Just Until I Know What I'm Feeling (1b/3)
Summary: It's the study group's sixth year at Greendale, and Jeff's in love with Annie. Too bad she doesn't know that. Yet.
Spoilers: If you've watched through s5, nothing should be spoiled for you.
Word Count: 6,380
Rating/Warnings: This chapter is PG-13, but the story will contain plenty of sex, drugs, and alcohol.
Disclaimer: These character's belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.
Author's Note: Once again, heartfelt and endless appreciation goes to my magnificent beta: bethanyactually. The title for this story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."
Read Part 1a
Normally when Annie Edison is given a day off from school, she uses it to organize and code her notes or get ahead on the assigned readings.
Today she's driving nearly an hour to some secluded picnic spot to meet Dom.
She can't help but wonder if her need for attention is so potent that she would put off important study time and spend an inordinate amount of money on gas to meet with a guy she has lukewarm feelings about. Annie wants to believe that this is a sign she likes Dom a lot more than she thinks, instead.
But if she's being honest, she knows it's neither her need for attention nor her affection for Dom that got her to agree to the trip.
Her GPS, and the address Dom provided, leads her to a dirt road, which spits out into a gravel parking lot, a few miles off the freeway exit. There are some scattered cars, but Annie is able to pick out Dom's rust-colored Buick easily. She pulls up beside him, and his head snaps up at the noise. He's out of his car and opening her door more quickly than should be possible.
"How was your drive?" he asks politely as she gathers the blanket, cut strawberries, and cookies she brought from the passenger seat.
"Okay. I listened to some of my recorded lectures. How are you?"
"Happy to see you." He smiles wide and gathers her into a hug encumbered by all the things she’s carrying. He pulls back quickly. “Here, let me help you with those.” He takes the containers of cookies and strawberries and pops the trunk of his car.
A well-used picnic basket is nestled among a gym bag, an emergency preparedness kit, and some golf clubs. Dom deposits Annie’s contributions into it before hefting the basket out of the trunk.
“You really like to stay active, huh?”
He starts leading the way down one of the trails: “Mind, body, and soul.”
Annie snorts reflexively and immediately feels bad when Dom gives her a wounded glance. “Oh, uh, are you religious?”
“Well I haven’t been to temple in a really long time, but, yeah, I’m Jewish.”
“No way,” Annie bobs her head excitedly. “I’m Jewish! I had no idea.”
“Maybe we could attend a service together sometime. You know, if you’re into that.” he suggests shyly.
“That could be nice.” She tries to picture telling her friends about Dom, about their second date being at a temple. “Shirley’s going to love you.”
“She’s from your study group, right?” Annie nods. “You’re thinking about introducing me to your friends.”
He’s so pleased by the idea that she doesn’t mention the thoughts were not necessarily pleasant.
They walk the rest of the way in a fairly comfortable silence. Dom casually frees one hand and slips his fingers between Annie’s. His hands have a rough texture, but they’re warm and soft so she doesn’t protest.
The trail they’re on breaks into a clearing with several picnic tables and charcoal grills. They’re at a high altitude, and the edge of the meadow drops off at a sharp angle. Where there isn’t a dense wall of trees, there’s a picturesque view of some mountain-y hills. Annie is immediately drawn to the edge of the cliff.
“It’s gorgeous.” she notes, pulling her phone from the pocket of her cardigan to snap a few pictures.
“I like to come here before big events.” Dom admits. “This is my good luck spot.” She can feel him watching her, expecting some kind of reaction to his grand gesture. She stops taking pictures and turns to smile gratefully at him. “Hey! We should get a picture together.” He suggests.
Amiably, Annie nods and they turn so the landscape is behind them. Dom gently takes Annie’s phone and holds it out so that their faces are framed by the lush green in the background.
“Perfect.” Annie examines the photos and picks her favorite. She sends it to Dom and then posts it on her Instagram account.
“So have you talked to Dr. Floyd since the program?” he asks as they spread Annie’s blanket out on the ground and settle in for their picnic.
“Here and there. He edited one of my Legal Writing assignments and I’ve just been generally trying to keep in touch.”
“Same here. Rumor has it he’s going to need a new research assistant soon. I would kill for that position.”
“Oh, man.” Annie’s eyes widen. “What I wouldn’t give to work with that man five days a week,” she sighs wistfully.
“Right? Remember when he played Sherlock in the talent show the first night of camp? How fitting!”
She and Dom reminisce about camp while they eat through their supply of food. They move on to talking about school, Dom talks about his family, and Annie regales him with some of the crazier misadventures she’s gone on with the group.
“So they’re really like your family, huh? You don’t talk to your real folks?”
Annie stiffens at his word choice. “The study group is my real family.”
“Why won’t you tell me what happened between you and your mom?”
Annie bites back her insistence that it’s none of his business. “Because it’s really personal, and I don’t know if I can trust you yet.” Her voice comes across more coyly than she intends, but it works to divert Dom’s attention.
Dom grins slyly. “I suppose I’ll just have to earn the story then.”
She nods and digs the chocolate chips out of her cookie. “I suppose so.”
An unexpected breeze blows through the clearing, causing Annie to shiver.
As if he’s taking cues from an old, black and white movie, Dom removes his jacket and drapes it around Annie’s shoulders. She looks up from her cookie to offer him a smile, but Dom’s face is closer than she expects. It catches her off guard because there was no emotional momentum leading to the moment. They were just two friends having a conversation.
But Dom’s mind is definitely not on friendship.
He leans into her personal space, lips puckered, and presses his mouth gently against hers. Annie gasps lightly. Dom, taking that as encouragement, starts kissing Annie in earnest.
She opens her eyes and watches the way Dom uses his entire face to kiss her. And, yes, she’s kissing him back, but only to keep the situation from getting more awkward than it needs to be.
Her mind and heart are back at Greendale.
###
Jeff's been staring at the picture for the better part of twenty minutes and is pouring himself a generous glass of scotch when the first text message arrives.
Britta: did you see!?!!? looks like Annie's got a new boy toy.
Jeff groans and knocks back a huge gulp of alcohol. It burns his nose and throat, making his face tingle unpleasantly.
Dont b gross, he texts back.
i'm not, that's a good looking dude. Go Annie! Britta's response comes almost immediately. Jeff polishes off his glass and pours another drink.
"Go Annie." Jeff raises his glass sarcastically and guzzles the contents.
Moments later, a message from Shirley lights up his phone: So happy for Annie; did you see her picture?
He has to work tomorrow, and it's inadvisable to pour himself another drink. But it's not like Jeff hasn't taught classes hungover before, and he can always dust off his Planet Earth DVDs.
Annie's face bubbles to the surface of his mind, looking disappointed in him. But he represses the stomach-twisting guilt and ditches his glass in favor of swigging scotch right from the bottle.
Abed texts then: I think Annie's dating outside the group; not sure how viewers are going to respond.
Jeff ponders replying to Shirley or Abed, but everything his mind comes up with is petty and scathingly jealous. He doesn't even want to think about the boy toy anymore, so he turns off his phone and spends most of the night staring into space, moping, and getting wasted.
###
Annie paces the study room nervously. There’s still more than a half hour before the Save Greendale Committee is meeting to welcome back Professor Duncan, but she's called Shirley and Britta to come in early.
She groans upon checking her watch, only a few seconds having passed since the last time she’d checked.
She feels an anxious, shrill scream building in the back of her throat when Shirley and Britta finally breeze into the room, laughing jovially.
“Where have you two been?” Annie bites off the ends of her words and crosses her arms over her chest.
Shirley sets a tray of brownies in the center of the desk and takes her seat, eyeing Annie with concern.
Britta throws a carton of gummy worms on the table and snorts. “I thought getting a new boyfriend would help ease your tension. Does he not know where the clit is? Cause I’ve had to teach a fair share of guys ab-”
“God, Britta, please stop talking.” Annie barely resists covering her ears with the palms of her hands. “Wait, how did you know about Dom?”
“Oooh,” Shirley sing-songs. “His name is Dom.”
“Your Instagram, duh-doy.”
Annie relaxes for a second before her anxieties kick into double gear. “Ohmigod, I posted that picture! Oh crap. Oh crap.”
“An-nie,” Shirley lilts, “what’s wrong, sweetie?”
