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After everything settles and everyone has the chance to calm down, Annie looks around at the mess and can’t help but feel kind of guilty. Not only for all the yelling and accusations and judgements, but for how she’d forgotten that all these people were her friends. But also mostly for the yelling and screaming and judging.
She feels incredibly guilty about Frankie, especially. While the rest of the group had pretty much deserved a lot— if not most of—the shouting directed at each of them, not Frankie. Of course, the woman isn’t perfect but, if anyone in their weird, dysfunctional cluster is, it’s Frankie. It takes her a day to finally decide to apologise for her terrible behaviour.
Annie finds her in the corridor outside the office, sitting in the most lesbian stance with her knees apart and her elbows resting on individual thighs—but now is not the time, Annie, she reminds herself. Now is the time for caring about other people and not about some stupid bet. Even if it’ll win you some money .
“Hey Frankie.” she says in the careful voice usually reserved for Abed when she needs to explain some feelings-sensitive topic to him, sitting herself next to the other woman on the small ledge. The woman shuffles a little, making room, but doesn’t quite look up yet. “How are you doing?”
Frankie gives a throaty chuckle. Annie finds it attractive. Just a little. She’s awed at how Frankie’s alto always seems so low and raspy, yet completely in control. Distinctive and always heard, but rarely overbearing. It’s strangely… appealing. “Uh, that’s not my job?”
Annie looks at her and smiles, happy to find the other woman smiling back. “Well, you’re not a therapist, so no. And besides,” she continues, giving Frankie’s arm a soft, teasing pat, “it’s my job as a friend to care about your well-being. And one way to do that is by asking you how you are. So, how are you?”
“I’m okay,” Annie gives her a look, clearly saying she doesn’t believe her, and Frankie laughs again. “No, really. I’m okay. I think we all are starting to be.”
Sighing, she shrugs a little. “I’m sorry about your sister,” Annie says, finally breaking the silence. It hadn’t been all that bad though, she can tell Frankie’s a little lost in her thoughts. But still. She doesn’t really know why it’s the first thing she says, and she steadies herself for any type of reaction.
“It’s okay. It was, uh, it was a while ago.” But… maybe not the one where Frankie just lets out a breath of air and leans her head against the wall. She takes a moment to think about what to say.
“It still shouldn’t have come out like that… And,” she adds, still needing to apologise for this one thing, “we’re sorry for betting on you. Your sexuality shouldn’t be something for other people to talk about, and it wasn’t very nice of us.” At this point, the pout on her lips isn’t anywhere near her control, and she just lets it happen. Frankie doesn’t seem to mind though. Actually, she doesn’t even seem to notice.
“Uh, it’s… fine. A little exposing, sure. And definitely uncomfortable, but… yeah. It’s fine.”
“No, wait,” Annie says, placing a hand on the other woman’s, not ready to let Frankie push everything away just yet, “it’s not fine. You don’t have to forgive us, Frankie. We just want you to know we’re sorry.”
“So, you don’t want my forgiveness?” She seems honestly confused, and Annie finds it completely endearing.
“Well, we do! But, only if you really feel like you want to forgive us. Not just because it’s what I— we! want.”
“Alright… So, can I ask how the whole bet started?” Frankie asks, and looks at her. “I’m curious about it. Maybe you can tell me over coffee?”
“Oh,” and so Annie takes her up on that offer, and Frankie helps her up. And with just a little prompting from Annie, they link their arms together as they walk to the nearest cafe.
[And so she said, “I bet you she’d totally go for the masculine look if it wasn’t for the compulsory double standard of heteronormativity our society pins itself to. Even if you aren’t gay, when women dress masculine, they’re always ridiculed and scorned, but when she’s feminine she’s treated like a sex-toy…”
And everyone was like, Britta, what. But then she said, “Besides, Frankie could definitely pull off a crew cut.”
Frankie laughs. “Britta had me pegged as a butch?”
“Well, to be fair, I can sorta see it.”
“Me too. Maybe I should try the crewcut.” ]
It quickly becomes something of a routine. On Fridays, Annie and Frankie go out for a quick coffee, which turns into a slightly longer coffee, which eventually turns into dinner. It’s… enjoyable. She finds that Frankie puts her at ease, and she doesn’t have to worry about Frankie’s opinion of her or what Frankie thinks because the other woman is always so transparent with her. And she finds she doesn’t care that much anyway. Because Frankie likes her.
