There's Only One Girl In the World For You (16/?)

[lapacifidora]

Title: There’s only one girl in the world for you (16/?)

Author: lapacifidora

Spoilers: Season 1 and into an AU Season 2

Rating/ Warnings: PG-13, for the time being

Word Count: 4,609

Disclaimers: Not mine. Although I think Dan Harmon knows this friend of mine and based Troy on her… The title comes from a Wreckless Eric song.

Author’s note: This is for shan21non ’s Ficcy Friday prompt for Greendale’s inaugural study abroad program. Gold stars for everyone who has responded thus far. Holy cow: I can't believe I'm up to chapter 16 already. And I don't think that's even halfway. Also: Thank you to everone who's told me that they wait for this monster to show up every morning. Y'all are awesome.

Chapter 1         Chapter 2         Chapter 3         Chapter 4         Chapter 5         Chapter 6

Chapter 7         Chapter 8         Chapter 9         Chapter 10 a/ b Chapter 11      Chapter 12

Chapter 13       Chapter 14       Chapter 15

***


Annie couldn’t necessarily help that she was repressed: It wasn’t easy being a Reformed girl in a Conservative temple.

(The Edisons hadn’t given much thought to the local congregation when David had accepted a job at a practice near Greendale and his wife had found a house within the city’s corporate limits. They hadn’t even given it much consideration when they found out they were expecting; after all, they were originally from Oregon and Southern California. It wasn’t like it was back East, where the ethnic Jews were outnumbered two-to-one by devout followers.

But when David had received a phone call mid-morning, four months into his wife’s pregnancy, informing him that she had collapsed at work and been taken to the hospital, they’d found themselves at services that Saturday morning, just for the normalcy they offered.

And when the next five months were touch-and-go, up until the day a little girl with impossibly large blue eyes and soft dark curls was placed in his arms, the Edisons had found themselves at temple more often than they’d been in one since preparing for their bar and bat mitzvahs.

The delivery nurse had told them all babies had big blue eyes, which eventually changed, and that the dark hair would probably fall out to be replaced by something closer to Mrs. Edison’s honey blonde color.

The rabbi told them the community would be there for whatever they needed.

The nurse was wrong. The rabbi wasn’t.)

But whatever the cause, Annie had always been uncomfortable talking about sex or openly flirting with boys.  In seventh grade, she’d been devastated when her health class presentation on Chlamydia received a B-minus; her teacher had told her in no uncertain terms that unless she was willing to redo her presentation and say the p-word and the v-word, her grade was final.

Annie had taken the B-minus, though she’d been briefly tempted to argue her case all the way to the district level.

And in tenth grade, when her mother had bought her a new dress and dropped her off at the Riverside High Homecoming dance, despite her protests, Annie had spent the entire evening politely agreeing to watch the purses and suit jackets of her classmates because she’d been too reluctant to talk to any of the A/V club boys who came up to talk to her.

Sitting in her international economics class on the day of the midterm, feeling Jeff’s eyes burning into the back of her head, Annie had been unable to focus on lining up her freshly sharpened pencils, her lucky eraser, her regular eraser and her backup eraser. She couldn’t understand what impulse had made her say what she had to Jeff that morning at breakfast.

“Well, they’re a little hairier than I prefer, but I thought you realized I like ‘em tall and built.”

What on Earth had she been thinking? Annie Edison did not have a gutter brain. Annie Edison never made double entendres, much less something that could be interpreted as such a blatantly wanton come on.

For the sake of her own peace of mind, Annie refused to remember her unfortunate slip of the tongue when she responded to Jeff’s suggestion they prepare for the debate individually. Although, as she absently accepted the ScanTron sheet as it was passed to her by the student ahead of her, maybe that was it. Maybe it was being around Jeff that made the normal filter between whatever part of her brain kept away the sexual innuendos and her mouth malfunction. She brightened visibly, feeling better now that she had a rational explanation for her behavior: It was all Jeff’s fault.

