Paper Animals Signaling Danger (1/1)
Title: Paper Animals Signaling Danger
Genre: Television
Series: Community
Characters: Annie Edison, Jeff Wringer
Spoilers: 2x10-“Mixology Certification”
Rating: PG-13 (for language and innuendo)
Summary: It's ladies choice the first time, but Jeff is using every ounce of his charm to influence it in his favor.
Author's Note: Written for eva_aftagrl, and her yen for birthday fic. I went for the landmark twenty-first b-day. (Admittedly, birthdays in general aren't a big deal to me, so I chose the one most people consider “huge”.)
“You're late.” She leaned against the bar as she greeted him, a curtain of hair dancing in front of her eye that he instinctively pushed back over her ear. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling at the shiver that raised over her skin as he did so.
“Abed and Troy wanted to run a few ideas past me about tonight, and Britta and Shirley felt the need to dispute them and offer their own suggestions. You didn't want a male stripper, did you?”
Annie's eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously. “No! That would be mortifying. What were they thinking?”
“Troy and Abed? I have no idea. They did a Simon Beaufoy movie marathon last weekend; they watched Slumdog Millionaire, 127 Hours, and The Full Monty. As usual they absorbed a bit too much of the movie.”
“And they suggested strippers?” There's a faint touch of pink in her cheeks, as if just the mention of disrobing in public is scandalous, and he's all the more fond of her for still being capable of it despite the not-so-innocent adventures the two of them (sometimes with the accompaniment of their friends) had gotten up to.
“No, they suggested stripping,” he clarified, and grinned as the pink in her cheeks burned red.
“Jeff!”
“What? I convinced them it was a bad idea. We both know you're more fond of my striped briefs than the banana hammock.”
“Then what are they planning?” Annie asked, deliberately ignoring the second part of his statement.
Jeff shook his finger at her and didn't answer, instead maneuvering so that she stood between him and the bar, reaching around her to grasp the thick menu laying there and turn the cover. “That is between them and you, and it's about five drinks from now.”
“They're supposed to be here in half an hour.”
“Yes, but you're going to need a few drinks before they're going to get you to do what they want you to do.”
“This isn't going to turn into something like Troy's twenty-first, is it?”
Her question brought up a frisson of of unease, and Jeff batted it back with some difficulty. That hadn't been one of his best nights, and he'd done and said things he would never be proud of. On top of that, Annie had been having a bad night as well, and he hadn't seen it or done anything about it. Considering her past problems, letting her lose herself in any substance hadn't been a good decision on his part. It had made his decision regarding tonight that much easier.
“Douche-y Jeff will not be making an appearance tonight. I won't be drinking at all tonight.”
Annie turned in his arms, or at least tried to; he'd pressed himself against her tightly enough that he could feel the hem of her skirt through his jeans and he had no wish for her to see that the forced levity of his tone wasn't mirrored in his face. “But it's my party! You're supposed to drink and be merry with me!”
“Tonight I'd rather make sure that we all get home safely, and that you don't end up blitzed and talking in a southern accent again. Not to mention that Pierce actually makes it into the bar, and Shirley doesn't storm out, Abed doesn't get used as bait for 'To Catch a Geek', and I kind of owe Troy a good experience drinking.” She started to speak again, to protest his abstinence, but Jeff didn't allow her protests to even properly form before he railroaded them. “Now, back to the subject at hand. I'm buying the drinks tonight, but the first one is on you. You have any idea what you'd like?”
Annie pouted at him, her lip pink and enticing as she glared at him from the corner of her eye, but she went with the flow of conversation. “I know you like scotch, and Britta likes vodka-”
“And you're not drinking anything that's straight,” Jeff interrupted. “You're bouncy, it'll just make you sick.”
“Okay, Dad,” Annie retorted with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms indignantly.
Mindful that they weren't alone at the bar, Jeff nuzzled the shell of her ear and spoke quietly. “Now, when you're calling me daddy later, I want you to remember this moment and that I'm the reason you won't be passed out before nine and missing the fun I have planned.”
His name was a husky gasp and he couldn't quite tell whether she was shocked or intrigued. He generally kept the suggestive talk confined to when they were alone, but even if he hadn't been drinking, and wouldn't be, he was feeling playful tonight and couldn't refrain from teasing her.
