Skittles (1/1)
Title: Skittles
Author: office_bluth
Spoilers: None.
Rating/Warnings: This is my first G-rated fic in, like, forever. This probably calls for a celebration.
Word Count: 1493.
Disclaimer: I don't own the show or its characters. Blah blah blah.
Author's Note: This was written for the Slam, based on the prompt "sharing is caring". Basically, I'm pretty much exhausted right now, and have every intention of sleeping late tomorrow...so I had to rush and get this up. I really hope I'm doing this right. I hope you enjoy!
It’s not much of a surprise to anyone when Jeff walks in ten minutes late, a giant bag of Skittles in his hand. They expect it by now - now they know that their “official” meeting times will really begin anywhere from ten to twenty minutes late. But at the same moment they all look up and see Jeff has graced them with his presence, they realize Annie’s not there - and this? Is more than surprising.
“Dude,” Troy breathes as Abed murmurs, “OOC,” whatever that is. Britta and Shirley are sharing identical looks of horror. Pierce, naturally, has no idea what’s going on.
Jeff leans back, resting his new designer boots on top of the table. “So. What are we doing today?”
Troy squirms a little. “Uh - No idea. Annie’s the one who keeps track of that.”
“Okay?” Jeff furrows his brow, then turns to Annie’s empty seat. “Annie, what -“
He quickly turns back to the rest of the group. “Annie’s not here.”
It’s more of a statement than a question. Actually, scratch that - it’s a demand, as if one of them can provide an excuse for her. Because, really, this kind of is inexcusable. Anyone else could be late and no one would bat an eye - well, except Shirley. But that’s mostly because she’s a mother, and all, and motherhood and punctuality just seem to go hand-in-hand. But Annie not being there? It simply doesn’t happen.
“I’ll call her dad,” Shirley says, fumbling around in her giant bag for her cell phone. “Maybe she was hurt.”
Abed nods. “I’ll call the bookstore,” he says. “Maybe she got called into work last minute.”
Everyone quickly descends into battle mode, designating who each person will call. Someone somewhere must know where Annie is - whether it’s her father, her boss, or her third cousin in Montana, the study group will find her, dammit.
After thirty minutes and six failed calls to members of the Edison family (two of whom were just chosen randomly out of the phonebook), they reluctantly decide to give up. “I guess she’s not coming,” Britta says, slumping back against her chair. “That’s just so…weird.”
The group nods in agreement - except Jeff. This doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Dude,” Troy says, “you could at least pretend to care.”
Jeff looks around in confusion. “About what? That Annie’s not here? What’s the big deal? You guys have missed meetings before and we didn’t feel the need to call in the National Guard.”
Everyone shakes their head in unified disgust. “That’s different, Jeffrey,” Shirley says, her voice icy. “This is Annie. You know she would never miss a meeting unless something was wrong. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you didn’t call anyone. You don’t want her to be found. She’s supposed to be your friend, Jeff.”
Jeff groans. “Okay, fine,” he says, not having the energy to deal with all this. “You guys are right. I’m a terrible person because I didn’t call anyone. Why don’t I call someone now?”
The group looks pleased by that. “Here,” Abed says, sliding a piece of paper across the table. “I don’t think anyone called her great-uncle’s neighbor’s babysitter - why don’t you take her?”
Jeff glances at the paper, then pulls out his cell phone. “Right,” he says, punching in a number. “Or I could - oh, I don’t know - call Annie herself.”
Everyone’s silent, as if they hadn’t considered that already. Knowing them, they probably hadn’t. “Oh,” Shirley says meekly.
Jeff fights the urge to roll his eyes. He waits for Annie to pick up - and waits - and waits. And then her familiar voicemail message is starting. “Hi! Don’t worry, I’m here! Thank you for calling! If you could please just leave me a message with your name and number. I will totally call you back, I swear!”
Jeff ends the call. Everyone is staring at him, almost on the edge of their seats. He takes a deep breath. “Annie - didn’t answer her phone.”
This, apparently, was the absolute worst thing to say. Shirley immediately bursts into tears, screaming something about murderers and praying for Annie’s soul, while Britta drops her head onto the table. Troy buries his face into Abed’s shoulder; the latter man’s face has gone blank, completely unfeeling, as if he’s just encountered something he can’t process.
