A Tale of Rick and The Dude: Or, How Annie and Jeff Learn Each Other's Favorite Movie
Title: A Tale of Rick and The Dude: Or, How Annie and Jeff Learn Each Other's Favorite Movie
Author: fangirl_101
Spoilers: general season one; takes place immediately following “Science of Illusion”
Word Count: 3664
Rating: PG-13 for language, thoughts
Disclaimer: I own nothing *sad face*
This fic was requested by greta_garbo for her birthday. Here was a list of things she requested I include in the story:
Criteria:
-Troy and Abed: BrOTP
-Britta being awkward and awesome
-Jeff and Annie dancing
-Someone (or everyone) gets drunk
Seconds after “The Science of Illusion” ended…
Shirley goes over to uncuff Jeff so that he can join the massive group hugfest. There’s lots of crying, from everyone but Jeff and Abed, who can’t help but make a pertinent movie reference.
Come on now, what were you expecting? It’s Abed.
Abed studies his friends like a scientist does his test subjects. “The crying and group hugging going on here is just like any scene in a sentimental chick flick. Steel Magnolias, for example.”
“Oh god,” Troy chokes out, raising his fist to his mouth as he fights back a fresh wave of tears. He fails. “I love that movie.” He buries his face in Abed’s shoulder as Abed pats him consolingly on the back.
"This is an established character trait of Troy's. Most viewers would assume that being a football player means he shows no sensitivity or sentiment and keeps a tough, outer guard up constantly. His emotional outbursts show depth of character and that he does not conform to his presumed archetype."
“Wow, Abed,” Jeff says, breaking from the hug, which has been going on now for an uncomfortably long period of time for people who are not related. “That was a good movie reference. Britta would totally be Shelby.”
“No I wouldn’t!” Britta yells out, defending herself. “Wait… you’ve seen Steel Magnolias?!” she asks, looking at Jeff with a mocking glee that makes the comparison totally worth it. “I can’t wait to use this information against you.”
“You’re right. You are far too sadistic,” Jeff snaps back as they give each other equal glares of annoyance.
Troy manages to pull himself together as Annie hands him a tissue. “Abed, I love your constant pop-culture references to our lives. Call me your brown bear… please?”
“Can’t do that. As has already been established, Jeff is the John Dorian of our group, not me. They even have the same ‘I spent 30 minutes working on my hair to make it look like I just woke up’ messy hair thing going on that’s very popular in men’s metro styling right now-i.e. brooding vampires and American Idol contestants.”
At this, Jeff scoffs. “Please, this does not take 30 minutes,” he says pointing to his masterfully crafted locks.
Everyone looks at him, doubtful.
“OK, well… even so, my hair is WAY cooler than Zach Braff’s.”
“You’re my favorite vampire, Abed,” Troy says wistfully.
“Thank you,” Abed says as they fist bump, Troy with a goofy smile on his face, remembering that awesome day when vampire Abed first made an appearance, Abed… with no expression at all.
*******
So, what do people do after sharing their biggest insecurities and fears with their Spanish study-group buddies? They make plans to drink copious amounts of alcohol as a way of officially solidifying the come-togetherness and bonding of their emotional breakdowns. Why? What were you thinking of?
Generally, that’s what people do after unburdening and unloading all their emotional baggage. Right?
Jeff was going to suggest that they go to his favorite bar, Babylon. But since not everyone was 21, he stopped by the liquor store on the way home and bought enough alcohol to supply a frat party during dead week.
He got home in time to shove the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, do a quick wipe down of the bathroom and throw all the junk- that a single bachelor living alone accumulates- in his bedroom.
No one would be going into his bedroom, so it wouldn’t matter what it looked like.
He told everyone to show up at 9ish, emphasis on the -ish. Of course, Annie got there at 9:00 on the dot and was the first one, obviously.
“Hey,” she smiled up at him, with a hint of guilt in her eyes. It was the way her eyebrows quirked, the way she was chewing her bottom lip, and how her eyes didn’t quite meet his that Jeff knew she had something she wanted to tell him. He was getting really good at reading her body language, which was really coming in handy.
“Hi,” he gestures for her to come in and she enters slowly, glancing around with a burning curiosity she was trying to mask as only mild interest. This is her first time in his place. Jeff realizes this too and his stomach lurches. He really wishes he had done a better job cleaning up.
“Look Jeff, I just wanted to apologize for… you know… slamming your head into the table earlier… twice.”
Jeff touches his forehead and winces slightly at the still-fresh memory and the faint bruise that has started to show. “Yeah that was pretty bad ass of you. If it hadn’t been me whose face you were slamming into hard synthetic-wood surfaces, I would have been impressed at your moxie.” She smiles up at him again, this time it’s completely genuine and adorable. It’s Jeff’s favorite Annie smile. He continues in a playful tone: “But Annie, remember- this…” he drawls out the word, circling his face dramatically with his index finger, “is the moneymaker. So… never again.”