So lost was she in thought that when she felt a tap on her shoulder, she nearly jumped out of her seat. She heard Jeff lean forward across his desk and felt the warmth of his breath on the side of her neck and ear when he spoke.

“Hey, Snuffleupagus, can I borrow a pencil? The lead on mine just broke.”

Annie nodded and handed Jeff a pencil over her shoulder, refusing to turn around and let him see the blush that covered her cheeks and most of her throat.

It might all be Jeff’s fault, but not for the reasons she’d just told herself.

***

When Jeff went up to bed that evening, he found Annie in his bed, curled around an extra pillow and facing the wall. He figured she had already dozed off, and he could ask her how she thought she had done on their tests when he came back from the bathroom.

But when he came back and climbed into bed, Jeff noticed that Annie didn’t even stir.  He started to settle back against the pillow when he felt her move, so he stopped to let her curl around him as she usually did.

However, Annie moved closer to the wall, as though she were trying to plaster herself to it. Jeff frowned and turned on his side, leaning over her shoulder to get a look at her face. Annie was, in his opinion, doing a poor impression of being asleep: Her eyes were screwed tightly shut, her forehead was wrinkled in concentration and her grip on the pillow was white knuckled.

“Annie?” He waited a minute, but his frowned deepened when she didn’t respond. “Annie? You’re, uh, you’re not going to be sick are you? ‘Cause it’s not just when people are drunk that I can’t handle that stuff: It’s pretty much all the time. That’s why my family stopped asking me to watch my little cousins: I couldn’t clean up after them without getting sick myself.” When she still didn’t respond, Jeff poked her in the arm once, then pinched her in the same spot.

“Ow!” Annie sat up, nearly catching Jeff’s nose with her head, and rubbed at the reddening spot on her arm. “What’d you do that for?”

“It’s alive!” Jeff grinned at her, throwing up one hand by his face as he made a moue of shock.

“Of course I’m alive. Why’d you pinch me?”

“I thought two people had to be married for one of them to use the headache excuse.” His grin faded when Annie continued to glare at him. “You were pretending to be asleep and you were trying to become one with the wall. And you were ignoring me.”

“So?” Annie huffed. “You’re not the center of the universe, Jeff.”

“Says the woman who whines when I get up in the middle of the night.” He tried for a joking tone but, as Annie’s frown grew, he cleared his throat. “Um. Are you, uh, OK? Do you feel sick or something?”

“No.” Annie gave him a final look of disapproval and made to lie back down - still facing the wall.

“Hey. Wait a sec.” Jeff caught her shoulder and tugged on it gently. Annie resisted for a minute, but turned onto her back, hugging the pillow to her chest and looking anywhere but at his face. Leaning over her, Jeff could just see her eyes over the edge of the pillow. “You’ve been weird all day. What’s up?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Annie’s voice was muffled, but he could register that she was uncomfortable. Jeff’s face darkened.

“Did he try to talk to you?” When Annie raised an eyebrow in question, Jeff spit out the name. “Luc. Did he try to talk to you or something? You can tell me. I’ll get Troy to hold him down while I ‘talk’ to him.” Jeff made air quotes, but noticed that Annie’s forehead smoothed out. He tugged on the pillow and uncovered most of her face, but he noticed she still wouldn’t let it go.

“No. It’s not that.” Annie’s voice grew quiet, and Jeff had to tilt his head closer to hers to hear her. “This morning.”

“What? One of the tests? You can’t think you failed?”

“No. What I said. To you. This morning.” Annie watched as Jeff mentally reviewed their interactions that day. “At breakfast?” She blushed as a look of comprehension dawned on his face and tried to bury her head in the pillow again, but he didn’t let her.

“Why, Annie, are you embarrassed because you came on to little old me?” Jeff’s smug tone was enough for Annie to lose her frown and roll her eyes at him. Mentally, he chalked up another point under the ‘Made Annie relax’ column; it was in between the ‘Made Annie smile’ and ‘Made Annie cry’ columns.

