Strategies in Conflict Resolution (Part 2/2)
Title: Strategies in Conflict Resolution (2/2)
Summary: Alternate Ending to 2.10, Mixology Certification
Characters/Pairing: Ensemble; Jeff/Annie
Word Count: 4578
Spoilers: Up to Mixology Certification.
Rating: R/NC-17.
Disclaimer: Dan Harmon's kind of a raging dick, but he technically owns the characters.
Part 1
Jeff left the bar with every intention of putting Annie in a cab home - he’d been halfway through his third scotch, and was probably teetering on the unlawful side of driving himself - but as he stepped outside, he found that she’d already managed to stomp her way halfway down the block. “Annie!” She didn’t stop, so he jogged after her, “Annie, wait!”
“No.”
“C’mon, look, I feel horrible, I do. Let me at least put you in a cab home, OK? “ He reached out for her arm, which she jerked away, refusing to look at him.
“There’s no point,” she bit out shortly. “I don’t live far.”
“Really?” He looked around, surprised. “Annie, this is a terrible neighborhood.”
She scowled but said nothing, marching determinedly forward.
“Fine, no cab, but I’ll walk you there.” No response. “In what clearly will be awkward, angry silence,” he sighed, running a hand through his artfully tousled hair.
Annie was livid, and the cool night air was doing nothing to calm her. She doubted it was entirely the vodka - she hadn’t had that much, after all - but it was probably fuelling her flush of anger, embarrassment, and the solid dose of righteous indignation. How dare he humiliate her like that? How dare he condescend to her like that? Who did he think he was, lecturing her, like she was some stupid little girl - and bringing up her past mistakes? It’s not like Jeff Freaking Winger had made such stellar and unimpeachable life choices himself, the patronizing prat. The sheer, unadulterated nerve of him! Her self-righteous fury kept her warm in the brisk air, carrying her all the way to the front door of her building. She took the front steps two at a time, wanting to get to her apartment as soon as possible to have a good, old-fashioned tantrum in the privacy of her living room. Annie’s colorful collection of stress balls were going to take a beating against the walls tonight.
Jeff stewed in silence as Annie pointedly ignored his presence. Jeff Winger didn’t enjoy stewing, at all. Stewing in this case, especially, had the distinct flavor of guilt and regret, two of his least-favorite (and before Greendale, least-experienced) emotions. They pricked at him incessantly, with every step, and he felt himself growing defensive and annoyed in response - he’d yet to develop a mature and healthy way to process these new and inconvenient byproducts of character growth - and he began scowling to himself. He’d said he was sorry, dammit, and was what he’d done really so bad? Did he really deserve the full-out silent treatment? He glanced around, looking for a distraction, and grimaced. Seriously, this neighborhood was the living definition of “dodgy” - what the hell was a girl like Annie doing living in an area like this? Why the hell did her parents let her live here? Was she doing it to irritate and rebel against them in some stubborn bid for independence? That was probably it - he glanced down at her, frowning, and getting even more annoyed - it would be just like her to live in the worst area of town just to prove a fucking point about her independence and adulthood.
He stopped shot when she began taking the steps of a dilapidated walk-up, and gave the building the once-over. “Jesus, Annie, you live here?”
She whirled around, eyes flashing, and snapped, “Yes, Jeff, I live here.” Without another word, she pushed the front door open and stepped inside. Jeff hesitated a moment, but took in the shouting and the sound of plates breaking from a window above his head and determinedly pushed in after her.
Annie heard him come in behind her and rolled her eyes. “Jeff, you can go now.”
“I’m making sure you get into your apartment safely.” He eyed a couple of teenage boys loitering at the end of the hallway before he and Annie scaled a short flight of stairs. They leered at Annie’s ass, and only blinked at Jeff’s threatening stare, high as kites. Yeah, no. No good.
“Annie, you can’t live here.” Another pointed non-response as she fished her keys from her purse, so he persisted: “This isn’t safe. Not for a girl by hers-”
“Jeff, for one thing, I’ve lived here as long as you’ve known me. I’ve been just fine.“ She stabbed her keys into the lock, perhaps pretending that it was his eye instead, and then wheeled around to level a glare directly into his eyes. “For another, I. Am not. A ‘girl.’” She shoved open her door for emphasis, and without thinking, Jeff followed her inside to debate the point, automatically deadbolting the door behind him.
“You’re goddamned close enough. Is that what this is about? Are you living here to prove some stupid point to your parents? Are you risking your actual safety out of sheer idiotic stubbornness? You’re the goddamned perfect target for any sleazeball who-“
Annie turned on him, eyes bright, cheeks pink. “Jeff! I’ve had enough condescension and lecturing for one night, alright? Get out. Leave.“
“No. We’re talking about this.”