Annie giggles. Jeff smiles. Several seconds pass in comfortable silence.
“I also wanted to apologize… for frisking you, too,” she’s staring at a spot 3 feet from Jeff’s elbow. “I wanted to one-up Shirley with the whole ‘bad cop’ thing. And it was, you know, like… in the heat of the moment…” she looks down now, blushing furiously.
Jeff wants to say something like “Now that, you can do to me anytime you like,” but Annie was already painfully embarrassed and Jeff decided it sounded way too pervy anyway. He silently cursed the age difference between them. If only he was younger, or she older, he could say things like that without sounding like a potential candidate for a Dateline NBC special.
He can’t help it though. He’s staring at her full, cherry lips and all he can think about is the kiss they shared so many months ago, but which he’s never been able to get out of his mind. His stomach is in knots and his nerves fray when he replays the kiss in his head.
Several moments pass.
“Um, Jeff? Do you accept my apology?”
“Uh… What?” still looking at her mouth. “Oh yeah,” he shakes his head but can’t erase the taste of Annie’s lips from his memory or the tingling in his fingers, longing to reach out and touch her. “That’s ok. No big deal” even though it was the BIGGEST DEAL IN THE WORLD.
He raises his glance from her mouth to her eyes and she’s matching his gaze with a heated stare of her own. Panicking, Jeff wonders if she can tell what he’s thinking. Needing to say something, anything to break the electric charge of sexual tension tying them together, Jeff asks: “Can I fix you a drink?”
“Sure. But I don’t drink much. So I wouldn’t know what to ask for.”
“How about a white russian? We can quote the Big Lebowski while we drink, waiting for the others to get here.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve never seen that movie.”
“WHAT?!” Jeff asks in disbelief. “It’s like… a classic. How can you have never seen that movie?”
“I just haven’t,” Annie responds, amused that he has such a strong reaction to something as trivial as a movie. “I mean, it’s just a movie, I’ve seen plenty of others.”
“Stop right there. The Big Lebowski is not ‘just a movie’” Jeff responds, mimicking her. “We need to fix this. Now. Go grab my copy while I make us a couple of white russians.”
“You own it?”
“Of course I do, it’s my favorite movie.”
Everyone else arrives just as the movie is starting. They all squeeze in around the TV: Troy and Abed on the floor, sharing a bowl of popcorn, Pierce in the recliner, Shirley on a chair she grabbed from the kitchen, and Jeff, Annie and Britta closely packed onto Jeff’s couch.
Jeff suggests they play a drinking game (drinking after all, was the point of this gathering).
“Oh. A drinking game,” Shirley squeals and claps her hands. “How very college-y. I’m in!”
Everyone else agrees as well, and so Jeff pulls out six shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. The game goes like this: every time Walter yells “Shut the fuck up, Donny!” everyone takes a shot-except for Abed, who hasn’t touched liquor since the drunk-dial mishap when Jeff made him forget the name of that girl… from that movie… about detention… damn.
This is a very easy and potent way to get drunk.
********
After the movie is over, Shirley heads home to relieve the babysitter she conned into watching her sons.
“Shirley, you OK to drive?” Jeff asks from the couch.
“Oh yes, I stopped taking shots after the third ‘Shut up, Donny,’” she leaves out the ‘fuck’ part. "Besides, I can't leave that poor girl alone with my two little ruffians any longer."
Standing at the door, scanning over the scene she's leaving (Pierce fighting with his phone, Troy and Abed leaning against each other on the floor, eyes half closed, Britta- seriously drunk- trying, and failing to prop her head on her elbow against the arm of the couch, and Jeff and Annie happily squished against each other, closer than they need to be) she leaves them with a "Have a good rest of the night everyone," in that motherly 'I know more than I'm letting on and I can't wait to find out what happens after I leave. This is gonna be some juicy piece of gossip that I can't wait to hear and then lovingly exploit whoever it is' voice.
After five more minutes of trying to figure out his voicemail, Pierce says "Well, I have a very lucky lady who's waiting for me to rock her world… if you know what I mean..." he winks at Jeff, the only one listening to him.
“Are you heading straight over to pick her up, or do you need to stop off at an ATM first?”
“Oh Jeffrey,” Pierce laughs at him in a pitying ‘I feel sorry for you’ way. “I don’t need to pay for my dates. In fact, women would probably pay to date me! I’m a real catch,” he adds, straightening up and pushing out his chest in what he perceives is a very ‘warrior-hunter’ display of manly authority.