Jeff forced himself to look towards the menu before them, one arm wrapping around her waist so that she leaned back against him, while his free hand turned the pages. “How about sangria? It's fruity, you'd like it.”
“I'm surprised at you, Jeffrey. I expected something completely different from you,” Annie mock-scolded, a smile tugging at her lips. Her fingers absently scratched lightly at the bare skin of his forearm, almost as if she were petting him nervously but Jeff knew she had no idea the actual affect she was having on him.
“Like what?”
“I thought you'd take the opportunity to be crude and make outrageous suggestions,” she admitted, gesturing with her chin towards the page before him. “You skimmed right past 'Mr. Big' and 'Hanky Panky'. You didn't even suggest the obvious 'Slippery Nipple' or 'Sex on a Beach'.”
“As long as you don't say 'Seven and Seven' I'll be happy,” Jeff replied.
Annie smiled at him sweetly and Jeff pressed a quick kiss across her lips, stopping himself when he wanted to take it deeper because they did need to make a decision before the others arrived. The last thing he wanted was them here to offer opinions. “They have it divided by the alcohol used, and I was thinking that I'd like to try something that has scotch in it.”
Jeff frowned and shook his head, though she couldn't see it. “As much as the idea of tasting my favorite drink on your tongue does good things to me, let's leave off ruining a good spirit with juice.”
“Oh, come on, Jeff. The 'Presticles Spectacles Wallet and Watch' sounds good. There's no fruit juice in it,” she offered placatingly.
“That much booze will intoxicate you by fumes alone. If you insist on a scotch derivative, how about...” His eyes skimmed the list before landing on something that sounded mild and appropriate. “'Irish Cream'?”
“It sounds like a booze-y chocolate milk.”
“Basically is, but you love chocolate milk,” Jeff pointed out.
Annie agreed with him, but he could already see her attention moving on. Jeff breathed a sigh of relief when she turned back several pages to the vodka listings. When she grinned and tilted her head to look at him he knew she'd found something she liked. “What about a 'Southern Screw'?”
“Only if I can call you Caroline.”
She giggled and turned the page again. They spent several minutes looking at the different drink listings, arguing glibly over 'White Lady' versus 'Pink Lady', Jeff's amusement that there actually was a drink called 'Hurricane' and wondering whether he could get Britta to order it, offering different suggestions over what she should choose. There were only minutes left before the others arrived and they'd made their way back to the gin listings when Jeff spotted the one drink that had Annie written all over it.
He pointed to it silently and cheered in his head when she nodded her agreement. She shut the menu and they found a booth near the back of the bar, sliding into the seat just as their friends appeared in the doorway and spotted them. Annie greeted them all warmly, her eyes lingering on the clunky bag that Britta set gently down just outside the booth. Jeff gestured for a waitress to attend them and once everyone settled in and placed their orders, they all turned to Annie expectantly.
“You know, Annie, they have a drink called a 'Long Beach Iced Tea' I think you'd like. It's made with rum instead of vodka,” Britta offered, but Annie was already shaking her head.
“I know what I want, I was here early cataloging their menu,” Annie assured her. Under the table she grasped his hand, tugging it into her lap and twining her fingers between his. Jeff's arm slung itself along the back of the booth, his free fingers playing with the ends of her hair and calming the nerves that quivered under her skin. Annie looked to the waitress with resolve and spoke clearly and concisely. “I'd like a 'My Fair Lady', please.”
The waitress nodded and noted it on her small pad, moving away with a bored look and a soft sigh, and Jeff noted the crestfallen look on Annie's face. Their friends were already conversing about the plans for the night, so Jeff went unnoticed when he leaned close and asked her what was wrong.
Annie pouted again, her eyes dark and broody and utterly capable of drawing him into their endless depths. “She didn't even ask for my I.D.”
“Dating an older man has clearly matured you past such petty questioning,” Jeff offered, though he could see that it did little to ease her disappointment. “Don't you want to know what's in Britta's bag?” Since he couldn't force the waitress to be something other than bored and careless about state liquor laws, Jeff would do his best to distract Annie.
His plan worked as she turned to question Britta, her face paling comically at the blonde's answer.
“So I was watching Coyote Ugly on cable the other day-”
Britta had clearly picked up some of Abed's bad habits.
_____
Author's Note (2): Small nod to nonnyfic in this, just because she partly inspired this as well.
Author's Note (3): I loved the name of her final drink...but in actuality it sounds disgusting.
