Just Until I Know What I'm Feeling (1d/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: 5,105
Rating/Warnings: This chapter is PG-13, but the rating will change over the course of the story.
Disclaimer: These character's belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.
Author's Note: As usual, my gratitude goes out to my phenomenal beta, bethanyactually. The title of the story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."
This chapter is the last section of part one. It's a little shorter than usual, but I hope the content makes up for it.
[Part 1a] [Part 1b] [Part 1c]
On Friday morning, Annie pauses outside Jeff's office. She hasn't talked to him about the double date yet, and the dean is going to have an aneurysm if she doesn't do it soon.
Still, she resents this assignment, and she's not looking forward to Jeff laughing her out the door.
Listening for a clue that Jeff is inside-and hoping he's not-Annie steps closer. She hears a muffled rumble and presses her ear against the door.
"Well I'm calling you now, aren't I?" A brief pause. "Maybe because every time I do you yell at me for not calling more." It's definitely Jeff's voice, but it sounds thinner and more irate than usual. "I'm just observing a pattern of behavior, no need to crucify me." A longer silence, punctuated by several exasperated sighs. "I already told you I'd be over for Thanksgiving, okay? I promise. I'll be there…Okay…Yes, mom…Alright…I love you, too…Bye." At war with herself as to whether she should knock or come back later, Annie lingers. "Get in here, Annie." Jeff's voice sounds tired and irritated from the other side of the door. "I know you're out there."
Annie tentatively lets the door fall open a couple inches. "How?"
Jeff gestures to the large window. The shades are mostly drawn, but she can still see the people walking past. "I could see you loitering. Hear anything interesting?" he snaps.
Annie eases the door shut. "I wanted to see if you were in here," she bristles at his mood. "I wasn't intentionally eavesdropping."
"Uh-huh," Jeff nods. "But you did eavesdrop, so your intentions are moot." He produces a full bottle of vodka seemingly out of thin air.
"God, Jeff," she reprimands, "it's 10:30 in the fucking morning. Put that away!"
He seems surprised by the expletive, but recovers quickly. "You're not the boss of me, Annie."
"Yeah, well, maybe someone should be-someone who’s not you. You've been drinking a lot."
He looks her in the eye, defiantly, as he takes a swig out of the bottle.
Annie feels her nostrils flare in response.
"So why were you looking for me?" He's grinning all cocksure, and she feels an irrational and intense urge to punch the smugness off his face.
"You're being a dick," she points out.
"That's me," Jeff agrees sardonically, "penis man. Either say what you came to say, or get out and leave me alone."
Annie raises an eyebrow. Clearly, talking to his mother put Jeff on edge. And, as usual, he’s lashing out instead of dealing with it.
And she's sick of it.
She wants him to own up to an emotion for once.
“I need you to meet me and the dean at Señor Kevin’s tonight at 7. Sober.”
It’s not technically a lie, but she still avoids giving Jeff further explanation by turning crisply on her heel and charging back out the door.
The rest of Annie’s day has a sour flavor, and she doesn’t even crack a smile when she gets an abnormal psychology test back with a glowing, red 100% at the top.
The dean is thrilled, though, when he hears that Jeff will (probably) be at dinner.
When she finally gets home-and collapses onto her bed, exhausted-Annie gets a text from Britta.
had a heart to heart with jeff the other day, learned some interesting things
She has to get ready, and the last thing she wants to do is coax information about Jeff out of Britta of all people. She ignores the message and goes about picking out an outfit.
As she's curling the strands of hair she's tugged out of her ponytail, Dom knocks on Annie's half-closed door. "Hey, cutie. You look gorgeous."
She flushes in appreciation and sets down the hot curling iron before rushing over to give him a hug. "Hey, how was your drive?"
"Not bad. I hit some traffic on the way out of the big city, but nothing unmanageable. Where's Abed?"
"He and Rachel went to a movie night on campus. Lemme finish doing my hair and we'll head out."
Dom kisses her lightly on the cheek and sits on the edge of Annie's bed, talking about school and the vacation his family is planning for winter break, until she's done. Apparently the entire clan of Finks get together for family fun that lasts from the week before Christmas till after New Year's.
Spending that much time with her family would lead to murder, but Dom's bubbly-excited about the ordeal.
They arrive at Señor Kevin's a half hour early. Not surprisingly, Dean Pelton is already there, rambling to himself by the entrance.
"Hey, Dean?" Annie calls tentatively. "You okay?"
He comes rushing over.
Dom leans over to Annie to whisper. "Is that man crying?"
"Oh Annie!" The dean falls into her arms before she can answer Dom. "I've dreamt of this for years," he sobs into her shoulder. "I'm…so…happy," he manages between gasps.
Annie pats and rubs his back tentatively, flashing Dom an apologetic grimace.
"I think you should take a few deep breaths," she advises. "You don't want to hyperventilate."
Dean Pelton stands up abruptly and wipes his face. "We should establish a signal!"
"A signal?"
"You know," the dean waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Annie feels a shred of her innocence shrivel into nothing. "If things are going well-"
"I got it," Annie insists.
But the dean continues over her, "-we're going to want to be alone to do some aerobic Jenga."
"Jenga? Like with the wooden tiles? That doesn't require physical activity at all," Dom says, confused.
Annie gapes at both of them.
To make matters more complicated, Jeff strides up to the group then, looking more than a little haggard. When he’s a few paces away, he stops in his tracks to examine the group. Immediately, Jeff’s eyes narrow. “What is this?”
“Oh, good, you’re just in time for our date.” Annie informs him haughtily.
Jeff raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Our wha-”
"Oh!" Dom exclaims suddenly. "It's a euphemism!"
Dean Pelton rushes to Jeff's side. “Oh, Jeffrey, our first date.” The dean sighs dreamily, “We’ll be telling our future children and sexual partners the story of this night for years to come.”
Jeff’s repelled by the idea, his entire body jerking back.
“Yes, I’m sure tonight will make quite a story,” Annie agrees. “Shall we?”
She leads the group inside, Dom half a step behind her and the dean clinging to Jeff’s arm, herding him.
She can feel Jeff’s accusatory stare burning a hole between her shoulder blades, but she tries to ignore it as she tells the host, “Table for four.”
While they settle into their seats, Annie chances a look across the table at Jeff. He’s already staring at her, enraged and confused.
She cocks an eyebrow at him challengingly.
He flares his nostrils in response, tilting his head.
“So,” Dom breaks into their wordless argument, “what’s good here?”
“Are you a Die Hard fan?” Jeff answers Dom’s question with a question. “You should ask the manager about Die Hard.”
Dom gives Annie a questioning look. She sighs. “The nachos are really good. We should split some.”
Jeff mutters indignantly to himself.
“So romantic,” the dean coos excitedly. “We should split something, too, Jeffrey.”