“Oh, they’re sure to catch something from you,” Jeff rebuffs in his famous sarcastically serious tone. “I’m guessing cranberry farmers personally send you gift baskets thanking you for their increase in revenue sales.”
“I don’t have to sit here take this kind of ridiculous, personal slander. I’m leaving!…
Annie, Britta,” turning to them both still sitting on the couch. “If you two feel like making out with each other tonight,” they both make disgusted, but not entirely unsurprised faces, because it’s Pierce, and they should always be expecting something like this, “please take pictures, or preferably a video of your lesbian dalliance.”
“Gross, Pierce,” Annie says.
“Yeah, knock it off, you pervy old man.”
“Now Britta, don’t go redirecting your anger from all your pent-up, unreleased lesbian urges on me. You know what they say, if you don’t unleash those urges, it will give you massive, uncontrollable mood swings. And since you’re already a B-”
“OK,” Jeff interjects, holding an arm in front of Britta before she lunges at Pierce (not that that wouldn’t be very entertaining to watch. But Britta’s pretty drunk and she would probably completely miss Pierce on the recliner, and instead take out his new stereo system-which would not be cool). “I think it’s time you go and enjoy your lady friend. … And check your medicine cabinet for any left-over antibiotics from your last ‘date.’”
A few minutes after Pierce leaves, Troy and Abed, who drove together, decide to take off as well. Troy was drinking as much as Britta, and even though he’s twice her size, he’s pretty much a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Abed is helping him walk, with Troy’s arm slung across his shoulders and supporting half of his weight.
“Hey Abed,” Troy slurs out sleepily. “Let’s go back to your dorm room and work on our next episode of… ‘Troy and Abed in the Morning!’” he tries to sing, but it comes out as more of a half-hearted yawn.
“Shhhh,” Abed whispers, calming him down and leading him through the door. “That’ll do pig, that’ll do.”
So now it was just Jeff, Annie and Britta, all still sitting on the couch, and for the first time that night, it became awkward.
“Britta,” Jeff turns to look at her, “you can’t leave yet. You need to sober up.”
“I know,” she moans into the arm of the couch, muffling a long and painful groan.
“Well, if it’s okay with you,” Annie looks at Jeff with those shy, doe eyes he’s powerless before (not that he’d want to resist them anyway), “I’d like to stay. I mean, I’m not tired. If I went home, I’d probably just turn on the TV.”
“Yeah! You should stay!” Jeff answers, maybe a little too enthusiastically for the late hour and for the fact that he and Annie are just friends.
She’s beaming at him now and Jeff can’t help but beam back at her. A low groan from Britta brings Jeff back down to reality and he turns on the TV and starts flipping channels.
“Wait! Go back!” Annie yells excitedly. Jeff goes back through the channels until he hears “Stop right there! Ohhh,” Annie croons. “Casablanca is on. And it just started. Oh, let’s watch it.”
“Yeah, alright,” Jeff says as he puts the remote down, happy to do anything that makes Annie this happy. “I’ve always heard it’s a good movie.”
“WHAT?!” Annie turns to him, aghast. “You’ve never seen Casablanca?” Jeff shakes his head. “It’s like… one of the greatest movies of all time!”
“Well then, let’s get to it,” Jeff flashes her a crooked grin and settles himself comfortably into the couch. Annie leans into his side slightly.
“This is so perfect,” she whispers. “I got to watch your favorite movie tonight-which is hilarious, by the way, (Jeff nods his approval) and now you get to watch mine. It’s like fate.”
************
A half-hour into the movie, Britta excuses herself and stumbles toward the bathroom.
“Fifty bucks says she’s puking up a storm in there,” Jeff leans over and whispers in Annie’s ear. She turns to answer him and their faces are so close their noses almost touch.
She smiles softly. “Shh, this is a good part, you don’t want to miss it.” But she rests her head on his shoulder and giggles softly anyway. Jeff tilts his head to the side, gently resting it on Annie’s. She shifts her arm, winding it to link with his. They continue watching the movie in this manner, totally comfortable, totally and completely blissful and totally unaware that they’ve forgotten all about Britta… and she’s been in the bathroom a long time.
The movie ends and Annie lets out a sweetly melancholy sigh. “Isn’t that just the best movie? Humphrey Bogart is just so sexy and cool, in an older man kind of way.”
“Yeah,” Jeff agrees. “He’s pretty smooth and sophisticated. I can see why women would want a man like him.”
“See, I think you’re more like him than like Zach Braff,” Annie wrinkles her nose and shakes her head slightly at Abed’s earlier comparison… and looks up at Jeff with wide eyes. Jeff is so thrilled that someone agrees with him about the Zach Braff thing, and with being compared to Humphrey Bogart, that he could kiss her. Hell, he could kiss her for a lot of reasons.
