There's Only One Girl In the World For You (46/?)
Title: There’s only one girl in the world for you (46/?)
Author: lapacifidora
Spoilers: Season 1 and into an AU Season 2
Rating/ Warnings: PG-13, for the time being
Word Count: 3,011
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. Sorry for the delay, y’all: This chapter was a little like pulling teeth, and I think it shows. I hope the next chapter comes a little easier, at least for my sake. This fic’s been keeping me up at night. Anywho, on with the show.
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 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 a/ b | Chapter 21 a/ b | Five Times… | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Chapter 25 | Chapter 26 a/ b | Chapter 27 | Chapter 28 | Chapter 29 | Chapter 30 a/ b | Chapter 31 | Chapter 32 | Chapter 33 | Chapter 34 a/ b | Chapter 35 | Chapter 36 a/ b | Chapter 37 | Chapter 38 | Chapter 39 a/ b | Chapter 40 | Chapter 41 | Chapter 42 a/ b | Chapter 43 a/ b | Chapter 44 | Chapter 45 |
***
Niagara Falls’ status as a major tourist attraction has existed nearly since the first European explorers and trappers landed on the North American continent and found it as they began forcing their way through virgin forests, looking for something to justify having come all that way.
It didn’t become known as the honeymoon capital until the early 1800s, when the daughter of American politician Aaron Burr chose the Falls for her own wedding tour. A few years later, Napoleon’s brother chose the spot for his own honeymoon.
In the 206 years since, Niagara Falls has become noted for the abundance of wedding venues and chapels, and newlywed suites. In any given year, more than 50,000 couples head north to coo and burble at each other over shrimp cocktails and buy photos of them selves kissing in front of nature’s majesty.
Few places inspire such genuine willingness to overpay for a cheap cardboard frame around a grainy photo. Las Vegas and Gretna Green come to mind, but Jeff’s memories of the former were hazy, and he’d never been to the latter.
It was probably just as well, though: He was sort of hoping to get completely shitfaced tonight and hopefully be hung over enough tomorrow to forget that he’d ever set foot in Niagara. In fact, if he could arrange for a head injury that would allow him to forget he’d ever set foot in Canada, that’d be fan-freaking-tas-
“You’re brooding.”
Jeff turned from the hotel room window to face Abed, who stood behind him, hands in pockets.
“I am not.”
“Sorry.” Abed cocked his head to one side. “Do you prefer ‘sulking’?”
“I’d prefer you stop trying to assign some asinine emotion to me.” Jeff frowned: That had sounded douche-y even in his own head. “Look: I’m fine. OK?”
“No, you’re not.” Abed held up a finger. “You and Annie sat at opposite ends of the couch last night. The natural physical interaction you two have had for the last three months was absent at breakfast this morning. In the car, you said five words to each other.”
“She said ‘thanks’ when I handed her backpack to her when we got here.”
“OK: Six words.” Abed took a step closer and gave Jeff a genuinely concerned look. “Under normal circumstances, I’d be game to let you two figure this out on your own, but apparently the two of you have gone and screwed things up something wicked.”
“‘Something wicked’? Who are you, Ben Affleck?”
“Please, Jeff: I’d never mock John Marshall or Earl Warren. But that’s not the point.” Abed came to stand next to Jeff at the window. “The point is your and Annie’s story arc has gone seriously off track.”
“Abed: Annie and I have no ‘story arc.’ We have nothing.” Jeff grimaced, the words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. “And as I’ve tried to tell you, this isn’t TV.”
“I know it’s not TV, Jeff.” Abed turned away from the crowds below to look at the taller man. “TV has patterns and consequences and a means to resolve arguments in 30 minutes or less. Instead, you chase after Britta and Professor Slater, though you clearly have more chemistry with Annie, and you actually like her as a human being. The two of you faff around for the better part of a year, acting like there’s nothing going on even though a blind mole rat would know better. Finally, not only is there no obvious resolution for the two of you, but whatever fight you two had has made both of you genuinely unlikable and unsympathetic.” Abed looked back out the window. “You’re acting like the jerk you were when you started at Greendale, and Annie has gone back to being the spaz she was then, too.” He frowned and held up his hands to make a frame as he looked out at the crowds below. “It’s like the entire last year of character development for both of you has been forgotten. It’s a little frustrating, especially when the rest of us are continuing forward in our individual and group arcs.”
