Nightmares Chapter 2
Title: Nightmares
Author: hobbitgrl
Spoilers: References up through "Documentary Filmmaking: Redux"
Rating: NC-17 (for serious)
Warning: There's serious angst here. I'm not being hyperbolic. Serious angst. There's also smut in future chapters. And angsty smut. And language.
Word Count: 1,029
Disclaimer: I own no part of Community or it's awesomeness.
Chapter 1 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3543.html#cutid1
Chapter 3 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3850.html
Chapter 4 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/4159.html
Chapter 5 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/4495.html
Chapter 2
Half way through their second year at Greendale she’d wormed her way through his guard again. All first semester he’d kept his distance; he’d even been outright mean to her once or twice. It broke him a little more every time he saw her heart shatter, but it was better than the alternative. He could never explain to her why she didn’t want to be with him. It was better to never start anything and let her find love with someone she deserved. She would find a man that could love her, and Jeff would make sure that damned lucky kid deserved her.
He kept to that plan admirably. Except for a few short slipups during their “Conspiracy” conspiracy he’d kept his distance and made sure she kept his. Every time he felt himself slipping he had the same dream and he remembered.
But she’d worn him down over Christmas break. Her texts had been infrequent and friendly; she’d gone back to the same sweet, smart Annie he’d known last year. He’d missed their talks and the way she swatted his shoulder when he needled her. He’d actually looked forward to the start of spring semester and studying again. And then she rolled in with her crush on Rich.
He hated Rich. Hated him. Not disliked-not found annoying. Jeff hated Rich more than he hated cheap haircuts and clothes from Walmart. Rich was everything he despised about Greendale and his new shitty apartment; he was the sort of do-gooder idiot that Jeff used to destroy in the courtroom with a malpractice suit. Some days the only thing that kept Jeff going was a vision of Rich blubbering like a baby as he lost everything he had. Some days Jeff imagined that just for fun.
So then Annie-his wonderful, loving Annie who deserved only the best of the best-comes in with a crush on Rich and before he’s even figured out how much he hates it because it’s Annie and how much he hates it because it’s Rich, she’s calling him out about the whole thing and demanding that he talk about his feelings with her. He hates talking about his feelings. He hates that he has feelings. Not as much as he hates Rich, though.
So he snaps at her, “You don’t think I actually care do you?” He’d felt like a real shit after that, but he learned early on there was no half-assing it with Annie. If he wanted her to back off he needed to pull out the big guns with the first volley. But then he was still angry at her, and now he was angry at himself-all of that was compounded with always hating Rich, and he figured before he could begin figuring anything else out he needed to first make sure Rich didn’t make it into the study group.
He absolutely refused to see Rich regularly regardless of everything else.
It had felt fucking amazing when Shirley voted his way. He still had it. It wasn’t a malpractice suit, but it was close enough. He’d walked to the bathroom with a smirk on his face, but then, half way through his piss, he thought about Annie and that same mess of feelings he always felt when he thought of Annie descended upon him again.
Fuck.
She’d stormed in all self-righteously eyes ablaze, and, for just a second, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to kiss her. There was something intoxicating about the idea of making out with her in the men’s room. He’d gotten himself back under control and years of practice made sure his face showed very little-he hid it all under sarcasm like he always did. He didn’t even have to think about it anymore. But then she’d called him on all his bullshit and he wanted to tell her; he wanted to just collapse in her arms and tell her about his childhood and his father and his nightmares and…and cry. He just wanted to cry and have someone give a damn. He wanted Annie to give a damn.
But if he did that she’d know how he felt, and then she’d start making demands and talking about feelings and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Maybe he was further than ever this year from what he used to be, but the old Jeff Winger was always there, always waiting for the moment he was too tired or too drunk to keep up his guard. The old Jeff Winger was waiting for a chance to hurt Annie and revel in her pain.
He’d die before he let himself do that to her. Even if that meant swallowing it all, burying it all so far down she’d never know.
He almost didn’t make it. “Either you want me or you don’t, what’s it gonna be?” she’d demanded.
“I wish I could give you an answer that makes sense, but relationships are complicated,” he’d retorted. “And we’re in the men’s room.” It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting he thought about being in a relationship with her.
She’d been too angry to realize what he’d just given up and stormed out with promises of asking Rich out. He wondered briefly what he would have done if she’d realized what he said, if she’d asked him why he referred to their friendship as a “relationship.” Blurted out “I love you?” Unlikely. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
He’d gone to Rich that night. Rich whom he hated more than anything he’d ever hated in his life-maybe as much his father. He figured if anyone could teach him to be the sort of man that didn’t want Annie, to be the sort of friend that didn’t think about her when he went to sleep and when he woke up-when he was in the shower-it was Rich.
He had the same nightmare again that night. This time he didn’t wake up until she was laying on the floor sobbing, her nose bloody and her lip split.
He’d spent the rest of the night throwing up. He hadn’t drunk any scotch all day.
