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lapacifidoraTitle: The Way I Feel When You Call My Name (3/?)
Author: lapacifidora
Spoilers: Through 4.10, “Intro to Knots”
Rating/ Warnings: PG-14, for themes and brief sexual language. Trigger warnings for slightly rapey characterization, discussion of mental illness and institutionalization.
Word Count: 3,390
Disclaimers: Not mine. The title is from Sleater Kinney’s “Oh.”
Author’s note: For Caro, who asked for it. And for Kerry and Becca, who wanted it, or anything from me, for months now.
Well, having now seen 4.13, “Advanced Introduction to Finality,” I can say this is going to have some similarities with the finale because they are unavoidable. However, there are also going to be some major differences, which I hope will be welcome.
***
Annie sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and with a laptop propped on her lap. The lamp on the table at her side flickered, and she reached out blindly to flick at the bare bulb with her fingernails. The light bulb buzzed quietly in response and went dark for a few seconds before it came back with as much vigor as it had ever had.
“You’re a master of electricity.” Jeff’s voice drew her attention as he set down two mugs on the coffee table in front of them, steam wafting gently from the top of each. He settled down next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and hooking his chin over her shoulder to peer at the lap top screen. He raised an eyebrow as he took note of the article Annie was reading – something about Amanda Bynes’ losing the Best Actress Oscar to Jennifer Garner for ‘Elektra: Reborn’ – and read the headings for the other tabs open, ranging from the assassinations of both presidential candidates in 2012, and the subsequent establishment of martial law, to the inexplicable resurgence of Swing music to the investment opportunities for boutique frozen yogurt chains. “Getting caught up, huh?” He shifted away from her to reach forward and pick up his mug, sipping at the contents before holding it out for her inspection.
“Mmm hmm.” Annie nodded absently, then stuck her head forward to peer into the mug. “Oh! You got the chicken noodle with the little letter noodles!” She set the laptop aside and leaned forward to retrieve her own mug, bracing herself against his sweatpants-covered knee. She lifted the mug and cupped her free hand around the bowl, holding it under her nose as she inhaled the fragrant steam as she closed her eyes. She blew lightly on the liquid before taking a cautious sip. She hummed loudly in pleasure and lowered the mug to rest in her lap as she turned back to Jeff, who watched her with a smirk as he sipped his own soup. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
“Ever?”
“Well.” Annie smiled coyly and tilted her head to one side, her hair sliding over her shoulder, the damp ends leaving dark spots on the blanket. She raised her free hand to tap her lips with a finger in thought for a moment before leveling the digit to point at Jeff. “Maybe in the last 20 minutes.” She giggled as he frowned at her, then snorted loudly with laughter as he burnt his tongue trying to finish his soup in a few gulps. He grimaced and stuck his tongue out, removing the hand from her waist and fanning his mouth with it. He eyed the last of his soup with regret before setting the mug down and leaning toward her, a predatory glint in his eye.
“I’ll give you something to laugh about,” Jeff said, his words a gravelly purr that set the hairs on Annie’s arm on end, despite the heavy blanket wrapped around her. He frowned when she held up a hand and took another leisurely sip of her soup.
“I strongly suggest you think about what you said just now.” Annie pursed her lips as she stared at him, letting her restraining hand cross the last several inches and land on his bare shoulder, which she stroked as he silently mouth his last words back to himself.
“I didn’t mean it like-” He slumped back against the couch, shrugging off her hand and reaching out for his mug. “Dammit.” He pulled away as his prosthetic twitched sharply, knocking the mug to the floor and spilling the last of his soup. He shook the offending limb, turning it over to flip open the control panel and check the readout. He sighed heavily before climbing over the back of the couch and crossing to the kitchen for a roll of paper towels.
“I take it this version is still glitchy?” Annie said as she turned in her seat to watch him move about the kitchen, letting her eyes trace the line of his shoulders and his back, frowning as she noticed a newer scar she had missed somehow in her earlier cataloging. She turned to put her mug down on the coffee table as Jeff returned, kneeling to mop up the cooling puddle of liquid.
“Yep,” Jeff replied, popping the ‘p,’ as he wadded up the paper towel and dropped it into his now empty mug. He staggered back to his feet, his balance thrown by the prosthetic limb, and sat back next to Annie, lifting his left hand to rub his right shoulder.
