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lapacifidoraTitle: The Trouble with Omlettes (Or A Toothache, A Skirt and A Bad Egg) (4/?)
Author: lapacifidora
Spoilers: Minor spoilers for 3.01 and season 3, based on the TVLine interview. Assumes knowledge through ‘A Fistful of Paintballs’/ ‘For a Few Paintballs More’
Rating/ Warnings: PG-14 this chapter, for implied adult activities
Word Count: 2,222
Disclaimers: Not mine. Although I think Dan Harmon knows this friend of mine and based Troy on her…
Author’s note: You are all a bad influence. There was a time I was content with simply reading fic. I rather miss it. Also: The smutty bits will follow this part. It’s not as though I have much to work with; just what Beth remembered from her dream
Right, so this thing is stretching itself out: This part was supposed to have actual smut in it, but then the Jeff and Annie in my head were all, ‘Do you want smut now or do you want to wait till she has the skirt?’ Which is code for ‘We’re going to make you wait.’ Damn them. But I’m going to talk them into something for the next chapter and I’m going to get back to the skirt because, darn it, this story is about an inappropriately short skirt.
***
Annie could count every time someone she trusted – not even loved or particularly liked, simply someone she believed would do what they were supposed to – let her down. She could describe every circumstance, describe her reaction and laugh it off in the next breath, citing female pettiness and an elephant memory.
But that was a self-indulgent behavior reserved for a psychologist’s office, and she’d be damned if she set foot in another counselor’s office before she turned 30: She’d had more than enough emotional dissection in the last couple of years.
Besides, she had more important things to do, like knock on Jeff’s apartment door. Otherwise, standing in front of it for – she glanced down at her cell phone – nearly 10 minutes was kind of creepy.
***
Jeff wasn’t asleep on her couch, on the other half of her bed, on the floor on the far side or the foot of her bed – or even in her bath tub. (She wasn’t sure why she thought he might be there, but she’d still checked.)
She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised: After all, in addition to kissing him with no provocation, there was the time factor to consider.
Jeff Winger’s selfless phases never lasted longer than a day, and usually not even that long.
She still wasn’t sure how he’d discovered where she was. (Dr. DeSoto being her employer’s personal dentist was a fact that escaped her.) She still wasn’t clear on why he’d come to pick her up himself. (She knew plenty of other people with cars. Of course, Britta probably would’ve fainted when Annie removed the blood-streaked cotton from her cheeks, but the blonde would’ve been fine.) And she still had no idea why he’d proceeded to play nursemaid. (He’d been kind of useless during Shirley’s delivery, and she had this nagging feeling that he’d be equally useless during a crisis.)
She rolled on to her side and leveraged herself into a sitting position, blinking in the dim light of her apartment. Swinging her feet to the floor, she stood gingerly and crossed to her bathroom. A quick flip of the light switch put the swelling around her jaw in stark relief, and she prodded gently at the tender flesh, wincing as a dull pain forced itself the forefront of her consciousness.
Annie frowned at her reflection and looked down at the counter, pouting when she didn’t see any prescription medication bottles. She wandered into the main room of her apartment and tip-toed along the length of her kitchen counter, trying to avoid putting her full foot on the cool linoleum, and scrubbed a hand through her hair. A quick search of her cabinets, now at least partially filled with boxes of cereal and crackers and several new cans of soup, did not reveal any prescription bottles. She checked her fridge, feeling a sense of warmth flood through her when she saw the block of cheese, the package of lunch meat, the crisper drawers with fruit and vegetables. But not a single prescription bottle.
Ten minutes later, having searched every possible place where he might have left her pain killers, any affection Annie might have felt toward Jeff for stocking her cupboards and fridge was gone.
She stalked into the bathroom, showered, dressed and popped an ibuprofen for temporary relief before grabbing her purse and keys and leaving her apartment.