She takes a second to gather herself before joining the other two at the table. Instead of answering Shirley’s question directly, Annie starts giving them the backstory. “I met Dom at caper camp over the summer. He knew some of the other kids from conferences and seminars and stuff, and he helped me feel really welcome.” She has Shirley and Britta’s rapt attention. “And the last week we were there Dom, two other people, and I were chosen to work personally with Dr. Floyd. Anyway, we got pretty close, and he basically wore a big, neon sign over his head that spelled out ‘Interested’.”
“He sounds really sweet, Annie.” Britta flashes her a thumbs up in a rare moment of agreeability.
“He is,” Annie allows, about to soldier on.
But Shirley adds. “And he is a fine-looking white boy.”
“I’m not really into the wholesome, white-bread look, but he has pretty adorable dimples.” Britta agrees.
“Guys!” Annie whines. “He wants to make you all dinner this Saturday, and I’m kind of freaking out about it.”
They both look at her like she just told them she’s going to marry Chang.
It’s Britta who finally asks, bluntly, “Why?”
“Oh, come on.” Annie hardly believes she has to spell this out. “You know as well as I do how this group reacts to outside love interests.”
“You’ve been living with Abed too long.” Shirley shakes her head.
Annie can’t hold back her growl of frustration. “Rich, Andre, Professor Slater,” she starts ticking off the names, “Vaughn, twice.”
“Okay, okay,” Britta concedes, “point taken. But, look, you’ve told me and Shirley, and we haven’t freaked out about it.”
“There are other members of our group,” Annie offers defiantly, pointedly avoiding specific names.
“And, as long as you’re happy, they’ll have to deal,” Britta states with a note of finality. “And if they don’t, I’ll annoy them with fake diagnoses till they submit.”
Touched by the adamancy in her voice, Annie wavers. “Thanks, Britta.”
“What are sisters for?”
Annie reaches across the table to grasp Britta’s hands and leans into Shirley who lovingly runs a hand over Annie’s hair.
The moment dissolves as Abed and Chang push through the doors.
"So anyway," Chang waves his hands around, obviously in the middle of a story. "They never told me what bra size best fits my figure. I smell racism, and I think you and I should sue."
They plop into their seats, and Abed stares blankly at Chang. "You said you're about five-five?"
"Five feet, five and a half inches," Chang clarifies. "I think the half an inch is a gift from Darwin for eating my twin in utero."
"Ew," Annie interjects. "And that's not how evolution works."
Chang shrugs, unbothered.
"You'd fit pretty well in a Blorgon costume. There's a con over winter break. We could go."
"Awesome!" Chang jumps out of his chair. "Inclusion! Do I get to carry around a laser?"
Abed shakes his head. "Under no circumstances."
Disappointed, Chang falls back into his chair.
Annie, after glancing at her watch and noting there’s only a few minutes to meeting time, drops her overloaded binder on the table in front of her and passes out the unusually short agenda to everyone at the table. Chang produces several tiny bags of chips, clearly purchased from a vending machine on campus. Abed pulls hummus and pita chips from his backpack to add to the food pile in the center of the table.
“Has anyone seen Jeff?” Annie asks.
“I’m sure he’s just taking his sweet time getting here.” Britta grumbles. “That man never changes. He couldn’t be on time to save his life.”
Annie bites her lip and stares at Jeff’s empty chair, unsatisfied with Britta’s explanation. Jeff might be self-centered and moody, but he’s never blown off a Save Greendale meeting.
She’s still thinking circles in her head when Dean Pelton pops into the room. Following him is a thinner, haggard-looking Professor Duncan. His hair is longer than usual, patchy scruff covers his face, his skin resembles that of an onion-dull and papery-and his eyes look like they’ve sunken into his face.
“Professor Duncan,” The group choruses weakly. Everyone seems shocked and unsure how to proceed.
Annie stands to pull out the seat next to Jeff’s usual place at the table. “Welcome back,” she greets warmly, recovering more quickly than the others.
After an awkward silence, Abed pipes up. “You look terrible.”
“Bite me.”
“Well, I’ve got to make some phone calls.” The dean starts backing out of the room. “I will dean you all later.”
“Okay,” Annie squeaks, hurriedly glancing at every member of the group for a conversation starter.
Britta pipes up. “Professor Duncan’s been through a trauma; irritability is to be expected.” She reaches for one of Duncan’s hands, clasping it between her own and scrunching her nose in distaste before moving on. “If there is anything we can help you with during this difficult time, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I drank too much. I’m not some cancer survivor,” Duncan points out. But he doesn’t really seem to mind Britta’s attention. “This is a very…Greendale welcome, though. Thank you.”
The groups nods in acknowledgement and then falls silent again. No one seems to know what to say, and Annie keeps glancing at the door, expecting Jeff to swoop in and be charming and facilitate the welcome back for his old friend.
“So,” Shirley stumbles, “are you feeling better?”
“I feel as though someone butt-fucked my throat and stomach and then unleashed a nuclear bomb in my head. But, yeah, feelin’ peachy.” Shirley’s lip curls in distaste and Britta extracts her hand from between Duncan's.
“So are you going back to teaching?” Annie tries.
“I honestly can’t think of a better way to drive myself to drink again, but yes. I’m taking on a few classes and I hope to start a new research project.”
“Oh!” Britta pipes up. “If you need an extra set of hands and another alcohol-soaked brain, I’m available! I’ve never used an Independent Study credit to actually do work before, but I’ve been feeling kind of ambitious.”
Everyone around the table giggles, but Duncan smiles his genuine leering smile. “Excellent. Come by my office tomorrow and we can talk about it.”
Britta pumps her fist and then grabs a tiny bag of Doritos, courtesy of Chang. Shirley unwraps her tray of brownies and everyone at the table takes one, the group settling into an easier silence.
As they munch, Duncan notices the glaring absence and asks, “Where’s Winger?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Annie sighs. She stares dejectedly at the door as she goes over the agenda, but he never shows.
###
A threatening SLAM! jolts Jeff awake with a surge of adrenaline. An ache reverberates through his head; it’s as though someone has been using his temple as a gong. “Gah,” he groans. His lower back protests as he sits up in his desk chair, and there’s an unglamorous pool of drool on the weathered wood grain where his head had been resting. His eyes feel crusty and his tongue is the consistency of cotton.
“Are you drunk?”
Jeff wonders idly if his subconscious is playing tricks again, presenting Annie as his voice of reason. But she’s never quite so shrill in his head.
“I can take care of myself,” he grumbles defiantly.
“I can see that.” The bleariness of Jeff’s eyes dissipates just in time for him to see her pick up and examine the bottle of scotch he hadn’t realized was still out on his desk. “You missed Professor Duncan’s welcome. What gives?”
Jeff grunts. He’s been drunk since seven the night before. He forgot all about it.
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” she prods, sounding put out.
It makes him feel like a chore, all emotional baggage and inability to talk.
The alcohol stirs Jeff’s anger, and the picture of Annie and Boy Toy floats to the surface of his mind.
“Well, Annie,” he infuses as much bite into his words as he can, but they fumble on his cottony tongue. “What’s wrong is I’m an adult, and sometimes adults get drunk and hate their lives. I’m sure you’ll understand someday.”
“Either talk about what’s bothering you or don’t, but you don’t get to patronize me. I’m not the problem.”
No, your stupid, muscular boyfriend is, Jeff thinks.
When he doesn’t say anything out loud, Annie throws her hands in the air and turns on her heel for the door.
“Hey!” he calls to stop her when he realizes she’s still fisting the bottle of his scotch. “That’s my alcohol.”
“Yeah.” She’s pissed; he sees it in the intensity of her eye contact and the arch of her brow. It makes him cower. “I know.”
Annie slams the door on her way back out of his office. Jeff winces in pain and lets his head fall back onto his desk.
###
Annie and Abed are sitting in the counter chairs while Dom flits around their kitchen preparing baked chicken breasts, seasoned asparagus, and wild rice. She’s asked countless times if he wants her help, but apparently Dom can be as controlling as she is because he will not let Annie touch a thing.
Without something to focus on, she’s a nervous wreck. She had spent all morning alphabetizing her personal library, organizing the coat closet by color, and cleaning the bathroom. Abed had intervened with a cheap bottle of wine before she could touch his movie collection.
He pours them both a second glass now, grumbling about how buttered noodles smell much better than whatever’s in the oven. “Pizza is also a time-honored classic,” he points out to Dom.
