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Chapter Text

She flings her arms around him when she reaches him, and he closes his eyes and gathers her close, holding her lightly because he doesn't want to show just how desperately he wants to cling to her. He's missed her so damn much, this summer – which is ridiculous, quite frankly, given that they've spent entire summers apart before and he'd barely given her a second thought. He survived the majority of his life without her, but now, suddenly, he can't understand how. "Welcome home," he says.

"Thanks, Jeff," she says, and pulls back, eyes bright. "Oh, I brought you a souvenir – it's in my bag, so I can't give it to you yet, but you're going to love it!"

He's distracted from his amusement at her enthusiasm by the young man hovering nearby. Jeff gives him a look. "Sorry, do you mind, this is a private—"

"Oh, Jeff, this is Adam!" Annie grabs the intruder's arm familiarly, and pulls him forward. Jeff can feel his expression freeze. "Adam, this is my friend Jeff. Adam thought he'd tag along for a visit – he's got a couple weeks of vacation left before he starts at Quantico." There's a possessive pride in Annie's voice that curdles Jeff's stomach.

Adam holds out his hand. "Nice to meet you, sir," he says, a touch shyly. He's probably in his twenties, although he looks younger, with dark hair flopping over his forehead, soft brown eyes, a strong jaw, a pleasant smile, and freckles. His strong handshake belies his look of frail intellectualism. He's only a few inches taller than Annie, and standing together, they look like a scarily perfect couple.

He called Jeff 'sir'. Jeff feels sick.

"You don't mind, do you?" For a moment, he can't understand what she's asking. Mind? Does he mind? "I'm sure we can both squeeze into your ridiculously huge car, right? And Adam will be staying with me, so it's not out of your way."

He forces the words out through a constricted throat. "No, that's fine. Why would I mind?"

She peers at him, and then smiles brightly, not seeming to register that his heart is falling away in pieces. "Great! Thanks so much for picking us up, Jeff, we really appreciate it." The 'us' and 'we' sound like broken shards being ground underfoot. The moment drags out awkwardly, until he turns away abruptly and lurches towards the doors. When they grab their stuff and follow along behind him, he has to resist the urge to break into a run.

Chapter Text

It's during their monthly 'Greendale 5' Skype call (Annie set up a schedule so that everyone can get together, once a month, including Abed, Shirley and Troy) that she tells them: she's been offered a job with the FBI.

Britta's head instantly snaps around to him, and he has a feeling the rest are looking for his reaction too, which is maybe why he sounds so short when he responds. "That's great, Annie. You'll be fantastic." He means it, he really does, but Shirley purses her lips disapprovingly, even as everyone else chimes in with their congratulations. Annie doesn't seem to notice the disturbance in the Force. She's blushing modestly, delighted at their responses.

"I mean, I have to finish my studies at Greendale," she says, "but I can get that done in a semester, or two tops, and then I get to come back here permanently! Isn't that amazing?" It really isn't; the FBI would have to be monumentally dumb not to recognize a star in the making. "Don't laugh," she says softly, "but my dream is that, once I'm here, I can complete a graduate program, and then go on to Quantico."

Abed, of course, proposes that they all watch a series of FBI movies to celebrate, starting with The Untouchables.

They sign off one by one, until only he, Britta and Annie are left. Britta gives him a significant look, and announces that she's going to start dinner, and he's welcome to stay if he wants but it's tofu casserole. Jeff grimaces at Annie when Britta's gone into the kitchen, and she giggles. But then her smile fades.

"Can I tell you something?" she asks quietly.

He leans closer. "Of course."

"I've been applying for transfers to schools in DC," she confides. "And I've had an offer from Maryland. I can't pass that up - it's too good an opportunity. I know it's only a semester or two, but I really love it here, and I kind of want to get started right away, you know? And it'll be easier to find an apartment and all that when I'm already here. Don't tell the others just yet, will you?"

He swallows. "So, you're not coming back?" he asks, past the lump in his throat, remembering a similar conversation, so many years ago. But she changed her mind then, decided that - for the moment - Greendale was where she belonged. Maybe that had been his one chance. Maybe that was really when he let her go.