“Here.” Annie leaned across his chest, taking his right wrist in one hand and wrapping her other hand around his bicep, then gently pulled it up and to the side. With an audible click, the prosthetic came away from the artificial socket in Jeff’s shoulder.
He grimaced and took it from her, leaning over the side of the couch to place the arm on an end table. He fished a charging cord from the gap between the table and the end of the couch, lifting and plugging it into the arm, jiggling the plug into the tiny port next to the control panel. The panel lit up briefly, while a metallic trill sounded and the fingers at the end of the prosthetic clenched into a fist before relaxing to lie limply against the table top. He turned to face the petite brunette, who had shifted so one bare foot peeked out from the blanket where it hung several inches above the floor.
“Sorry about that.” He frowned and reached out to play with a loose thread along the blanket’s hem. “It’ll be fine, and then the damn thing stops working or, I don’t know,” He paused as he glanced up at her face quickly. “When I was first learning to control the arm, it was like I had Tourette’s.” He looked up again when she made an inquisitive noise and lifted a hand to cover his. “Y’know, I’d think about what a dick someone was, and, next thing I know, I’m flipping them off.” He chuckled, the sound more angry than amused. “I don’t mind flipping someone off – I’m normally in favor of it – but I usually like to be in control of the decision to do so.”
“Bet you were angry.” Annie tangled her fingers with his as she stared at his ear and raised her free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, dragging her fingers through the curls forming as her hair air dried.
“Furious.” Jeff looked up as Annie scooted a little closer to him, squeezing his fingers with her own. He tugged on his hand till she released him, then turned his hand over and wove his fingers between hers.
“Have I apologized yet for making you lose your arm?” She chewed on her lower lip, finding the loose thread he’d played with a minute before newly fascinating.
“It wasn’t you.” Jeff’s voice lost some of its perpetual edge and softened.
“If I hadn’t brought my gun-”
“I’m sure something else equally bizarre would have happened.” Jeff shook his head and squeezed her hand. “Hey. Look at me.” He waited until she raised her gaze to meet his, cursing quietly at the unshed tears pooled along her lower lashes. “We can contemplate all the ‘what ifs’ until we’re blue in the face: What if you hadn’t brought your gun. What if you hadn’t tripped. What if the bottles on the coffee table had been closed. What if Pierce hadn’t dropped his drink. What if Britta hadn’t been toking up in the bathroom.” He sighed. “What if someone other than Troy went to get the pizza.” He shrugged. “Anything could have been different, and I’d be lying if I said I’d never wondered what happened in the Prime Timeline but didn’t happen here.”
“I’m still sorry.” Annie leaned forward, picking up her mug. “Do you want the rest of my soup?”
“No.” Jeff laughed, roughly but with genuine amusement. “You’re the one who nearly came because of soup.” He raised their clasped hands, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand and grazing his stubbly cheek over her knuckles. “I don’t want you to feel deprived.”
“Hey.” Annie glared at him, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “They never let us have really hot food, in case we tried to burn ourselves or throw it at one of the orderlies.” She downed the rest of her soup, chewing the remaining vegetables and swallowing before smacking her lips and licking at the corners for any remaining traces of broth. She set the mug back on the coffee table and turned to face him, lifting her chin and staring down her nose at him. “And I did not almost come.”
“I beg to differ.” Jeff’s smile shifted into a grin, and Annie fought the urge to smooth down the hair at the back of his head that was still mussed from their earlier activities.
“Hmm.” Annie closed one eye and squinted at him with the other, nose still raised haughtily. “Nope. I didn’t. That’s not what I sound like when I’m coming.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“Nope.” Annie’s chin dropped and she looked at him through her lashes as she shook her head. She slid from the couch and stood, shifting as the blanket drooped, exposing her neck. “It’s really, really not.” She turned away, but glanced back when he tugged on her hand.
“And where do you think you are going?”
“I thought we should conduct some further research on this matter.” Annie rested her chin on her shoulder as she swept the hand not holding his out to one side, taking the blanket with it and let it drop to the floor. She cocked one hip, smirking when Jeff sat up and away from the couch.
“Did you?” Jeff rolled to his feet, stepping forward till his chest was pressed to her back and he could wrap their clasped hands around her waist.