So the self-righteous bastard thought she couldn’t be trusted with her own prescription painkillers, did he? Annie shifted gears and backed out of her parking space, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel while she waited to turn out the parking lot.
Well. Screw. Him.
***
Annie squared her shoulders and set her jaw, then winced as a sharp pain shot up into the space behind her eye.
Shaking off the pain, she raised her hand, fingers curled into a fist and cocked her wrist.
It was exactly how Jeff found her, seconds later, when he opened his front door while dropping his car keys into one jacket pocket and shoving a fat, orange prescription medication bottle into the other.
***
Jeff can count on one hand the number of times in his adult life he’s been genuinely surprised.
He was pretty shocked the night Dawn Rosenberg, the most popular girl in his freshman class, got him drunk, dragged him back to her dorm room and did things to him that he still didn’t fully understand. (And he’d had a threesome in a hot air balloon.)
He was perplexed the afternoon he was called into Ted’s office and told the proverbial jig was up.
He was nearly speechless when he drew the sheaf of blank papers out of the envelope Duncan handed him and realized he wasn’t going to be able to charm his way out of actually getting a degree. (‘Nearly’ being the operative word. He was, after all, Jeff Winger.)
He was nonplussed when Professor Professorson, a.k.a. Professor Garrity a.k.a. that jackass with the amazing ringtone, had appeared and thrown a wrench into his nearly perfect plan for the ultimate blow-off class. (‘Nearly,’ again, being the operative word. He was still, after all, Jeff Winger.)
Staring at Annie, her jaw slightly swollen, her face set in an expression of determination and her hand raised as though to knock, he realizes after this moment that any other surprises will need to be counted on his other hand. (Absently, he wonders if her being present for three of those surprises means something.)
“Annie.”
“Asshole.”
Jeff blinks at her stupidly, noting both that her speech is unimpeded and that her voice is tight with pain and something else he can’t name.
“Wha- Uh. Hi.” Jeff steps back from the threshold and gestures to his apartment, watching as she stalks past him and comes to a stop by his couch. He closes the door and crosses the room slowly, watching her as she looks around his apartment.
“Huh.” Annie turns to face him, leaning against the back of his couch a little, and Jeff wonders for a moment if she’s had anything to eat yet. The ends of her hair are still wet and her face has that freshly scrubbed glow, but he doesn’t know how long she’s been awake. She clears her throat and his attention snaps back to her eyes. “It’s less jerk-face-bachelor-pad than I was expecting.”
“Thank you?” Jeff rocks back on his heels and stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, not sure where her hostility is coming from. (A part of him suggests she’s annoyed he turned her down last night, fine specimen that he is, but it’s a fairly small part that he squashes down: He’s been the target of sexual frustration before, and this seems different.) He waits for her to continue and suppresses the urge to fidget when she continues to glare at him instead. “So.” He smiles and makes a show of moving slowly as he withdraws a hand from his pocket and rubs the back of his neck. “How’re you feeling?”
“Betrayed.” Annie’s tone is clipped, and she crosses her arms over her chest, her chin tilting up so she’s looking down her nose at him as much as she can. “Asshole.”
“I, um, actually meant how does your-” He gestures vaguely at his own jaw. “You know. Does it hurt?”
“My jaw? Yes, it’s sore and swollen. But that doesn’t hurt as much as you showing up yesterday, without my asking you to, and being nice and uncharacteristically considerate and then being a total- a total-” Annie fumbles for words. “A total dumb face, slimy, lying jerk head poop face…jerk!” She stamps her foot on the last word, hunching her shoulders inwards, as though she’s cold.
“Do you want some coffee? Or hot cocoa? I think Chang left a box here-” Jeff steps forward, reaching out to her shoulder, but her corresponding flinch and step to one side brings him up short. “What the hell?”