Jeff’s staring at Annie through narrowed eyes when he answers, “I’ve got a few things in mind.”
Unable to help herself, Annie sticks her tongue out at him.
###
Jeff can't remember a time he's ever been more uncomfortable. Several uncomfortable moments come to mind-the racist Spanish skit he did with Pierce, monkey gas, attacking Rich in beginner pottery-but nothing quite compares to sitting through a double date with the girl he loves, her nondescript but weirdly-perfect boyfriend, and his pseudo-stalker.
And it doesn’t help that his usual ally in situations like this was the one to trick him into such a strange gathering.
Jeff’s not sure what he did, but he’s pretty certain-whatever it was-it didn’t merit this kind of betrayal. So he’s feeling pretty justified in his rage, staring Annie down across the table.
She seems to think she belongs in the justified camp, too, flipping her hair arrogantly and turning up her nose whenever he tries to communicate his frustration through intense eye contact.
Dean Pelton and Dom are blissfully unaware of the tense impasse. All of Dom’s attention is directed at Annie; he barely even bothers to look away from her to eat his food. And the dean-oh, the dean-is equally focused on Jeff, asking him sleazy and leading questions about his sexual preferences and caressing any part of Jeff he has access to.
Jeff keeps asking the dean to stop, but Craig has always had trouble with ‘no.’
When Dean Pelton’s hand moves to stroke new and invasive places, Jeff is driven over the edge.
“Okay!” he jumps out of his seat. “We need to talk. Outside. Now.” Jeff aggressively grips Craig’s upper arm and hauls him toward the front of the restaurant.
“Oh, Jeffrey, so forceful. Is it time for the aerobic Jenga?”
“What? No,” Jeff replies emphatically. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Well, by the age of six-”
Jeff cuts the dean off. “I don’t have time for your life story, Craig. I want to know what the hell tonight is about!”
By this point, Jeff is seething mad and towering over the dean, who cowers.
Answering in a rush, Dean Pelton keeps his hands raised over his head as if expecting some kind of physical retribution. “I know your passion for me unlocked the door in Borchert's Lab but I also know you’re scared of your emotions so I enlisted Annie’s help to get you on a double date so you’d feel supported and willing to open up, please don’t hurt me.”
Jeff straightens up, mulling over the dean’s explanation. “Huh.”
Dean Pelton checks Jeff’s expression and then-satisfied that he’s not about to be beaten-relaxes. “Are we good?” he raises an eyebrow and holds out his arms for a hug.
“My passion for you-more accurately, my lack thereof-did not open the door.” Jeff explains, knocking away the dean’s hands.
“But you were looking right at me when we turned around,” the dean whines.
“Yeah, about that,” Jeff rubs a nervous hand over the back of his neck. He doesn’t really want to have this conversation, but it’s long overdue. “I didn’t want people to know what had really done it. It was just a coincidence, my looking at you.” Jeff almost feels sorry for the dean as he watches the man deflate.
“So you’re not in love with me?”
“Craig, you’re…an okay guy. And I’m occasionally grateful for your friendship. But,” Jeff snorts, “did you really think I was in love with you?”
Dean Pelton pauses, thinking. “Yes?”
Jeff shakes his head, exasperated. “First of all, you’re a man. Which would be alluring for some people, but that really doesn’t do it for me. And it probably never will. Second, you’ve never been shy about your feelings. If I wanted you, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to take you.” The dean swoons a little at take you, but Jeff soldiers on. “I am not, have never been, nor ever will be in love with you. Sorry, Craig.”
The dean tears up a little, but he seems resigned to the truth nonetheless. “No, it’s fine. I suppose it’s time to face the music.” He wipes away a few of the tears, silent and thoughtful. Finally, he asks, “If not me, then who?”
“Huh?”
“If it's not me that you feel passion for, who is it?”
Reflexively, Jeff looks back at the restaurant.
Dean Pelton, as dense as he can be, puts it together pretty quickly. “Oh, Jeffrey.”
“Don’t tell her, okay?”
The dean nods. “Can I say something?”
“I’d really rather you didn’t, but I suspect you’re going to anyway.”
Sure enough, the dean places a hand on Jeff’s shoulder and says, “Speaking as someone with a lot of experience fawning over Jeff Winger, I know what it looks like to be in love with you. You should just tell her; Annie’s crazy about you.”
For once, Jeff doesn’t shrug off the dean’s hand. He feels a hopeful and excited shock tingle out from his heart at Dean Pelton’s words. But he doesn’t give them enough time to take root in his brain.
“She has Dom. And she seems to be happy with him. And he’s a good person. There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t tell her.”
The dean rolls his eyes at Jeff. “There are always going to be a million reasons not to make yourself vulnerable to someone who can hurt you, Jeffrey. But that’s never stopped Annie from opening up her heart to you. You owe her at least that. If it doesn’t work out, well, then at least you tried.” He senses that the dean’s last sentence is also directed inward. After several moments of introspective silence, the dean speaks up again. “I should go home.” He pulls a few bills out of his wallet to cover his meal and hands them to Jeff. “Tell Annie I said thank you and goodnight.”
“Sure,” Jeff promises.
He watches as the dean, wounded but still trucking along, walks to his car.
###
“They’ve been out there for a while.” Dom observes, pulling Annie’s attention away from Britta’s latest text.
She puts away her phone and shakes the dumbfounded haze from her brain. “Yeah, maybe we should go check on them,” she muses worriedly.
“We never did establish a signal. Maybe they went off for aer-”
Annie’s hands fly up to her ears. “Please don’t say it.”
Dom chuckles and gently tugs at Annie’s wrists. She relinquishes her hands to him, letting him cradle them between his own. “Aaaareobic,” he starts again, teasing.
“No,” Annie shoves Dom’s shoulder.
“Jenga,” he taunts.
"Stop it," Annie giggles.
Jeff appears at the table then. “Craig had to get going. He said to say thanks and goodnight.”
“Aww,” Dom pouts, “No dessert?”
“Nah,” Jeff explains, “He got some disappointing news; it didn’t leave him in a dessert mood.”
Annie searches Jeff’s face curiously. He doesn’t look angry anymore, just kind of tired.
They pay the bill, leave their tip, and walk silently to the parking lot. Dom has his arm draped over Annie’s shoulders, and Jeff’s pointedly not looking at the couple. But Annie can’t seem to tear her gaze away from Jeff.
When they reach the first row of cars, Jeff turns to find Annie staring at him. He falters for a moment then says, “We should chat.”
“Sounds serious,” Dom’s verbal observation mirrors Annie’s silent one. “I’ll go bring the car around.”
Once he’s out of earshot, Jeff gets right to the point. “Not cool, Annie.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what else isn’t cool, Jeff? Taking things out on your friends when they’re trying to help you. You were an ass this morning.”
