Chapter Text
::six::
Annie has decided: this semester is going to be a success. It's going to be productive, it's going to be peaceful, and it is NOT going to have any of the usual Greendale craziness. At the end, she'll have passed all her classes with top or near-top marks, and everyone will still be good friends. It's all going to go smoothly. She's visualizing it. She can see it. It is going to work. Nothing is going to go wrong. There will be absolutely no problems.
Except possibly the kissing.
No, no, that was just a lapse (a few lapses) of judgment and won't affect anything. They weren't important. They were minor misdemeanors, an easy mistake to make. This semester is going to be perfect, and anything that isn't perfect is just going to have to – to shape up or ship out. She has a good group of friends, close friends, an unstoppable team of friends, and so what if maybe sometimes she kisses one of those friends? So very much what? They can get through anything, they've proven that time and again, and a mere kiss (or kisses) is nothing in the grand scheme of things. After all, they've survived much greater relationship hiccups, it was only to be expected in a group of unrelated adults with nothing to stop any one of them from looking at any of the others as a sexual prospect. Not that she is going to have sex with him! It's just kissing! And besides which, they've basically stopped doing it. It hasn't happened for nearly a week (four days and three hours), now, so it's over.
Probably.
No, definitely. Definitely over. Finished. The temporary kissing lapse has passed, and just because a certain person keeps looking at her, that doesn't mean anything. He looks at her – so what? He looks at everyone, when he's not busy staring at his phone. It's called social interaction. It means nothing. She isn't going to read into things. And really, he'd looked terrified, after that first kiss (well, technically it was their third kiss, but the other two had been so long ago who even remembered them?), so isn't that a sign that it's a mistake? Yes. Yes, it is. And she is not dwelling. She's not thinking about the softness of his lips or the taste of scotch on his tongue (which brings up a whole separate concern that she's also not thinking about right now but that can't be ignored forever) or the frantic way he'd clutched her close. She might permit herself to think of the way he pushed her away, though, and the panic in his eyes when he stepped back. He'd basically grabbed the first excuse to flee the scene, after that. That's a good reminder of why a) it's a bad idea, and b) it doesn't mean what she'd once wanted it to mean, although b1) it doesn't matter anyway because she moved past that long ago.
And okay, so, well, after the first time they kissed (the evening after Chang's amazing – dammit – performance), he'd not looked terrified. No, the second time (kitchen, her apartment, post-party clean-up) he'd looked, well, kind of teeth-gritted and resolute and maybe a bit annoyed, and the third time (his office, middle of the day, she'd popped in to lend him a book) he been all kind of… ooh… confident and stuff – but that doesn't mean that he's changed his previous firmly-stated position and suddenly wants it to mean something or go somewhere. It just means… what? It means WHAT?
NO. No, she doesn't care. She isn't going to confront him about it, this time. She isn't going to fall into that same old trap. Because it doesn't matter, it's just a meaningless lapse, and it's not going to happen again, and she has better things to think about because this semester is going to be perfect and nothing is going to spoi—
"Annie?"
She jumps, and maybe shrieks a little. Looking around wildly, she realizes the rest of the group has gone. Only Jeff is left, and he's standing by the desk, staring at her oddly (hah! He has some nerve to imply that SHE'S the one acting weird!).
"Everyone left. You kinda zoned out, huh?" He gives her that crooked smile that absolutely does not make her heart beat a little faster every damn time. "Something on your mind?"
Is that… innuendo-ish? Is he innuendoing at her? Ugh, this is going to drive her crazy – and she's been crazy, so she knows whereof she speaks. "No," she says, as she slams her binder closed and stands up. "Should there be?"
"Uh, no. I mean…" He looks down, and then up, looking hopeful and bashful and nervous and smug, all at once. "Not unless you want there to be."
