like just any other CD, but clearly we are coming at each other from two completely different sides of the reality spectrum here. I mean sure it starts off with just a bad Michael Jackson CD, and when I say bad, I don’t mean the title, and then where do we end up? What hope do we have for teaching our children huh?” The pale, shocked look on his face made her quickly run some damage control, “of course, I mean if or, when they eventually might…or might not come along, how are we going to guide them to make good choices in their lives if we can’t even agree on the basics of a solid education in 20th Century pop culture?”
He stopped her from frantically looking through the rest of his CD’s for anymore blatant errors of musical judgment on his part.
“Where are they? I know you have a Wham! CD in there somewhere too…’
“Annie…will you just…” he managed to pull her out of the box he’d brought up moments before causing her to flail her arms, “Annie just stop a minute! Why on earth is this such a major problem? You’re completely overreacting!”
She looked at him with a bemused smile, if there ever was such a thing, silently acknowledging the fact that she could be a little neurotic sometimes, but also a little pissed that he didn’t see the bigger picture.
“Ok ok, what’s this really all about?”
His hands didn’t move from her own, calming the beating rhythm of her heart to a slower pace from full on panic.
“Well Jeff, even I liked Michael Jackson right up until he made Bad…then it just got all too ridiculous.”
She thought she’d averted his interrogation but she was wrong.
“Annie…”
The hint of frustration was clear in his voice, particularly after trailing boxes up three flights of stairs to their beautiful new apartment.
She gave in.
“It’s just…this is a really big step for us, you know the apartment, moving in together, looking to the future. I just keep thinking that one day I’m gonna wake up and it’ll all be some crazy dream. You know, like I made it all up in my head?”
She could still make him feel like shit about that whole situation if she really wanted to.
“Jeff, if we can’t even appreciate the same music then how can we appreciate the bigger differences in our lives?”
And then he goes and floors her, calming the tailspin she always finds herself in when some relationship drama comes her way.
“Annie, this….CD, it doesn’t mean anything. We’re not supposed to like the same things, because we’re gonna be pretty screwed if we are, and I’d question how we’ve lasted so long together if that is the case…”
“Sex Jeff, it’s the sex…”
He eyed her suggestively, this time it was him silently acknowledging the fact that indeed if they had nothing else they connected physically at least….really, REALLY well.
“I’m not just talking about that, as great as that is.”
He smiled, kissing her before getting up from the floor.
“Couples are meant to complete each other, not become carbon copies of one and other. Did Pierce and his eighth wife teach you nothing?”
She hated it when he was right - that racist Chinese woman had literally made Pierce look like the most well adjusted, middle aged man she knew.
“Yeah ok, I guess I had a little meltdown didn’t I?”
Annie cleared the hair from her eyes and looked around her to see the very Annie-ish mess she’d created around her - a tidy one of course, all CDs at right angles amongst her, but a mess none the less.
He smiled again at her and she swore he was doing it one purpose to make her feel even more like a lunatic.
“Yeah you kinda did,” he replied as he moved another box on top of the one he’d brought in from the truck, “which means Britta owes me twenty bucks!”
He stopped as soon as he said it and wished he could suck every word back in.
“Britta owes you what now?”
Well, shit.
“Well, uh, yeah when I told Britta about us moving in together she said that she was gonna be like the cat that got the cream when I freaked out about it all…you know, commitment. And I said that if anyone was gonna freak out it would be you.”
Jeff turned towards her, taking his stare away from the point on the wall which he had chosen to focus on while he confessed all to Annie.
“So now you’re making bets on me acting all crazy. Well that’s just great. And really Britta is one to talk when it comes to commitment. The words pot, kettle and black come to mind. Didn’t she run off to Brazil when her last boyfriend even suggested going steady?”
“Going steady? What are you, forty?”
She full on slapped his shoulder in protest.
“Hey hey, come on, it was just a little joke…”
Jeff smiled at her yet again. She knew he liked her neurotic side, but to bet on it as a likely occurrence in this scenario, was just so…typical! How did he know her so well?
“…and you’re normally so together Annie - honestly, I didn’t really think I would win the bet.”
“Oh really?”
The sarcasm was clearly not lost on him as he moved towards where she sat on the floor, cross-legged, surrounded by plastic CD cases.
“Really, now come on, how about we sit down on the sofa here, open the champagne the group left us, put on some music and order in some food huh?”
He gestured with his hand to help her up.
Annie hesitated, still unsure of the change that was happening all around her, but happy in the knowledge that Jeff was in it for the long haul, she put her hand in his and he helped her from the floor.
“You’re lucky I like Champagne; you are just a bonus in that equation...”
Annie shrugged her shoulders and walked over to the sofa, feeling his tight, muscular arms around her waist. As he took in her scent, she stared at the sofa; that worn leather one Jeff had kept throughout Greendale in his old apartment, the one he couldn’t, strike that….wouldn’t leave behind; the one Annie had agreed to let him keep as long as she got to keep her vast collection of penis-shaped vases she’d made in pottery class, the ones which quite frankly gave him the creeps. She didn’t let Jeff know that she actually quite like the sofa, it was incredibly comfortable. It wasn’t all about sacrifices, it was about compromise...well, on most things at least.
“…But I warn you,” she piped up again, “no Michael Jackson post 1987.”
She felt his muscles ripple under his form-fitting t-shirt, as he laughed inwardly at how stubborn she could be. But he carried on regardless.
As he turned her around, and backed her up onto that very comfortable sofa, he whispered softly, but eagerly, into her ear in response to her statement.
“Mmm, but Annie…” he kissed along her jaw and then along her neckline before making it around to her other ear “you know I’m bad.”