In a completely unprecedented move, Pierce is the one voice of reason. “Oh, please,” he says loudly. “I don’t answer my phone half the time - do you all think I’m dead when I don’t answer?”
This comment is met with guilty silence. Britta turns to Jeff before Pierce can say anything more. “You have to go to her parents’ house,” she says. “Make sure she’s okay.”
“What? Why me?” Jeff asks.
Britta just glares at him. “You know why,” she says.
“Uh.” Jeff allows himself a tiny chuckle, as if to point out Britta’s insanity. “No, I don’t.”
Britta sighs. “Fine. You want me to say it?”
“Allow me,” Abed interjects. “Jeff, most characters have a huge epiphany at least once a season. Usually you can tell by the background music and the fact that it’s often a Very Special Episode - but this doesn’t seem like one,” he says, looking around. Then, thoughtfully, he adds, “Unless Annie really is dead. In which case, I’d better save this speech for when you have your epiphany at her funeral -“
“Okay,” Jeff says, frustrated. “One ,” he says, holding up one finger, “I am not a character, Abed. And we have lives, not seasons. Two -“ He punctuates this by raising another finger. “Annie’s not dead. Three - what the hell are you talking about?”
Abed sighs. “I can’t work with this. Can someone take over?”
Troy nods. “Dude. You’re in love with Annie.”
Jeff blinks. For the first time in his life, he’s speechless. “Uh - Come again?”
Shirley nods, her cheeks still tear-stained. “Don’t deny it, Jeffrey. We’ve all seen the way you look at her - it’s shameful, but…kind of sweet at the same time.” She turns to Abed. “How did you describe it?”
“Bad boy meets good influence,” Abed says automatically. “Like Landon and Jamie. Or Jess and Rory. Or Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson.” He pauses. “Half of that is a gender reversal. My point remains valid. Also, I apologize for comparing you to Lindsay Lohan.”
“Guys,” Jeff says, setting his feet down and leaning forward, “I am not in love with -“
“With who?”
That wasn’t someone at the table. Everyone turns to the door.
“Annie!” Britta cries, jumping up to hug the younger girl, who gives everyone a look of confusion.
“Hi, guys,” she says, slowly working her way out of Britta’s embrace. “This is…a really enthusiastic welcome. What’s going on?”
“We thought you were dead!” Shirley cries.
“What?” Annie looks even more confused. “Why did you -“
“Because,” Britta says, sitting back down, “you were late, and you’re never late. And your dad didn’t know where you were, and Jeff called you, but you didn’t answer, and -“
“So you thought I was dead?” Annie interjects. “That’s…I mean, it’s really nice to know that you guys cared that much about me.” She beams at everyone. “But I’m allowed to be late, you know.”
“That’s what I said,” Jeff grumbles.
Annie makes her way to her seat, stopping just long enough to take a handful of candy from Jeff’s Skittles bag. The entire table goes silent - everyone stares at Jeff, waiting for his reaction.
He opens his anthropology textbook, then asks Annie, “What chapter were we up to? I think Duncan wants us to study the evolution of British flag dresses…”
“Candy,” Troy chokes out. “Annie took Jeff’s candy. And he didn’t murder her.”
It’s long been an unspoken rule in the group that you do not touch Jeff Winger’s food. Sandwiches, candy, even a glass of water - you don’t touch it. He claims it’s something about how he doesn’t eat often (then he makes a joke about how perfect his abs are, and then he expects whoever he’s talking to to laugh. Seriously. He will stare at you until you laugh. He once pulled up his shirt in the middle of an anthropology lesson just to show Troy his abs), and so therefore, when he does eat, it’s sacred. No one really cares about the reasoning anymore - all they know is, you do not touch his food.
Everyone, minus Jeff and Annie, exchanges a look, all silently wondering what to do. “Should we say something?” Troy murmurs to Abed.
Abed glances at Jeff, then Annie. The two have started reading their textbooks, but both have a tiny smile on their faces, as if sharing some secret meant just for the two of them. “No,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t say anything.”
It takes an incredibly special person to get Jeff Winger to share food. He claims he’s not in love with her? Sure - and Abed hasn’t seen every episode of Cheers.
Author: office_bluth
Spoilers: None.