“I was in a bad mood, okay? That didn’t give you the right to trick me into a date with the man who’s been low-key sexually harassing me since we’ve known him.”
Annie harrumphs, but she knows he has a point. The punishment should fit the crime and all that. “Fine. I’m sorry. But he begged for my help, and he’s kinda relentless when he really wants something.”
“Apology accepted,” Jeff concedes. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”
Annie nods and offers him a small smile. Jeff’s face softens in return.
“For the record,” she offers after a beat, “I had intended to tell you what you were getting into.”
Jeff grins widely. “Well you didn’t, so your intentions are moot.”
Annie raises her eyebrows. “Too soon.”
He shrugs and offers her a sheepish grin. Without thinking, Annie darts toward him and throws her arms around his waist, squeezing. After a moment, Jeff hugs back, sighing contentedly.
Pressed up against him, Annie realizes how long it’s been since they’ve been this easy together. She relaxes, nuzzling her face into Jeff’s chest.
The moment is over too soon, broken by the honking of Dom’s car.
“Well.” Annie takes a step back. “Goodnight.”
Jeff’s gaze is tender and he nods. “Enjoy your evening.”
Annie gets into the passenger seat, watching Jeff as he waves them out of sight.
“You guys looked cozy. What did he want to chat about?” Dom doesn’t quite manage to cover up the jealousy in his voice.
Not wanting to spoil the surprisingly sweet ending to the night, Annie tries to alleviate Dom’s worry. “We were just saying goodnight. No big deal.”
“He had seemed kind of mad,” Dom points out.
Annie shrugs and smiles to herself as she pats his thigh soothingly. “Jeff’s emotions are never quite what they seem.”
“If you say so,” Dom nods, dropping it. “Want to go for some frozen yogurt?”
"Sure,” Annie agrees distractedly. She’s still thinking about the hug, letting her mind linger without shame.
###
As Jeff turns into his childhood neighborhood, he’s hit with an overwhelming wave of nostalgic memories: mowing the lawn for their elderly neighbors; playing lonely, driveway basketball with the secondhand, plastic basketball hoop his mom found on someone’s curb; helping her clean the house on Sunday mornings.
More-or-less identical houses line either side of the street. As Jeff approaches his mother’s place, he notices some lawns are littered with bicycles and Fisher-Price play sets, some houses have stupid, fake deer on display, and some people got into the festivities and have autumn cornucopias and cartoon turkeys decorating windows and porches.
Maybe it’s because Jeff knows his mother lives alone, but her house looks especially desolate as he pulls into the driveway.
He hates this place. It’s suburban hell.
How long has it been since he’s spent more than a few minutes here? Jeff knows the answer is several years, but as soon as he steps foot into the kitchen from the garage entrance, all that time seems to fade away. The house smells the same as it’s always smelled-an unsettling combination of disinfectant, lilac, and just-cooked food. It’s almost reminiscent of a nursing home. His mother hasn’t painted in years, and the cheery yellow walls glow in the bright, late-November afternoon.
She hasn’t redecorated, either, and Jeff remembers the story for each deep nick in the kitchen table as he runs his fingers lightly across the surface.
“Ma?” he calls into the body of the house. “Doreen?”
“In here!” she yells from the direction of her bedroom in the back of the ranch.
She’d had Jeff in her late twenties, so Doreen is no spring chicken. Just before summer, she got hip replacement surgery, and Jeff waits in the TV room as she limps toward him, heavily relying on a cane.
"How are you doing?" he asks wearily, not sure if he should be doing something to help. Even when he’d picked her up from the hospital after the procedure, he’d felt useless and had taken a hands-off approach to getting her settled.
"Oh," his mom says between labored breaths, "I've certainly had better days. I'm so happy you're here, though."
Jeff tries to shrug off her sincerity-infused tone, but for some reason her words make him want to break down crying.
"Glad to be here," he lies.
Doreen finally arrives where Jeff's standing and reaches way up to pat his cheek affectionately. "Happy belated birthday, baby boy."
"Ma," Jeff rolls his eyes at the sentimental look in her eyes. "I thought we agreed not to do this."
"You're more sensitive than a woman," she waggles a finger at him. He stares down coolly at her until she relents. "Fine, fine. Happy Thanksgiving."
"Happy Thanksgiving," he concedes.
Jeff actually loves the years when his birthday falls this close to Thanksgiving. It's so easily forgotten in the excitement of cultural appropriation and genocide.
He follows behind Doreen as she makes her slow way into the kitchen. "Are you going to be my little helper?"
Grunting at his childhood title, Jeff is already reaching above the refrigerator for her cookbooks. "It wouldn't be Thanksgiving otherwise," he admits, reluctantly fond, after a prolonged moment.
His mom is quiet as they go about preparing dinner. Cooking seems to take a lot of her energy and concentration. She asks occasional questions during lags, but mostly Jeff's mom gives him kind orders as the meal comes together.
As the kitchen grows warm and the nursing home smell is drowned in the mouth-watering scents of roasting turkey, gravy, and freshly baked bread, Jeff feels himself relax. He'd missed his mom and her easygoing nature, and he regrets not visiting her more often.
Not that he's going to come around every week, but he realizes it's time to start paying regular visits.
Doreen produces a pretty nice bottle of wine as their hard work turns to occasional stirring and basting.
"You planning to stay a while?" she checks. When Jeff nods, Doreen breaks out the wine glasses and pours them both some of the merlot. "I recorded the Macy's parade," she hints hopefully.
Jeff thinks the parade is foolish, but his mom's a fan of the camp. This visit is about making her happy, so Jeff shrugs, yielding easily.
As soon as the food's done, they each make a plate and move back into the TV room. Doreen settles in her overlarge armchair and Jeff sits on the ground at her feet, leaning delicately against her legs. She runs a hand over his shoulder before turning on the television and queuing up the recording.
The meal is good and Jeff eats way more than he planned, goaded by his mom. The wine eases his tension to the point that all the dance numbers and giant balloons seem kind of fun instead of annoying.
He's slumped further on the ground-his mom mussing his hair while humming softly to the musical number currently playing out on screen-when he gets a text from Annie.
They've been pretty much back to normal since the obscene double date misadventure. Jeff's not quite sure what caused Annie to relax so completely, but he's certainly grateful for whatever it is.
He smiles when he opens the message, a picture of her and Abed dressed in festive sweaters with the caption Happy Thanksgiving from 303! They had invited him to join them in delivering thanksgiving meals to the less fortunate (Annie's idea, obviously), but he'd given them a half-assed excuse about wanting to spend the day alone.
They'd easily backed off, knowing how sensitive Jeff gets around his birthday.
Doreen notices his distraction and leans forward to see the picture. "Pretty," she comments. "Is that your girlfriend?"