“Yes, but anyone can call and order a pizza. I want to show you guys how awesome I am.” Dom flashes Annie a smile so sweet it could easily give a girl a sugar rush.
“Nothing says awesome like paying for pizza,” Abed comments glumly, corking the bottle of wine and taking a generous sip from his glass.
“Abed,” Annie warns, the wine coating her nerves so that what would normally be a high-pitched reprimand comes out as a low growl. “Please let it go.”
“Okay, but I just want it noted that my first impression is dismal at best. He’s too pretty; so obviously a network TV guy brought in to give us mainstream appeal. He has no characterization beyond Annie’s Love Interest, and this is going to knock Jeff’s character development back into season two.”
“Am I supposed to understand what any of this means?” Dom cocks his head quizzically.
“No,” Annie assures him, reaching over the counter to pat his head affectionately. “Just keep on being pretty.”
“For mainstream appeal?” Dom clarifies.
“Apparently,” Annie giggles. She takes another sip of wine, just on the right side of tipsy. Her brain feels softer, all her senses are on five-second delay, and she’s untouchable here. She pokes Abed in the side until he turns to look at her. “Have you noticed Jeff acting weirder lately?”
Abed narrows his eyes as if rewinding through weeks of camera footage, searching. “A little. But everything’s been weird since Troy left.”
Annie nods empathetically, clucking her tongue for emphasis. “I loved Pierce, but he found a way to suck even after death.” Abed snorts in response.
“Annie!” Dom seems shocked.
“It’s okay,” Abed assures him. “Pierce was our old, rich, racist friend. We can say bad things about him because we put up with him longer than anyone in recorded history.”
Dom seems unconvinced but goes back to tending the meal with a shrug.
Annie leans closer to Abed, gripping his shoulder to keep her balance. “I think Jeff has a drinking problem,” she confides. “I know he told everyone that he had the flu, but he missed Duncan’s welcome because he was drunk.” Abed looks like he wants to say something, but glances over at Dom and decides against it.
Annie’s about to say something else, but she’s cut short by a knock at the door. “Come in!” she calls. “Door’s open.”
Britta saunters in, uncharacteristically early. She plunks a couple of mostly empty bottles of alcohol on the counter and slings her purse on the back of Annie’s chair. “Hey homeslices, I brought some whiskey and vodka.”
“What’s the latest plot, Britta-bot?”
Britta raises an eyebrow at Annie’s rhyming greeting.
“We started early because Annie was nervous cleaning and about to touch my movies.” Abed explains, holding up the bottle of wine.
“Cool.” Britta unscrews the cap off the vodka and takes a swig.
“You must be Britta,” Dom interjects, holding out his hand for a shake.
“What makes you say that?” Britta puckers her lips, prepared to be defiant.
“Annie described you as her cool, blonde friend. So, deductive reasoning, mostly.”
Britta finally takes Dom’s hand, smiling slickly. “Nice to meet you, Dom.”
Annie recognizes the seductive edge to Britta’s leer and is surprised by the lump of jealousy that lodges in her throat. She sips her wine and bites her tongue.
Shirley and Jeff arrive together shortly after. As he’s been doing for the past week, Jeff avoids making direct eye contact with Annie. Shirley’s carrying a cake platter.
Annie clumsily slips off her seat to give Shirley a hug.
“Hello, Jeff,” she greets formally.
“Annie” He acknowledges her with a nod, but his eyes are fixed somewhere to the left of her. She feels an unbidden lurch of her heart.
Refusing to dwell, she grabs Shirley’s hand. “Come meet Dom.” She skips toward the kitchen. “Shirley, Dom; Dom, Shirley.”
Dom wipes his hand on a kitchen towel before offering it. “Shirley, you’re every bit as lovely as Annie said.” Then he raises the back of her hand to his lips and kisses lightly.
Annie’s pretty sure she hears Jeff gag. “Bleh. Is that whiskey? I don’t even care; just give it to me.”
“Oh, I like him.” Shirley coos, patting Annie on the shoulder before storing her cake in the refrigerator.
“You’re two for three so far,” Annie whispers as Shirley trots out of the kitchen, giving Dom a thumbs up.
“Who doesn’t like me?” Dom pouts.
“Abed really likes pizza. It’s going to take a while for you to make this up to him,” Annie teases, picking up a spoon and idly twirling it.
“Oh, well, as long as I still have a shot,” Dom grins and bops her on the nose.
Annie doesn’t know if she’s drunk, paranoid, or actually that hyperaware of Jeff Winger, but she swears she feels his gaze boring into her back.
“How long till dinner?” she asks, shaking the feeling from her mind.
“A few minutes. Wanna set the table?”
Annie half jokes, half answers sincerely, “Would I ever? You sure know the way to a girl’s heart, Dominick Fink.” She collects plates, silverware, and napkins before leaning in to kiss Dom's cheek. He looks her right in the eye, his face radiantly happy.
Confusingly, it makes her hands quiver and her stomach knot. Annie looks away and scurries off toward the table.
###
Jeff hates that the food is good. The chicken is tender, and the rice is so mouth-watering that, despite his carb count for the day, Jeff takes a second helping.
Let him get fat. He doesn't even care.
He hates that Dom is friendly and personable and that even Abed relents his pizza-and-noodle nagging after an hour in the guy's presence.
What Jeff hates the most, though, is the way Dom looks at Annie.
Because he can see that Dom really cares about her.
It would be so much simpler if Dom were an asshole.
Jeff pours himself a second glass of whiskey and diet soda (heavy on the whiskey) as Annie and Dom-sickeningly compatible as hosts-clear the table.
"I like him," Shirley whispers conspiratorially when the sink turns on in the kitchen.
"We know; we heard you all million times," Jeff snaps. Shirley cocks an eyebrow at him in warning. Jeff swishes back a gulp of his drink.
"I like him, too." Britta hops on the approval train. "He can't keep his hands to himself and he's been making googly eyes all night. I mean, it makes me sick when a guy's that into me, but he's just right for Annie."
Jeff groans dramatically. "Can we talk about anything else?"
The girls eye him suspiciously, but Abed comes to his rescue. Kind of. "He's nice enough, but I'd like to test his drift compatibility with the group." Jeff, Shirley, and Britta stare blankly. "I think playing Dungeons and Dragons would alienate Dom, so I propose a game of GURPS."
Annie comes back to the table with a glass of water then. "We're playing a game?" she asks excitedly.
Abed nods. "Of GURPS."
"Burps?" Britta asks, wrinkling her nose in skepticism.
Abed rolls his eyes and Dom rejoins the table. Jeff notices he has a glass of wine and immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion: no driving back to Denver. Dom has to be spending the night.
"Generic Universal Role-Playing System," Abed clarifies, cutting into Jeff's thoughts. "I made everyone a character sheet last night."
"Cool," Dom replies amiably, reaching for the sheet Abed hands him.
"Aww," Annie complains. "No Hector the Well-Endowed?"
Dom chokes on his wine. "Excuse me?"
"It's my established D&D character."
To Dom's credit, he simply nods along as if he understands what that means.
"I made a similar character for you," Abed assures her, sliding a piece of paper across the table.
"Helena the Buxom?" Annie reads. "I think I'm offended."
"Abed," Shirley scolds, motherly disappointment coloring her tone.
"I'm definitely offended," Britta huffs. "Women have been defined by the shape of their bodies for too long."
"Well this takes place in the past, so it's historically accurate," Jeff snaps, not missing the way Dom's eyes were drawn to Annie's cleavage at the word buxom.
"It's a fantasy world, so real history doesn't apply," Britta counters testily. "And I choose to expect better for women. Even fictional women."
"Well," Annie cuts in loudly, eyes on her character sheet, "I have a giant sword, so I'm clearly empowered."
"Penis metaphor," Britta grumbles.
"I think you'll like your character, Britta," Abed brings the group's attention back.
"Penelope the Proletariat," Britta reads. "Awesome." She gives Abed a high five.
"Give her free reign to complain in character, why don't you?" Annie says exactly what Jeff’s thinking.
"I'm being oppressed!" Britta says, sticking her tongue out at Annie.
Dom, who's been watching the group banter, chimes in, "I'm Kyle, apparently. A gnome."
"Kyle!" Most of the group cheers.
Jeff sips his drink sullenly, but decides to throw the confused Dom a bone. "He was a side character when we played D&D for the first time. Abed's not always the most creative, so recycling is a must."