(He firmly silenced the part of his brain - he supposed it was that horny teenager - that wondered how relaxed Annie would have to be to make out with him in bed.)

“It’s not funny, Jeff.” Annie’s tone was pleading and anxious. “I-I just don’t say things like that. Ever. To anyone.”

Jeff sighed and gave a final tug on the pillow she held, taking it from her and dropping it on the floor. Then he put one arm round her shoulders and pulled her to him, rubbing her back with his other hand.

“Annie, of all the lame lines I’ve heard - and used - yours was not that bad.” He chuckled. “In fact, I’d kind of forgotten about it till you brought it up.” He frowned when he felt her tiny hands push against him. He loosened his hold, and Annie’s pink face appeared, a little frown back on her mouth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She poked him in the armpit with one finger; Jeff winced and shifted away a little. Annie had pointy fingers. He refocused when he realized she was speaking again. “I’m not memorable? Or you don’t take me seriously?” Her eyes widened as though she had suddenly discovered nuclear fission. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t take me seriously as a sexually mature individual, do you? I could walk in here, wrapped in tin foil, and you wouldn’t think twice about what was underneath it?” Annie pushed against him again, trying to move away entirely. “This is so typical. I mean, you’ve said it yourself: You try not to sexualize me.”

“Annie.” Jeff let go as Annie pushed against him, but he caught one of her hands and held it firmly. “Annie. Please stop-” He scooted away as Annie tried to put a hand on his thigh so she could climb over him and out of bed. “Stop moving. Please.” Annie froze, her eyes snapping to his at his stern tone. “First of all, it’s showing up wrapped in clear cling wrap, not tin foil. Second of all, you need to not reference any movie with Jessica Tandy in it while we’re in bed. OK?” He paused, meeting Annie’s gaze until she nodded. “Alright. Next: You are memorable. You can also be a little scary, with the highlighters and the notebooks and the erasers, but that doesn’t mean you’re the sort of person I want to forget. And for the record, I do take you seriously, in a number of ways. That’s actually sort of the problem.” He searched her face to see if she believed and understood where he was going with this.

“But you told Buddy-”

“I know what I told Buddy. Are you going to tell me you wanted him thinking about you like, well, like that?” Annie shook her head mutely. “Exactly. But you know Shirley would beat the crap out of me if she thought I was trying anything. And Britta would go on about patriarchy and inappropriateness. Knowing her, she’d probably try to talk you into thinking all of this had been my id-”

Jeff was interrupted by the pressure of Annie’s mouth against his. He tightened his hold on her hand, while his other found its way to her elbow, where he let his thumb brush against the skin on the inside of that joint. Annie sighed against him, and Jeff felt the brush of her tongue against his lips, but she’d pulled away before he could respond.

“So you’re telling me you do take me seriously? And that your biggest objections are what Shirley and Britta might do or think?” Jeff nodded.

“Also, I’m concerned your father will torture me when we get back, killing me in as slow and painful a manner as possible.”

Annie giggled, laying her head down on his shoulder and settling against his side.

“Don’t be ridiculous. My dad isn’t a torturer.” Jeff breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s a doctor. He knows way more interesting ways to kill people.”

***

The group set out Friday morning after a handful of false starts.

(The first four had been for trips to the bathroom, forgotten personal items, making sure the stove was off and grabbing an extra map.

The last had been because Whitman had gotten to the main road when they realized Troy wasn’t in the van. They’d returned to find him sitting on the front steps, a lost look on his face. Although Abed offered to share his cheddar crackers and buy him a soda on the ferry, Troy had refused to talk to anyone for a half hour.

It finally took the offer of a soda from Abed, a cookie from Annie and Jeff spotting him while he stood in the bow of the ferry doing the ‘Titanic’ bit and Pierce took a photo before he forgave them.)