“Mmm hmm.” Annie nodded and tilted her head to the side as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her neck before setting his teeth against a tendon and pulling slightly. He smiled when she arched back against him. “So, your question really should have been, ‘where are we going?’” She pulled away and began to walk backwards, tugging at their joined hands. “Because you are most assuredly coming with me.”
***
Annie and Shirley exchanged a look as Britta laughed raucously at something the Skeeper’s bartender said before she turned and headed back toward their table. The blonde set three glasses down on the table and wiped her damp fingers on her jeans before handing a cream soda to Shirley and a screwdriver to Annie.
“So.” Annie fiddled with the straw in her drink before taking a sip. “The bartender seems nice.” She glanced at Shirley, who raised a single eyebrow and shook her head quickly. “Right, Shirley?”
“Oh.” Shirley glared at Annie briefly before looking over at Britta, who was staring at her gin and tonic, tracing beads of condensation down the side of the glass with a finger. “Yes. He seems,” She swallowed and grimaced as she looked back at the bartender, who wiped a bar towel over his sweaty comb-over, “nice?”
“You guys.” Britta leaned forward, wrapping her lips around the straw in her drink and taking a long drink before she scooted back in her seat and rested her chin on her folded arms. “I sort of got dumped today. Can you let me appreciate the creepy bartender flirting with me tonight? I promise I’ll go back to being a strong, independent woman tomorrow.” She sighed and let her head roll to the side, resting her cheek heavily against her arms. “Tonight I want to feel sorry for myself and sit with my friends while I get drunk.”
“Oh, Britta.” Shirley frowned and blinked quickly, pushing her drink to the center of the table as she scooted her chair over and laid a hand on the back of the blonde’s head, stroking it gently. “Of course, sweetie. You go right ahead.”
“Yeah.” Annie shuffled her chair closer to Britta’s and reached out to snag her drink, pulling it closer to take another sip. She put a hand on Britta’s back, between the blonde’s shoulders, and rubbed gently in a circle. “I mean, I’d say it’s his loss, but-” She gestured broadly with her free hand. “I don’t think either of you is really to blame.” She sighed and shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Britta’s back and propped her chin on her other hand. “But I am totally down with blaming Troy, if that’s what you want.”
“No.” Britta sniffled quietly, blinking twice slowly. “I don’t really want to talk about it, period, but it’s, like, every time I tell myself to stop thinking about it, I remember that it happened.” She frowned and sat up a little, dislodging Shirley’s hand, which fell to her shoulder, and glanced between her two friends. “Do you think that means I have obsessive compulsive tendencies?”
“No.” Annie shook her head violently. “No, trust me. I knew a guy in my rehab group who was borderline, and you are nothing like him.”
“Sweetie, it’s completely normal to be focused on it.” Shirley sighed and reached for her drink, taking a long drink as her brow furrowed. “When Andre left me, I tried to tell myself it was temporary. But every time I told myself that, I had to think about the part where my husband had left me.” She shook her head and pursed her lips. “I may not be an almost therapist,” She rolled her eyes a little as Annie glanced across at her and shrugged, “but I know what my pastor’s wife told me when I was trying to adjust to being on my own: Any loss is like a death. You can’t ignore it because it only hurts more every time you remember it, like a cut you keep reopening. And every time it reopens, you keep it from healing.” Shirley sat back in her chair, her hand dropping from Britta’s shoulder, and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Or at least scabbing over; and you can learn to live with a scab. So, I say, feel as sorry for yourself as you want. Get drunk if you want: We’ll make sure you get home OK.”
“Really?” Britta looked from Shirley to Annie and back, her eyes bloodshot in her pale face. “You won’t think I’m less of a committed feminist if I get drunk because my boyfriend dumped me?”
“We’ll think you’re exactly the same level of feminist.” Annie smiled and squeezed Britta, who slumped over and leaned her head on the brunette’s shoulder. Shirley reached out and patted Britta’s free hand.
“Thanks, you guys.” Britta smiled weakly and sighed heavily before sitting up and downing the rest of her G&T in one gulp. “I think I’m going to need something stronger than this.” She stood, turning half toward the bar. “Next round on me?”