“And by ‘talking about this’, you mean ‘Jeff yelling at Annie about her poor judgment and questionable life choices’, right?” Annie derisively tossed her purse to the counter and turned back to him, arms crossed, daring him to do just that.
Jeff glared right back at her. “If that’s what it takes to get you to listen to sense, yes. There is absolutely no reason that you need to be living here, Annie, you have options-”
“Do I? Oh, do I, Jeff? Tell me more about my life and my ‘options,’ Mr. Winger.” She jabbed a finger in his chest. “I’m doing just fine - I mean, at least I’ve never had to live out of a car. What right do you have to lecture me about anything?”
Jeff grit his teeth, striving for patience. “Annie, I’m just concerned and looking out for you.” God, wasn’t that perfectly obvious? She could be so goddamn infuriating.
“But what business is this of yours? Where exactly do you get off telling me what to do, or where to live, or anything? Is this another ‘Greendale parent’ thing?” Annie snorted at the look on his face. “Oh, it is.” Her anger now burning bright and cold, making her feel decidedly bold, the ghost of Caroline Decker whispering in her ear. She removed her pink cardigan and sidled closer to Jeff, a challenge lighting her eyes. “You’re not my father, Jeff.”
He didn’t like where this was going. Danger, Will Robinson! “Annie-“
“You’re not my father,” she repeated, “but you keep acting like you are. How about we talk about that?” Self-preservation instincts had him taking a step back, but she followed until his back was to the door, doe eyes glittering with determination and daring, as she pointedly brushed her chest against his. Jeff froze - he even stopped breathing. “What deep-seated desire could possibly be making you to act so unnaturally paternal, Jeff? “ His eyes bounced frantically from her chest to her eyes to her mouth and back again as she smirked and breathed into his ear, “Do you just want me to call you... ‘Daddy’?”
Jeff’s brain short circuited - man is evil, men are monsters that crave young flesh, that precocious little bitch -and something in him - self-control, morality, sanity, whatever - splintered and snapped. Lightning-fast, he had her up on the counter, hips pressed between her legs, hands fisting in her hair. “Yes.” And damning himself to hell, he launched himself at her.
Annie’s small, quick sound of surprise faded as they attacked each other. Far from the sweet, solid embrace of the spring, this was a dance of urgency and jangling need and his hands impatiently tore at the buttons of her blouse (it’s possible a few popped off) as she wrapped her legs around his waist and ground against him, mouth hot and open and wanting under his own. She marveled at his taste - scotch and caramels, sweet mixed with bite. Freed from the constricts of her own shirt, she began to relieve him of his - clothes, why were they wearing so many clothes, there needed to be less clothes - and her eyes rolled back as he attached his mouth to the base of her neck, the rough scruff scratching against her skin in the most wonderful way and sending shivers down her spine. This was what she’d been missing. Annie gasped and jerked against him as he licked, then bit - yes, this. His hands were everywhere - her shoulders, her back, her breasts, her face - and she felt hot and dizzy and she couldn’t breathe and she never wanted it to stop, ever. She tried to absorb everything, and went with her instincts, running her hands up his back - oh god, the muscles, the shoulders - and raking her fingers down his spine when his clever, impatient hands streaked up her skirt to relieve her of her tights (and underwear) in two quick, rough movements. And as he rounded third and moaned her name, she realized that she was about to have sex with Jeff Winger on her kitchen counter and it should feel sleazy and dirty and wrong and it maybe it kind of did - but in a good way, a way that also felt so unbelievably, amazingly right, and, making the decision, she determinedly went for the clasp of his jeans. Far too many clothes.
Screw the scotch - Jeff was drunk on Annie: the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her skin under his hands, and for the first time in his life he felt he might understand what addiction truly meant because he could not stop, would not stop, not even if Shirley and Britta appeared and pointed a gun at his head, he was too far gone. He’d gotten Annie down to her bra - red, God help him- and stripped her of those goddamned tights and was reveling in the glorious feel of her thighs and hips and ass under his grasping hands. He devoured her mouth, skimming his hand up her thigh - only to have the air back up in his lungs when he found her slick and wet and unimaginably tight. All his blood instantly ran south, and he groaned - “Oh, god, Annie” - and thrilled when she went to relieve the pressure in his pants - when she took him in hand, the world spun three times, and he very nearly embarrassed himself like an overeager teenager.