Jeff feels his pulse thump and his face warm. "No, Ma."
Doreen clucks her tongue. "Should I just give up on grandchildren completely?"
He rolls his eyes up to look at her. "If I'm ever able to tell the future, I'll let you know."
She grins slyly. "That's a better answer than I usually get. Is there someone in your life I should know about?"
Jeff looks back down at the picture of Annie and Abed, his eyes lingering on her easy, luminous smile. It's not even the real thing, but it makes him feel warm from the inside out.
"Not quite," he sighs, knowing his ominous tone will drive his mom insane with curiosity. "But you'll be among the first to know if that changes."
###
"Have fun you guys!" Annie calls down the hallway as Rachel and Abed carry off the last of their luggage to load into Rachel's hatchback for Abed's film festival. "Text me everything," she reminds him, feeling nervous excitement on his behalf.
Abed flashes her a thumbs-up before he disappears down the stairwell.
And then Annie's alone.
She loves rooming with Abed, but she's been looking forward to the quiet environment, perfect for finals studying.
Humming to herself, Annie lugs her books and laptop to the kitchen table. She spends the better part of two hours reading over her color-coded study guide for chemistry before she feels entitled to a break.
Sucking on a mint to keep her mind focused, Annie cycles through her social media profiles before checking her email. A shot of adrenaline does better at stimulating her mind than any mint could when she notices a message from Dr. Floyd. The title of the email simply reads Re: Research Assistant Position.
Ms. Edison,
I was delighted to see your application amidst the many I received for the position of my research assistant. Despite your strange choice in higher education institution-or perhaps because of it-your resume is easily the most impressive of the bunch. You have a bright mind and a promising career ahead of you. I'd like to help kick-start said career by unofficially offering you the position. You should receive a formal letter in the mail in a few days. Obviously, if you wish to accept, arrangements must be made regarding your transfer and housing.
I look forward to discussing the matter more fully as we move forward.
Warm regards,
Dr. Gregory Floyd
Annie stares in shock, reading the email over and over, for nearly fifteen minutes. She wants to remember his exact compliments and this rush of pride next time any person dares to insult her.
In this moment, Annie is invincible.
But moments end and reality rears its ugly head.
Obviously, if you wish to accept, arrangements must be made regarding your transfer and housing.
She'd have to leave Greendale. Heck, she'd have to leave the entire state of Colorado.
And Abed…Shirley…Britta…Jeff.
"Fuck," Annie mutters to herself, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.
Finals forgotten, Annie finds one of her planning notebooks and promptly starts making a pros and cons list.
Pros: fast-track to jobs in her field, studying under one of the leading forensics academics, near the beach, better school.
Cons: credits may not transfer out of state, no friends, expensive (???)
She stares at her incomplete list for a long time, trying to puzzle out what to do.
Finally, desperate for advice, Annie calls Jeff.
"Hey," he answers cheerfully. "What happened to no distractions till 3:00 on Friday?" he teases, bringing up her strictly-enforced rule about finals week.
"I got some pretty big news," she confides. "Can you come over?"
"Be there in twenty," he offers without hesitation or question.
On edge, Annie clutches her notebook and paces back and forth till there's a buzz from downstairs.
She rushes to the front lobby to let Jeff in.
He's standing by the door, hands pushed deep in his winter jacket and a ski cap on his head.
It must be snowing pretty heavily; Annie knows Jeff wouldn't chance hat hair unless the snow would do more damage to his 'do.
She pauses a moment to really let the image of Jeff sink in. She wants to treasure it, keep a perfect scan in her memory forever.
"This must be some news," Jeff points out by way of greeting when she pushes open the door.
Annie nods, a nervous click coming from the back of her throat.
Jeff cocks an eyebrow but silently follows her up the stairs to her apartment.
She rushes over to the table and opens the email again. "Read this," she commands, turning her laptop so he can see.
As he scans the words, she watches Jeff's face. "Way to go, Annie," he cheers, offering her a proud grin.
"Keep reading," she prompts tensely.
His face completely transforms after a moment, and Annie knows he's got it. Pale and gaping, Jeff stares at her. "He's a professor at…?"
"Stanford."
"In California?" he clarifies, grasping.
"Yes, Jeff, where else?" she gusts, slumping into her seat and throwing her notebook down on the table.
"Shit. That's a good school." Jeff grimaces before his eyes are drawn to her list. After a moment, he says, "You forgot Dom."
Annie's brow wrinkles, and it takes her a second to understand what he means. Even when she realizes, she doesn't move to remedy the mistake.
They make eye contact for an intense second before Jeff turns away and takes up Annie's pacing. "California, huh?"
"Maybe," Annie wavers. "I don't know."
He's still pacing, and she notices his hands are clasped in white-knuckle fists, shaking. "And you called me here to…?"
"Help?" It comes out as a question.
Jeff seems to be at war with himself. From her place at the table, Annie can almost hear him talking to himself under his breath, and his pacing becomes more and more frantic, agitated.
"Jeff?" She raises out of her seat, moving toward him tentatively.
Her voice seems to break him out of his stupor and he lurches for her, grabbing onto her shoulders with painful, vise-like grips.
"Don't go," his voice is fervent and his eyes are manic. She looks up into his eyes hopefully, asking an unspoken question. "God, I'm such an asshole for saying this-and you should feel free to slap me or disregard everything I'm saying or whatever-but please don't leave me, Annie. Not you, too. I can handle Pierce, and I can even deal with Troy being gone. And I could maybe handle Abed or Shirley or Britta. But I can't lose you, not…" he gulps and winces as though the words taste bad on the way out of his mouth. "I can't. Don't go."
He looks so vulnerable, so pained.
And Annie finds herself nodding. After a moment, she adds a soft, nearly inaudible, "Okay."
Jeff incrementally relaxes his hold on her shoulders but doesn't move his hands.
They're so focused on each other, in their strained and emotionally-charged bubble, that when the door bangs open they both scream rather indelicately.
"The disco spider has returned to his technicolor web! Somebody hug me!"
"Troy!?"
###
###
"Is that our shower?"
"Yup."
"Why is Britta squeezing toothpaste out all over her stomach?"
"It's supposed to represent the pornography of capitalism. Don't ask me what that means."
"And the background noise?"
"Is the sound of gunfire over Britta reading the Constitution."
"I would have guessed Kanye's new album."
"Yeah, I told her it wasn't going to sound like she thought it would."
"How high was she?"
"Very."
"This beats The Bridge on the River Kwai," Troy asserts enthusiastically, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Abed's lap. "This is my new favorite movie."
"I'm glad you're home."
"Yeah. I missed you, too, buddy."
Spoilers: If you've watched through s5, nothing should be spoiled for you.
Word Count: 5,105
Rating/Warnings: This chapter is PG-13, but the rating will change over the course of the story.