She shakes her head. "No. I mean, I'll come back for a couple of weeks before school starts to sort everything out, but... no. It feels like I'm meant to be here." She smiles dreamily. "There's something about this place - it's so alive. I've never lived anywhere like this."

It suits her. He can already see that. He can picture her going to school there, joining the FBI, working her way up, becoming part of something bigger and more important than anything he'd ever dreamed of doing. He'd known from the start that she was driven.

"I'm happy for you," he tells her, softly and sincerely. She smiles.

Chapter Text

He goes to visit her in DC, halfway through her internship. They haven’t really talked about the concept of 'them' since the kiss in the study room, but... well, he's kind of hoping something might happen. He's jittery the whole flight, bouncing up and down on his toes in line for the plane, restless in his seat - even the (tiny, terrible) scotch they serve doesn't take the edge off.

She meets him at the airport, and she's jittery too. The whole journey back to the small apartment she's renting, she can't sit still. She makes him feel welcome, gives him the tour. "This is the living room, and the kitchen. And that's my bedroom."

"Great." He throws his bag down next to the couch. It's really late, so he's just going to go to sleep, and start his vacation properly tomorrow. "So, do you have, like, sheets and stuff?"

Annie twists her hands together. "Um," she says, nervously. "Well, I was kind of thinking you might like to... share the bed?" Her voice goes squeaky at the end. He looks at her, everything stilling.

"You sure?" he asks, huskily - because he's not going to play dumb, he knows what she really means, and it's not about him being too tall for the couch.

She nods fervently. That's all he needs.

And... it's good. It's not great, but that's first-time sex, right? It's kind of awkward, and he feels a bit like he's taking advantage (those feelings haven't gone away just because she's 24 now) and a bit like he needs to live up to some kind of crazy expectations, and a bit like he's fucking his entire study group. She seems a little distracted, like there's stuff going on in her head, like she has a plan and is determined to follow it through.

Okay, it's kind of bad.

Afterwards, they lie together, tangled in her sheets, and don't speak. They both got off, so that was good, but... well, the next time will be better.

The next time isn't better. It's like they're desperately trying to follow a script, but neither of them knows their lines or understands their character's motivation.

They both have a glass or two of wine before their third attempt, and Annie has put on sexy red underwear, and he looks at her and all he can see is that goddamn Santa outfit. He sighs, and her shoulders droop.

"It's not working, is it?" she asks, sadly. "Is it me? Am I trying too hard?"

"No! No, you're amazing," he hastens to assure her, because she is. "I think it's just... us."

She comes to sit beside him on the bed. "We missed our chance, didn't we?" she asks. Jeff puts his arm around her, and leans his cheek on her hair. He kind of wants to cry.

Two days later, he gives her a platonic kiss goodbye at the airport, and brushes back her hair. "I wish..." he says, but can't find the words to finish the thought.

She nods bravely. "Me too," she says, wistfully.

Chapter Text

The night before Annie and Abed leave, they get together to have a proper celebration. They all gather at Jeff's apartment, because the new subletters are moving in tomorrow and Britta doesn't want to have to do too much cleaning. Frankie is there, and Craig, and Chang - not Elroy, because he's in California, but Shirley joins them for a while on Skype. There is much carousing, and a lot of sentimentality - which in Annie's case is kind of unwarranted, because she'll be back in ten weeks, so it's probably Abed's fault that it all feels like an ending.

At some point, he's reached that stage where he's relaxed and happy but not sleepy or sick yet, and he wanders off to the kitchen to get... he's not even sure, he just heads that way. It's a coincidence that Annie happens to be in there, too. He reaches for a clean glass in the cupboard above her head, even though he doesn't particularly need one, and he can see her breathing pick up as he looms closer to her. And he remembers that they kissed earlier this week - she asked him to kiss her, in fact - and can't seem to make himself move back.

She's leaving tomorrow. She's leaving tomorrow, and something in him believes that he may never get this chance again. So he kisses her.