Teenager. Jesusfuck, he was about to make it with little Annie Adderall. He opened his eyes and tried to get his bearings but completely lost them again when he saw her face - her perfect Disney face - flushed, mouth wide, staring down at her hands, gently stroking him; her eyes flicked up, dark and intense, made eye contact... and unconsciously licked her lips. And Jeff was gone - overwhelming waves of want in his stomach instantly morphing into a hot, sweaty, desperate ball of need, all thoughts of finesse, of style, flying out the window. Jeff blindly pushed Annie’s hands away, pulled her hips forward, and entered her in one swift, resolute thrust.
Annie cried out - in surprise, not pain - and arched her back; Jeff paused, closed his eyes, and took a moment to absorb this sensation of being buried in her - heaven, bliss - while her body stretched to accommodate him. Dazed, Annie made eye contact, and he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulling her close, while the other hand cupped her jaw. His eyes flicked from her eyes to her mouth, as he began to move inside of her, curling his fingers into her hair, building up to a fast, steady rhythm, as her eyes began to drift closed and she began to make the absolute sexiest keening noises, all low and breathy, as she ground back against him. “Jeff, oh god, Jeff -“ He felt her first explosion building and increased his pace, fastening his mouth to her neck, biting, and moving a hand down to grip her hip and massage her clit with his thumb. She jerked - “Jeff!” - and he growled in her ear: “Come, Annie. I want you to come once before I fuck your hot, sexy body against the wall and really make you scream.”
Annie’s wide blue eyes flew open, but the words had their intended effect - she convulsed and exploded over him with a cry, and within seconds, Jeff spun around and had her pinioned against the wall, one hand firmly cradling her ass with easy, eerie strength as he thundered into her, sending her up and over a peak again. Annie gasped and clung to Jeff’s shoulders for dear life, feeling like she was on fire, electric aftershocks tingling through her body. Her head rapped against the wall, and she barely noticed, or cared. Sweat began to drip off their bodies and Jeff adjusted his grip, using both arms - one at her waist, one at her shoulders - to mould her body to his, slick skin pressed to slick skin, him panting in her ear a mixed series of curse words and grunts and endearments and groans, cupping the back of her head, burying his face in her hair - honeysuckles, he thought briefly - as he sent them both careening off the cliff into oblivion, stars bursting behind his eyes.
They slowly both came back to themselves, dazedly trying to recoup; Jeff had slumped over slightly, one arm braced against the wall, the other slung under her hips, panting while blinking the dots out of his vision - Jesus, had she fucked him blind? His vision finally cleared a few minutes later, and he moved to take stock of Annie’s state. Disheveled hair, swollen lips, and a slightly shell-shocked but sated - and distinctly adult -look in her eyes that rewarded his ego rather nicely. She smiled tentatively, and he grinned back reassuringly, pressing a soft, slow kiss to her lips.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“So that happened.”
“Finally.” He nuzzled her neck, oddly comfortable for a guy holding a half-naked woman up against the wall. He absently plucked at her crinkled skirt, but felt no impulse to pull himself from her warm, soft body. “I don’t think I had time to mention this, or anything else before, but God, you smell amazing.”
“Thanks.” Her hand drew lazy circles down his back. “That was...”
“The most incredible sex of your life?”
She smirked. “Yes, but that’s not exactly saying much, in my case.”
“It is in mine, and I’m saying it.”
He could feel her blush. God, she was adorable. He kissed her ear and went back to her mouth, resting his forehead against hers.
“So, since you’re such an old hand in these matters... What now?”
Jeff saw the tension wrinkle that formed in between her adorable eyebrows. She wasn’t talking about the literal “now”, as in the “how do I disentangle myself from your delectable bod*”, but the “how will we handle this potentially awkward situation with our relationship intact?” To reassure her, he bussed a kiss to the tension wrinkle, smoothing it out, then one to each rosy cheek. He rubbed a gentle palm up and down her back. “Right now? Well, now that we've... taken the edge off, I think we jump in the shower, and you can fill me in on all the other kinky, evil things that have been floating around behind that oh-so-innocent Disney princess face of yours, and then we spend the next few hours doing our best to act them out.” That elicited another smirk, and he kissed the corner of her mouth. “And then, I think we come up with a plan to tell our wonderful, well-meaning friends to mind their own damned business. After all,” he deadpanned, with a quirk of his eyebrow, “It’s not like they’re your parents, or anything. You’re an adult, and can date whomever you please.”
Annie gave him a slow, delicious smile. “Why, Mr. Winger, I do believe you’ve finally caught on to what I’ve been saying all along.”
“What can I say? You’re very formidable and convincing.” Jeff straightened and began to carry her into the bathroom. “You’re not going to be able to use this argument against the others though, so we’ll have to get more creative.”
*Hat tip: blatant steal (/homage?) from _carly_ from her awesome fic here.