But, as Professor Whitman turned the van off BC-17 South toward the dock, the group’s excitement grew.  Ferry boats weren’t common in Colorado, and Britta said she’d never had much occasion to take them in New York.

(Pierce had grown anxious, wondering if the ferries were safe but refusing to explain his nerves. Finally, Whitman assured him that TV writers often took artistic license with public transportation for the sake of drama, and he shouldn’t believe everything he saw on ‘Grey’s Anatomy.’

The rest of the group had spent the wait to drive aboard the ferry teasing Pierce for his taste in TV and asking whether he preferred McDreamy or McSteamy.)

When they finally arrived on the island a little more than two hours after leaving their house in Vancouver, Whitman steered the van away from the dock at Sidney and south toward the city of Victoria.

Annie, seated between Abed and Jeff, had dozed off against Jeff’s shoulder when they had climbed back into the van before disembarking. Abed had stared at Jeff until he looked back, and then given Jeff the patented wiggly eyebrows. Jeff had simply shaken his head and turned to look back out the window, along with everyone else.

Unlike the mainland and the areas around Vancouver, Victoria Island was surprisingly rural. Britta asked Whitman five times if they could stop so she could take a photo before he finally agreed to find a pull out before they reached the city. Shirley oohed and ahhhed over the dense forest on either of a stretch of the freeway. And Troy and Pierce tried to play the license plate game until they both realized there simply wasn’t enough traffic at that time of morning to make the game any fun.

When they finally approached the city, Jeff nudged Annie awake, pointing out the smaller buildings on the outskirts that gave way to the downtown waterfront’s distinctly European architecture.

Whitman missed the turn for their hotel was one twice, then had to circle the block again as he missed the driveway for the parking garage.

But finally, they all stood in the lobby of the Dalton Hotel, waiting for Whitman to finish checking them in.

“If no one else wants their hotel pens, can I take them? I like to bring things like that back to my boys: It’s a souvenir they can actually use.” Shirley looked around at her friends.

“I never pegged you as the cheap type. Don’t tell me you save the toiletries and take those home, too?” Pierce scoffed. Shirley’s smile turned into a scowl.

“I’m not cheap. But I can’t always afford to get them the nice souvenirs in shops, so I try to be creative.” Pierce frowned and stroked his chin.

“I’ll help you find them something good.” He shrugged when Shirley looked at him in confusion. “Sometimes all it takes is bartering for what you actually want.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that. I don’t want to be any trouble.” Shirley shook her head vehemently.

“Nonsense. Bartering isn’t trouble. And I’ll do the talking if you don’t want to. A good negotiation is like a workout for the muscles of persuasion.”

The group looked at Pierce askance: He wasn’t normally that astute or concise. Or inoffensive.

Pierce’s phone began to ring, and he pulled it from his pocket. “Ah, Christina. Speaking of a good workout for the muscles…” He trailed off as he answered the phone and wandered away a few steps.

“Thank God.” Britta sighed in relief. “It freaks me out when Pierce sounds normal.” The others nodded in agreement.

“Well, Greendalians, we are in luck. Our rooms are ready and waiting for us.” Whitman returned, shuffling several computer print outs and three little folders for hotel key cards. “If I can have everyone’s attention,” he paused as Pierce ended his call and walked back to join them, “I’ll give you your room assignments.

Now, I have room 314. Ladies, you’ll be sharing room 317 across the hall. Gentlemen, you’ll be sharing room 319, next door.” Whitman passed out key cards and picked up his luggage, leading them across the lobby to the elevators.

“The four of us have to share a room?” Pierce asked, his voice going high and pinched.

“Unless you’d prefer to pay the full cost of a separate room for our stay, Mr. Hawthorne, you will be bunking with Messrs. Nadir, Winger and Barnes.” Whitman said, punching the button for the third floor.