It's not like the previous kiss. This one is hard, desperate, passionate. He pours everything into this kiss, and she responds like gasoline to a lit match, pulling him close with no gentleness whatsoever, grabbing his head, trying to inch herself up his body. He presses her back against the counter, and she uses it to lever herself higher - and god. God.

A noise from the other room makes them break apart at last, and they realize what they were doing, just a few feet from all their friends. Jeff gazes down at her, panting, and when she bites her lip, he groans softly. "If I murder them all...?" he suggests. Annie quirks a grin, almost looking like she's contemplating his proposal - one of the many things he loves about her.

"You're not going to murder our friends just so we can have sex," she says, practically. "Think of the mess."

"I'm not sure I could catch Abed anyway," he says.

She shakes her head, and he moves back slightly to let her drop to the floor, figuring this will just be another one of those moments that he looks back on and wonders how they didn't manage to make it work when they're JUST SO DAMN GOOD TOGETHER. "Well, that settles it," she says. "You'll just have to come back to my place."

He stares at her - but apparently she's completely serious, because she takes him by the hand and pulls him out of the kitchen and through the living room, towards the front door. Their friends - all of their friends - stop to look at them. "Where are you guys going?" asks Britta.

"Um," says Jeff, but Annie just keeps going - out of the room, out of his apartment, all the way down to the front of the building, where she sticks her hand out, and a cab appears, like she's fucking magical. "Um," says Jeff, again. "Annie, they're all going to know--"

"I don't care."

Well, okay then. He figured he ought to check. When they climb into the cab, he pushes her against the far door and kisses her like he's drowning and she's oxygen.

They've packed a lot of stuff into boxes, especially Abed (his dad is going to pick it all up and take it down when he goes to visit), so the apartment looks bare. Her room is cleared of knick-knacks and frills, all the things that made it 'Annie'. On the other hand, it's much easier to push her onto a bed free of pillows and stuffed animals to have his wicked way with her.

He'd always thought it was a load of crap, the idea that sex could be so much better when you love the other person. Turns out he's been wrong all these years. Suddenly he gets the point of all these emotions sloshing around inside of him and turning him into someone he barely recognizes: to put it frankly, the sex is PHENOMENAL.

After two rounds - because once was nowhere near enough to sate either of them - he collapses breathlessly, barely managing to roll himself to the side and not squash her. She throws a hand up to her head, eyes closed. "Oh my god," she pants, gratifyingly.

"Yeah," is all he can come up with.

"That was... wow." He's fucked all her five-dollar words out of her. Awesome.

"Yeah." His brain is still stuck in those last few moments, where he was as close to her as he could physically get, arms and legs around each other, joined at hips and mouths, pressed so close, and so unwilling to part even a millimeter, that all they could do was rock together, communicating without words, in sync as ever...

Wow indeed.

She rolls over and props herself up on one elbow to look at him, and he braces himself for what he knows is coming: the Relationship Discussion. He just needs to get through it, smother his skepticism about commitment, and this could be it, Annie could be his (long-distance, ugh) girlfriend, and perhaps *cough*thewomanhemaybepossiblycouldimaginespendingtherestofhislifewith*cough*.

Under years of cynical veneer, he can distinctly feel his heart fluttering.

"We'll be okay, won't we?" she asks, watching her hand as it traces patterns on his chest. "Now that we've put this particular urge to rest. We haven’t completely screwed up our friendship?"

Record scratch. "Um," he says.

Annie sees his hesitation, and her face falls. "Oh god," she moans. "We have! We've ruined everything!"

"No, no – we're good, it's fine, it's all okay," he says in a panic, pulling her close and rubbing a comforting hand over her back. "I just – I kind of thought you might want this to mean something." He hates how pathetically needy that sounds.

"It does! It totally does, this was, you know - wow, Jeff Winger in my bed at long last." She infuses it with her most star-struck tones, but he can't really enjoy the ego massage she is - for once - freely offering. "But I'm going away tomorrow," she says, sitting up again to look at him. "And I know it's just for the summer, but it's kind of a major thing for me, you know, and I have to focus on--"

"I get it," he says hastily. "Honestly, it's okay, you know me. I just... I wasn't sure we were on the same page with this." He's pretty sure they still aren't. Shit. This isn't supposed to happen. This is why he shut down all his feelings in the first place.