“What the hell?” Annie refuses to meet his eyes and flips her hair over one shoulder. “You. Are. A. Jerk.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, Edison, but usually the people who insult me have a reason.” Jeff tilts his head to one side. “Actually, usually I’ve given them a reason, so I know why they’re insulting me.” He shakes his head and takes another step closer, moving so he can look her in the eye. “You want to tell me what you think I’ve done to you?”
“What I think…?” Annie’s jaw drops slightly and she drops her hands to her hips. “What I think is you don’t trust me. What I think is you’re still treating me like a little kid. What I think,” She takes a step forward and levels a finger at his chest, poking him with each of her words as she continues, “is you took my painkillers because I’m Annie. I’m a recovering drug addict. I’m unreasonable and immature, and I can’t be trusted with any kind of medication.”
“Uh huh.” Jeff drops his eyes from hers to the finger she is pushing into his sternum. He grabs her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers as he returns his gaze to her face. “And you came over here to call me a jerk and chew me out.”
“Yes.” Annie blinks, tugging on her hand and trying not to worry about the feeling that situation is no longer in her control. “Yes, that’s exactly what I did.”
“You did, perhaps, notice that I was getting ready to leave when I opened the door and found you here just now.”
“Yes.” Annie drops her eyes from Jeff’s and tugs on her hand again.
“I was about to drive over to your apartment at-” Jeff fishes his cell phone out of pocket with his free hand and taps the screen. “At 8:27 a.m. because I realized when I woke up this morning that I had taken your painkillers accidentally last night, and I thought you might need one when you woke up.”
“Accidentally?” Annie’s gaze snaps back to Jeff’s eyes, trying to match his even tone. “You accidentally took my medication? How stupid do you think I am?” Her question ends on a squeak as Jeff takes hold of her other hand, with which she had been trying to pry his fingers from hers. In the next moment, he has her arms pinned behind her and he’s close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off him.
“Yes, I accidentally took your medication.” Jeff raises one eyebrow as he dips his head to look her in the eye. “I apparently knocked the bottle into the grocery bag I brought back here last night. When I was unpacking it, I found it, but, rather than call you or drive back to your place and wake you up, I figured I would wait till this morning to bring it back to you. I will admit I was worried about you taking one this morning-” He grunts a little when Annie starts to pull away from him, trying to twist and shove her shoulder into his chest. “Annie. Annie.” He closes the distance between them, pinning her against the back of his couch. “I was worried about you taking one on an empty stomach.” He holds her gaze for a long moment. “These pills can’t be taken on an empty stomach.”
“I know.” Annie responds quietly, sniffing quietly. “You told me that yesterday.”
“I didn’t know if you’d remember that: You were pretty out of it when I picked you up yesterday.”
“Let go.” Annie drops her gaze, staring at the spot where his t-shirt collar starts. “Please.” She waits until Jeff releases her arms and takes a small step back, bracing herself on the back of the couch. “First off, they’re painkillers: I know most of them need to be taken with food. Secondly, I wasn’t that out of it yesterday.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Jeff.” Annie sighs and shakes her head. “The sedatives wore off sometime mid-afternoon. And the pain pills make me a little slow, but they don’t make me loopy.” She takes a deep breath and raises her eyes to his. “I was fully aware of everything last night.” She’s silent for a minute, biting her lower lip when she sees the light in his eyes change. She hears, more than sees, him swallow, as she finds herself unable to look away from his face.
“When you say fully aware…” Jeff trails off, his jaw tensing as he lifts a hand, letting it hover in the air between them.
“You made me soup and wouldn’t let me take my pill till I’d actually eaten some of it. We watched The Philadelphia Story, and you explained the ending to me.” Annie bites the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning as she leans forward from the waist. “I was tired and sore, but I was completely capable of acting under my own power.”
Jeff stares at her for a long moment before nods slowly, and places his fingertips against her stomach, resting them against the waistband of her skirt. He leans toward her, pausing a hairsbreadth from her lips.
“Do you believe me? That it was an accident?”
“I guess so. I’m still kind of angry with you.”
“I can work with that.”