“Hhmmm,” she sighs contentedly. The end credits are rolling and “As Time Goes By” is playing. “I love this song.”
Annie didn’t mean it as any sort of hint, but Jeff reads her mind anyway and rises from the couch, extending his hand out to her.
“Milady?”
Catching on, Annie smiles hugely and accepts his hand. “Milord.”
Jeff gently pulls her from the couch and draws her near him, wrapping one arm around the small of her back and holding one of her hands inside of his. She places her free hand on his chest, directly over his heart, and they begin to dance. Annie rests her head against his shoulder and he presses his cheek against the top of her head. He inhales deeply and can smell her shampoo-vanilla and honey? He can’t tell exactly, but it smells wonderful. He takes another deep breath. They move in slow circles around his living room not saying anything. Just completely enjoying the moment.
Britta emerges from the bathroom and stops dead in her tracks, gawking at the scene before her. At first, she thinks that what she sees is imaginary. She’s incredibly drunk and could very well be hallucinating and/or dreaming. But with a good hard pinch to her outer thigh (which really hurt) she determines that she is not, in fact, hallucinating and/or dreaming and that this is really happening. Her shock and anger at first seeing them so adorable and romantic quickly fades away as she sees just how genuinely happy they both look. Even through her drunken stupor, she can practically see the sparks of electricity flowing between them as they dance, holding each other with incredible closeness and tenderness.
Deciding she doesn’t want to ruin their perfect moment, she adopts her best ‘Britta the Super Spy’ persona and tries to ‘Matrix’ her way to the door and slip quietly out of the apartment, with the two of them none the wiser. This plan works out swimmingly… in her head. Unfortunately, drunk Britta trying to be super stealthy has as much grace and balance as a bull in a China shop. Five feet from the door and already mentally patting herself on the back for a job well done, she trips over her own feet and runs into the table, knocking bottles and dishes to the ground.
“Britta!” Annie and Jeff both jump and yell in surprise, having completely forgotten she was still there.
Britta awkwardly straightens up and turns to them, feeling like a class A jerk for ruining their moment… and also feeling like she might throw up again.
“Hey guys,” she says lamely and apologetically.
“Britta,” Jeff takes a step toward her, finally releasing his hold on Annie and ready to wrestle-if need be-Britta’s keys from her. “You are still too drunk to drive.”
“No, it’s okay. I called a cab while I was in your bathroom… recreating the scene from ‘The Exorcist.’ Sorry for that, by the way.”
“It’s alright. But why don’t you wait for the cab in here?”
“No, no. I called for it a while ago. It’s probably here already. And if not, I’m just gonna lay my head on the sidewalk and pray for death to come relieve me of the massive hangover I’ll have tomorrow,” she adds jokingly… but half-wishing it could be true.
Jeff walks past her and opens the door to find a cab waiting alongside the curb. “Well, okay. Have a good night,” he adds, clearly enjoying the fact that she will be in massive amounts of pain tomorrow (Britta scoffs and glares at him-no, she’s never too drunk to not give Jeff a good glare). “Drink tons of water and call me if you need to get your stomach pumped.”
Britta mutters/slurs something like “Hilarious” as she makes her way out the door and down to the cab, only stumbling a few times before reaching the door and half throwing herself/half falling into the empty back seat.
Jeff closes the door and Annie is still standing exactly where he left her when their dance was unceremoniously interrupted by Britta’s wonderful sense of timing. If only she had waited a few minutes before stumbling out of the bathroom, or, better yet, had passed out in there, he could have finished his dance with Annie.
But now, she’s looking at the clock and says in a genuinely disappointed voice: “Jeff, it’s getting really late. I should probably go home before my parents totally freak out.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Jeff answers, matching her disappointed tone with one of his own. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Even though Annie parked right in front of his apartment and he could have just watched her make her way to her car from his doorstep, he makes the short trip with her. He wants to walk her, just so he can be with her that much longer. They’re standing in front of her driver’s side door and Annie is fiddling with her keys. She’s just standing there, staring directly in front of her (which puts her eye line right about at Jeff’s chest) not turning around to unlock the door, get in and drive away. Jeff can tell she’s thinking seriously hard about something, having an internal debate with herself.
“Franc for your thoughts?” he finally asks, bringing her out of her head. She smiles up at him adoringly, and he knows he just scored major points for quoting her favorite movie, and now one of his favorites, too.
“I think you know what I’m thinking,” she whispers, raising her determined eyes to his.
Jeff doesn’t even think. He simply acts. He grabs her roughly, yet gently, by the waist and pulls her to him for the deepest, most passionate kiss he can muster. Annie accepts his kiss without hesitation, flinging her arms around his neck.
“Oh yeah,” Jeff thinks, Annie’s body melting into his as the kiss continues. “I am totally Humphrey Bogart. This time, Abed got it wrong.”