Disclaimer: These character's belong to Dan Harmon, etc., etc. I simply enjoy manipulating them.
Author's Note: As usual, my gratitude goes out to my phenomenal beta, bethanyactually. The title of the story comes from a Four Star Mary song called "She Knows."
This chapter is the last section of part one. It's a little shorter than usual, but I hope the content makes up for it.
[Part 1a] [Part 1b] [Part 1c]
On Friday morning, Annie pauses outside Jeff's office. She hasn't talked to him about the double date yet, and the dean is going to have an aneurysm if she doesn't do it soon.
Still, she resents this assignment, and she's not looking forward to Jeff laughing her out the door.
Listening for a clue that Jeff is inside-and hoping he's not-Annie steps closer. She hears a muffled rumble and presses her ear against the door.
"Well I'm calling you now, aren't I?" A brief pause. "Maybe because every time I do you yell at me for not calling more." It's definitely Jeff's voice, but it sounds thinner and more irate than usual. "I'm just observing a pattern of behavior, no need to crucify me." A longer silence, punctuated by several exasperated sighs. "I already told you I'd be over for Thanksgiving, okay? I promise. I'll be there…Okay…Yes, mom…Alright…I love you, too…Bye." At war with herself as to whether she should knock or come back later, Annie lingers. "Get in here, Annie." Jeff's voice sounds tired and irritated from the other side of the door. "I know you're out there."
Annie tentatively lets the door fall open a couple inches. "How?"
Jeff gestures to the large window. The shades are mostly drawn, but she can still see the people walking past. "I could see you loitering. Hear anything interesting?" he snaps.
Annie eases the door shut. "I wanted to see if you were in here," she bristles at his mood. "I wasn't intentionally eavesdropping."
"Uh-huh," Jeff nods. "But you did eavesdrop, so your intentions are moot." He produces a full bottle of vodka seemingly out of thin air.
"God, Jeff," she reprimands, "it's 10:30 in the fucking morning. Put that away!"
He seems surprised by the expletive, but recovers quickly. "You're not the boss of me, Annie."
"Yeah, well, maybe someone should be-someone who’s not you. You've been drinking a lot."
He looks her in the eye, defiantly, as he takes a swig out of the bottle.
Annie feels her nostrils flare in response.
"So why were you looking for me?" He's grinning all cocksure, and she feels an irrational and intense urge to punch the smugness off his face.
"You're being a dick," she points out.
"That's me," Jeff agrees sardonically, "penis man. Either say what you came to say, or get out and leave me alone."
Annie raises an eyebrow. Clearly, talking to his mother put Jeff on edge. And, as usual, he’s lashing out instead of dealing with it.
And she's sick of it.
She wants him to own up to an emotion for once.
“I need you to meet me and the dean at Señor Kevin’s tonight at 7. Sober.”
It’s not technically a lie, but she still avoids giving Jeff further explanation by turning crisply on her heel and charging back out the door.
The rest of Annie’s day has a sour flavor, and she doesn’t even crack a smile when she gets an abnormal psychology test back with a glowing, red 100% at the top.
The dean is thrilled, though, when he hears that Jeff will (probably) be at dinner.
When she finally gets home-and collapses onto her bed, exhausted-Annie gets a text from Britta.
had a heart to heart with jeff the other day, learned some interesting things
She has to get ready, and the last thing she wants to do is coax information about Jeff out of Britta of all people. She ignores the message and goes about picking out an outfit.
As she's curling the strands of hair she's tugged out of her ponytail, Dom knocks on Annie's half-closed door. "Hey, cutie. You look gorgeous."
She flushes in appreciation and sets down the hot curling iron before rushing over to give him a hug. "Hey, how was your drive?"
"Not bad. I hit some traffic on the way out of the big city, but nothing unmanageable. Where's Abed?"
"He and Rachel went to a movie night on campus. Lemme finish doing my hair and we'll head out."
Dom kisses her lightly on the cheek and sits on the edge of Annie's bed, talking about school and the vacation his family is planning for winter break, until she's done. Apparently the entire clan of Finks get together for family fun that lasts from the week before Christmas till after New Year's.
Spending that much time with her family would lead to murder, but Dom's bubbly-excited about the ordeal.
They arrive at Señor Kevin's a half hour early. Not surprisingly, Dean Pelton is already there, rambling to himself by the entrance.
"Hey, Dean?" Annie calls tentatively. "You okay?"
He comes rushing over.
Dom leans over to Annie to whisper. "Is that man crying?"
"Oh Annie!" The dean falls into her arms before she can answer Dom. "I've dreamt of this for years," he sobs into her shoulder. "I'm…so…happy," he manages between gasps.
Annie pats and rubs his back tentatively, flashing Dom an apologetic grimace.
"I think you should take a few deep breaths," she advises. "You don't want to hyperventilate."
Dean Pelton stands up abruptly and wipes his face. "We should establish a signal!"
"A signal?"
"You know," the dean waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Annie feels a shred of her innocence shrivel into nothing. "If things are going well-"
"I got it," Annie insists.
But the dean continues over her, "-we're going to want to be alone to do some aerobic Jenga."
"Jenga? Like with the wooden tiles? That doesn't require physical activity at all," Dom says, confused.
Annie gapes at both of them.
To make matters more complicated, Jeff strides up to the group then, looking more than a little haggard. When he’s a few paces away, he stops in his tracks to examine the group. Immediately, Jeff’s eyes narrow. “What is this?”
“Oh, good, you’re just in time for our date.” Annie informs him haughtily.
Jeff raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Our wha-”
"Oh!" Dom exclaims suddenly. "It's a euphemism!"
Dean Pelton rushes to Jeff's side. “Oh, Jeffrey, our first date.” The dean sighs dreamily, “We’ll be telling our future children and sexual partners the story of this night for years to come.”
Jeff’s repelled by the idea, his entire body jerking back.
“Yes, I’m sure tonight will make quite a story,” Annie agrees. “Shall we?”
She leads the group inside, Dom half a step behind her and the dean clinging to Jeff’s arm, herding him.
She can feel Jeff’s accusatory stare burning a hole between her shoulder blades, but she tries to ignore it as she tells the host, “Table for four.”
While they settle into their seats, Annie chances a look across the table at Jeff. He’s already staring at her, enraged and confused.
She cocks an eyebrow at him challengingly.
He flares his nostrils in response, tilting his head.
“So,” Dom breaks into their wordless argument, “what’s good here?”
“Are you a Die Hard fan?” Jeff answers Dom’s question with a question. “You should ask the manager about Die Hard.”
Dom gives Annie a questioning look. She sighs. “The nachos are really good. We should split some.”
Jeff mutters indignantly to himself.
“So romantic,” the dean coos excitedly. “We should split something, too, Jeffrey.”