***
“Naaaw. Let me get this one.” Shirley levered herself to her feet and shuffled toward the bar, which she subsequently used to prop herself up, then smacked her palm flat on the sticky wood as she called for the barkeep. She shot a look over her shoulder at the table, one side of her mouth twisted up in a facsimile of a smile, and waved.
“You can’t blame yourself, sweetie.”
“But I thought- I hoped he was ready to commit. I mean, this whole thing was his idea in the first place! It’s not fair: The one thing to which he was ready to commit is the exact opposite of what I thought we both wanted.”
“Sweetie.” Britta reached out and ran a hand along Troy’s shoulder to the back of his neck, which she squeezed gently as he slumped in his chair.
“Here we go!” Shirley proclaimed as she returned, three yard-long margaritas cradled in her arms like a trio of unusually still children. She set them on the table, spilling a remarkably small amount of booze as the drinks sloshed over the edges of the novelty glasses, printed with the Skeeper’s logo.
“Thanks, Shirley.” Britta reached forward and pulled a margarita to her side of the table but stilled and tilted her head to one side as she tried to figure out the best plan of attack. “How do I-?”
“I still can’t believe he left me.” Troy said, his tone bewildered despite the artificiality of the voice his electrolarynx. “I can’t understand why he didn’t do what he said he would when he traveled to the Prime Timeline. And I can’t understand why he would come back and try to make this timeline less dark.” He frowned and fiddled with a cocktail napkin, folding it into ever smaller rectangles.
“His loss.” Shirley said shortly, swirling her straw through her margarita before taking a long draw on the abnormally green beverage. “He can’t set foot in here now, or at Greendale.” She smirked, though her eyes shone strangely, as though with unshed tears. “Instead, he’s stuck hanging out in your old apartment.” She snorted. “And he has to hang out with those losers at the Ball Room.” She fell silent as she frowned for a moment, then shook her head quickly and turned her attention back to her drink.
“Troy.” Britta sighed, running the lock of hair she’d dyed black between the first two fingers of each hand, pulling it taut and staring at it blankly. “Look, it’s not your fault Abed changed.” She dropped her hair and held up both hands to forestall the argument she knew he would make. “No, it’s not. He tried to speed up our schedule. He failed. And when he came back, instead of sitting down with all of us to figure out where he went wrong, he started acting like a lunatic: Trying to stage an intervention for Shirley with all of us and her husband and kids.” She pointed across the table at the brunette, who met the blonde’s eyes and glared.
“I thought I told you not to talk about that.”
“Sorry.” Britta shrugged and began ticking points off on her fingers. “The intervention. Making that appointment with a grief counselor. Trying to organize that trip to see Annie. Making that poster about Dia de Los Muertos and talking about how we should celebrate it in honor of Pierce.” She shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. “Calling the police on Chang and making up that story about the Dean not being the Dean.” She sighed. “Whatever happened to Abed in the Prime Timeline was bad.” She leaned forward again, putting her hand over Troy’s and waiting till he looked up at her, a wet trail on his cheek the only outward sign of his sorrow. “This might be the darkest possible timeline, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was the other timeline that broke your best friend.” She wrapped her fingers around his hand, squeezing tightly for a moment. “And that’s why we need to defeat them.” She dipped her chin and leaned forward a few more inches, lowering her voice in the loud bar. “If we don’t fight back, who knows what will happen to any of us? We’re doing this for our own survival – and for Abed.”
“I know.” Troy nodded in reply, his voice equally low, the artificial voice box lending him a gravelly tone. “For Abed.” He smiled weakly and placed his other hand over their joined hands.
“Are you going to finish that?” Shirley’s voice broke into the quiet the blonde and the younger man had fallen into as she pointed at Troy’s untouched margarita. “Cause it’d kind of be a waste if you’re not planning on drinking it.” She slid it toward herself, upending what was left in her own glass into the new glass and shrugged when the other two glared at her. “What? I put up with y’all as much as the Lord can expect me to, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you waste my money.”
***
Author: lapacifidora
Spoilers: Through 4.10, “Intro to Knots”
Rating/ Warnings: PG-14, for themes and brief sexual language. Trigger warnings for slightly rapey characterization, discussion of mental illness and institutionalization.