Jeff looked sidelong at Abed.
“So, tell me, Mr. Hitchcock, what would you do to fix Annie and me?”
“First, I like to think I’m more like Frank Capra; and second, have you tried talking to her?”
Jeff scoffed and walked over to the bed where he’d tossed his jacket, shrugging it on before looking back at Abed as he looped his scarf around his neck.
“I think we’re beyond that.” He walked out the door and turned toward the lobby. Abed stood by the window and stared after his friend, shaking his head sadly. Troy found him like that a minute later when he exited the bathroom.
“Dude, you look like Snoopy just stole your blanket.” Troy stuffed his gloves in the pockets of his letterman’s jacket and walked to the window. “What’s up?”
“Actors.” Abed sighed and started walking toward the door. “They always think they know better than the director.”
“Oh.” Troy followed behind, grabbing their room keys from the credenza. He joined Abed in the hallway and the two turned toward the lobby. “Wait. What?”
***
Annie had (wrongly) assumed that as popular as Niagara Falls was year-round, there would be enough people on the streets that it wouldn’t be as bitingly, bitterly cold as it had been in Vaughan.
Instead, she was walking briskly along with Shirley and Britta, her hands deep in the pockets of her winter coat, with the collar turned up against the wind and her hat pulled low. The group was headed to the main visitor’s center, and Annie’s entire being was focused on the thought of being inside with heaters and walls. In retrospect, that was probably why she failed to notice the pothole that had filled with water and iced over in the crosswalk.
(It wasn’t that she was just naturally clumsy, regardless of what her old ballet and karate instructors might say.)
One moment, she was watching the heels of Britta’s boots tap against the pavement in front of her, the next she was watching bare tree branches and grey clouds spin by dizzingly as she fell backwards while Shirley cried out and several pairs of hands came toward her.
But instead of landing on her ass, Annie fell against two steel bars that hadn’t been there a moment ago. She blinked her eyes open (when had they closed?) and saw Jeff’s face and shoulders filling her field of vision. Her hands came up, resting on his biceps, and she realized she hadn’t fallen against anything: Jeff caught her. Her stomach flipped as he gazed down at her for a long moment, then flipped again as he put her back on her feet.
(She firmly told herself that the hand at the small of her back and the other gently holding her arm as they walked the last few feet to the sidewalk meant nothing.)
“Oh my god, Annie, are you OK?” Britta’s arms came around her, and Annie blinked in surprise: Britta wasn’t the most demonstrative person. “I thought you saw that icy patch.”
“Dude.” Troy gave her a relieved smile. “First you were like ‘whoah.’ Then you were like ‘aaah!’ And then you were like ‘oh.’” He punched her in the shoulder. “I’m glad you didn’t bust your ass.”
“Troy.” Shirley sent the younger man a scandalized look before she grabbed Annie’s chin and turned her head one way and the other. “Are you sure you’re OK? Did you hit your head? Did you twist your ankle? Do you want to go to the hospital?”
“Stop fussing and mother-henning her.” Pierce stood to one side with Professor Whitman, who looked concerned. “She’s not going to let a little tumble take it out of her, are you? No.” He turned to Shirley. “After all, she comes from hearty stock.”
“Colorado pioneers?”
“No. Jews: They spent forty years in the dessert, you know.”
“Oh, for pete’s-”
“Of course, we probably wouldn’t want to ask her to navigate anything, but she’s not going to break.”
“Miss Edison, if you’d like to visit a hospital, I’d be happy to go retrieve the van.”
“Thanks, professor, but I’m fine.” Annie smiled and shrugged, trying to ignore the feeling of Jeff’s hand on her back and the warmth coming off him in waves. “I just need to pay attention to where I’m going.” She laughed. “And get out of this cold: I think my brain’s a little frozen. Let’s go.”