It’s not long before Annie realises she’s attracted to Frankie. She’s not stupid, after all, and she knows what attraction feels like. It’s just a little… surprising, and she catches herself doing things, reacting to things, because of the attraction she feels is quickly escalating into something different. Annie feels her breathing quicken when Frankie stands close to her. Her skin heats up when Frankie’s hand touches her own, or when her fingers brush her arms, or that one time when Frankie had stood behind her and helped get her hair unstuck from her necklace.
She imagines pressing Frankie’s lips to her own, tasting her lip balm on her lips, or the feeling of Frankie’s hair between her fingers. She has daydreams (and sometimes night-dreams) of Frankie pushing her up against the wall, kissing her frantically. Or sometimes, she thinks of soft mornings together, shared coffee and breakfasts with sleep in their eyes, and a different kind of longing wells up inside of her, makes her heart clench and her mind dizzy.
Here’s the problem: when Frankie doesn’t want you to know something, she makes sure you won’t. So, when Annie discreetly tries to determine whether or not Frankie likes her back , it’s mostly a bust. Sure, she looks at her lips sometimes, when Annie has maybe-not-so-accidentally overflowed them with water or something sweet, but she doesn’t think that’s of consequence.
Their easy relationship quickly bleeds into their lives at Greendale, of course. Frankie remembers her favourite food from their dinner place, which Britta is the first to pick up on when Frankie absentmindedly brings it to her for lunch. The blonde shoots her a questioning look, and Annie only shrugs back, hoping that’s the last of it.
Abed notices their closeness. He says it was only bound to happen considering their ‘natural chemistry’ and ‘similarity’ were ultimately factors that lead to this, and that he is curious to see which direction this relationship goes, considering in television, women’s relationships go one of three paths: rivals with an underlying current of something , a mother-daughter bond, or a distinctly non-heteronormative relationship surrounding a will-they-won’t-they. Whatever that means.
For some reason, the person their friendship affects the most is Jeff, who is almost reduced back to the man before Greendale: broody, don’t-give-a-shit, aloof, and completely egotistical and ignorant of his friends. Or, in the exact words of Abed when Annie talks to him about it, his season-one-self. Again, whatever that means.
There’s a weird tension between Frankie and Jeff now, and Annie can’t help but think she’s the reason for it. When she was sure Jeff was great friends with Frankie, he’s now always ready to get on her back, or blame her for the latest mess even though she’s had nothing to do with it. It’s starting to bother her, and the rest of their group has started to notice, too.
Whatever. As long as it doesn’t cause any problems, right?
Things blow up a few weeks later. She’s trying to organise a fund-raiser to help pay off one of the Dean’s latest bad financial decisions, and there’s a little bit of a scuffle. Jeff wants to help by doing… literally everything. And Annie’s not about to let him do that. It’s self-destructive.
“Annie,” he shouts at her, having had enough, and Annie can’t help but flinch, “you’re such a control freak! Just let me have this, go color-code some other useless thing and let me do all the work like you usually do!”
A commotion of people chastising some variation of Jeff’s name rings out amongst the group. Elroy looks disappointed, Abed confused, and Britta just looks sympathetic. Annie can’t take people looking at her like that, and she turns to leave.
“No,” Frankie says, angrier than Annie’s ever heard — even when all their privacy had been leaked — and she stops right at the doorway, turning. The other woman stands there, defiant, completely angry but somehow calm as well. “You don’t get to speak to Annie like that. I get it, okay, you’re going through some things and you’re frustrated, but don’t take it out on us. And especially not on Annie, not after everything you put her through.”
Jeff scoffs, and Annie feels bad for him. That’s not the Jeff she knows. “Everything I put her through ? Like what?”
“You manipulated her feelings, Jeff,” Frankie answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing. And it should have been, to Jeff. “Just like when you manipulate the Dean. Only Annie didn’t get so much as an apology, and the moment you don’t need her anymore, you disregard her. You give her hope only to pull it away without warning.”
“And how would you know all this?”
“Because she tells me things! And you people aren’t exactly subtle, let’s face it.”
“Oh, of course. I forgot, Miss Picture-Perfect, I-Fix-Everything Girlfriend!”