She looks closely at him, and he schools his face into betraying nothing. Eventually she smiles tentatively, and leans forward to give him a remarkably chaste kiss, given the circumstances. "I'm glad," she says. "Your friendship is really important to me, Jeff. I'd never want to lose it."

"Yeah," he says, feeling hollow inside. "Me either, Annie. I wouldn't want anything to ruin that."

Chapter Text

Ten weeks later, she comes back, full of stories and enthusiasm, already pumped for the next semester. They kept in touch regularly via Skype and Twitter, so it doesn't feel like too much time has passed them by. In a way, Jeff was glad to take a step back, get some perspective on this thing - because Greendale has a habit of making everything feel too intense, too world-ending, too far removed from reality.

He's glad to find that he still feels the same about her at the end of the summer as he did at the start. So, when she gets back, he asks her out on a date.

She's shocked - but she says yes. She says of course, like she's been waiting for him to ask her out for years now.

After that, he does everything right. He manages to keep his hands off her for precisely two dates, but as soon as they fall into bed, all bets are off. They are insatiable. Britta bans them from her bar; Craig has to tell them more than once to keep it off campus - or at least nowhere the students might walk in. It's glorious, and it never seems to get any less so.

Two semesters later, she finishes her second bachelor’s degree, and starts on the classes she needs to earn her third, a Bachelor of Education, working her way to becoming a teacher, like him. Jeff catches some of her enthusiasm, and picks up a couple more classes, starts to take them a bit more seriously. He actually prepares syllabi. He actually CALLS them syllabi.

It takes her a year to complete her degree. On her graduation day, he asks her to marry him. She cries and laughs and says yes, yes, of course, yes.

Craig jumps at the chance to have Annie as a teacher. She takes the staff room by storm. Within a year, the worst culprits, the Greendale holdouts, are gone, and have been replaced by new, efficient, proper teachers, with actual qualifications and a burning desire to impart knowledge to their unsuspecting pupils. Greendale begins to creep up the rankings, and within a second year, it's almost unrecognizable as the college he first attended. The dean hardly knows what to do with himself. Jeff is forced to put effort into keeping up - but Annie helps him out with that, of course. He stops drinking during the day altogether; he just doesn't have the time. He's focused.

They get a house and a dog. The nursery is painted in "Rope Swing" (kind of brownish) and "Willow Tree" (pale green). She takes a year off to have the baby, but she keeps abreast of everything that's going on in 'her' college nevertheless. Sebastian is brought in to visit so often that he might actually have qualified for an old-school Greendale degree - Jeff stupidly tries to argue for this, one night, and then has to Winger-speech his way out of sleeping on the couch.

When he turns fifty, she's thirty-three, and getting hotter with every passing year. She's an amazing, loving mother (if slightly neurotic and competitive). She's dragged Greendale kicking and screaming into respectability. She's built him up until he can actually run into his former colleagues and hold his head high. He's not quite sure how he managed to end up here, but he's not going to argue. He's living the dream.

And he's naggingly aware that something is missing.

He ignores it for a while, but he's gotten better at this shit over the years, so eventually he admits to himself that there's something not quite right with Annie. He starts to watch her, trying to get a clue as to why she doesn't seem to shine as brightly as she once did. She seems happy, on the surface. She's certainly busy, juggling work and an energetic five-year-old. Does she need a break? But no, Annie has never thrived on inactivity - if anything, she's at her best when she has too much to do. For a while, he contemplates suggesting they try for another kid, but really, he's fifty now - and besides which, he doesn't want to use a child as a bandage. He might not be the world's best parent, but at least he knows that much.

It's not until they take their first trip out of state as a family - to visit Abed in LA - that he figures out what it is. Abed is doing really well, he has a short film that's up for a Sundance award, and they're all thrilled for him - but there's something brittle about Annie's congratulations, sincere though they are, that makes it click for him: this was what she wanted. Not Abed, and not the premiere in a small but surprisingly packed Hollywood theatre (Abed has a cult following, go figure), but the life. She could have been out there, experiencing excitement and challenges, could have been doing something truly amazing - but instead she chose him, and a quiet life in Greendale.