Review, please.
Genre: Television
Series: Community
Characters: Annie Edison, Jeff Wringer
Spoilers: 2x10-“Mixology Certification”
Rating: PG-13 (for language and innuendo)
Summary: It's ladies choice the first time, but Jeff is using every ounce of his charm to influence it in his favor.
Author's Note: Written for eva_aftagrl, and her yen for birthday fic. I went for the landmark twenty-first b-day. (Admittedly, birthdays in general aren't a big deal to me, so I chose the one most people consider “huge”.)
“You're late.” She leaned against the bar as she greeted him, a curtain of hair dancing in front of her eye that he instinctively pushed back over her ear. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, smiling at the shiver that raised over her skin as he did so.
“Abed and Troy wanted to run a few ideas past me about tonight, and Britta and Shirley felt the need to dispute them and offer their own suggestions. You didn't want a male stripper, did you?”
Annie's eyes widened and she shook her head vigorously. “No! That would be mortifying. What were they thinking?”
“Troy and Abed? I have no idea. They did a Simon Beaufoy movie marathon last weekend; they watched Slumdog Millionaire, 127 Hours, and The Full Monty. As usual they absorbed a bit too much of the movie.”
“And they suggested strippers?” There's a faint touch of pink in her cheeks, as if just the mention of disrobing in public is scandalous, and he's all the more fond of her for still being capable of it despite the not-so-innocent adventures the two of them (sometimes with the accompaniment of their friends) had gotten up to.
“No, they suggested stripping,” he clarified, and grinned as the pink in her cheeks burned red.
“Jeff!”
“What? I convinced them it was a bad idea. We both know you're more fond of my striped briefs than the banana hammock.”
“Then what are they planning?” Annie asked, deliberately ignoring the second part of his statement.
Jeff shook his finger at her and didn't answer, instead maneuvering so that she stood between him and the bar, reaching around her to grasp the thick menu laying there and turn the cover. “That is between them and you, and it's about five drinks from now.”
“They're supposed to be here in half an hour.”
“Yes, but you're going to need a few drinks before they're going to get you to do what they want you to do.”
“This isn't going to turn into something like Troy's twenty-first, is it?”
Her question brought up a frisson of of unease, and Jeff batted it back with some difficulty. That hadn't been one of his best nights, and he'd done and said things he would never be proud of. On top of that, Annie had been having a bad night as well, and he hadn't seen it or done anything about it. Considering her past problems, letting her lose herself in any substance hadn't been a good decision on his part. It had made his decision regarding tonight that much easier.
“Douche-y Jeff will not be making an appearance tonight. I won't be drinking at all tonight.”
Annie turned in his arms, or at least tried to; he'd pressed himself against her tightly enough that he could feel the hem of her skirt through his jeans and he had no wish for her to see that the forced levity of his tone wasn't mirrored in his face. “But it's my party! You're supposed to drink and be merry with me!”
“Tonight I'd rather make sure that we all get home safely, and that you don't end up blitzed and talking in a southern accent again. Not to mention that Pierce actually makes it into the bar, and Shirley doesn't storm out, Abed doesn't get used as bait for 'To Catch a Geek', and I kind of owe Troy a good experience drinking.” She started to speak again, to protest his abstinence, but Jeff didn't allow her protests to even properly form before he railroaded them. “Now, back to the subject at hand. I'm buying the drinks tonight, but the first one is on you. You have any idea what you'd like?”
Annie pouted at him, her lip pink and enticing as she glared at him from the corner of her eye, but she went with the flow of conversation. “I know you like scotch, and Britta likes vodka-”
“And you're not drinking anything that's straight,” Jeff interrupted. “You're bouncy, it'll just make you sick.”
“Okay, Dad,” Annie retorted with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms indignantly.
Mindful that they weren't alone at the bar, Jeff nuzzled the shell of her ear and spoke quietly. “Now, when you're calling me daddy later, I want you to remember this moment and that I'm the reason you won't be passed out before nine and missing the fun I have planned.”
His name was a husky gasp and he couldn't quite tell whether she was shocked or intrigued. He generally kept the suggestive talk confined to when they were alone, but even if he hadn't been drinking, and wouldn't be, he was feeling playful tonight and couldn't refrain from teasing her.
Jeff forced himself to look towards the menu before them, one arm wrapping around her waist so that she leaned back against him, while his free hand turned the pages. “How about sangria? It's fruity, you'd like it.”