Annie stares at him for a long, long moment, trying to work out what he's playing at. "GAH," she concludes, throwing up her hands. "You know what? I'm not doing this." She slings her bag over her shoulder and grabs her books, tucking them into the crook of her arm. "I'm not playing this game, Jeff, because I just want to get through this semester like a normal person at a normal school and—" Wow, he's standing close, all of a sudden. "—not get involved in any of the usual study group DRAMA, because I don't have the time, I need to focus and…" She trails off. He's looking at her with this odd, intent-but-distracted look, as though he's focused exclusively on her and yet hasn't heard a word she's said.
"I'm not playing games, Annie." Or maybe he has. "This is me being honest for once."
What? What does that even MEAN?
But then he reaches out to stroke his fingers through her hair, ending with his hand gently cupping her jaw, and her mind? Goes totally blank. His other hand calmly takes her books and puts them on the table, his eyes never leaving hers. Then he unhooks her bag from her shoulder, and drops it on top of the books.
"Unless you have any objections, I'm going to kiss you now," he warns her, his voice warm and soft and low.
"Mnuh," she breathes, very coherently.
And then he's… oh… and then… ohhhh…
Damn it, it's happening AGAIN.
---
::two::
Wait. Stop. Rewind.
Jeff pushes Annie away from him, back against her car – which, given that he'd pulled her close in the first place, is maybe a bit rude, but he's kind of panicking? Noise spills out from behind them as the bar door opens and closes, and they both glance back, but it's a stranger, who pays them no notice. Nevertheless, Jeff pulls his hands away from Annie, and runs them through his hair. "Crap, Annie, I—"
He's not sure where he's going with this. He doesn't actually regret kissing her – he's wanted to do it since forever – but he's been telling himself for so long that he shouldn't that the instinct to feel guilty is automatic. He does regret doing it without some kind of plan in place, but it had just felt so natural. All evening he's had this happiness bubbling in his veins that had nothing to do with the alcohol he'd consumed, and everything to do with her little "Milord", and the way she smiled and took his arm... and ugh, could he sound any more like a teenager? But then, it's their little call-and-response thing, and it's significant that she actually responded for the first time in years, right? It has to be significant. So when he walked her out to her car, and she turned to him to say goodnight, he hadn't even thought about it – he'd just leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, like it’s something he always does.
She'd responded to that, too – boy howdy had she responded. Like every time, the moment they touch all bets are off and all considerations of age and location and audience and responsibility go straight out the window. From the start, there was never anything about kissing her that signaled to him, 'hey, you're kissing a teenager, maybe you should stop?'. No, she always kisses with confidence, like a woman who knows what she's doing and what she wants – and, god help him, it's so freaking HOT.
And now, of course, she's not a teenager. She's also not with anyone, or on the rebound, and he's not just fled from two (count them, two) public declarations of love, and they're not in front of an audience of a hundred students, three judges, and a creepy-ass mascot. They're both adults, friends who care about each other and have some crazy chemistry...
But. BUT. Does she even want this? Does he? Because this can't just be a fling, not with her, not with Annie, not with all their history and their friends and the way they've finally fought their way to some kind of equilibrium at last. It's all or nothing, and shit, she's still staring at him, and he's still not worked out what he wants to say.
"Annie, I—" And of course, this is when his phone goes. He glances down at it, and crap, he genuinely does need to take this; it's his mother and she never calls him at this time of night. "Crap, I have to take this. It's my mom. This is not me making excuses." He looks at her, willing her to believe him, but she just smiles tiredly. "Annie—"
"Go on," she says. "Take your call. I'll see you tomorrow."
He narrows his eyes at her, but his phone buzzes again, and there's no time, so he presses 'accept' and puts it to his ear as he turns away. "Mom?"
"Jeffrey? Oh, thank goodness you answered, I wasn't sure if you'd still be awake – your aunt had a bad fall, she's in hospital…"
As she continues talking, he glances up, but Annie's already in her car. She gives him a friendly wave as she pulls away.
Crap.