Author: fangirl_101
Spoilers: general season one; takes place immediately following “Science of Illusion”
Word Count: 3664
Rating: PG-13 for language, thoughts
Disclaimer: I own nothing *sad face*
This fic was requested by greta_garbo for her birthday. Here was a list of things she requested I include in the story:
Criteria:
-Troy and Abed: BrOTP
-Britta being awkward and awesome
-Jeff and Annie dancing
-Someone (or everyone) gets drunk
Seconds after “The Science of Illusion” ended…
Shirley goes over to uncuff Jeff so that he can join the massive group hugfest. There’s lots of crying, from everyone but Jeff and Abed, who can’t help but make a pertinent movie reference.
Come on now, what were you expecting? It’s Abed.
Abed studies his friends like a scientist does his test subjects. “The crying and group hugging going on here is just like any scene in a sentimental chick flick. Steel Magnolias, for example.”
“Oh god,” Troy chokes out, raising his fist to his mouth as he fights back a fresh wave of tears. He fails. “I love that movie.” He buries his face in Abed’s shoulder as Abed pats him consolingly on the back.
"This is an established character trait of Troy's. Most viewers would assume that being a football player means he shows no sensitivity or sentiment and keeps a tough, outer guard up constantly. His emotional outbursts show depth of character and that he does not conform to his presumed archetype."
“Wow, Abed,” Jeff says, breaking from the hug, which has been going on now for an uncomfortably long period of time for people who are not related. “That was a good movie reference. Britta would totally be Shelby.”
“No I wouldn’t!” Britta yells out, defending herself. “Wait… you’ve seen Steel Magnolias?!” she asks, looking at Jeff with a mocking glee that makes the comparison totally worth it. “I can’t wait to use this information against you.”
“You’re right. You are far too sadistic,” Jeff snaps back as they give each other equal glares of annoyance.
Troy manages to pull himself together as Annie hands him a tissue. “Abed, I love your constant pop-culture references to our lives. Call me your brown bear… please?”
“Can’t do that. As has already been established, Jeff is the John Dorian of our group, not me. They even have the same ‘I spent 30 minutes working on my hair to make it look like I just woke up’ messy hair thing going on that’s very popular in men’s metro styling right now-i.e. brooding vampires and American Idol contestants.”
At this, Jeff scoffs. “Please, this does not take 30 minutes,” he says pointing to his masterfully crafted locks.
Everyone looks at him, doubtful.
“OK, well… even so, my hair is WAY cooler than Zach Braff’s.”
“You’re my favorite vampire, Abed,” Troy says wistfully.
“Thank you,” Abed says as they fist bump, Troy with a goofy smile on his face, remembering that awesome day when vampire Abed first made an appearance, Abed… with no expression at all.
*******
So, what do people do after sharing their biggest insecurities and fears with their Spanish study-group buddies? They make plans to drink copious amounts of alcohol as a way of officially solidifying the come-togetherness and bonding of their emotional breakdowns. Why? What were you thinking of?
Generally, that’s what people do after unburdening and unloading all their emotional baggage. Right?
Jeff was going to suggest that they go to his favorite bar, Babylon. But since not everyone was 21, he stopped by the liquor store on the way home and bought enough alcohol to supply a frat party during dead week.
He got home in time to shove the dirty dishes in the dishwasher, do a quick wipe down of the bathroom and throw all the junk- that a single bachelor living alone accumulates- in his bedroom.
No one would be going into his bedroom, so it wouldn’t matter what it looked like.
He told everyone to show up at 9ish, emphasis on the -ish. Of course, Annie got there at 9:00 on the dot and was the first one, obviously.
“Hey,” she smiled up at him, with a hint of guilt in her eyes. It was the way her eyebrows quirked, the way she was chewing her bottom lip, and how her eyes didn’t quite meet his that Jeff knew she had something she wanted to tell him. He was getting really good at reading her body language, which was really coming in handy.
“Hi,” he gestures for her to come in and she enters slowly, glancing around with a burning curiosity she was trying to mask as only mild interest. This is her first time in his place. Jeff realizes this too and his stomach lurches. He really wishes he had done a better job cleaning up.
“Look Jeff, I just wanted to apologize for… you know… slamming your head into the table earlier… twice.”
Jeff touches his forehead and winces slightly at the still-fresh memory and the faint bruise that has started to show. “Yeah that was pretty bad ass of you. If it hadn’t been me whose face you were slamming into hard synthetic-wood surfaces, I would have been impressed at your moxie.” She smiles up at him again, this time it’s completely genuine and adorable. It’s Jeff’s favorite Annie smile. He continues in a playful tone: “But Annie, remember- this…” he drawls out the word, circling his face dramatically with his index finger, “is the moneymaker. So… never again.”