He's worried about her. He's also weirdly jealous of that part of her heart that will never belong to him, that will forever be her own, wanting to make something of herself, wanting to be the best. He knows it's selfish to want her to be totally focused on him and their life together, but at least he's owning it? And he firmly tells that part of him to take a back seat and shut up. She's selfish, too – or at least she was. He can't actually remember the last time she did something that was just for her.

He misses selfish Annie.

He doesn't know whether to bring it up. He always said she'd be president one day, and she's president of the PTO - representing both sides, natch - but he suspects that's not quite the same. He knows she could never regret Sebastian, but what if she'd made a different decision, all those years ago - would she have been happier? She could have found some way to have a kid and a real career, something that mattered to her, he's sure of that. Hell, she probably still could, it's not too late. Really, the only thing holding her back... is him.

He keeps watching her, worried that she's going to figure it out, take Sebastian, and go find her real life. Worried that she's never going to figure it out and never really be happy. Worried that he's going to ruin everything by worrying about this. He watches her, and waits for it all to implode. Knowing that, when it does, it's going to rip the heart out of him for good this time.

Chapter Text

Annie's flight is delayed, so he spends an extra two hours in the airport, drinking coffee and pacing and running every possible season 7 pitch through his head for how this might go.

None of them end well.

He almost convinces himself that she's not really coming back and just hasn't figured out how to tell him, so by the time she finally emerges from security, he's worked himself up into a state of apprehension like he's never experienced before. She walks towards him with her rolling suitcase, looking neat as ever despite the long journey, and gives him a warm hug. He thinks he returns it, but he feels numb and disconnected, like he's having an out-of-body experience. Her smile is bright and happy, lighting her up like she's in love, and he glances around surreptitiously for any potential boyfriends who might be hovering nearby.

"Sorry you had to wait, there was a suspicious package in Dulles that turned out to be someone's lunch," she says – but her grin fades when she gets a good look at him. "Jeff, are you okay?"

No, not really, he wants to say. He's lightheaded, and he feels sick. The airport lighting is simultaneously too bright and too dim. Everything feels wrong. "I can't do this," he blurts out. He can't think of a single scenario where this works out okay for him or for them, and he can't – he can't—

"Seriously, you don't look good. You're really pale. Are you sick?"

He can't breathe.

"Okay, we're just going to go over here for a minute. Come on. That's right."

With her hand on his back to steer him, he stumbles... somewhere, he's not sure where. Everything kind of whites out for a while. He just wants the world to stop spinning - he wants to find a quiet corner and curl up in a ball until it all goes away. God, what's going on? Is he having a heart attack?

"It's okay, Jeff. You're okay, but I think you might be having a panic attack."

Shit, is that true? This is humiliating – just when he thought he couldn't be any more pathetic, he has to go and freak the fuck out because he's terrified that every possible future, with or without her, is doomed. He wants time to stop where it is – he doesn't want to go forward, he doesn't want to find out which particular way this is going to hurt, because he's afraid that there'll be a whole new nightmare scenario that hadn't even occurred to him. He doesn't know how to brace himself.

"Just sit down here, Jeff. That's good. I've got you."

Is this a panic attack, or is he actually having a heart attack? He's heard that they can feel the same, but what if it actually is a heart attack, what if his body is betraying him too? What if this bag of meat he's been trying his whole life to hone and perfect is really just so much decaying fat and gristle?

"Ohgodohgodohgod." He curls in on himself, certain now that he's going to die. The only thing tethering him to reality is the hand in his hair, and the other one that strokes down his back as he lists sideways and tries to make himself as small as possible. He doesn't even know what he's afraid of, any more. Everything. Everything, is a pretty good guess.

"You're okay. Everything's fine. You're okay."

"Fuck," he mutters. He presses further back into whatever he's lying on. "Annie, don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere, Jeff. I'm right here, I've got you."

"Don't go, don't go, don't go," he mutters, irrationally afraid that she's going to abandon him here in this hellish place.