***
Author: lapacifidora
Spoilers: Minor spoilers for 3.01 and season 3, based on the TVLine interview. Assumes knowledge through ‘A Fistful of Paintballs’/ ‘For a Few Paintballs More’
Rating/ Warnings: PG-14 this chapter, for implied adult activities
Word Count: 2,222
Disclaimers: Not mine. Although I think Dan Harmon knows this friend of mine and based Troy on her…
Author’s note: You are all a bad influence. There was a time I was content with simply reading fic. I rather miss it. Also: The smutty bits will follow this part. It’s not as though I have much to work with; just what Beth remembered from her dream
Right, so this thing is stretching itself out: This part was supposed to have actual smut in it, but then the Jeff and Annie in my head were all, ‘Do you want smut now or do you want to wait till she has the skirt?’ Which is code for ‘We’re going to make you wait.’ Damn them. But I’m going to talk them into something for the next chapter and I’m going to get back to the skirt because, darn it, this story is about an inappropriately short skirt.
***
Annie could count every time someone she trusted – not even loved or particularly liked, simply someone she believed would do what they were supposed to – let her down. She could describe every circumstance, describe her reaction and laugh it off in the next breath, citing female pettiness and an elephant memory.
But that was a self-indulgent behavior reserved for a psychologist’s office, and she’d be damned if she set foot in another counselor’s office before she turned 30: She’d had more than enough emotional dissection in the last couple of years.
Besides, she had more important things to do, like knock on Jeff’s apartment door. Otherwise, standing in front of it for – she glanced down at her cell phone – nearly 10 minutes was kind of creepy.
***
Jeff wasn’t asleep on her couch, on the other half of her bed, on the floor on the far side or the foot of her bed – or even in her bath tub. (She wasn’t sure why she thought he might be there, but she’d still checked.)
She knew she shouldn’t have been surprised: After all, in addition to kissing him with no provocation, there was the time factor to consider.
Jeff Winger’s selfless phases never lasted longer than a day, and usually not even that long.
She still wasn’t sure how he’d discovered where she was. (Dr. DeSoto being her employer’s personal dentist was a fact that escaped her.) She still wasn’t clear on why he’d come to pick her up himself. (She knew plenty of other people with cars. Of course, Britta probably would’ve fainted when Annie removed the blood-streaked cotton from her cheeks, but the blonde would’ve been fine.) And she still had no idea why he’d proceeded to play nursemaid. (He’d been kind of useless during Shirley’s delivery, and she had this nagging feeling that he’d be equally useless during a crisis.)
She rolled on to her side and leveraged herself into a sitting position, blinking in the dim light of her apartment. Swinging her feet to the floor, she stood gingerly and crossed to her bathroom. A quick flip of the light switch put the swelling around her jaw in stark relief, and she prodded gently at the tender flesh, wincing as a dull pain forced itself the forefront of her consciousness.
Annie frowned at her reflection and looked down at the counter, pouting when she didn’t see any prescription medication bottles. She wandered into the main room of her apartment and tip-toed along the length of her kitchen counter, trying to avoid putting her full foot on the cool linoleum, and scrubbed a hand through her hair. A quick search of her cabinets, now at least partially filled with boxes of cereal and crackers and several new cans of soup, did not reveal any prescription bottles. She checked her fridge, feeling a sense of warmth flood through her when she saw the block of cheese, the package of lunch meat, the crisper drawers with fruit and vegetables. But not a single prescription bottle.
Ten minutes later, having searched every possible place where he might have left her pain killers, any affection Annie might have felt toward Jeff for stocking her cupboards and fridge was gone.
She stalked into the bathroom, showered, dressed and popped an ibuprofen for temporary relief before grabbing her purse and keys and leaving her apartment.
So the self-righteous bastard thought she couldn’t be trusted with her own prescription painkillers, did he? Annie shifted gears and backed out of her parking space, tapping her fingers against the steering wheel while she waited to turn out the parking lot.