Annie giggles. Jeff smiles. Several seconds pass in comfortable silence.
“I also wanted to apologize… for frisking you, too,” she’s staring at a spot 3 feet from Jeff’s elbow. “I wanted to one-up Shirley with the whole ‘bad cop’ thing. And it was, you know, like… in the heat of the moment…” she looks down now, blushing furiously.
Jeff wants to say something like “Now that, you can do to me anytime you like,” but Annie was already painfully embarrassed and Jeff decided it sounded way too pervy anyway. He silently cursed the age difference between them. If only he was younger, or she older, he could say things like that without sounding like a potential candidate for a Dateline NBC special.
He can’t help it though. He’s staring at her full, cherry lips and all he can think about is the kiss they shared so many months ago, but which he’s never been able to get out of his mind. His stomach is in knots and his nerves fray when he replays the kiss in his head.
Several moments pass.
“Um, Jeff? Do you accept my apology?”
“Uh… What?” still looking at her mouth. “Oh yeah,” he shakes his head but can’t erase the taste of Annie’s lips from his memory or the tingling in his fingers, longing to reach out and touch her. “That’s ok. No big deal” even though it was the BIGGEST DEAL IN THE WORLD.
He raises his glance from her mouth to her eyes and she’s matching his gaze with a heated stare of her own. Panicking, Jeff wonders if she can tell what he’s thinking. Needing to say something, anything to break the electric charge of sexual tension tying them together, Jeff asks: “Can I fix you a drink?”
“Sure. But I don’t drink much. So I wouldn’t know what to ask for.”
“How about a white russian? We can quote the Big Lebowski while we drink, waiting for the others to get here.”
“I’d love to, but I’ve never seen that movie.”
“WHAT?!” Jeff asks in disbelief. “It’s like… a classic. How can you have never seen that movie?”
“I just haven’t,” Annie responds, amused that he has such a strong reaction to something as trivial as a movie. “I mean, it’s just a movie, I’ve seen plenty of others.”
“Stop right there. The Big Lebowski is not ‘just a movie’” Jeff responds, mimicking her. “We need to fix this. Now. Go grab my copy while I make us a couple of white russians.”
“You own it?”
“Of course I do, it’s my favorite movie.”
Everyone else arrives just as the movie is starting. They all squeeze in around the TV: Troy and Abed on the floor, sharing a bowl of popcorn, Pierce in the recliner, Shirley on a chair she grabbed from the kitchen, and Jeff, Annie and Britta closely packed onto Jeff’s couch.
Jeff suggests they play a drinking game (drinking after all, was the point of this gathering).
“Oh. A drinking game,” Shirley squeals and claps her hands. “How very college-y. I’m in!”
Everyone else agrees as well, and so Jeff pulls out six shot glasses and a bottle of tequila. The game goes like this: every time Walter yells “Shut the fuck up, Donny!” everyone takes a shot-except for Abed, who hasn’t touched liquor since the drunk-dial mishap when Jeff made him forget the name of that girl… from that movie… about detention… damn.
This is a very easy and potent way to get drunk.
********
After the movie is over, Shirley heads home to relieve the babysitter she conned into watching her sons.
“Shirley, you OK to drive?” Jeff asks from the couch.
“Oh yes, I stopped taking shots after the third ‘Shut up, Donny,’” she leaves out the ‘fuck’ part. "Besides, I can't leave that poor girl alone with my two little ruffians any longer."
Standing at the door, scanning over the scene she's leaving (Pierce fighting with his phone, Troy and Abed leaning against each other on the floor, eyes half closed, Britta- seriously drunk- trying, and failing to prop her head on her elbow against the arm of the couch, and Jeff and Annie happily squished against each other, closer than they need to be) she leaves them with a "Have a good rest of the night everyone," in that motherly 'I know more than I'm letting on and I can't wait to find out what happens after I leave. This is gonna be some juicy piece of gossip that I can't wait to hear and then lovingly exploit whoever it is' voice.
After five more minutes of trying to figure out his voicemail, Pierce says "Well, I have a very lucky lady who's waiting for me to rock her world… if you know what I mean..." he winks at Jeff, the only one listening to him.
“Are you heading straight over to pick her up, or do you need to stop off at an ATM first?”
“Oh Jeffrey,” Pierce laughs at him in a pitying ‘I feel sorry for you’ way. “I don’t need to pay for my dates. In fact, women would probably pay to date me! I’m a real catch,” he adds, straightening up and pushing out his chest in what he perceives is a very ‘warrior-hunter’ display of manly authority.
“Oh, they’re sure to catch something from you,” Jeff rebuffs in his famous sarcastically serious tone. “I’m guessing cranberry farmers personally send you gift baskets thanking you for their increase in revenue sales.”