"I'm here, and I'm going to take care of you. Do you understand? You're safe, and I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Just breathe. Breathe slowly. Listen to me. Do this with me, Jeff, okay? Breathe in... one... two... three... four... five... and breathe out... one... two... three... four... five... Come on, Jeff, breathe with me. One... two... three..."

He's not sure how long he lies there, trying to focus on her words, but after some time, he finds he's responding to the gentle commands, breathing in time with her instructions, and his mind is beginning to slow down. Blinking his eyes open, he finds himself staring into her blue eyes.

"Hey there," she says softly, giving him a smile when she sees that he's come back to her.

Slowly, it's like his senses come back online, and he becomes aware that they've moved to a quieter part of the airport, some kind of expensive-looking side room, and he's lying on a bank of low chairs, with Annie seated on the floor in front of him. He can feel one of her hands in his - he's holding on to it for dear life. He's exhausted, like he's just finished a marathon. He could sleep for a week.

"Annie," he croaks.

"That's me," she agrees. When he moves, she helps him to sit up, and hands him a plastic cup of water, which he downs in two gulps. As if he's a child, she takes the empty cup from him and sets it down.

He realizes that there's someone hovering, and his heartbeat kicks up a notch, until he registers that the guy is wearing a green uniform. It's a paramedic. He can feel his face burning. "Great," he says. "How much of a scene did I make?"

"Oh, it was a very quiet panic attack," says Annie, reassuringly. "Very dignified. And you got us into the United Club lounge, so there's that." She strokes a hand through his hair, and he instinctively leans into it, closing his eyes.

"Looks like you've got this one handled," says the paramedic, approvingly. He moves forward, and Annie moves up to sit beside Jeff, not letting go of his hand. Jeff eyes the man distrustfully. "I just want to check you over, Jeff, is that okay?"

"I'm fine," says Jeff, really wanting to be left alone.

"I can see that. But just so I don't have to lie to the boss about giving you the once-over, okay? I'm Jorge, by the way."

Grudgingly, Jeff allows the man to do his job. He's quick and efficient, chatting comfortingly, confirming that Jeff has no history of heart problems (hell no), or panic attacks (no, this is a thrilling new development), and asking if he's currently on any medication (Jeff eyes Annie, sighs, and then 'fesses up to his anti-cholesterol pills). Jeff knows his responses are part of the assessment, and manages to play along, now that the writhing pit of weasels in his brain have calmed down a little. This seems to please Jorge, who quits pointing lights into Jeff's eyes and packs up his stuff.

"No more caffeine for the rest of the day," he advises. "That includes Coke. Just sit back and relax, okay? They say chamomile tea is best, but personally I prefer a beer and the game on TV. How are you getting home?"

"I'm driving," says Annie, firmly. Jeff opens his mouth to protest, but thinks better of it, and just nods.

"Good. Let her pamper you," Jorge says, with a grin and a wink at Annie. "You've got the perfect excuse to be lazy for the rest of the day, so take advantage of it." He glances around at the business class lounge. "Take advantage of this place, too, for a bit longer," he suggests. "It's really cushy in here. I hear they have free pastries in the main lounge. If anyone asks, tell them I said it was for medical purposes."

Once he's gone an awkward silence fills the room. Jeff stares at the floor, eyes tracing the annoyingly asymmetrical pattern on the carpet. He feels really tired, and wishes he was at home, alone, with that beer. "Sorry," he says, finally. "Some welcome home, huh?"

She nudges him with her shoulder. "But I should be flattered, right?" she says, a smile in her voice. "I mean, I don't usually have that much of an effect on guys." Oh, she totally does, but he's not going to tell her that right now. He's fairly sure he knows what's coming next: she'll want to talk it out, and although he really, REALLY doesn't want to, he suppose he owes her— "Come on, I'll drive you home."

...Or she could just drop it.