The group started down the sidewalk toward stairs that would take them to the visitor’s center. Annie told herself it absolutely meant nothing when Jeff fell into step next to her, and she missed the pointed look Abed threw at Jeff over his shoulder as she focused on the concrete in front of her. She glanced up at Jeff from the corner of her eye.
“Thanks. Y’know, for catching me.”
“No problem.” Jeff glanced down at Annie. “You’re welcome.”
“Well. It was really decent of you. Considering.”
“Yeah, well.” Jeff exhaled loudly. “Couldn’t let the only person in the group who actually knows how to study get a head injury, could I?”
“Oh.” Annie sniffled, and rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, hoping it wasn’t as pink from the cold as she imagined it was. “Right.” She looked back at Jeff, and noticed that he was frowning, but, unsure of how to ask if anything was wrong, much less if she should, she returned her attention to the sidewalk, looking for slippery areas.
As they turned to walk down the steps, her foot slid a little, and Jeff’s hand shot out to cup her elbow. Annie smiled at him, surprised when he smiled back a little, and they continued after their friends.
***
Whitman hadn’t been far off when he described Niagara Falls as one massive tourist trap.
(‘Tourist trap’ might’ve been putting it kindly. Britta suggested they refer to it as a ‘capitalist corporate collective mind-suck of tchotchkes and stuffed moose.’
Pierce called it a ‘tourism clusterfuck,’ and the others agreed it was shorter to say, though Shirley insisted on saying ‘cluster-eff’ instead.)
By the time Emmaline met up with them late in the afternoon at the Fallsview Starbucks, they were thoroughly disgusted with the entire city.
Their disgust hadn’t kept them from hitting the gift shop hard: Matching Mountie hats for Troy and Abed - who were told not to wear them in public; coloring books for the boys from Shirley and moose scarves from their ‘Uncle Pierce’; a collectible pewter spoon for Annie’s grandmother; a Pringle scarf for Jeff from a mill in the Maritimes; and a history of the falls for Whitman.
Britta bought a booklet of postcards where the proceeds went to preserving the falls, though she complained about it the commercialism of it all.
(However, when she ordered a venti white peppermint mocha and a slice of pumpkin bread, Jeff voiced the question they were all thinking.
“You don’t like staying at a chain hotel. You complain about buying something to support a cause you believe in. But you’ll happily hand over your money to a bland, characterless American export?”
Britta had stuck our her chin defiantly.
“If I’m not going to smoke, I can still get a buzz this way. You wanna make something of it?”)
“I’m sorry to hear you’ve all been so disappointed by your visit here so far,” Emmaline said as she popped the top off her coffee cup and dumped two sweetner packets in, giving it a stir before she took a sip and leaned back against the loveseat she shared with Whitman.
“It’s not that we’re disappointed,” Shirley said, picking at the slice of gingerbread she and Annie had decided to share. “It’s nice. It’s just,” she paused, glancing out at the swarms of tourists, bundled against the cold, who shuffled along the overlook, searching for a clear spot for a photo. “It’s just that it seems like it’s all this hype and pressure to see what’s here, but when you get here, you can’t enjoy it for what it is.”
“Exactly.” Troy nodded in agreement, looking up from the game of chess he and Abed were playing on the tabletop between them. “You get here, and you realize there’s no way to recreate that shot of Superman saving the kid from falling and drowning. Aha!” He moved a red piece in an intricate jumping maneuver and gave Abed a smug look. “Checkmate.”
“Wrong game.” Abed raised a single eyebrow at his friend and broke the head off the frosted snowman cookie he’d bought, popping it into his mouth and chewing methodically.
“That’s not what I meant.” Shirley shook her head and laughed in bemusement. “I just meant, you get here and instead of being able to appreciate God’s grandeur, it’s so-”
“Cold?”
“Capitalist?”
“Full of foreigners?”
“Crowded?” Jeff said as Shirley frowned at Pierce and played with a napkin.
“Exactly. You can’t go three feet without running into someone, and you can’t see anything.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to suggest it because I didn’t know how tired all of you would be this evening-” Emmaline began.
“And we do have plans tonight.” Walt said abruptly, coming back to the conversation from his study of Emmaline’s ear.