Word Count: 3,390
Disclaimers: Not mine. The title is from Sleater Kinney’s “Oh.”
Author’s note: For Caro, who asked for it. And for Kerry and Becca, who wanted it, or anything from me, for months now.
Well, having now seen 4.13, “Advanced Introduction to Finality,” I can say this is going to have some similarities with the finale because they are unavoidable. However, there are also going to be some major differences, which I hope will be welcome.
***
Annie sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket and with a laptop propped on her lap. The lamp on the table at her side flickered, and she reached out blindly to flick at the bare bulb with her fingernails. The light bulb buzzed quietly in response and went dark for a few seconds before it came back with as much vigor as it had ever had.
“You’re a master of electricity.” Jeff’s voice drew her attention as he set down two mugs on the coffee table in front of them, steam wafting gently from the top of each. He settled down next to her, wrapping an arm around her waist and hooking his chin over her shoulder to peer at the lap top screen. He raised an eyebrow as he took note of the article Annie was reading – something about Amanda Bynes’ losing the Best Actress Oscar to Jennifer Garner for ‘Elektra: Reborn’ – and read the headings for the other tabs open, ranging from the assassinations of both presidential candidates in 2012, and the subsequent establishment of martial law, to the inexplicable resurgence of Swing music to the investment opportunities for boutique frozen yogurt chains. “Getting caught up, huh?” He shifted away from her to reach forward and pick up his mug, sipping at the contents before holding it out for her inspection.
“Mmm hmm.” Annie nodded absently, then stuck her head forward to peer into the mug. “Oh! You got the chicken noodle with the little letter noodles!” She set the laptop aside and leaned forward to retrieve her own mug, bracing herself against his sweatpants-covered knee. She lifted the mug and cupped her free hand around the bowl, holding it under her nose as she inhaled the fragrant steam as she closed her eyes. She blew lightly on the liquid before taking a cautious sip. She hummed loudly in pleasure and lowered the mug to rest in her lap as she turned back to Jeff, who watched her with a smirk as he sipped his own soup. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
“Ever?”
“Well.” Annie smiled coyly and tilted her head to one side, her hair sliding over her shoulder, the damp ends leaving dark spots on the blanket. She raised her free hand to tap her lips with a finger in thought for a moment before leveling the digit to point at Jeff. “Maybe in the last 20 minutes.” She giggled as he frowned at her, then snorted loudly with laughter as he burnt his tongue trying to finish his soup in a few gulps. He grimaced and stuck his tongue out, removing the hand from her waist and fanning his mouth with it. He eyed the last of his soup with regret before setting the mug down and leaning toward her, a predatory glint in his eye.
“I’ll give you something to laugh about,” Jeff said, his words a gravelly purr that set the hairs on Annie’s arm on end, despite the heavy blanket wrapped around her. He frowned when she held up a hand and took another leisurely sip of her soup.
“I strongly suggest you think about what you said just now.” Annie pursed her lips as she stared at him, letting her restraining hand cross the last several inches and land on his bare shoulder, which she stroked as he silently mouth his last words back to himself.
“I didn’t mean it like-” He slumped back against the couch, shrugging off her hand and reaching out for his mug. “Dammit.” He pulled away as his prosthetic twitched sharply, knocking the mug to the floor and spilling the last of his soup. He shook the offending limb, turning it over to flip open the control panel and check the readout. He sighed heavily before climbing over the back of the couch and crossing to the kitchen for a roll of paper towels.
“I take it this version is still glitchy?” Annie said as she turned in her seat to watch him move about the kitchen, letting her eyes trace the line of his shoulders and his back, frowning as she noticed a newer scar she had missed somehow in her earlier cataloging. She turned to put her mug down on the coffee table as Jeff returned, kneeling to mop up the cooling puddle of liquid.
“Yep,” Jeff replied, popping the ‘p,’ as he wadded up the paper towel and dropped it into his now empty mug. He staggered back to his feet, his balance thrown by the prosthetic limb, and sat back next to Annie, lifting his left hand to rub his right shoulder.
“Here.” Annie leaned across his chest, taking his right wrist in one hand and wrapping her other hand around his bicep, then gently pulled it up and to the side. With an audible click, the prosthetic came away from the artificial socket in Jeff’s shoulder.