“I'm surprised at you, Jeffrey. I expected something completely different from you,” Annie mock-scolded, a smile tugging at her lips. Her fingers absently scratched lightly at the bare skin of his forearm, almost as if she were petting him nervously but Jeff knew she had no idea the actual affect she was having on him.
“Like what?”
“I thought you'd take the opportunity to be crude and make outrageous suggestions,” she admitted, gesturing with her chin towards the page before him. “You skimmed right past 'Mr. Big' and 'Hanky Panky'. You didn't even suggest the obvious 'Slippery Nipple' or 'Sex on a Beach'.”
“As long as you don't say 'Seven and Seven' I'll be happy,” Jeff replied.
Annie smiled at him sweetly and Jeff pressed a quick kiss across her lips, stopping himself when he wanted to take it deeper because they did need to make a decision before the others arrived. The last thing he wanted was them here to offer opinions. “They have it divided by the alcohol used, and I was thinking that I'd like to try something that has scotch in it.”
Jeff frowned and shook his head, though she couldn't see it. “As much as the idea of tasting my favorite drink on your tongue does good things to me, let's leave off ruining a good spirit with juice.”
“Oh, come on, Jeff. The 'Presticles Spectacles Wallet and Watch' sounds good. There's no fruit juice in it,” she offered placatingly.
“That much booze will intoxicate you by fumes alone. If you insist on a scotch derivative, how about...” His eyes skimmed the list before landing on something that sounded mild and appropriate. “'Irish Cream'?”
“It sounds like a booze-y chocolate milk.”
“Basically is, but you love chocolate milk,” Jeff pointed out.
Annie agreed with him, but he could already see her attention moving on. Jeff breathed a sigh of relief when she turned back several pages to the vodka listings. When she grinned and tilted her head to look at him he knew she'd found something she liked. “What about a 'Southern Screw'?”
“Only if I can call you Caroline.”
She giggled and turned the page again. They spent several minutes looking at the different drink listings, arguing glibly over 'White Lady' versus 'Pink Lady', Jeff's amusement that there actually was a drink called 'Hurricane' and wondering whether he could get Britta to order it, offering different suggestions over what she should choose. There were only minutes left before the others arrived and they'd made their way back to the gin listings when Jeff spotted the one drink that had Annie written all over it.
He pointed to it silently and cheered in his head when she nodded her agreement. She shut the menu and they found a booth near the back of the bar, sliding into the seat just as their friends appeared in the doorway and spotted them. Annie greeted them all warmly, her eyes lingering on the clunky bag that Britta set gently down just outside the booth. Jeff gestured for a waitress to attend them and once everyone settled in and placed their orders, they all turned to Annie expectantly.
“You know, Annie, they have a drink called a 'Long Beach Iced Tea' I think you'd like. It's made with rum instead of vodka,” Britta offered, but Annie was already shaking her head.
“I know what I want, I was here early cataloging their menu,” Annie assured her. Under the table she grasped his hand, tugging it into her lap and twining her fingers between his. Jeff's arm slung itself along the back of the booth, his free fingers playing with the ends of her hair and calming the nerves that quivered under her skin. Annie looked to the waitress with resolve and spoke clearly and concisely. “I'd like a 'My Fair Lady', please.”
The waitress nodded and noted it on her small pad, moving away with a bored look and a soft sigh, and Jeff noted the crestfallen look on Annie's face. Their friends were already conversing about the plans for the night, so Jeff went unnoticed when he leaned close and asked her what was wrong.
Annie pouted again, her eyes dark and broody and utterly capable of drawing him into their endless depths. “She didn't even ask for my I.D.”
“Dating an older man has clearly matured you past such petty questioning,” Jeff offered, though he could see that it did little to ease her disappointment. “Don't you want to know what's in Britta's bag?” Since he couldn't force the waitress to be something other than bored and careless about state liquor laws, Jeff would do his best to distract Annie.
His plan worked as she turned to question Britta, her face paling comically at the blonde's answer.
“So I was watching Coyote Ugly on cable the other day-”
Britta had clearly picked up some of Abed's bad habits.
_____
Author's Note (2): Small nod to nonnyfic in this, just because she partly inspired this as well.
Author's Note (3): I loved the name of her final drink...but in actuality it sounds disgusting.
Review, please.