“I don’t have to sit here take this kind of ridiculous, personal slander. I’m leaving!…
Annie, Britta,” turning to them both still sitting on the couch. “If you two feel like making out with each other tonight,” they both make disgusted, but not entirely unsurprised faces, because it’s Pierce, and they should always be expecting something like this, “please take pictures, or preferably a video of your lesbian dalliance.”
“Gross, Pierce,” Annie says.
“Yeah, knock it off, you pervy old man.”
“Now Britta, don’t go redirecting your anger from all your pent-up, unreleased lesbian urges on me. You know what they say, if you don’t unleash those urges, it will give you massive, uncontrollable mood swings. And since you’re already a B-”
“OK,” Jeff interjects, holding an arm in front of Britta before she lunges at Pierce (not that that wouldn’t be very entertaining to watch. But Britta’s pretty drunk and she would probably completely miss Pierce on the recliner, and instead take out his new stereo system-which would not be cool). “I think it’s time you go and enjoy your lady friend. … And check your medicine cabinet for any left-over antibiotics from your last ‘date.’”
A few minutes after Pierce leaves, Troy and Abed, who drove together, decide to take off as well. Troy was drinking as much as Britta, and even though he’s twice her size, he’s pretty much a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. Abed is helping him walk, with Troy’s arm slung across his shoulders and supporting half of his weight.
“Hey Abed,” Troy slurs out sleepily. “Let’s go back to your dorm room and work on our next episode of… ‘Troy and Abed in the Morning!’” he tries to sing, but it comes out as more of a half-hearted yawn.
“Shhhh,” Abed whispers, calming him down and leading him through the door. “That’ll do pig, that’ll do.”
So now it was just Jeff, Annie and Britta, all still sitting on the couch, and for the first time that night, it became awkward.
“Britta,” Jeff turns to look at her, “you can’t leave yet. You need to sober up.”
“I know,” she moans into the arm of the couch, muffling a long and painful groan.
“Well, if it’s okay with you,” Annie looks at Jeff with those shy, doe eyes he’s powerless before (not that he’d want to resist them anyway), “I’d like to stay. I mean, I’m not tired. If I went home, I’d probably just turn on the TV.”
“Yeah! You should stay!” Jeff answers, maybe a little too enthusiastically for the late hour and for the fact that he and Annie are just friends.
She’s beaming at him now and Jeff can’t help but beam back at her. A low groan from Britta brings Jeff back down to reality and he turns on the TV and starts flipping channels.
“Wait! Go back!” Annie yells excitedly. Jeff goes back through the channels until he hears “Stop right there! Ohhh,” Annie croons. “Casablanca is on. And it just started. Oh, let’s watch it.”
“Yeah, alright,” Jeff says as he puts the remote down, happy to do anything that makes Annie this happy. “I’ve always heard it’s a good movie.”
“WHAT?!” Annie turns to him, aghast. “You’ve never seen Casablanca?” Jeff shakes his head. “It’s like… one of the greatest movies of all time!”
“Well then, let’s get to it,” Jeff flashes her a crooked grin and settles himself comfortably into the couch. Annie leans into his side slightly.
“This is so perfect,” she whispers. “I got to watch your favorite movie tonight-which is hilarious, by the way, (Jeff nods his approval) and now you get to watch mine. It’s like fate.”
************
A half-hour into the movie, Britta excuses herself and stumbles toward the bathroom.
“Fifty bucks says she’s puking up a storm in there,” Jeff leans over and whispers in Annie’s ear. She turns to answer him and their faces are so close their noses almost touch.
She smiles softly. “Shh, this is a good part, you don’t want to miss it.” But she rests her head on his shoulder and giggles softly anyway. Jeff tilts his head to the side, gently resting it on Annie’s. She shifts her arm, winding it to link with his. They continue watching the movie in this manner, totally comfortable, totally and completely blissful and totally unaware that they’ve forgotten all about Britta… and she’s been in the bathroom a long time.
The movie ends and Annie lets out a sweetly melancholy sigh. “Isn’t that just the best movie? Humphrey Bogart is just so sexy and cool, in an older man kind of way.”
“Yeah,” Jeff agrees. “He’s pretty smooth and sophisticated. I can see why women would want a man like him.”
“See, I think you’re more like him than like Zach Braff,” Annie wrinkles her nose and shakes her head slightly at Abed’s earlier comparison… and looks up at Jeff with wide eyes. Jeff is so thrilled that someone agrees with him about the Zach Braff thing, and with being compared to Humphrey Bogart, that he could kiss her. Hell, he could kiss her for a lot of reasons.
“Hhmmm,” she sighs contentedly. The end credits are rolling and “As Time Goes By” is playing. “I love this song.”