Jeff and Annie were squished into a corner behind Pierce, and they exchanged a look when Pierce muttered to himself.  “Gay. Gay gay gay gay gay.” Annie gave Jeff what she hoped was a reassuring smile, brushing her hand against his where it held his duffle bag.

Jeff smiled back and tried to push whatever worries he had about being separated from her for two nights.

(“Edison, if you keep moving, I’m going to have to tie you down.” Annie stopped her tossing and turning, and faced him. She raised an eyebrow and her lips drew into a coy smile.

“Really?” Jeff replayed what he’d just said in his head and, much to Annie’s delight, turned a little red.

“I didn’t mean- I was trying to- I can’t get to sleep if you keep doing that.” Annie’s smile grew until it was a face-splitting grin.

“Aw, Jeff. Am I keeping you up past your bedtime?” He could feel her shaking with suppressed laughter and threw his free arm over his eyes, poking her in the side with the hand of the arm under her neck.

“Annie. Please.”

“I’m sorry, Jeff.” Annie’s tone grew contrite and the laughing stopped, but Jeff tensed when he felt her lean down against him, her lips coming to rest by his ear. When she spoke, he could feel her breath against his hair, and he thought she might’ve brushed against the shell of his ear. “I’m not trying to keep you from your beauty sleep. Is there anything I can do to help-” Annie paused, and Jeff moved his arm so he could see her: Her face was turning lobster red, and she looked entirely uncertain. “Um, to help relieve your stress?”

Jeff felt her hand sliding down towards his waistband, and he caught her around the wrist. Annie’s face grew even redder, and she tried to pull her hand free and back to her side. Jeff didn’t let go, instead placing her hand on his far shoulder and using his pinioned arm to tug her closer.

“Yeah. You can go to sleep.” He tucked his chin against the crown of her head, closing his eyes.

They were silent for several minutes, and Jeff had begun to fall asleep when he heard Annie take a deep breath.

“We can’t do this in a hotel.”

Jeff exhaled loudly. “No. We can’t. Not with our friends around.”

Annie sighed. “I’m gonna be exhausted by Sunday.” Jeff squeezed her: He wouldn’t admit it, even if it meant contempt of court, but he slept better with Annie next to him, which was odd considering he’d always tried to leave or get rid of his fuck bunnies as soon as he was done with them. Annie buried her nose in his side, and Jeff had a flash of inspiration, though he hesitated to voice it.

“I, uh, I could maybe give you my shirt?” He felt Annie’s head move and knew she was staring up at the side of his face. “If you want? So you could use it? To sleep in?” Jeff finally stopped talking, not sure why he hadn’t just made the offer with his usual charming delivery. Instead he’d done a fair impression of a Valley Girl, wording each short phrase as a question.

Annie’s head returned to its former position, and she scooted closer to his side.

“I’d like that.”)

The elevator arrived at the third floor, and the Greendale contingent stepped into the plush hallway: Thick pile carpet on the floor, real wood wainscoting and no distant hum of an ice machine. Even the shades on each of the evenly spaced electric sconces was even and level with the floor.

Whitman turned down the hallway, stopping at his own room and stepping inside. Britta opened the door to 317 on the first try, while Pierce struggled for a moment with the door to 319. Britta and Shirley stepped in as Pierce, Abed and Troy entered their room: Annie and Jeff looked at each other and shrugged at each other as they followed their friends into their respective rooms.

***

Whitman gave them about 45 minutes to settle in and freshen up before he knocked at each of their doors and asked them to meet him down in the lobby in another 10. They’d decide where to go for lunch and head off to their main attraction for the day.

Ten minutes later, they assembled in the lobby. Whitman had asked at the desk for restaurant suggestions and had directions to Vietnam House farther along on the same street as their hotel.

The group was able to walk to the restaurant, and they walked back to the parking garage after their meal, dragging their feet a little as the morning’s travel caught up with them.

They piled into the van, and Whitman set out, navigating away from the city center and back toward the outskirts. He’d told them their itinerary for the entire trip except for Friday afternoon, so they weren’t sure where they were headed.