Dom nods, smiling gratefully. Jeff musters up a tense smirk before his eyes are drawn to Annie. She's watching him, and it's the first time he's met her gaze head-on in what feels like years. Her eyes are so wide and blue and her mouth curves up just slightly at the ends in a soft grin.
It makes his fingers tingle with the need to stroke back her hair and he has to look away again.
"Oooh," Shirley purrs, finding her own character sheet. "I'm Clarisse the Cleric. I have all the healing powers of the Lord."
"Of a lord," Abed corrects her. "These characters would likely be polytheistic."
"I'll make your ass polytheistic," Shirley threatens.
"Alright," Jeff cuts in. "Let me see mine." Abed slides the last paper over to Jeff. "Charleston the Charming. Can I just say that alliteration doesn’t improve your dismal naming abilities?"
"I like my name," Britta objects.
"You have the best speech capabilities of all the characters," Abed points out, as if that'll assuage Jeff's irritation.
"How do we start?" Dom looks around quizzically. "Like, don't we need a board or something?"
"Nope." Abed doesn't offer any more explanation. "Allow me to set the scene. You've all been summoned to the town of Merriweather by an anonymous letter. The letter explains that a troupe of organized thieves is planning to plunder a cave just outside the Merriweather limits. The cave hides the Helm of Merriweather and maps that disclose the locations of the other pieces of the coveted Merriweather armor. The writer of the letter has called upon you for your unique talents; they want you to stop the troupe and save Merriweather. Little do you know, however, that your fellow travel companions have been called for the same task. You've just stepped off the boat, and Merriweather is several miles inland. Penelope, what will you do?"
"Oh, me first." Britta glances at her sheet, lips pursed in concentration. "Do we have money? I want to tip the workers on the boat."
"Of course you do," Annie slumps in her seat.
"You have meager savings; just enough to secure a room in the Merriweather Inn."
"Oh, well, I'm sure I can bunk with one of my buddies. Penelope gives all her money to the boat's workers."
"Of course she does," Jeff rolls his eyes.
Abed rolls a die. "The workers are enraged by your presumptuous charity. Grumpy from months at sea, they attack."
"Can we leave Penelope behind?" Annie asks.
Britta gasps, affronted. "Why don't you make yourself useful and calm down the workers with your buxomness?"
"Because that's gross," Annie snarls. "I swing my sword at the nearest attacker."
Abed rolls. "It's a hit! Helena beheads the orc charging Penelope."
"You're welcome." Annie lilts, enjoying her superiority as Britta grumbles under her breath.
And they're off. It takes Dom several turns to get used to the game, but once he does, it's clear he's Annie-like in his ability to strategize. They take charge of the group, flirtily running ideas past one another as the group draws near to the stupid cave.
Watching them make such a good team gives Jeff a complex. Plus, every one of his ideas gets them attacked, snubbed, or-thanks to an especially bad roll-lands them in jail. He's on edge, he's unhappy, and by the end of the night he's quite drunk.
"Having successfully cleared the giant spiders and skeletons, you head on through the passageway at the back of the room."
"Are there any side passages?" Annie asks.
"Two."
"We should split up and search them both for loot," Dom suggests.
"Penelope, Kyle, and Clarisse go down one. Helena and Charleston go down the other."
Jeff glances at Annie from under his eyelashes.
She's flushed, expectantly watching Abed roll the dice.
"There's a locked chest at the end of Helena and Charleston's passage."
"Ooh!" Annie exclaims. "Do you have any lock picks?" She raises a questioning eyebrow at Jeff.
"Yes. I try to unlock the chest," Jeff offers blandly.
Abed rolls. "Charleston unlocks the chest, but breaks a pick in the process." Unsurprised, Jeff alters the list of supplies on his character sheet.
"What loot did they score?" Dom questions.
"Inside the chest," Abed explains obligingly, "you find twenty gold pieces, three lock picks, an axe enchanted to do fire damage, and a coded journal."
Dom and Annie fist bump, and Jeff can't help but feel that bump rightfully belongs to him.
"I search the journal for clues on how to decode it."
"There are none, but there is a readable inscription that says 'Ye of soaring intellect and courageous heart, gather the secrets of the page to find start'."
"The first map?" Dom guesses. Abed nods. "Well, we need to decode it!"
"Hold it," Jeff butts into the Annie and Dom show. "We know our quest. We're supposed to be catching up with the thieves."
"Yeah, but we can split up. Obey the letter and find all the armor," Dom has a competitive glint in his eye.
"That's dumb," Jeff snaps.
"Jeffery," Shirley warns.
"No," He's pissed and he's not going to be placated. "It's 11:30. Let's just complete the fucking quest and go home."
Annie scoffs. "If you're not having fun, Jeff, you can leave whenever you want. We're not keeping you hostage."
He turns to Annie, his nostrils flared. Her words instantly cause a pressure behind his eyes, and he's worried he might start tearing up. She recoils at his expression but doesn't take back what she said. "Fine then. Enjoy your stupid game. I hope you're all eaten."
Jeff makes it down to the street before he remembers Shirley was his ride.
He debates the merits of walking home versus swallowing his pride and going back upstairs.
He's about to set out on foot when Shirley materializes beside him. "I had to say goodbye to everyone," she explains. He nods and they walk the short distance to her van.
They ride in silence for a few minutes, Jeff pensively staring out the window and Shirley humming the beginning bars of Daybreak.
Finally, she asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"
He's about to say no, but something trips up his tongue. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the pressure of the past week weighing on his mind, or maybe it's the fact that Shirley bothered to ask in the first place. Whatever the reason, his 'no' warps into a "Yes" on the way out of his mouth.
Shirley waits for him continue. When he doesn't she asks, "Do you want to talk about it with me?"
Jeff chuckles humorlessly. "I'm just…bad at the opening up thing. I don't know where to begin."
"Obviously something is weighing on your mind. You can start by telling me what it is."
Jeff considers this. He's silent for a few prolonged moments before it's all too much and a question agitatedly explodes out of him. "Would it really be that bad?"
Shirley takes her eyes off the road to glance over at him. "I'm going to need more than that."
He nods, knowing this, and pauses to organize his thoughts. "Ever since Annie and I were debate partners, everyone in the group has made a big deal out of us being partnered up in any way. What I want to know is, would it really be that bad? Annie and me. Together."
It's Shirley's turn to be pensive and silent. He can tell she's not talking because she's trying to decide how to deliver an answer he doesn't want to hear.
Jeff decides to give her more to mull over, getting it all out in the open. "I'm in love with her." He pauses. And just in case, he clarifies his statement. "I'm in love with Annie."
Shirley blinks rapidly, dumbfounded.
"I am," Jeff asserts. "When we were trapped in Borchert's Lab, I finally realized what I've been denying for years. I love Annie. I love her, and it opened the door." Now that he's said the L-word out loud, it just keeps coming, more insistent every time. "I love how smart she is. I love how fucking earnest she is all the time. I love that she's crazy and crazy ambitious. She makes me feel alive and decent just by being in the same room. She makes me a better person, and I love her."
Jeff lets out a big, huffing breath.
Shirley places a comforting hand on his knee. "When we first met Annie, she was starting fresh in the world. She'd already been through a lot, but she was sweet and young." Jeff doesn't argue, just waits for Shirley's point. "I'm a big enough person to admit I made some snap judgements about what a relationship between you and Annie would look like, about your motivations. But we've known each other for a long time now. And you're both mature adults. So, to answer your question: no, it wouldn't be that bad."
A ball of pressure releases in Jeff's throat, and he feels like he can breathe more easily than he has in a while.
"But," Shirley continues, "if you really, truly love her-and she's happy with Dom-you need to leave that girl be. Love is selfless, Jeff. And you were behaving selfishly back there." She squeezes his knee reassuringly before turning into the parking lot of his building.
He gets out of the van and walks around to the driver's side to give Shirley a hug. "Thanks for listening."
"Anytime." She places a loving hand on his cheek. "Think about what I said?"
He nods, and she drives off, satisfied.
Jeff trudges up the stairs to his floor, thinking about what Shirley said.
He does rounds of sit-ups and pushups, thinking about what Shirley said.
He nearly falls asleep in the shower, thinking about what Shirley said.
And, finally, he crawls into his cold, lonely bed, unable to stop thinking about what Shirley said.