Rating/Warnings: This is my first G-rated fic in, like, forever. This probably calls for a celebration.
Word Count: 1493.
Disclaimer: I don't own the show or its characters. Blah blah blah.
Author's Note: This was written for the Slam, based on the prompt "sharing is caring". Basically, I'm pretty much exhausted right now, and have every intention of sleeping late tomorrow...so I had to rush and get this up. I really hope I'm doing this right. I hope you enjoy!
It’s not much of a surprise to anyone when Jeff walks in ten minutes late, a giant bag of Skittles in his hand. They expect it by now - now they know that their “official” meeting times will really begin anywhere from ten to twenty minutes late. But at the same moment they all look up and see Jeff has graced them with his presence, they realize Annie’s not there - and this? Is more than surprising.
“Dude,” Troy breathes as Abed murmurs, “OOC,” whatever that is. Britta and Shirley are sharing identical looks of horror. Pierce, naturally, has no idea what’s going on.
Jeff leans back, resting his new designer boots on top of the table. “So. What are we doing today?”
Troy squirms a little. “Uh - No idea. Annie’s the one who keeps track of that.”
“Okay?” Jeff furrows his brow, then turns to Annie’s empty seat. “Annie, what -“
He quickly turns back to the rest of the group. “Annie’s not here.”
It’s more of a statement than a question. Actually, scratch that - it’s a demand, as if one of them can provide an excuse for her. Because, really, this kind of is inexcusable. Anyone else could be late and no one would bat an eye - well, except Shirley. But that’s mostly because she’s a mother, and all, and motherhood and punctuality just seem to go hand-in-hand. But Annie not being there? It simply doesn’t happen.
“I’ll call her dad,” Shirley says, fumbling around in her giant bag for her cell phone. “Maybe she was hurt.”
Abed nods. “I’ll call the bookstore,” he says. “Maybe she got called into work last minute.”
Everyone quickly descends into battle mode, designating who each person will call. Someone somewhere must know where Annie is - whether it’s her father, her boss, or her third cousin in Montana, the study group will find her, dammit.
After thirty minutes and six failed calls to members of the Edison family (two of whom were just chosen randomly out of the phonebook), they reluctantly decide to give up. “I guess she’s not coming,” Britta says, slumping back against her chair. “That’s just so…weird.”
The group nods in agreement - except Jeff. This doesn’t go unnoticed.
“Dude,” Troy says, “you could at least pretend to care.”
Jeff looks around in confusion. “About what? That Annie’s not here? What’s the big deal? You guys have missed meetings before and we didn’t feel the need to call in the National Guard.”
Everyone shakes their head in unified disgust. “That’s different, Jeffrey,” Shirley says, her voice icy. “This is Annie. You know she would never miss a meeting unless something was wrong. And don’t think I didn’t notice how you didn’t call anyone. You don’t want her to be found. She’s supposed to be your friend, Jeff.”
Jeff groans. “Okay, fine,” he says, not having the energy to deal with all this. “You guys are right. I’m a terrible person because I didn’t call anyone. Why don’t I call someone now?”
The group looks pleased by that. “Here,” Abed says, sliding a piece of paper across the table. “I don’t think anyone called her great-uncle’s neighbor’s babysitter - why don’t you take her?”
Jeff glances at the paper, then pulls out his cell phone. “Right,” he says, punching in a number. “Or I could - oh, I don’t know - call Annie herself.”
Everyone’s silent, as if they hadn’t considered that already. Knowing them, they probably hadn’t. “Oh,” Shirley says meekly.
Jeff fights the urge to roll his eyes. He waits for Annie to pick up - and waits - and waits. And then her familiar voicemail message is starting. “Hi! Don’t worry, I’m here! Thank you for calling! If you could please just leave me a message with your name and number. I will totally call you back, I swear!”
Jeff ends the call. Everyone is staring at him, almost on the edge of their seats. He takes a deep breath. “Annie - didn’t answer her phone.”
This, apparently, was the absolute worst thing to say. Shirley immediately bursts into tears, screaming something about murderers and praying for Annie’s soul, while Britta drops her head onto the table. Troy buries his face into Abed’s shoulder; the latter man’s face has gone blank, completely unfeeling, as if he’s just encountered something he can’t process.