However, the further away from the waterfront they got, the more Jeff felt Annie fidget in her seat beside him. As Whitman made a final left onto Fort Street, Annie let out a little gasp and clapped her hands.

“Professor Whitman! We’re going to the castle, aren’t we?”

“Wait. A castle? Like, where the monarchs stay when they visit?”

“Oh, that’s nice!”

“No, it’s not. The monarchy is based on a millennia-long tradition of suppression of the workers and setting up women as puppet heads of state.”

“Oh, for Pete’s- Brittles, not everything has to be about oppression and making people hear you roar.”

“A castle? That could be an interesting plot twist. After all, many of Agatha Christie’s best stories take place in secluded country estates or inherited castle-type houses.”

“Are there gonna be any of those suits of armor that just stand there on their own? Because that’s where the ghosts usually hide in ‘Scooby Doo.’ Then they try to chop your head off.”

Whitman met Annie’s eyes in the rearview mirror and sighed wearily.

***

Craigdarroch Castle loomed up in front of them as the van pulled off the main road and rolled toward the car park. A few minutes later, the group was standing on the drive leading up to the massive structure.

“Miss Edison, as you seem to know something about this place, would you care to give us a brief description?”

“Of course.” Annie smoothed the front of her trench coat and stepped in front of her friends. She gave a little wave to get their attention. “Craigdarroch Castle - locally referred to simply as ‘The Castle’ - was built around 1909 by Robert Dunsmuir, a Scottish immigrant who made his fortune in coal. He commissioned the design and construction of the castle from an Oregon architectural firm. Much of the interior wooden elements are from Arkansas lumber, milled and prefabricated in Chicago.

It was originally a twenty-eight-acre estate, enclosed on three sides by high stone walls. There was also a man-made lake, a large lawn and several renowned formal gardens. Eventually, the Castle became a military hospital in World War One; the site of Victoria College, from the 1920s to the late 40s; and also the home of the Victoria Conservatory of Music, which handed the building over to the city in 1979.

And in 1994, the city sold it to the Historical Society, which has operated it as a historical house museum since.” Annie finished and took a deep breath. The group stared at her in wonder; even Whitman seemed surprised.

“Very good, Miss Edison. Well, I don’t know now what the docent will be able to tell us, but we still have the tickets. Shall we?” And with a sweeping gesture, Whitman followed his students up the drive to the massive entry.

***

The guided tour had filled in the blanks Annie’s brief summary had left, and at the end, the group was free to wander about the house and the immediate grounds.

Jeff, Annie, Abed and Troy found themselves in what had been the grand ballroom. Troy and Abed stood by one set of windows, facing the room and trying to talk out the choreography of a zombie attack staged in a space this size and scale.

Annie was walking slowly along the opposite wall, examining the carved wooden panels. Jeff followed at a respectable difference, watching Annie over the top of the pamphlet he’d picked up by the admission desk. Occasionally, she’d call him over and point out some historically important aspect of the room’s design; Jeff couldn’t remember any of them, but he made an effort to at least look like he was listening.

The afternoon had grown warm, and a museum staff member had come through earlier, opening the windows that looked out on the lawn; the sound of voices outside in the gardens was a constant low hum. From the hallway, the sound of some waltz-like tune came from the direction of the foyer.

Jeff noticed Annie’s foot was tapping as she stood, staring at some inlaid pattern on a door. He folded the pamphlet and stuck it in his back pocket, walking up to Annie and extending his hand. She looked from his hand to his face with the same surprise she’d had at her Dia de los Muertos party, but she put her hand in his and followed as he led them through a simple box step around the room.

As they passed the windows, she could still hear Troy talking about zombies swinging from the chandeliers, but she saw Abed watching her and Jeff intently, his head cocked to one side.

Annie shot him a smile and tried to act like waltzing with Jeff in a castle’s ballroom was perfectly normal.
***