Annie didn’t mean it as any sort of hint, but Jeff reads her mind anyway and rises from the couch, extending his hand out to her.
“Milady?”
Catching on, Annie smiles hugely and accepts his hand. “Milord.”
Jeff gently pulls her from the couch and draws her near him, wrapping one arm around the small of her back and holding one of her hands inside of his. She places her free hand on his chest, directly over his heart, and they begin to dance. Annie rests her head against his shoulder and he presses his cheek against the top of her head. He inhales deeply and can smell her shampoo-vanilla and honey? He can’t tell exactly, but it smells wonderful. He takes another deep breath. They move in slow circles around his living room not saying anything. Just completely enjoying the moment.
Britta emerges from the bathroom and stops dead in her tracks, gawking at the scene before her. At first, she thinks that what she sees is imaginary. She’s incredibly drunk and could very well be hallucinating and/or dreaming. But with a good hard pinch to her outer thigh (which really hurt) she determines that she is not, in fact, hallucinating and/or dreaming and that this is really happening. Her shock and anger at first seeing them so adorable and romantic quickly fades away as she sees just how genuinely happy they both look. Even through her drunken stupor, she can practically see the sparks of electricity flowing between them as they dance, holding each other with incredible closeness and tenderness.
Deciding she doesn’t want to ruin their perfect moment, she adopts her best ‘Britta the Super Spy’ persona and tries to ‘Matrix’ her way to the door and slip quietly out of the apartment, with the two of them none the wiser. This plan works out swimmingly… in her head. Unfortunately, drunk Britta trying to be super stealthy has as much grace and balance as a bull in a China shop. Five feet from the door and already mentally patting herself on the back for a job well done, she trips over her own feet and runs into the table, knocking bottles and dishes to the ground.
“Britta!” Annie and Jeff both jump and yell in surprise, having completely forgotten she was still there.
Britta awkwardly straightens up and turns to them, feeling like a class A jerk for ruining their moment… and also feeling like she might throw up again.
“Hey guys,” she says lamely and apologetically.
“Britta,” Jeff takes a step toward her, finally releasing his hold on Annie and ready to wrestle-if need be-Britta’s keys from her. “You are still too drunk to drive.”
“No, it’s okay. I called a cab while I was in your bathroom… recreating the scene from ‘The Exorcist.’ Sorry for that, by the way.”
“It’s alright. But why don’t you wait for the cab in here?”
“No, no. I called for it a while ago. It’s probably here already. And if not, I’m just gonna lay my head on the sidewalk and pray for death to come relieve me of the massive hangover I’ll have tomorrow,” she adds jokingly… but half-wishing it could be true.
Jeff walks past her and opens the door to find a cab waiting alongside the curb. “Well, okay. Have a good night,” he adds, clearly enjoying the fact that she will be in massive amounts of pain tomorrow (Britta scoffs and glares at him-no, she’s never too drunk to not give Jeff a good glare). “Drink tons of water and call me if you need to get your stomach pumped.”
Britta mutters/slurs something like “Hilarious” as she makes her way out the door and down to the cab, only stumbling a few times before reaching the door and half throwing herself/half falling into the empty back seat.
Jeff closes the door and Annie is still standing exactly where he left her when their dance was unceremoniously interrupted by Britta’s wonderful sense of timing. If only she had waited a few minutes before stumbling out of the bathroom, or, better yet, had passed out in there, he could have finished his dance with Annie.
But now, she’s looking at the clock and says in a genuinely disappointed voice: “Jeff, it’s getting really late. I should probably go home before my parents totally freak out.”
“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea,” Jeff answers, matching her disappointed tone with one of his own. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
Even though Annie parked right in front of his apartment and he could have just watched her make her way to her car from his doorstep, he makes the short trip with her. He wants to walk her, just so he can be with her that much longer. They’re standing in front of her driver’s side door and Annie is fiddling with her keys. She’s just standing there, staring directly in front of her (which puts her eye line right about at Jeff’s chest) not turning around to unlock the door, get in and drive away. Jeff can tell she’s thinking seriously hard about something, having an internal debate with herself.
“Franc for your thoughts?” he finally asks, bringing her out of her head. She smiles up at him adoringly, and he knows he just scored major points for quoting her favorite movie, and now one of his favorites, too.
“I think you know what I’m thinking,” she whispers, raising her determined eyes to his.
Jeff doesn’t even think. He simply acts. He grabs her roughly, yet gently, by the waist and pulls her to him for the deepest, most passionate kiss he can muster. Annie accepts his kiss without hesitation, flinging her arms around his neck.
“Oh yeah,” Jeff thinks, Annie’s body melting into his as the kiss continues. “I am totally Humphrey Bogart. This time, Abed got it wrong.”