In a completely unprecedented move, Pierce is the one voice of reason. “Oh, please,” he says loudly. “I don’t answer my phone half the time - do you all think I’m dead when I don’t answer?”
This comment is met with guilty silence. Britta turns to Jeff before Pierce can say anything more. “You have to go to her parents’ house,” she says. “Make sure she’s okay.”
“What? Why me?” Jeff asks.
Britta just glares at him. “You know why,” she says.
“Uh.” Jeff allows himself a tiny chuckle, as if to point out Britta’s insanity. “No, I don’t.”
Britta sighs. “Fine. You want me to say it?”
“Allow me,” Abed interjects. “Jeff, most characters have a huge epiphany at least once a season. Usually you can tell by the background music and the fact that it’s often a Very Special Episode - but this doesn’t seem like one,” he says, looking around. Then, thoughtfully, he adds, “Unless Annie really is dead. In which case, I’d better save this speech for when you have your epiphany at her funeral -“
“Okay,” Jeff says, frustrated. “One ,” he says, holding up one finger, “I am not a character, Abed. And we have lives, not seasons. Two -“ He punctuates this by raising another finger. “Annie’s not dead. Three - what the hell are you talking about?”
Abed sighs. “I can’t work with this. Can someone take over?”
Troy nods. “Dude. You’re in love with Annie.”
Jeff blinks. For the first time in his life, he’s speechless. “Uh - Come again?”
Shirley nods, her cheeks still tear-stained. “Don’t deny it, Jeffrey. We’ve all seen the way you look at her - it’s shameful, but…kind of sweet at the same time.” She turns to Abed. “How did you describe it?”
“Bad boy meets good influence,” Abed says automatically. “Like Landon and Jamie. Or Jess and Rory. Or Lindsay Lohan and Samantha Ronson.” He pauses. “Half of that is a gender reversal. My point remains valid. Also, I apologize for comparing you to Lindsay Lohan.”
“Guys,” Jeff says, setting his feet down and leaning forward, “I am not in love with -“
“With who?”
That wasn’t someone at the table. Everyone turns to the door.
“Annie!” Britta cries, jumping up to hug the younger girl, who gives everyone a look of confusion.
“Hi, guys,” she says, slowly working her way out of Britta’s embrace. “This is…a really enthusiastic welcome. What’s going on?”
“We thought you were dead!” Shirley cries.
“What?” Annie looks even more confused. “Why did you -“
“Because,” Britta says, sitting back down, “you were late, and you’re never late. And your dad didn’t know where you were, and Jeff called you, but you didn’t answer, and -“
“So you thought I was dead?” Annie interjects. “That’s…I mean, it’s really nice to know that you guys cared that much about me.” She beams at everyone. “But I’m allowed to be late, you know.”
“That’s what I said,” Jeff grumbles.
Annie makes her way to her seat, stopping just long enough to take a handful of candy from Jeff’s Skittles bag. The entire table goes silent - everyone stares at Jeff, waiting for his reaction.
He opens his anthropology textbook, then asks Annie, “What chapter were we up to? I think Duncan wants us to study the evolution of British flag dresses…”
“Candy,” Troy chokes out. “Annie took Jeff’s candy. And he didn’t murder her.”
It’s long been an unspoken rule in the group that you do not touch Jeff Winger’s food. Sandwiches, candy, even a glass of water - you don’t touch it. He claims it’s something about how he doesn’t eat often (then he makes a joke about how perfect his abs are, and then he expects whoever he’s talking to to laugh. Seriously. He will stare at you until you laugh. He once pulled up his shirt in the middle of an anthropology lesson just to show Troy his abs), and so therefore, when he does eat, it’s sacred. No one really cares about the reasoning anymore - all they know is, you do not touch his food.
Everyone, minus Jeff and Annie, exchanges a look, all silently wondering what to do. “Should we say something?” Troy murmurs to Abed.
Abed glances at Jeff, then Annie. The two have started reading their textbooks, but both have a tiny smile on their faces, as if sharing some secret meant just for the two of them. “No,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t say anything.”
It takes an incredibly special person to get Jeff Winger to share food. He claims he’s not in love with her? Sure - and Abed hasn’t seen every episode of Cheers.