He grimaced and took it from her, leaning over the side of the couch to place the arm on an end table. He fished a charging cord from the gap between the table and the end of the couch, lifting and plugging it into the arm, jiggling the plug into the tiny port next to the control panel. The panel lit up briefly, while a metallic trill sounded and the fingers at the end of the prosthetic clenched into a fist before relaxing to lie limply against the table top. He turned to face the petite brunette, who had shifted so one bare foot peeked out from the blanket where it hung several inches above the floor.
“Sorry about that.” He frowned and reached out to play with a loose thread along the blanket’s hem. “It’ll be fine, and then the damn thing stops working or, I don’t know,” He paused as he glanced up at her face quickly. “When I was first learning to control the arm, it was like I had Tourette’s.” He looked up again when she made an inquisitive noise and lifted a hand to cover his. “Y’know, I’d think about what a dick someone was, and, next thing I know, I’m flipping them off.” He chuckled, the sound more angry than amused. “I don’t mind flipping someone off – I’m normally in favor of it – but I usually like to be in control of the decision to do so.”
“Bet you were angry.” Annie tangled her fingers with his as she stared at his ear and raised her free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear, dragging her fingers through the curls forming as her hair air dried.
“Furious.” Jeff looked up as Annie scooted a little closer to him, squeezing his fingers with her own. He tugged on his hand till she released him, then turned his hand over and wove his fingers between hers.
“Have I apologized yet for making you lose your arm?” She chewed on her lower lip, finding the loose thread he’d played with a minute before newly fascinating.
“It wasn’t you.” Jeff’s voice lost some of its perpetual edge and softened.
“If I hadn’t brought my gun-”
“I’m sure something else equally bizarre would have happened.” Jeff shook his head and squeezed her hand. “Hey. Look at me.” He waited until she raised her gaze to meet his, cursing quietly at the unshed tears pooled along her lower lashes. “We can contemplate all the ‘what ifs’ until we’re blue in the face: What if you hadn’t brought your gun. What if you hadn’t tripped. What if the bottles on the coffee table had been closed. What if Pierce hadn’t dropped his drink. What if Britta hadn’t been toking up in the bathroom.” He sighed. “What if someone other than Troy went to get the pizza.” He shrugged. “Anything could have been different, and I’d be lying if I said I’d never wondered what happened in the Prime Timeline but didn’t happen here.”
“I’m still sorry.” Annie leaned forward, picking up her mug. “Do you want the rest of my soup?”
“No.” Jeff laughed, roughly but with genuine amusement. “You’re the one who nearly came because of soup.” He raised their clasped hands, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand and grazing his stubbly cheek over her knuckles. “I don’t want you to feel deprived.”
“Hey.” Annie glared at him, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “They never let us have really hot food, in case we tried to burn ourselves or throw it at one of the orderlies.” She downed the rest of her soup, chewing the remaining vegetables and swallowing before smacking her lips and licking at the corners for any remaining traces of broth. She set the mug back on the coffee table and turned to face him, lifting her chin and staring down her nose at him. “And I did not almost come.”
“I beg to differ.” Jeff’s smile shifted into a grin, and Annie fought the urge to smooth down the hair at the back of his head that was still mussed from their earlier activities.
“Hmm.” Annie closed one eye and squinted at him with the other, nose still raised haughtily. “Nope. I didn’t. That’s not what I sound like when I’m coming.”
“I’m pretty sure it is.”
“Nope.” Annie’s chin dropped and she looked at him through her lashes as she shook her head. She slid from the couch and stood, shifting as the blanket drooped, exposing her neck. “It’s really, really not.” She turned away, but glanced back when he tugged on her hand.
“And where do you think you are going?”
“I thought we should conduct some further research on this matter.” Annie rested her chin on her shoulder as she swept the hand not holding his out to one side, taking the blanket with it and let it drop to the floor. She cocked one hip, smirking when Jeff sat up and away from the couch.
“Did you?” Jeff rolled to his feet, stepping forward till his chest was pressed to her back and he could wrap their clasped hands around her waist.
“Mmm hmm.” Annie nodded and tilted her head to the side as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to her neck before setting his teeth against a tendon and pulling slightly. He smiled when she arched back against him. “So, your question really should have been, ‘where are we going?’” She pulled away and began to walk backwards, tugging at their joined hands. “Because you are most assuredly coming with me.”