Spoilers: If you've watched through s5, nothing should be spoiled for you.
Word Count: 6,380
Rating/Warnings: This chapter is PG-13, but the story will contain plenty of sex, drugs, and alcohol.
Disclaimer: These character's belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.
Author's Note: Once again, heartfelt and endless appreciation goes to my magnificent beta: bethanyactually. The title for this story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."
Read Part 1a
Normally when Annie Edison is given a day off from school, she uses it to organize and code her notes or get ahead on the assigned readings.
Today she's driving nearly an hour to some secluded picnic spot to meet Dom.
She can't help but wonder if her need for attention is so potent that she would put off important study time and spend an inordinate amount of money on gas to meet with a guy she has lukewarm feelings about. Annie wants to believe that this is a sign she likes Dom a lot more than she thinks, instead.
But if she's being honest, she knows it's neither her need for attention nor her affection for Dom that got her to agree to the trip.
Her GPS, and the address Dom provided, leads her to a dirt road, which spits out into a gravel parking lot, a few miles off the freeway exit. There are some scattered cars, but Annie is able to pick out Dom's rust-colored Buick easily. She pulls up beside him, and his head snaps up at the noise. He's out of his car and opening her door more quickly than should be possible.
"How was your drive?" he asks politely as she gathers the blanket, cut strawberries, and cookies she brought from the passenger seat.
"Okay. I listened to some of my recorded lectures. How are you?"
"Happy to see you." He smiles wide and gathers her into a hug encumbered by all the things she’s carrying. He pulls back quickly. “Here, let me help you with those.” He takes the containers of cookies and strawberries and pops the trunk of his car.
A well-used picnic basket is nestled among a gym bag, an emergency preparedness kit, and some golf clubs. Dom deposits Annie’s contributions into it before hefting the basket out of the trunk.
“You really like to stay active, huh?”
He starts leading the way down one of the trails: “Mind, body, and soul.”
Annie snorts reflexively and immediately feels bad when Dom gives her a wounded glance. “Oh, uh, are you religious?”
“Well I haven’t been to temple in a really long time, but, yeah, I’m Jewish.”
“No way,” Annie bobs her head excitedly. “I’m Jewish! I had no idea.”
“Maybe we could attend a service together sometime. You know, if you’re into that.” he suggests shyly.
“That could be nice.” She tries to picture telling her friends about Dom, about their second date being at a temple. “Shirley’s going to love you.”
“She’s from your study group, right?” Annie nods. “You’re thinking about introducing me to your friends.”
He’s so pleased by the idea that she doesn’t mention the thoughts were not necessarily pleasant.
They walk the rest of the way in a fairly comfortable silence. Dom casually frees one hand and slips his fingers between Annie’s. His hands have a rough texture, but they’re warm and soft so she doesn’t protest.
The trail they’re on breaks into a clearing with several picnic tables and charcoal grills. They’re at a high altitude, and the edge of the meadow drops off at a sharp angle. Where there isn’t a dense wall of trees, there’s a picturesque view of some mountain-y hills. Annie is immediately drawn to the edge of the cliff.
“It’s gorgeous.” she notes, pulling her phone from the pocket of her cardigan to snap a few pictures.
“I like to come here before big events.” Dom admits. “This is my good luck spot.” She can feel him watching her, expecting some kind of reaction to his grand gesture. She stops taking pictures and turns to smile gratefully at him. “Hey! We should get a picture together.” He suggests.
Amiably, Annie nods and they turn so the landscape is behind them. Dom gently takes Annie’s phone and holds it out so that their faces are framed by the lush green in the background.
“Perfect.” Annie examines the photos and picks her favorite. She sends it to Dom and then posts it on her Instagram account.
“So have you talked to Dr. Floyd since the program?” he asks as they spread Annie’s blanket out on the ground and settle in for their picnic.
“Here and there. He edited one of my Legal Writing assignments and I’ve just been generally trying to keep in touch.”
“Same here. Rumor has it he’s going to need a new research assistant soon. I would kill for that position.”
“Oh, man.” Annie’s eyes widen. “What I wouldn’t give to work with that man five days a week,” she sighs wistfully.
“Right? Remember when he played Sherlock in the talent show the first night of camp? How fitting!”
She and Dom reminisce about camp while they eat through their supply of food. They move on to talking about school, Dom talks about his family, and Annie regales him with some of the crazier misadventures she’s gone on with the group.
“So they’re really like your family, huh? You don’t talk to your real folks?”
Annie stiffens at his word choice. “The study group is my real family.”
“Why won’t you tell me what happened between you and your mom?”
Annie bites back her insistence that it’s none of his business. “Because it’s really personal, and I don’t know if I can trust you yet.” Her voice comes across more coyly than she intends, but it works to divert Dom’s attention.
Dom grins slyly. “I suppose I’ll just have to earn the story then.”
She nods and digs the chocolate chips out of her cookie. “I suppose so.”
An unexpected breeze blows through the clearing, causing Annie to shiver.
As if he’s taking cues from an old, black and white movie, Dom removes his jacket and drapes it around Annie’s shoulders. She looks up from her cookie to offer him a smile, but Dom’s face is closer than she expects. It catches her off guard because there was no emotional momentum leading to the moment. They were just two friends having a conversation.
But Dom’s mind is definitely not on friendship.
He leans into her personal space, lips puckered, and presses his mouth gently against hers. Annie gasps lightly. Dom, taking that as encouragement, starts kissing Annie in earnest.
She opens her eyes and watches the way Dom uses his entire face to kiss her. And, yes, she’s kissing him back, but only to keep the situation from getting more awkward than it needs to be.
Her mind and heart are back at Greendale.
###
Jeff's been staring at the picture for the better part of twenty minutes and is pouring himself a generous glass of scotch when the first text message arrives.
Britta: did you see!?!!? looks like Annie's got a new boy toy.
Jeff groans and knocks back a huge gulp of alcohol. It burns his nose and throat, making his face tingle unpleasantly.
Dont b gross, he texts back.
i'm not, that's a good looking dude. Go Annie! Britta's response comes almost immediately. Jeff polishes off his glass and pours another drink.
"Go Annie." Jeff raises his glass sarcastically and guzzles the contents.
Moments later, a message from Shirley lights up his phone: So happy for Annie; did you see her picture?
He has to work tomorrow, and it's inadvisable to pour himself another drink. But it's not like Jeff hasn't taught classes hungover before, and he can always dust off his Planet Earth DVDs.
Annie's face bubbles to the surface of his mind, looking disappointed in him. But he represses the stomach-twisting guilt and ditches his glass in favor of swigging scotch right from the bottle.
Abed texts then: I think Annie's dating outside the group; not sure how viewers are going to respond.
Jeff ponders replying to Shirley or Abed, but everything his mind comes up with is petty and scathingly jealous. He doesn't even want to think about the boy toy anymore, so he turns off his phone and spends most of the night staring into space, moping, and getting wasted.
###
Annie paces the study room nervously. There’s still more than a half hour before the Save Greendale Committee is meeting to welcome back Professor Duncan, but she's called Shirley and Britta to come in early.
She groans upon checking her watch, only a few seconds having passed since the last time she’d checked.
She feels an anxious, shrill scream building in the back of her throat when Shirley and Britta finally breeze into the room, laughing jovially.
“Where have you two been?” Annie bites off the ends of her words and crosses her arms over her chest.
Shirley sets a tray of brownies in the center of the desk and takes her seat, eyeing Annie with concern.
Britta throws a carton of gummy worms on the table and snorts. “I thought getting a new boyfriend would help ease your tension. Does he not know where the clit is? Cause I’ve had to teach a fair share of guys ab-”
“God, Britta, please stop talking.” Annie barely resists covering her ears with the palms of her hands. “Wait, how did you know about Dom?”
“Oooh,” Shirley sing-songs. “His name is Dom.”
“Your Instagram, duh-doy.”
Annie relaxes for a second before her anxieties kick into double gear. “Ohmigod, I posted that picture! Oh crap. Oh crap.”
“An-nie,” Shirley lilts, “what’s wrong, sweetie?”
She takes a second to gather herself before joining the other two at the table. Instead of answering Shirley’s question directly, Annie starts giving them the backstory. “I met Dom at caper camp over the summer. He knew some of the other kids from conferences and seminars and stuff, and he helped me feel really welcome.” She has Shirley and Britta’s rapt attention. “And the last week we were there Dom, two other people, and I were chosen to work personally with Dr. Floyd. Anyway, we got pretty close, and he basically wore a big, neon sign over his head that spelled out ‘Interested’.”