Jeff’s staring at Annie through narrowed eyes when he answers, “I’ve got a few things in mind.”
Unable to help herself, Annie sticks her tongue out at him.
###
Jeff can't remember a time he's ever been more uncomfortable. Several uncomfortable moments come to mind-the racist Spanish skit he did with Pierce, monkey gas, attacking Rich in beginner pottery-but nothing quite compares to sitting through a double date with the girl he loves, her nondescript but weirdly-perfect boyfriend, and his pseudo-stalker.
And it doesn’t help that his usual ally in situations like this was the one to trick him into such a strange gathering.
Jeff’s not sure what he did, but he’s pretty certain-whatever it was-it didn’t merit this kind of betrayal. So he’s feeling pretty justified in his rage, staring Annie down across the table.
She seems to think she belongs in the justified camp, too, flipping her hair arrogantly and turning up her nose whenever he tries to communicate his frustration through intense eye contact.
Dean Pelton and Dom are blissfully unaware of the tense impasse. All of Dom’s attention is directed at Annie; he barely even bothers to look away from her to eat his food. And the dean-oh, the dean-is equally focused on Jeff, asking him sleazy and leading questions about his sexual preferences and caressing any part of Jeff he has access to.
Jeff keeps asking the dean to stop, but Craig has always had trouble with ‘no.’
When Dean Pelton’s hand moves to stroke new and invasive places, Jeff is driven over the edge.
“Okay!” he jumps out of his seat. “We need to talk. Outside. Now.” Jeff aggressively grips Craig’s upper arm and hauls him toward the front of the restaurant.
“Oh, Jeffrey, so forceful. Is it time for the aerobic Jenga?”
“What? No,” Jeff replies emphatically. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Well, by the age of six-”
Jeff cuts the dean off. “I don’t have time for your life story, Craig. I want to know what the hell tonight is about!”
By this point, Jeff is seething mad and towering over the dean, who cowers.
Answering in a rush, Dean Pelton keeps his hands raised over his head as if expecting some kind of physical retribution. “I know your passion for me unlocked the door in Borchert's Lab but I also know you’re scared of your emotions so I enlisted Annie’s help to get you on a double date so you’d feel supported and willing to open up, please don’t hurt me.”
Jeff straightens up, mulling over the dean’s explanation. “Huh.”
Dean Pelton checks Jeff’s expression and then-satisfied that he’s not about to be beaten-relaxes. “Are we good?” he raises an eyebrow and holds out his arms for a hug.
“My passion for you-more accurately, my lack thereof-did not open the door.” Jeff explains, knocking away the dean’s hands.
“But you were looking right at me when we turned around,” the dean whines.
“Yeah, about that,” Jeff rubs a nervous hand over the back of his neck. He doesn’t really want to have this conversation, but it’s long overdue. “I didn’t want people to know what had really done it. It was just a coincidence, my looking at you.” Jeff almost feels sorry for the dean as he watches the man deflate.
“So you’re not in love with me?”
“Craig, you’re…an okay guy. And I’m occasionally grateful for your friendship. But,” Jeff snorts, “did you really think I was in love with you?”
Dean Pelton pauses, thinking. “Yes?”
Jeff shakes his head, exasperated. “First of all, you’re a man. Which would be alluring for some people, but that really doesn’t do it for me. And it probably never will. Second, you’ve never been shy about your feelings. If I wanted you, I’ve had plenty of opportunities to take you.” The dean swoons a little at take you, but Jeff soldiers on. “I am not, have never been, nor ever will be in love with you. Sorry, Craig.”
The dean tears up a little, but he seems resigned to the truth nonetheless. “No, it’s fine. I suppose it’s time to face the music.” He wipes away a few of the tears, silent and thoughtful. Finally, he asks, “If not me, then who?”
“Huh?”
“If it's not me that you feel passion for, who is it?”
Reflexively, Jeff looks back at the restaurant.
Dean Pelton, as dense as he can be, puts it together pretty quickly. “Oh, Jeffrey.”
“Don’t tell her, okay?”
The dean nods. “Can I say something?”
“I’d really rather you didn’t, but I suspect you’re going to anyway.”
Sure enough, the dean places a hand on Jeff’s shoulder and says, “Speaking as someone with a lot of experience fawning over Jeff Winger, I know what it looks like to be in love with you. You should just tell her; Annie’s crazy about you.”
For once, Jeff doesn’t shrug off the dean’s hand. He feels a hopeful and excited shock tingle out from his heart at Dean Pelton’s words. But he doesn’t give them enough time to take root in his brain.
“She has Dom. And she seems to be happy with him. And he’s a good person. There are a million reasons why I shouldn’t tell her.”
The dean rolls his eyes at Jeff. “There are always going to be a million reasons not to make yourself vulnerable to someone who can hurt you, Jeffrey. But that’s never stopped Annie from opening up her heart to you. You owe her at least that. If it doesn’t work out, well, then at least you tried.” He senses that the dean’s last sentence is also directed inward. After several moments of introspective silence, the dean speaks up again. “I should go home.” He pulls a few bills out of his wallet to cover his meal and hands them to Jeff. “Tell Annie I said thank you and goodnight.”
“Sure,” Jeff promises.
He watches as the dean, wounded but still trucking along, walks to his car.
###
“They’ve been out there for a while.” Dom observes, pulling Annie’s attention away from Britta’s latest text.
She puts away her phone and shakes the dumbfounded haze from her brain. “Yeah, maybe we should go check on them,” she muses worriedly.
“We never did establish a signal. Maybe they went off for aer-”
Annie’s hands fly up to her ears. “Please don’t say it.”
Dom chuckles and gently tugs at Annie’s wrists. She relinquishes her hands to him, letting him cradle them between his own. “Aaaareobic,” he starts again, teasing.
“No,” Annie shoves Dom’s shoulder.
“Jenga,” he taunts.
"Stop it," Annie giggles.
Jeff appears at the table then. “Craig had to get going. He said to say thanks and goodnight.”
“Aww,” Dom pouts, “No dessert?”
“Nah,” Jeff explains, “He got some disappointing news; it didn’t leave him in a dessert mood.”
Annie searches Jeff’s face curiously. He doesn’t look angry anymore, just kind of tired.
They pay the bill, leave their tip, and walk silently to the parking lot. Dom has his arm draped over Annie’s shoulders, and Jeff’s pointedly not looking at the couple. But Annie can’t seem to tear her gaze away from Jeff.
When they reach the first row of cars, Jeff turns to find Annie staring at him. He falters for a moment then says, “We should chat.”
“Sounds serious,” Dom’s verbal observation mirrors Annie’s silent one. “I’ll go bring the car around.”
Once he’s out of earshot, Jeff gets right to the point. “Not cool, Annie.”