***
Annie and Shirley exchanged a look as Britta laughed raucously at something the Skeeper’s bartender said before she turned and headed back toward their table. The blonde set three glasses down on the table and wiped her damp fingers on her jeans before handing a cream soda to Shirley and a screwdriver to Annie.
“So.” Annie fiddled with the straw in her drink before taking a sip. “The bartender seems nice.” She glanced at Shirley, who raised a single eyebrow and shook her head quickly. “Right, Shirley?”
“Oh.” Shirley glared at Annie briefly before looking over at Britta, who was staring at her gin and tonic, tracing beads of condensation down the side of the glass with a finger. “Yes. He seems,” She swallowed and grimaced as she looked back at the bartender, who wiped a bar towel over his sweaty comb-over, “nice?”
“You guys.” Britta leaned forward, wrapping her lips around the straw in her drink and taking a long drink before she scooted back in her seat and rested her chin on her folded arms. “I sort of got dumped today. Can you let me appreciate the creepy bartender flirting with me tonight? I promise I’ll go back to being a strong, independent woman tomorrow.” She sighed and let her head roll to the side, resting her cheek heavily against her arms. “Tonight I want to feel sorry for myself and sit with my friends while I get drunk.”
“Oh, Britta.” Shirley frowned and blinked quickly, pushing her drink to the center of the table as she scooted her chair over and laid a hand on the back of the blonde’s head, stroking it gently. “Of course, sweetie. You go right ahead.”
“Yeah.” Annie shuffled her chair closer to Britta’s and reached out to snag her drink, pulling it closer to take another sip. She put a hand on Britta’s back, between the blonde’s shoulders, and rubbed gently in a circle. “I mean, I’d say it’s his loss, but-” She gestured broadly with her free hand. “I don’t think either of you is really to blame.” She sighed and shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Britta’s back and propped her chin on her other hand. “But I am totally down with blaming Troy, if that’s what you want.”
“No.” Britta sniffled quietly, blinking twice slowly. “I don’t really want to talk about it, period, but it’s, like, every time I tell myself to stop thinking about it, I remember that it happened.” She frowned and sat up a little, dislodging Shirley’s hand, which fell to her shoulder, and glanced between her two friends. “Do you think that means I have obsessive compulsive tendencies?”
“No.” Annie shook her head violently. “No, trust me. I knew a guy in my rehab group who was borderline, and you are nothing like him.”
“Sweetie, it’s completely normal to be focused on it.” Shirley sighed and reached for her drink, taking a long drink as her brow furrowed. “When Andre left me, I tried to tell myself it was temporary. But every time I told myself that, I had to think about the part where my husband had left me.” She shook her head and pursed her lips. “I may not be an almost therapist,” She rolled her eyes a little as Annie glanced across at her and shrugged, “but I know what my pastor’s wife told me when I was trying to adjust to being on my own: Any loss is like a death. You can’t ignore it because it only hurts more every time you remember it, like a cut you keep reopening. And every time it reopens, you keep it from healing.” Shirley sat back in her chair, her hand dropping from Britta’s shoulder, and she clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “Or at least scabbing over; and you can learn to live with a scab. So, I say, feel as sorry for yourself as you want. Get drunk if you want: We’ll make sure you get home OK.”
“Really?” Britta looked from Shirley to Annie and back, her eyes bloodshot in her pale face. “You won’t think I’m less of a committed feminist if I get drunk because my boyfriend dumped me?”
“We’ll think you’re exactly the same level of feminist.” Annie smiled and squeezed Britta, who slumped over and leaned her head on the brunette’s shoulder. Shirley reached out and patted Britta’s free hand.
“Thanks, you guys.” Britta smiled weakly and sighed heavily before sitting up and downing the rest of her G&T in one gulp. “I think I’m going to need something stronger than this.” She stood, turning half toward the bar. “Next round on me?”
***
“Naaaw. Let me get this one.” Shirley levered herself to her feet and shuffled toward the bar, which she subsequently used to prop herself up, then smacked her palm flat on the sticky wood as she called for the barkeep. She shot a look over her shoulder at the table, one side of her mouth twisted up in a facsimile of a smile, and waved.