“He sounds really sweet, Annie.” Britta flashes her a thumbs up in a rare moment of agreeability.
“He is,” Annie allows, about to soldier on.
But Shirley adds. “And he is a fine-looking white boy.”
“I’m not really into the wholesome, white-bread look, but he has pretty adorable dimples.” Britta agrees.
“Guys!” Annie whines. “He wants to make you all dinner this Saturday, and I’m kind of freaking out about it.”
They both look at her like she just told them she’s going to marry Chang.
It’s Britta who finally asks, bluntly, “Why?”
“Oh, come on.” Annie hardly believes she has to spell this out. “You know as well as I do how this group reacts to outside love interests.”
“You’ve been living with Abed too long.” Shirley shakes her head.
Annie can’t hold back her growl of frustration. “Rich, Andre, Professor Slater,” she starts ticking off the names, “Vaughn, twice.”
“Okay, okay,” Britta concedes, “point taken. But, look, you’ve told me and Shirley, and we haven’t freaked out about it.”
“There are other members of our group,” Annie offers defiantly, pointedly avoiding specific names.
“And, as long as you’re happy, they’ll have to deal,” Britta states with a note of finality. “And if they don’t, I’ll annoy them with fake diagnoses till they submit.”
Touched by the adamancy in her voice, Annie wavers. “Thanks, Britta.”
“What are sisters for?”
Annie reaches across the table to grasp Britta’s hands and leans into Shirley who lovingly runs a hand over Annie’s hair.
The moment dissolves as Abed and Chang push through the doors.
"So anyway," Chang waves his hands around, obviously in the middle of a story. "They never told me what bra size best fits my figure. I smell racism, and I think you and I should sue."
They plop into their seats, and Abed stares blankly at Chang. "You said you're about five-five?"
"Five feet, five and a half inches," Chang clarifies. "I think the half an inch is a gift from Darwin for eating my twin in utero."
"Ew," Annie interjects. "And that's not how evolution works."
Chang shrugs, unbothered.
"You'd fit pretty well in a Blorgon costume. There's a con over winter break. We could go."
"Awesome!" Chang jumps out of his chair. "Inclusion! Do I get to carry around a laser?"
Abed shakes his head. "Under no circumstances."
Disappointed, Chang falls back into his chair.
Annie, after glancing at her watch and noting there’s only a few minutes to meeting time, drops her overloaded binder on the table in front of her and passes out the unusually short agenda to everyone at the table. Chang produces several tiny bags of chips, clearly purchased from a vending machine on campus. Abed pulls hummus and pita chips from his backpack to add to the food pile in the center of the table.
“Has anyone seen Jeff?” Annie asks.
“I’m sure he’s just taking his sweet time getting here.” Britta grumbles. “That man never changes. He couldn’t be on time to save his life.”
Annie bites her lip and stares at Jeff’s empty chair, unsatisfied with Britta’s explanation. Jeff might be self-centered and moody, but he’s never blown off a Save Greendale meeting.
She’s still thinking circles in her head when Dean Pelton pops into the room. Following him is a thinner, haggard-looking Professor Duncan. His hair is longer than usual, patchy scruff covers his face, his skin resembles that of an onion-dull and papery-and his eyes look like they’ve sunken into his face.
“Professor Duncan,” The group choruses weakly. Everyone seems shocked and unsure how to proceed.
Annie stands to pull out the seat next to Jeff’s usual place at the table. “Welcome back,” she greets warmly, recovering more quickly than the others.
After an awkward silence, Abed pipes up. “You look terrible.”
“Bite me.”
“Well, I’ve got to make some phone calls.” The dean starts backing out of the room. “I will dean you all later.”
“Okay,” Annie squeaks, hurriedly glancing at every member of the group for a conversation starter.
Britta pipes up. “Professor Duncan’s been through a trauma; irritability is to be expected.” She reaches for one of Duncan’s hands, clasping it between her own and scrunching her nose in distaste before moving on. “If there is anything we can help you with during this difficult time, don’t hesitate to ask.”
“I drank too much. I’m not some cancer survivor,” Duncan points out. But he doesn’t really seem to mind Britta’s attention. “This is a very…Greendale welcome, though. Thank you.”
The groups nods in acknowledgement and then falls silent again. No one seems to know what to say, and Annie keeps glancing at the door, expecting Jeff to swoop in and be charming and facilitate the welcome back for his old friend.
“So,” Shirley stumbles, “are you feeling better?”
“I feel as though someone butt-fucked my throat and stomach and then unleashed a nuclear bomb in my head. But, yeah, feelin’ peachy.” Shirley’s lip curls in distaste and Britta extracts her hand from between Duncan's.
“So are you going back to teaching?” Annie tries.
“I honestly can’t think of a better way to drive myself to drink again, but yes. I’m taking on a few classes and I hope to start a new research project.”
“Oh!” Britta pipes up. “If you need an extra set of hands and another alcohol-soaked brain, I’m available! I’ve never used an Independent Study credit to actually do work before, but I’ve been feeling kind of ambitious.”
Everyone around the table giggles, but Duncan smiles his genuine leering smile. “Excellent. Come by my office tomorrow and we can talk about it.”
Britta pumps her fist and then grabs a tiny bag of Doritos, courtesy of Chang. Shirley unwraps her tray of brownies and everyone at the table takes one, the group settling into an easier silence.
As they munch, Duncan notices the glaring absence and asks, “Where’s Winger?”
“That’s the million-dollar question,” Annie sighs. She stares dejectedly at the door as she goes over the agenda, but he never shows.
###
A threatening SLAM! jolts Jeff awake with a surge of adrenaline. An ache reverberates through his head; it’s as though someone has been using his temple as a gong. “Gah,” he groans. His lower back protests as he sits up in his desk chair, and there’s an unglamorous pool of drool on the weathered wood grain where his head had been resting. His eyes feel crusty and his tongue is the consistency of cotton.
“Are you drunk?”
Jeff wonders idly if his subconscious is playing tricks again, presenting Annie as his voice of reason. But she’s never quite so shrill in his head.
“I can take care of myself,” he grumbles defiantly.
“I can see that.” The bleariness of Jeff’s eyes dissipates just in time for him to see her pick up and examine the bottle of scotch he hadn’t realized was still out on his desk. “You missed Professor Duncan’s welcome. What gives?”
Jeff grunts. He’s been drunk since seven the night before. He forgot all about it.
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong,” she prods, sounding put out.
It makes him feel like a chore, all emotional baggage and inability to talk.
The alcohol stirs Jeff’s anger, and the picture of Annie and Boy Toy floats to the surface of his mind.
“Well, Annie,” he infuses as much bite into his words as he can, but they fumble on his cottony tongue. “What’s wrong is I’m an adult, and sometimes adults get drunk and hate their lives. I’m sure you’ll understand someday.”
“Either talk about what’s bothering you or don’t, but you don’t get to patronize me. I’m not the problem.”
No, your stupid, muscular boyfriend is, Jeff thinks.
When he doesn’t say anything out loud, Annie throws her hands in the air and turns on her heel for the door.
“Hey!” he calls to stop her when he realizes she’s still fisting the bottle of his scotch. “That’s my alcohol.”
“Yeah.” She’s pissed; he sees it in the intensity of her eye contact and the arch of her brow. It makes him cower. “I know.”
Annie slams the door on her way back out of his office. Jeff winces in pain and lets his head fall back onto his desk.
###
Annie and Abed are sitting in the counter chairs while Dom flits around their kitchen preparing baked chicken breasts, seasoned asparagus, and wild rice. She’s asked countless times if he wants her help, but apparently Dom can be as controlling as she is because he will not let Annie touch a thing.
Without something to focus on, she’s a nervous wreck. She had spent all morning alphabetizing her personal library, organizing the coat closet by color, and cleaning the bathroom. Abed had intervened with a cheap bottle of wine before she could touch his movie collection.
He pours them both a second glass now, grumbling about how buttered noodles smell much better than whatever’s in the oven. “Pizza is also a time-honored classic,” he points out to Dom.