She rolls her eyes. “You know what else isn’t cool, Jeff? Taking things out on your friends when they’re trying to help you. You were an ass this morning.”
“I was in a bad mood, okay? That didn’t give you the right to trick me into a date with the man who’s been low-key sexually harassing me since we’ve known him.”
Annie harrumphs, but she knows he has a point. The punishment should fit the crime and all that. “Fine. I’m sorry. But he begged for my help, and he’s kinda relentless when he really wants something.”
“Apology accepted,” Jeff concedes. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”
Annie nods and offers him a small smile. Jeff’s face softens in return.
“For the record,” she offers after a beat, “I had intended to tell you what you were getting into.”
Jeff grins widely. “Well you didn’t, so your intentions are moot.”
Annie raises her eyebrows. “Too soon.”
He shrugs and offers her a sheepish grin. Without thinking, Annie darts toward him and throws her arms around his waist, squeezing. After a moment, Jeff hugs back, sighing contentedly.
Pressed up against him, Annie realizes how long it’s been since they’ve been this easy together. She relaxes, nuzzling her face into Jeff’s chest.
The moment is over too soon, broken by the honking of Dom’s car.
“Well.” Annie takes a step back. “Goodnight.”
Jeff’s gaze is tender and he nods. “Enjoy your evening.”
Annie gets into the passenger seat, watching Jeff as he waves them out of sight.
“You guys looked cozy. What did he want to chat about?” Dom doesn’t quite manage to cover up the jealousy in his voice.
Not wanting to spoil the surprisingly sweet ending to the night, Annie tries to alleviate Dom’s worry. “We were just saying goodnight. No big deal.”
“He had seemed kind of mad,” Dom points out.
Annie shrugs and smiles to herself as she pats his thigh soothingly. “Jeff’s emotions are never quite what they seem.”
“If you say so,” Dom nods, dropping it. “Want to go for some frozen yogurt?”
"Sure,” Annie agrees distractedly. She’s still thinking about the hug, letting her mind linger without shame.
###
As Jeff turns into his childhood neighborhood, he’s hit with an overwhelming wave of nostalgic memories: mowing the lawn for their elderly neighbors; playing lonely, driveway basketball with the secondhand, plastic basketball hoop his mom found on someone’s curb; helping her clean the house on Sunday mornings.
More-or-less identical houses line either side of the street. As Jeff approaches his mother’s place, he notices some lawns are littered with bicycles and Fisher-Price play sets, some houses have stupid, fake deer on display, and some people got into the festivities and have autumn cornucopias and cartoon turkeys decorating windows and porches.
Maybe it’s because Jeff knows his mother lives alone, but her house looks especially desolate as he pulls into the driveway.
He hates this place. It’s suburban hell.
How long has it been since he’s spent more than a few minutes here? Jeff knows the answer is several years, but as soon as he steps foot into the kitchen from the garage entrance, all that time seems to fade away. The house smells the same as it’s always smelled-an unsettling combination of disinfectant, lilac, and just-cooked food. It’s almost reminiscent of a nursing home. His mother hasn’t painted in years, and the cheery yellow walls glow in the bright, late-November afternoon.
She hasn’t redecorated, either, and Jeff remembers the story for each deep nick in the kitchen table as he runs his fingers lightly across the surface.
“Ma?” he calls into the body of the house. “Doreen?”
“In here!” she yells from the direction of her bedroom in the back of the ranch.
She’d had Jeff in her late twenties, so Doreen is no spring chicken. Just before summer, she got hip replacement surgery, and Jeff waits in the TV room as she limps toward him, heavily relying on a cane.
"How are you doing?" he asks wearily, not sure if he should be doing something to help. Even when he’d picked her up from the hospital after the procedure, he’d felt useless and had taken a hands-off approach to getting her settled.
"Oh," his mom says between labored breaths, "I've certainly had better days. I'm so happy you're here, though."
Jeff tries to shrug off her sincerity-infused tone, but for some reason her words make him want to break down crying.
"Glad to be here," he lies.
Doreen finally arrives where Jeff's standing and reaches way up to pat his cheek affectionately. "Happy belated birthday, baby boy."
"Ma," Jeff rolls his eyes at the sentimental look in her eyes. "I thought we agreed not to do this."
"You're more sensitive than a woman," she waggles a finger at him. He stares down coolly at her until she relents. "Fine, fine. Happy Thanksgiving."
"Happy Thanksgiving," he concedes.
Jeff actually loves the years when his birthday falls this close to Thanksgiving. It's so easily forgotten in the excitement of cultural appropriation and genocide.
He follows behind Doreen as she makes her slow way into the kitchen. "Are you going to be my little helper?"
Grunting at his childhood title, Jeff is already reaching above the refrigerator for her cookbooks. "It wouldn't be Thanksgiving otherwise," he admits, reluctantly fond, after a prolonged moment.
His mom is quiet as they go about preparing dinner. Cooking seems to take a lot of her energy and concentration. She asks occasional questions during lags, but mostly Jeff's mom gives him kind orders as the meal comes together.
As the kitchen grows warm and the nursing home smell is drowned in the mouth-watering scents of roasting turkey, gravy, and freshly baked bread, Jeff feels himself relax. He'd missed his mom and her easygoing nature, and he regrets not visiting her more often.
Not that he's going to come around every week, but he realizes it's time to start paying regular visits.
Doreen produces a pretty nice bottle of wine as their hard work turns to occasional stirring and basting.
"You planning to stay a while?" she checks. When Jeff nods, Doreen breaks out the wine glasses and pours them both some of the merlot. "I recorded the Macy's parade," she hints hopefully.
Jeff thinks the parade is foolish, but his mom's a fan of the camp. This visit is about making her happy, so Jeff shrugs, yielding easily.
As soon as the food's done, they each make a plate and move back into the TV room. Doreen settles in her overlarge armchair and Jeff sits on the ground at her feet, leaning delicately against her legs. She runs a hand over his shoulder before turning on the television and queuing up the recording.
The meal is good and Jeff eats way more than he planned, goaded by his mom. The wine eases his tension to the point that all the dance numbers and giant balloons seem kind of fun instead of annoying.
He's slumped further on the ground-his mom mussing his hair while humming softly to the musical number currently playing out on screen-when he gets a text from Annie.
They've been pretty much back to normal since the obscene double date misadventure. Jeff's not quite sure what caused Annie to relax so completely, but he's certainly grateful for whatever it is.
He smiles when he opens the message, a picture of her and Abed dressed in festive sweaters with the caption Happy Thanksgiving from 303! They had invited him to join them in delivering thanksgiving meals to the less fortunate (Annie's idea, obviously), but he'd given them a half-assed excuse about wanting to spend the day alone.
They'd easily backed off, knowing how sensitive Jeff gets around his birthday.