“You can’t blame yourself, sweetie.”
“But I thought- I hoped he was ready to commit. I mean, this whole thing was his idea in the first place! It’s not fair: The one thing to which he was ready to commit is the exact opposite of what I thought we both wanted.”
“Sweetie.” Britta reached out and ran a hand along Troy’s shoulder to the back of his neck, which she squeezed gently as he slumped in his chair.
“Here we go!” Shirley proclaimed as she returned, three yard-long margaritas cradled in her arms like a trio of unusually still children. She set them on the table, spilling a remarkably small amount of booze as the drinks sloshed over the edges of the novelty glasses, printed with the Skeeper’s logo.
“Thanks, Shirley.” Britta reached forward and pulled a margarita to her side of the table but stilled and tilted her head to one side as she tried to figure out the best plan of attack. “How do I-?”
“I still can’t believe he left me.” Troy said, his tone bewildered despite the artificiality of the voice his electrolarynx. “I can’t understand why he didn’t do what he said he would when he traveled to the Prime Timeline. And I can’t understand why he would come back and try to make this timeline less dark.” He frowned and fiddled with a cocktail napkin, folding it into ever smaller rectangles.
“His loss.” Shirley said shortly, swirling her straw through her margarita before taking a long draw on the abnormally green beverage. “He can’t set foot in here now, or at Greendale.” She smirked, though her eyes shone strangely, as though with unshed tears. “Instead, he’s stuck hanging out in your old apartment.” She snorted. “And he has to hang out with those losers at the Ball Room.” She fell silent as she frowned for a moment, then shook her head quickly and turned her attention back to her drink.
“Troy.” Britta sighed, running the lock of hair she’d dyed black between the first two fingers of each hand, pulling it taut and staring at it blankly. “Look, it’s not your fault Abed changed.” She dropped her hair and held up both hands to forestall the argument she knew he would make. “No, it’s not. He tried to speed up our schedule. He failed. And when he came back, instead of sitting down with all of us to figure out where he went wrong, he started acting like a lunatic: Trying to stage an intervention for Shirley with all of us and her husband and kids.” She pointed across the table at the brunette, who met the blonde’s eyes and glared.
“I thought I told you not to talk about that.”
“Sorry.” Britta shrugged and began ticking points off on her fingers. “The intervention. Making that appointment with a grief counselor. Trying to organize that trip to see Annie. Making that poster about Dia de Los Muertos and talking about how we should celebrate it in honor of Pierce.” She shook her head, closing her eyes briefly. “Calling the police on Chang and making up that story about the Dean not being the Dean.” She sighed. “Whatever happened to Abed in the Prime Timeline was bad.” She leaned forward again, putting her hand over Troy’s and waiting till he looked up at her, a wet trail on his cheek the only outward sign of his sorrow. “This might be the darkest possible timeline, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was the other timeline that broke your best friend.” She wrapped her fingers around his hand, squeezing tightly for a moment. “And that’s why we need to defeat them.” She dipped her chin and leaned forward a few more inches, lowering her voice in the loud bar. “If we don’t fight back, who knows what will happen to any of us? We’re doing this for our own survival – and for Abed.”
“I know.” Troy nodded in reply, his voice equally low, the artificial voice box lending him a gravelly tone. “For Abed.” He smiled weakly and placed his other hand over their joined hands.
“Are you going to finish that?” Shirley’s voice broke into the quiet the blonde and the younger man had fallen into as she pointed at Troy’s untouched margarita. “Cause it’d kind of be a waste if you’re not planning on drinking it.” She slid it toward herself, upending what was left in her own glass into the new glass and shrugged when the other two glared at her. “What? I put up with y’all as much as the Lord can expect me to, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you waste my money.”
***
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Date: 2013-05-15 07:21 am (UTC)Is it bad that I was like "Wow that's dark!" BEFORE I got to the part where both the presidential candidates were assassinated?
Haha there's something so appealing about how open Evil!Jeff and Evil!Annie are with each other. Like yeah, they're evil and stuff, but otherwise it appears to be a healthy, balanced relationship!
I like the parallel of Annie/Shirley comforting Britta and then Evil!Britta/Shirley comforting Evil!Troy.
no subject
Date: 2013-06-15 03:09 am (UTC)