“Yes, but anyone can call and order a pizza. I want to show you guys how awesome I am.” Dom flashes Annie a smile so sweet it could easily give a girl a sugar rush.
“Nothing says awesome like paying for pizza,” Abed comments glumly, corking the bottle of wine and taking a generous sip from his glass.
“Abed,” Annie warns, the wine coating her nerves so that what would normally be a high-pitched reprimand comes out as a low growl. “Please let it go.”
“Okay, but I just want it noted that my first impression is dismal at best. He’s too pretty; so obviously a network TV guy brought in to give us mainstream appeal. He has no characterization beyond Annie’s Love Interest, and this is going to knock Jeff’s character development back into season two.”
“Am I supposed to understand what any of this means?” Dom cocks his head quizzically.
“No,” Annie assures him, reaching over the counter to pat his head affectionately. “Just keep on being pretty.”
“For mainstream appeal?” Dom clarifies.
“Apparently,” Annie giggles. She takes another sip of wine, just on the right side of tipsy. Her brain feels softer, all her senses are on five-second delay, and she’s untouchable here. She pokes Abed in the side until he turns to look at her. “Have you noticed Jeff acting weirder lately?”
Abed narrows his eyes as if rewinding through weeks of camera footage, searching. “A little. But everything’s been weird since Troy left.”
Annie nods empathetically, clucking her tongue for emphasis. “I loved Pierce, but he found a way to suck even after death.” Abed snorts in response.
“Annie!” Dom seems shocked.
“It’s okay,” Abed assures him. “Pierce was our old, rich, racist friend. We can say bad things about him because we put up with him longer than anyone in recorded history.”
Dom seems unconvinced but goes back to tending the meal with a shrug.
Annie leans closer to Abed, gripping his shoulder to keep her balance. “I think Jeff has a drinking problem,” she confides. “I know he told everyone that he had the flu, but he missed Duncan’s welcome because he was drunk.” Abed looks like he wants to say something, but glances over at Dom and decides against it.
Annie’s about to say something else, but she’s cut short by a knock at the door. “Come in!” she calls. “Door’s open.”
Britta saunters in, uncharacteristically early. She plunks a couple of mostly empty bottles of alcohol on the counter and slings her purse on the back of Annie’s chair. “Hey homeslices, I brought some whiskey and vodka.”
“What’s the latest plot, Britta-bot?”
Britta raises an eyebrow at Annie’s rhyming greeting.
“We started early because Annie was nervous cleaning and about to touch my movies.” Abed explains, holding up the bottle of wine.
“Cool.” Britta unscrews the cap off the vodka and takes a swig.
“You must be Britta,” Dom interjects, holding out his hand for a shake.
“What makes you say that?” Britta puckers her lips, prepared to be defiant.
“Annie described you as her cool, blonde friend. So, deductive reasoning, mostly.”
Britta finally takes Dom’s hand, smiling slickly. “Nice to meet you, Dom.”
Annie recognizes the seductive edge to Britta’s leer and is surprised by the lump of jealousy that lodges in her throat. She sips her wine and bites her tongue.
Shirley and Jeff arrive together shortly after. As he’s been doing for the past week, Jeff avoids making direct eye contact with Annie. Shirley’s carrying a cake platter.
Annie clumsily slips off her seat to give Shirley a hug.
“Hello, Jeff,” she greets formally.
“Annie” He acknowledges her with a nod, but his eyes are fixed somewhere to the left of her. She feels an unbidden lurch of her heart.
Refusing to dwell, she grabs Shirley’s hand. “Come meet Dom.” She skips toward the kitchen. “Shirley, Dom; Dom, Shirley.”
Dom wipes his hand on a kitchen towel before offering it. “Shirley, you’re every bit as lovely as Annie said.” Then he raises the back of her hand to his lips and kisses lightly.
Annie’s pretty sure she hears Jeff gag. “Bleh. Is that whiskey? I don’t even care; just give it to me.”
“Oh, I like him.” Shirley coos, patting Annie on the shoulder before storing her cake in the refrigerator.
“You’re two for three so far,” Annie whispers as Shirley trots out of the kitchen, giving Dom a thumbs up.
“Who doesn’t like me?” Dom pouts.
“Abed really likes pizza. It’s going to take a while for you to make this up to him,” Annie teases, picking up a spoon and idly twirling it.
“Oh, well, as long as I still have a shot,” Dom grins and bops her on the nose.
Annie doesn’t know if she’s drunk, paranoid, or actually that hyperaware of Jeff Winger, but she swears she feels his gaze boring into her back.
“How long till dinner?” she asks, shaking the feeling from her mind.
“A few minutes. Wanna set the table?”
Annie half jokes, half answers sincerely, “Would I ever? You sure know the way to a girl’s heart, Dominick Fink.” She collects plates, silverware, and napkins before leaning in to kiss Dom's cheek. He looks her right in the eye, his face radiantly happy.
Confusingly, it makes her hands quiver and her stomach knot. Annie looks away and scurries off toward the table.
###
Jeff hates that the food is good. The chicken is tender, and the rice is so mouth-watering that, despite his carb count for the day, Jeff takes a second helping.
Let him get fat. He doesn't even care.
He hates that Dom is friendly and personable and that even Abed relents his pizza-and-noodle nagging after an hour in the guy's presence.
What Jeff hates the most, though, is the way Dom looks at Annie.
Because he can see that Dom really cares about her.
It would be so much simpler if Dom were an asshole.
Jeff pours himself a second glass of whiskey and diet soda (heavy on the whiskey) as Annie and Dom-sickeningly compatible as hosts-clear the table.
"I like him," Shirley whispers conspiratorially when the sink turns on in the kitchen.
"We know; we heard you all million times," Jeff snaps. Shirley cocks an eyebrow at him in warning. Jeff swishes back a gulp of his drink.
"I like him, too." Britta hops on the approval train. "He can't keep his hands to himself and he's been making googly eyes all night. I mean, it makes me sick when a guy's that into me, but he's just right for Annie."
Jeff groans dramatically. "Can we talk about anything else?"
The girls eye him suspiciously, but Abed comes to his rescue. Kind of. "He's nice enough, but I'd like to test his drift compatibility with the group." Jeff, Shirley, and Britta stare blankly. "I think playing Dungeons and Dragons would alienate Dom, so I propose a game of GURPS."
Annie comes back to the table with a glass of water then. "We're playing a game?" she asks excitedly.
Abed nods. "Of GURPS."
"Burps?" Britta asks, wrinkling her nose in skepticism.
Abed rolls his eyes and Dom rejoins the table. Jeff notices he has a glass of wine and immediately jumps to the worst possible conclusion: no driving back to Denver. Dom has to be spending the night.
"Generic Universal Role-Playing System," Abed clarifies, cutting into Jeff's thoughts. "I made everyone a character sheet last night."
"Cool," Dom replies amiably, reaching for the sheet Abed hands him.
"Aww," Annie complains. "No Hector the Well-Endowed?"
Dom chokes on his wine. "Excuse me?"
"It's my established D&D character."
To Dom's credit, he simply nods along as if he understands what that means.
"I made a similar character for you," Abed assures her, sliding a piece of paper across the table.
"Helena the Buxom?" Annie reads. "I think I'm offended."
"Abed," Shirley scolds, motherly disappointment coloring her tone.
"I'm definitely offended," Britta huffs. "Women have been defined by the shape of their bodies for too long."
"Well this takes place in the past, so it's historically accurate," Jeff snaps, not missing the way Dom's eyes were drawn to Annie's cleavage at the word buxom.
"It's a fantasy world, so real history doesn't apply," Britta counters testily. "And I choose to expect better for women. Even fictional women."
"Well," Annie cuts in loudly, eyes on her character sheet, "I have a giant sword, so I'm clearly empowered."
"Penis metaphor," Britta grumbles.
"I think you'll like your character, Britta," Abed brings the group's attention back.
"Penelope the Proletariat," Britta reads. "Awesome." She gives Abed a high five.
"Give her free reign to complain in character, why don't you?" Annie says exactly what Jeff’s thinking.
"I'm being oppressed!" Britta says, sticking her tongue out at Annie.
Dom, who's been watching the group banter, chimes in, "I'm Kyle, apparently. A gnome."
"Kyle!" Most of the group cheers.
Jeff sips his drink sullenly, but decides to throw the confused Dom a bone. "He was a side character when we played D&D for the first time. Abed's not always the most creative, so recycling is a must."