Author: hobbitgrl
Spoilers: References up through "Documentary Filmmaking: Redux"
Rating: NC-17 (for serious)
Warning: There's serious angst here. I'm not being hyperbolic. Serious angst. There's also smut in future chapters. And angsty smut. And language.
Word Count: 1,029
Disclaimer: I own no part of Community or it's awesomeness.
Chapter 1 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3543.html#cutid1
Chapter 3 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/3850.html
Chapter 4 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/4159.html
Chapter 5 Here:
http://drgirl11.livejournal.com/4495.html
Chapter 2
Half way through their second year at Greendale she’d wormed her way through his guard again. All first semester he’d kept his distance; he’d even been outright mean to her once or twice. It broke him a little more every time he saw her heart shatter, but it was better than the alternative. He could never explain to her why she didn’t want to be with him. It was better to never start anything and let her find love with someone she deserved. She would find a man that could love her, and Jeff would make sure that damned lucky kid deserved her.
He kept to that plan admirably. Except for a few short slipups during their “Conspiracy” conspiracy he’d kept his distance and made sure she kept his. Every time he felt himself slipping he had the same dream and he remembered.
But she’d worn him down over Christmas break. Her texts had been infrequent and friendly; she’d gone back to the same sweet, smart Annie he’d known last year. He’d missed their talks and the way she swatted his shoulder when he needled her. He’d actually looked forward to the start of spring semester and studying again. And then she rolled in with her crush on Rich.
He hated Rich. Hated him. Not disliked-not found annoying. Jeff hated Rich more than he hated cheap haircuts and clothes from Walmart. Rich was everything he despised about Greendale and his new shitty apartment; he was the sort of do-gooder idiot that Jeff used to destroy in the courtroom with a malpractice suit. Some days the only thing that kept Jeff going was a vision of Rich blubbering like a baby as he lost everything he had. Some days Jeff imagined that just for fun.
So then Annie-his wonderful, loving Annie who deserved only the best of the best-comes in with a crush on Rich and before he’s even figured out how much he hates it because it’s Annie and how much he hates it because it’s Rich, she’s calling him out about the whole thing and demanding that he talk about his feelings with her. He hates talking about his feelings. He hates that he has feelings. Not as much as he hates Rich, though.
So he snaps at her, “You don’t think I actually care do you?” He’d felt like a real shit after that, but he learned early on there was no half-assing it with Annie. If he wanted her to back off he needed to pull out the big guns with the first volley. But then he was still angry at her, and now he was angry at himself-all of that was compounded with always hating Rich, and he figured before he could begin figuring anything else out he needed to first make sure Rich didn’t make it into the study group.
He absolutely refused to see Rich regularly regardless of everything else.
It had felt fucking amazing when Shirley voted his way. He still had it. It wasn’t a malpractice suit, but it was close enough. He’d walked to the bathroom with a smirk on his face, but then, half way through his piss, he thought about Annie and that same mess of feelings he always felt when he thought of Annie descended upon him again.
Fuck.
She’d stormed in all self-righteously eyes ablaze, and, for just a second, he wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to kiss her. There was something intoxicating about the idea of making out with her in the men’s room. He’d gotten himself back under control and years of practice made sure his face showed very little-he hid it all under sarcasm like he always did. He didn’t even have to think about it anymore. But then she’d called him on all his bullshit and he wanted to tell her; he wanted to just collapse in her arms and tell her about his childhood and his father and his nightmares and…and cry. He just wanted to cry and have someone give a damn. He wanted Annie to give a damn.
But if he did that she’d know how he felt, and then she’d start making demands and talking about feelings and he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Maybe he was further than ever this year from what he used to be, but the old Jeff Winger was always there, always waiting for the moment he was too tired or too drunk to keep up his guard. The old Jeff Winger was waiting for a chance to hurt Annie and revel in her pain.
He’d die before he let himself do that to her. Even if that meant swallowing it all, burying it all so far down she’d never know.
He almost didn’t make it. “Either you want me or you don’t, what’s it gonna be?” she’d demanded.
“I wish I could give you an answer that makes sense, but relationships are complicated,” he’d retorted. “And we’re in the men’s room.” It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting he thought about being in a relationship with her.
She’d been too angry to realize what he’d just given up and stormed out with promises of asking Rich out. He wondered briefly what he would have done if she’d realized what he said, if she’d asked him why he referred to their friendship as a “relationship.” Blurted out “I love you?” Unlikely. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t true.
He’d gone to Rich that night. Rich whom he hated more than anything he’d ever hated in his life-maybe as much his father. He figured if anyone could teach him to be the sort of man that didn’t want Annie, to be the sort of friend that didn’t think about her when he went to sleep and when he woke up-when he was in the shower-it was Rich.
He had the same nightmare again that night. This time he didn’t wake up until she was laying on the floor sobbing, her nose bloody and her lip split.
He’d spent the rest of the night throwing up. He hadn’t drunk any scotch all day.