A pause. Jeff seems a little put out by his own outburst, and everyone else looks around at each other with wide eyes. Abed’s eyes are flitting around the room like it’s eight people tennis. Britta’s the one to break the silence. “Oh my. Oh my god Jeff, are you jealous ?”
“…No!”
“Well, good,” Frankie says, “because there’s nothing to be jealous of. We’re friends .” Annie ignores the strange tug the word gives her heart, ignores the sinking, sad feeling she knows all too well.
“You mean like Annie and me were?” Jeff’s on the attack again, and this is when Annie knows he’s jealous. Frankie and him are face to face now, almost nose to nose. She needs to have a talk with him. “Doing normal friend things in one moment, and making out the next?”
“ Drop it .” It’s dangerous, and if Annie were Jeff, she’d back off.
“What kind of friends go on weekly dinner dates?”
“The good kind, Jeff.” Frankie looks like she’s about to say more, but then thinks the better of it and takes a deep breath. “You know what, I’m not even going to engage in this. You, figure out whatever the hell is wrong and grow up . Your toxic masculinity is all over the place. You’re wrong, Jeff. I can’t fix everything, no matter how much I want to. I’m going for a walk.”
“Frankie,” Annie finally says, and Frankie turns to her with soft eyes. Her heart warms, and holds out her hand, but the other woman shakes her head, and Annie knows she’ll have to drop it for now.
When Frankie leaves, the mood in the room turns sombre. Everyone just stands around gloomily, unsure of what to do, and Jeff leaves too. Annie goes to follow.
“Uh, you’re gonna go too?” Britta asks, and Annie is honestly glad she cares so much. “Are you sure that’s a good idea, I mean…”
“I know Jeff, Britta. We all do. He’s not mean or possessive, he’s a good and loyal friend. So I’m gonna go talk to him.”
“But what about your girl—uh, friend . What about your friend?”
Annie ignores the slip up. “She’ll be okay. She just needs time.”
She finds Jeff in a little corner outside the side of Greendale, sulking a little with his head in his hands. “Hey buddy,” Annie says, and it pulls a small smile at the side of his lips. Playfully, she nudges his arms with her fists, and he moves away from her, leaning on the brick wall of the school. “C’mon. Jefferey. Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”
He sighs, turning towards her, but not quite making eye-contact. “Do you like Frankie?”
Annie shifts, confused, and lets out a bout of nervous laughter. “Uh, wow, Jeff, really letting your thirteen-year-old self shine, here.” She can see the way his eyes are focused in the distance, and she can tell that means he’s having another crisis. And this time, she thinks she knows what it’s about.
As if she hadn’t even spoken, he continues. “I mean, I get it. Why would you want me when you can have emotionally and mentally stable Frankie who cleans up all our messes — and Greendale — and who has her shit together, and is just generally a way better person than I am.”
Annie sighs, realising she’ll have to get serious to pull him out of this one. “Jeff. It’s not about that… And she’s not a better person. Just… different.”
“Then what is it about?”
Right now, Annie decides, is the time to be honest. To be actually honest. “I… I waited so long for you. Too long. A girl can only wait so many years, right?” She laughs a little self-deprecatingly, but continues, “I guess, I got tired of it, and I… I stopped being in love with you. You’re a great guy, Jeff, and I do love you but… but just not the way I used to. And that’s not anyone’s fault. Not yours, not Frankie’s, and not mine.”
Jeff sighs, rolling his head to look at her. “I guess you’re right.”
She nudges her shoulder with his, and he finally gives his Jeff Winger grin. “Of course I am.”
“Hey, Frankie.”
“Jeff.” He’d found her exactly where he knew she was going to be: in her office.
Heaving a sigh, he takes his hands out of his pockets and prepares himself to give an apology. Without liquor. “Listen, I’m sorry about all… that. I was being a jealous, obnoxious jerk, and you were right, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you… And especially not on Annie. Sometimes there are things that can change me back to who I was, pre-Greendale. And turns out, a situation Annie is one of them.”
Frankie only stands, clutching her folder to her side and lightly flipping her hair out of her face. “You’ve apologised to her?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Well then, we’re okay.”
“Where are they?” Britta says, huffing with her arms crossed. They’ve been waiting for the other three — Jeff, Annie, and Frankie — to come back. A quick glance out of the window confirms the lateness of the hour, and Britta huffs yet again.
“Well, wherever they are, I just hope they aren’t beating each other up,” Elroy adds.