Doreen notices his distraction and leans forward to see the picture. "Pretty," she comments. "Is that your girlfriend?"
Jeff feels his pulse thump and his face warm. "No, Ma."
Doreen clucks her tongue. "Should I just give up on grandchildren completely?"
He rolls his eyes up to look at her. "If I'm ever able to tell the future, I'll let you know."
She grins slyly. "That's a better answer than I usually get. Is there someone in your life I should know about?"
Jeff looks back down at the picture of Annie and Abed, his eyes lingering on her easy, luminous smile. It's not even the real thing, but it makes him feel warm from the inside out.
"Not quite," he sighs, knowing his ominous tone will drive his mom insane with curiosity. "But you'll be among the first to know if that changes."
###
"Have fun you guys!" Annie calls down the hallway as Rachel and Abed carry off the last of their luggage to load into Rachel's hatchback for Abed's film festival. "Text me everything," she reminds him, feeling nervous excitement on his behalf.
Abed flashes her a thumbs-up before he disappears down the stairwell.
And then Annie's alone.
She loves rooming with Abed, but she's been looking forward to the quiet environment, perfect for finals studying.
Humming to herself, Annie lugs her books and laptop to the kitchen table. She spends the better part of two hours reading over her color-coded study guide for chemistry before she feels entitled to a break.
Sucking on a mint to keep her mind focused, Annie cycles through her social media profiles before checking her email. A shot of adrenaline does better at stimulating her mind than any mint could when she notices a message from Dr. Floyd. The title of the email simply reads Re: Research Assistant Position.
Ms. Edison,
I was delighted to see your application amidst the many I received for the position of my research assistant. Despite your strange choice in higher education institution-or perhaps because of it-your resume is easily the most impressive of the bunch. You have a bright mind and a promising career ahead of you. I'd like to help kick-start said career by unofficially offering you the position. You should receive a formal letter in the mail in a few days. Obviously, if you wish to accept, arrangements must be made regarding your transfer and housing.
I look forward to discussing the matter more fully as we move forward.
Warm regards,
Dr. Gregory Floyd
Annie stares in shock, reading the email over and over, for nearly fifteen minutes. She wants to remember his exact compliments and this rush of pride next time any person dares to insult her.
In this moment, Annie is invincible.
But moments end and reality rears its ugly head.
Obviously, if you wish to accept, arrangements must be made regarding your transfer and housing.
She'd have to leave Greendale. Heck, she'd have to leave the entire state of Colorado.
And Abed…Shirley…Britta…Jeff.
"Fuck," Annie mutters to herself, worrying at her bottom lip with her teeth.
Finals forgotten, Annie finds one of her planning notebooks and promptly starts making a pros and cons list.
Pros: fast-track to jobs in her field, studying under one of the leading forensics academics, near the beach, better school.
Cons: credits may not transfer out of state, no friends, expensive (???)
She stares at her incomplete list for a long time, trying to puzzle out what to do.
Finally, desperate for advice, Annie calls Jeff.
"Hey," he answers cheerfully. "What happened to no distractions till 3:00 on Friday?" he teases, bringing up her strictly-enforced rule about finals week.
"I got some pretty big news," she confides. "Can you come over?"
"Be there in twenty," he offers without hesitation or question.
On edge, Annie clutches her notebook and paces back and forth till there's a buzz from downstairs.
She rushes to the front lobby to let Jeff in.
He's standing by the door, hands pushed deep in his winter jacket and a ski cap on his head.
It must be snowing pretty heavily; Annie knows Jeff wouldn't chance hat hair unless the snow would do more damage to his 'do.
She pauses a moment to really let the image of Jeff sink in. She wants to treasure it, keep a perfect scan in her memory forever.
"This must be some news," Jeff points out by way of greeting when she pushes open the door.
Annie nods, a nervous click coming from the back of her throat.
Jeff cocks an eyebrow but silently follows her up the stairs to her apartment.
She rushes over to the table and opens the email again. "Read this," she commands, turning her laptop so he can see.
As he scans the words, she watches Jeff's face. "Way to go, Annie," he cheers, offering her a proud grin.
"Keep reading," she prompts tensely.
His face completely transforms after a moment, and Annie knows he's got it. Pale and gaping, Jeff stares at her. "He's a professor at…?"
"Stanford."
"In California?" he clarifies, grasping.
"Yes, Jeff, where else?" she gusts, slumping into her seat and throwing her notebook down on the table.
"Shit. That's a good school." Jeff grimaces before his eyes are drawn to her list. After a moment, he says, "You forgot Dom."
Annie's brow wrinkles, and it takes her a second to understand what he means. Even when she realizes, she doesn't move to remedy the mistake.
They make eye contact for an intense second before Jeff turns away and takes up Annie's pacing. "California, huh?"
"Maybe," Annie wavers. "I don't know."
He's still pacing, and she notices his hands are clasped in white-knuckle fists, shaking. "And you called me here to…?"
"Help?" It comes out as a question.
Jeff seems to be at war with himself. From her place at the table, Annie can almost hear him talking to himself under his breath, and his pacing becomes more and more frantic, agitated.
"Jeff?" She raises out of her seat, moving toward him tentatively.
Her voice seems to break him out of his stupor and he lurches for her, grabbing onto her shoulders with painful, vise-like grips.
"Don't go," his voice is fervent and his eyes are manic. She looks up into his eyes hopefully, asking an unspoken question. "God, I'm such an asshole for saying this-and you should feel free to slap me or disregard everything I'm saying or whatever-but please don't leave me, Annie. Not you, too. I can handle Pierce, and I can even deal with Troy being gone. And I could maybe handle Abed or Shirley or Britta. But I can't lose you, not…" he gulps and winces as though the words taste bad on the way out of his mouth. "I can't. Don't go."
He looks so vulnerable, so pained.
And Annie finds herself nodding. After a moment, she adds a soft, nearly inaudible, "Okay."
Jeff incrementally relaxes his hold on her shoulders but doesn't move his hands.
They're so focused on each other, in their strained and emotionally-charged bubble, that when the door bangs open they both scream rather indelicately.
"The disco spider has returned to his technicolor web! Somebody hug me!"
"Troy!?"
###
###
"Is that our shower?"
"Yup."
"Why is Britta squeezing toothpaste out all over her stomach?"
"It's supposed to represent the pornography of capitalism. Don't ask me what that means."
"And the background noise?"
"Is the sound of gunfire over Britta reading the Constitution."
"I would have guessed Kanye's new album."
"Yeah, I told her it wasn't going to sound like she thought it would."
"How high was she?"
"Very."
"This beats The Bridge on the River Kwai," Troy asserts enthusiastically, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the bowl on Abed's lap. "This is my new favorite movie."
"I'm glad you're home."
"Yeah. I missed you, too, buddy."