Dom nods, smiling gratefully. Jeff musters up a tense smirk before his eyes are drawn to Annie. She's watching him, and it's the first time he's met her gaze head-on in what feels like years. Her eyes are so wide and blue and her mouth curves up just slightly at the ends in a soft grin.
It makes his fingers tingle with the need to stroke back her hair and he has to look away again.
"Oooh," Shirley purrs, finding her own character sheet. "I'm Clarisse the Cleric. I have all the healing powers of the Lord."
"Of a lord," Abed corrects her. "These characters would likely be polytheistic."
"I'll make your ass polytheistic," Shirley threatens.
"Alright," Jeff cuts in. "Let me see mine." Abed slides the last paper over to Jeff. "Charleston the Charming. Can I just say that alliteration doesn’t improve your dismal naming abilities?"
"I like my name," Britta objects.
"You have the best speech capabilities of all the characters," Abed points out, as if that'll assuage Jeff's irritation.
"How do we start?" Dom looks around quizzically. "Like, don't we need a board or something?"
"Nope." Abed doesn't offer any more explanation. "Allow me to set the scene. You've all been summoned to the town of Merriweather by an anonymous letter. The letter explains that a troupe of organized thieves is planning to plunder a cave just outside the Merriweather limits. The cave hides the Helm of Merriweather and maps that disclose the locations of the other pieces of the coveted Merriweather armor. The writer of the letter has called upon you for your unique talents; they want you to stop the troupe and save Merriweather. Little do you know, however, that your fellow travel companions have been called for the same task. You've just stepped off the boat, and Merriweather is several miles inland. Penelope, what will you do?"
"Oh, me first." Britta glances at her sheet, lips pursed in concentration. "Do we have money? I want to tip the workers on the boat."
"Of course you do," Annie slumps in her seat.
"You have meager savings; just enough to secure a room in the Merriweather Inn."
"Oh, well, I'm sure I can bunk with one of my buddies. Penelope gives all her money to the boat's workers."
"Of course she does," Jeff rolls his eyes.
Abed rolls a die. "The workers are enraged by your presumptuous charity. Grumpy from months at sea, they attack."
"Can we leave Penelope behind?" Annie asks.
Britta gasps, affronted. "Why don't you make yourself useful and calm down the workers with your buxomness?"
"Because that's gross," Annie snarls. "I swing my sword at the nearest attacker."
Abed rolls. "It's a hit! Helena beheads the orc charging Penelope."
"You're welcome." Annie lilts, enjoying her superiority as Britta grumbles under her breath.
And they're off. It takes Dom several turns to get used to the game, but once he does, it's clear he's Annie-like in his ability to strategize. They take charge of the group, flirtily running ideas past one another as the group draws near to the stupid cave.
Watching them make such a good team gives Jeff a complex. Plus, every one of his ideas gets them attacked, snubbed, or-thanks to an especially bad roll-lands them in jail. He's on edge, he's unhappy, and by the end of the night he's quite drunk.
"Having successfully cleared the giant spiders and skeletons, you head on through the passageway at the back of the room."
"Are there any side passages?" Annie asks.
"Two."
"We should split up and search them both for loot," Dom suggests.
"Penelope, Kyle, and Clarisse go down one. Helena and Charleston go down the other."
Jeff glances at Annie from under his eyelashes.
She's flushed, expectantly watching Abed roll the dice.
"There's a locked chest at the end of Helena and Charleston's passage."
"Ooh!" Annie exclaims. "Do you have any lock picks?" She raises a questioning eyebrow at Jeff.
"Yes. I try to unlock the chest," Jeff offers blandly.
Abed rolls. "Charleston unlocks the chest, but breaks a pick in the process." Unsurprised, Jeff alters the list of supplies on his character sheet.
"What loot did they score?" Dom questions.
"Inside the chest," Abed explains obligingly, "you find twenty gold pieces, three lock picks, an axe enchanted to do fire damage, and a coded journal."
Dom and Annie fist bump, and Jeff can't help but feel that bump rightfully belongs to him.
"I search the journal for clues on how to decode it."
"There are none, but there is a readable inscription that says 'Ye of soaring intellect and courageous heart, gather the secrets of the page to find start'."
"The first map?" Dom guesses. Abed nods. "Well, we need to decode it!"
"Hold it," Jeff butts into the Annie and Dom show. "We know our quest. We're supposed to be catching up with the thieves."
"Yeah, but we can split up. Obey the letter and find all the armor," Dom has a competitive glint in his eye.
"That's dumb," Jeff snaps.
"Jeffery," Shirley warns.
"No," He's pissed and he's not going to be placated. "It's 11:30. Let's just complete the fucking quest and go home."
Annie scoffs. "If you're not having fun, Jeff, you can leave whenever you want. We're not keeping you hostage."
He turns to Annie, his nostrils flared. Her words instantly cause a pressure behind his eyes, and he's worried he might start tearing up. She recoils at his expression but doesn't take back what she said. "Fine then. Enjoy your stupid game. I hope you're all eaten."
Jeff makes it down to the street before he remembers Shirley was his ride.
He debates the merits of walking home versus swallowing his pride and going back upstairs.
He's about to set out on foot when Shirley materializes beside him. "I had to say goodbye to everyone," she explains. He nods and they walk the short distance to her van.
They ride in silence for a few minutes, Jeff pensively staring out the window and Shirley humming the beginning bars of Daybreak.
Finally, she asks, "Do you want to talk about it?"
He's about to say no, but something trips up his tongue. Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the pressure of the past week weighing on his mind, or maybe it's the fact that Shirley bothered to ask in the first place. Whatever the reason, his 'no' warps into a "Yes" on the way out of his mouth.
Shirley waits for him continue. When he doesn't she asks, "Do you want to talk about it with me?"
Jeff chuckles humorlessly. "I'm just…bad at the opening up thing. I don't know where to begin."
"Obviously something is weighing on your mind. You can start by telling me what it is."
Jeff considers this. He's silent for a few prolonged moments before it's all too much and a question agitatedly explodes out of him. "Would it really be that bad?"
Shirley takes her eyes off the road to glance over at him. "I'm going to need more than that."
He nods, knowing this, and pauses to organize his thoughts. "Ever since Annie and I were debate partners, everyone in the group has made a big deal out of us being partnered up in any way. What I want to know is, would it really be that bad? Annie and me. Together."
It's Shirley's turn to be pensive and silent. He can tell she's not talking because she's trying to decide how to deliver an answer he doesn't want to hear.
Jeff decides to give her more to mull over, getting it all out in the open. "I'm in love with her." He pauses. And just in case, he clarifies his statement. "I'm in love with Annie."
Shirley blinks rapidly, dumbfounded.
"I am," Jeff asserts. "When we were trapped in Borchert's Lab, I finally realized what I've been denying for years. I love Annie. I love her, and it opened the door." Now that he's said the L-word out loud, it just keeps coming, more insistent every time. "I love how smart she is. I love how fucking earnest she is all the time. I love that she's crazy and crazy ambitious. She makes me feel alive and decent just by being in the same room. She makes me a better person, and I love her."
Jeff lets out a big, huffing breath.
Shirley places a comforting hand on his knee. "When we first met Annie, she was starting fresh in the world. She'd already been through a lot, but she was sweet and young." Jeff doesn't argue, just waits for Shirley's point. "I'm a big enough person to admit I made some snap judgements about what a relationship between you and Annie would look like, about your motivations. But we've known each other for a long time now. And you're both mature adults. So, to answer your question: no, it wouldn't be that bad."
A ball of pressure releases in Jeff's throat, and he feels like he can breathe more easily than he has in a while.
"But," Shirley continues, "if you really, truly love her-and she's happy with Dom-you need to leave that girl be. Love is selfless, Jeff. And you were behaving selfishly back there." She squeezes his knee reassuringly before turning into the parking lot of his building.
He gets out of the van and walks around to the driver's side to give Shirley a hug. "Thanks for listening."
"Anytime." She places a loving hand on his cheek. "Think about what I said?"
He nods, and she drives off, satisfied.
Jeff trudges up the stairs to his floor, thinking about what Shirley said.
He does rounds of sit-ups and pushups, thinking about what Shirley said.
He nearly falls asleep in the shower, thinking about what Shirley said.
And, finally, he crawls into his cold, lonely bed, unable to stop thinking about what Shirley said.