Abed looks around. “Most likely, they’re having a series of meaningful conversations with each other which will be shown through cut scenes in chronological order. My guess is that Jeff and Annie will go first, considering they’ve known each other the longest and have the most emotional baggage.
And then it’ll be Jeff and Frankie because of the shock factor and also to illustrate how much Jeff has grown, particularly after the Jeff/Annie conversation. But it’ll most probably be underwhelming, taking their characters into account. And of course Annie and Frankie will go last, since their discussion will probably lead into the end of the episode once they establish the grounds of their relationship.”
Elroy only blinks, and Chang laughs in mockery at his 'stupidity' (which is what Britta thinks the man says under his breath). “What is he talking about…?”
“Don’t worry about it, Elroy, you’ll get used to it.”
“So, I thought I might find you here.”
Frankie smiles in spite of herself. “This is my car.”
“Hence why I thought I’d find you here.” Annie grins as she leans on the front door of Frankie’s car. She’d felt bad, at first, after talking with Jeff, but now she knows it’s for the best. He’ll get over it. At this moment, she knows the person she needs to worry about is Frankie, because she may not show it, but there’s a lot going on up there , and Annie’s got a mind to get her to talk about it.
Funny, Frankie seems to have the same idea. “So, are we gonna have that talk now?” She asks, and Annie blinks, having to make sure she heard that right.
“Uh, what talk?”
“You know which one I’m talking about,” Frankie says, and Annie nods. “The one everyone thinks we’ve already had, apparently.”
“Oh… That talk.” She shuffles, because this was not the talk she had in mind. Frankie walks closer to her, because she’d been about three meters away, and that was much too far. “Well, I don’t know what there is to talk about,” she lies. From the look on the other woman’s face, it’s painfully obviously not true.
“Annie,” Frankie says, and they’re almost nose to nose. Kind of like Jeff and Frankie were before, but this somehow feels more intimate, with a still, underlying tension. Annie would be lying if she didn’t know what that tension was. Irony, right.
“If you’re not ready to talk to me about it, that’s, that’s fine but, uh, I would like to say some things to you.” Frankie pauses, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. From this close, Annie can see her jaw clench, and she briefly wonders if that’s a normal thing at all. “I… really like you, Annie. You have a wonderful sense of self, and you’re unbelievably beautiful and intelligent and kind.” She opens her mouth like she wants to say more, but then closes it as if she doesn’t exactly know what to say.
“And, of course, I understand if the feelings are completely unrequited, and will maintain a professional distance as well as—”
Annie kisses her. It’s a soft, sweet thing, and Frankie manages to register what’s happening just quick enough to kiss her back for a fraction of a second, but it gets the point across. At least, Annie thinks so. Frankie’s just staring at her, with her most endearingly typical confused-shocked face, before it finally morphs into understanding.
“So you’re saying they’re not unrequited?”
As an answer, Annie only grins before pushing up on her toes and kissing the woman again. It’s a proper kiss this time, and she feels Frankie smiling into it, right as she gives in.
Slowly, Frankie’s hands move up to her waist, and she uses more of her weight to push Annie into the car. She groans quietly, though she’s sure the other woman heard it, from the way her hands grip tighter and her body presses harder.
They break away only to join again, and this time, Annie brings a hand into Frankie’s hair, and Frankie’s tongue asks for entrance from her lips. Freely, she gives it. It’s a wonderful experience, and Annie feels warm all over. “Frankie,” she whispers, pulling away, and almost forgets what she’s going to say as she stares into eyes that have gone so, so dark.
“And… cut!” Hold on... They break apart, flushing, and Annie glares at the nearest clump of bushes.
“ Abed !” He comes out of his hoard completely nonplussed, shrugging.
“Just making sure we have enough content for the next episode,” he says, and Annie and Frankie look at each other, smiling, breathlessly exhilarant, as he leaves.
“It’s, uh,” Frankie clears her throat awkwardly once they’ve stared at each other for quite a while. There’s still a slight tinge to her cheek, a darkness to her eyes, and a fullness to her lips, “it’s getting late. And cold.”
“You’re right.” Annie says, unable to keep her eyes from flitting downwards, bitting her own lip in turn. “We should probably get going. Your place?”
Frankie smiles, and despite their recent activities, Annie grows warm at the sight. But it’s a different kind of warm. “My place.”