“Yes, thank you, Walt: You’ve only mentioned that, like, six times.” She shook her head. “But tonight is one of the nights they set off fireworks. A lot of people go to the restaurants and bars facing the river to watch them, but if we all dress warmly, we can watch them outside, and it’ll be much less crowded.”
“That sounds fun,” Britta said, swirling the last of her coffee around before slamming it back.
“It sounds touristy.” Abed looked up from the chessboard. “And we’re a group of tourists. I see potential for irony. I’m in.”
“O-kay.” Emmaline smiled and exchanged a slightly confused look with Walt. “In that case, why don’t we head back to the hotel to get ready for dinner?”
***
Whitman had been elusive about their dinner and evening entertainment: Other than telling them that they didn’t need to dress up, he refused to say anything else.
They met in the lobby and bundled into the van and Emmaline’s car, and headed west. When the lighted sign with a grinning moose in a Mountie hat loomed into view, Annie snorted and, out of habit, looked across at Jeff, who was at that moment playing Bejeweled on his cell phone. She bit her lip, frowning when Whitman turned the van into the parking lot behind the sign.
Soon they all stood looking up at the building’s façade, with the same grinning, Mounti-hat-wearing moose staring down at them.
“‘Oh Canada eh?’” Troy read aloud. “I don’t get it.”
“Oh, Walt.” Emmaline pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. “You didn’t.”
“It wasn’t my choice.” Whitman pulled his scarf closed at the front of his neck and shrugged, his face a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance. “Dean Pelton suggested it. Apparently one of the performers dresses in a life-size moose costume…” He trailed off as he tried to muster an enthusiastic smile for his students, who were in various stages of disbelief.
“It’s a dinner show?” Britta’s lip curled in disgust. “Please tell me they don’t actually sing to you while you’re eating.”
“I hope they don’t expect us to join in.” Annie shuddered. “I can’t eat under those conditions.” Abed and Jeff looked at her askance. “I had a bad Red Robin ‘birthday sundae’ experience, OK?”
“The moose doesn’t talk, does it? Cause I’m not down with that. ‘Rocky and Bullwinkle’ freaks me out.” Troy’s face was twisted in dismay, and Shirley patted him on the shoulder.
“If it tries to talk to you, I’ll smack it with my purse.” She smiled when Troy gave her a grateful look.
“My fellow Greendalians: I understand this isn’t your first choice for dinner and a show.” Whitman drew himself up and looked at his students and girlfriend sternly. “In all honesty, it’s not my first choice either. But the tickets are bought and paid for, and I do understand the food is decent. Yes, Miss Perry, we informed them when the reservations were made that we had a vegetarian.” His stern look slipped, and he smiled tightly at Britta, whose mouth snapped shut and nodded sheepishly. “Sometimes, travel entails making the best of an awkward situation, especially when it’s unavoidable. We find ourselves in such a situation at the moment, but I know we are all up to the task of handling this with the aplomb and grace I know you are all capable of.” He shrugged. “Who knows? We may actually have fun.”
The others groaned collectively.
“OK.” Whitman nodded and adopted a more realistic tone. “That may be asking too much. In that case, I’ll adapt a phrase all of you have probably heard before: What happens in Niagara Falls, stays in Niagara Falls.” He sighed when his students avoided his expectant gaze, and looked over at Emmaline, who looked as excited as if her ex-husband had called to ask for a second chance. “Look: This is where we’re having dinner tonight, and I don’t care if you like it. Now, smile, be polite and get your unhappy little rears in there.” He stalked into the restaurant, Emmaline trotting behind with a worried frown. The others trailed behind slowly. Jeff held the door open for everyone, slipping in behind Shirley, whose mouth was twisted in thought.
“Loonie for your thoughts?” Jeff said as he came to stand next to the shorter woman.
“A whole dollar?” Shirley asked wryly. “I’d heard the dollar was stronger than Canadian currency, but I didn’t think it was that bad.” She looked away, then met Jeff’s eyes. “Do you think he really meant that?”
“Meant what? That we don’t have to acknowledge ever setting foot in this place after tonight?”
“Actually, I-I meant the ‘little rears’ part?”
***