Well. Screw. Him.
***
Annie squared her shoulders and set her jaw, then winced as a sharp pain shot up into the space behind her eye.
Shaking off the pain, she raised her hand, fingers curled into a fist and cocked her wrist.
It was exactly how Jeff found her, seconds later, when he opened his front door while dropping his car keys into one jacket pocket and shoving a fat, orange prescription medication bottle into the other.
***
Jeff can count on one hand the number of times in his adult life he’s been genuinely surprised.
He was pretty shocked the night Dawn Rosenberg, the most popular girl in his freshman class, got him drunk, dragged him back to her dorm room and did things to him that he still didn’t fully understand. (And he’d had a threesome in a hot air balloon.)
He was perplexed the afternoon he was called into Ted’s office and told the proverbial jig was up.
He was nearly speechless when he drew the sheaf of blank papers out of the envelope Duncan handed him and realized he wasn’t going to be able to charm his way out of actually getting a degree. (‘Nearly’ being the operative word. He was, after all, Jeff Winger.)
He was nonplussed when Professor Professorson, a.k.a. Professor Garrity a.k.a. that jackass with the amazing ringtone, had appeared and thrown a wrench into his nearly perfect plan for the ultimate blow-off class. (‘Nearly,’ again, being the operative word. He was still, after all, Jeff Winger.)
Staring at Annie, her jaw slightly swollen, her face set in an expression of determination and her hand raised as though to knock, he realizes after this moment that any other surprises will need to be counted on his other hand. (Absently, he wonders if her being present for three of those surprises means something.)
“Annie.”
“Asshole.”
Jeff blinks at her stupidly, noting both that her speech is unimpeded and that her voice is tight with pain and something else he can’t name.
“Wha- Uh. Hi.” Jeff steps back from the threshold and gestures to his apartment, watching as she stalks past him and comes to a stop by his couch. He closes the door and crosses the room slowly, watching her as she looks around his apartment.
“Huh.” Annie turns to face him, leaning against the back of his couch a little, and Jeff wonders for a moment if she’s had anything to eat yet. The ends of her hair are still wet and her face has that freshly scrubbed glow, but he doesn’t know how long she’s been awake. She clears her throat and his attention snaps back to her eyes. “It’s less jerk-face-bachelor-pad than I was expecting.”
“Thank you?” Jeff rocks back on his heels and stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, not sure where her hostility is coming from. (A part of him suggests she’s annoyed he turned her down last night, fine specimen that he is, but it’s a fairly small part that he squashes down: He’s been the target of sexual frustration before, and this seems different.) He waits for her to continue and suppresses the urge to fidget when she continues to glare at him instead. “So.” He smiles and makes a show of moving slowly as he withdraws a hand from his pocket and rubs the back of his neck. “How’re you feeling?”
“Betrayed.” Annie’s tone is clipped, and she crosses her arms over her chest, her chin tilting up so she’s looking down her nose at him as much as she can. “Asshole.”
“I, um, actually meant how does your-” He gestures vaguely at his own jaw. “You know. Does it hurt?”
“My jaw? Yes, it’s sore and swollen. But that doesn’t hurt as much as you showing up yesterday, without my asking you to, and being nice and uncharacteristically considerate and then being a total- a total-” Annie fumbles for words. “A total dumb face, slimy, lying jerk head poop face…jerk!” She stamps her foot on the last word, hunching her shoulders inwards, as though she’s cold.
“Do you want some coffee? Or hot cocoa? I think Chang left a box here-” Jeff steps forward, reaching out to her shoulder, but her corresponding flinch and step to one side brings him up short. “What the hell?”
“What the hell?” Annie refuses to meet his eyes and flips her hair over one shoulder. “You. Are. A. Jerk.”
“I’ve been called a lot of things, Edison, but usually the people who insult me have a reason.” Jeff tilts his head to one side. “Actually, usually I’ve given them a reason, so I know why they’re insulting me.” He shakes his head and takes another step closer, moving so he can look her in the eye. “You want to tell me what you think I’ve done to you?”
“What I think…?” Annie’s jaw drops slightly and she drops her hands to her hips. “What I think is you don’t trust me. What I think is you’re still treating me like a little kid. What I think,” She takes a step forward and levels a finger at his chest, poking him with each of her words as she continues, “is you took my painkillers because I’m Annie. I’m a recovering drug addict. I’m unreasonable and immature, and I can’t be trusted with any kind of medication.”
“Uh huh.” Jeff drops his eyes from hers to the finger she is pushing into his sternum. He grabs her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers as he returns his gaze to her face. “And you came over here to call me a jerk and chew me out.”
“Yes.” Annie blinks, tugging on her hand and trying not to worry about the feeling that situation is no longer in her control. “Yes, that’s exactly what I did.”
“You did, perhaps, notice that I was getting ready to leave when I opened the door and found you here just now.”
“Yes.” Annie drops her eyes from Jeff’s and tugs on her hand again.
“I was about to drive over to your apartment at-” Jeff fishes his cell phone out of pocket with his free hand and taps the screen. “At 8:27 a.m. because I realized when I woke up this morning that I had taken your painkillers accidentally last night, and I thought you might need one when you woke up.”
“Accidentally?” Annie’s gaze snaps back to Jeff’s eyes, trying to match his even tone. “You accidentally took my medication? How stupid do you think I am?” Her question ends on a squeak as Jeff takes hold of her other hand, with which she had been trying to pry his fingers from hers. In the next moment, he has her arms pinned behind her and he’s close enough for her to feel the heat rolling off him.
“Yes, I accidentally took your medication.” Jeff raises one eyebrow as he dips his head to look her in the eye. “I apparently knocked the bottle into the grocery bag I brought back here last night. When I was unpacking it, I found it, but, rather than call you or drive back to your place and wake you up, I figured I would wait till this morning to bring it back to you. I will admit I was worried about you taking one this morning-” He grunts a little when Annie starts to pull away from him, trying to twist and shove her shoulder into his chest. “Annie. Annie.” He closes the distance between them, pinning her against the back of his couch. “I was worried about you taking one on an empty stomach.” He holds her gaze for a long moment. “These pills can’t be taken on an empty stomach.”
“I know.” Annie responds quietly, sniffing quietly. “You told me that yesterday.”
“I didn’t know if you’d remember that: You were pretty out of it when I picked you up yesterday.”
“Let go.” Annie drops her gaze, staring at the spot where his t-shirt collar starts. “Please.” She waits until Jeff releases her arms and takes a small step back, bracing herself on the back of the couch. “First off, they’re painkillers: I know most of them need to be taken with food. Secondly, I wasn’t that out of it yesterday.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Jeff.” Annie sighs and shakes her head. “The sedatives wore off sometime mid-afternoon. And the pain pills make me a little slow, but they don’t make me loopy.” She takes a deep breath and raises her eyes to his. “I was fully aware of everything last night.” She’s silent for a minute, biting her lower lip when she sees the light in his eyes change. She hears, more than sees, him swallow, as she finds herself unable to look away from his face.
“When you say fully aware…” Jeff trails off, his jaw tensing as he lifts a hand, letting it hover in the air between them.
“You made me soup and wouldn’t let me take my pill till I’d actually eaten some of it. We watched The Philadelphia Story, and you explained the ending to me.” Annie bites the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning as she leans forward from the waist. “I was tired and sore, but I was completely capable of acting under my own power.”
Jeff stares at her for a long moment before nods slowly, and places his fingertips against her stomach, resting them against the waistband of her skirt. He leans toward her, pausing a hairsbreadth from her lips.
“Do you believe me? That it was an accident?”
“I guess so. I’m still kind of angry with you.”
“I can work with that.”
***