---

The smell wakes him. Pizza. Pizzapizzapizza. His stomach grumbles, and he cracks open one eye. Early evening sunlight is coming in at a steep angle through the windows in his living room, golden as it edges towards sunset, which means it's probably around 7pm and he's been asleep for maybe an hour – which doesn't explain why he feels like a cartoon character with sleep-dazed scribbles on his face and a grey dust cloud over his head. And he drooled on the cushion. Super attractive. He blinks rapidly, and rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. Movement catches his attention, and he turns to where Annie is curled up on the other couch, legs tucked under her, pizza slice in one hand, book in the other. A little pang of longing goes through him at how comfortable she looks there.

"Hey," he croaks.

She looks up. "Jeff! Hi! I hope you don't mind, I ordered dinner – I was starving, and there was nothing edible in your fridge. What even is spirulina and why is it that color?"

He shoves himself upright. "Gimme," he says, reaching out a hand towards the pizza. Then he pauses as his bladder makes itself known. "No, actually, hold that thought." He dashes to the bathroom to pee, and then splashes cold water on his face and gives his teeth a quick brush, feeling much more human when he emerges. "Now gimme," he says, grabbing the pizza box and dropping heavily onto the couch beside her, so she has to scramble to keep her slice away from her book. "Ooh, banana peppers."

He inhales the first slice without even thinking about calories for once, and then a second one after that. He chews the third slice more slowly, and finally registers what's weird in this situation: she hasn't gone home.

"You're still here," he observes, eyeing her sideways. "Didn't you want to go home, make sure Britta hasn't burnt the place down?"

She shrugs, as if it doesn't matter when she gets back to the apartment she hasn’t seen in ten long weeks. "Eh. I would've had to get a cab, and it didn't seem worth it. I called and told her I'd landed safely and that I'd be home later." She rolls her eyes, and he doesn't ask her to elaborate. He really doesn't want to know what Britta thinks about the whole messy situation. "Besides, I wanted to make sure you were okay."

He grimaces. He'd been trying hard to block all thoughts of his earlier meltdown in the middle of DIA. "I'm fine." He doesn't know why he does that – pretends everything's okay when it's clearly not. He's not fooling anyone.

Annie doesn't even bother to acknowledge his attempt to head off the conversation. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Not really." He glances at her, sighs, and reaches for a paper napkin and one of the bottles of water she put out on the table. "But I can see that's not going to be an option."

"Not unless you want me to call a group intervention," she threatens with a smile, and he groans. ANYTHING but that. "Jeff..."

"No, no, you're right, I need to talk," he says, fairly. "Just let me bitch about it first, okay?"

Annie grins, and waves a magnanimous hand. "Okay. Complain away."

He draws in a deep breath, but finds he has nothing more to say. "Wah, wah, I'm Jeff and I'm emotionally constipated, et cetera," he says in quick summation, and then goes with the Band-Aid Pain/Velocity Theory. "I don't really know why I freaked out. I was thinking about the future, and I guess I got a little too swept up in my what-if scenarios.."

Annie nods understandingly. He can see she's been practicing her active listening. "Were you worried about anything in particular?"

"No." Jeff leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees, trying to move away from her calm, clear gaze. "Okay, maybe," he hedges. Annie waits patiently, in silence. Well, two can play at that game, he's not going to be the first to crack, he was using that trick on clients before she was out of high school, he's not going to speak just to stop the awkwardness building up betwe— "Fuck, Annie, I want to be with you so much, but I can't because someday you'll realize I'm terrible for you and you'll leave me," he blurts. There's a long silence. He glances at her, and actually... "You don't look surprised," he observes. Startled, maybe, but not surprised. He groans, and buries his face in his hands. This is how it's going to play out, then. "You already know I'm terrible for you," he concludes, "and you weren't planning on starting anything with me."

"Jeff--"

"No, no, this is better," he says feverishly. "At least this way it's not the scenario where you divorce me and take the kid." Oops. He might have said too much. He risks another glance at her, and she's giving him a very funny look. "Can we pretend I didn't say that?"

"Do we need to have a talk about you wanting to play house with me?" she asks. He recognizes the words, and gives her a pained smile. Very funny, ha ha. Annie grabs his hand and tugs him around to face her, charitably glossing over his lapse. "Look, Jeff, I don't know what kind of future you played out in your head - except that it sounds quite elaborate - but I have some experience with this and I can tell you one thing: it's your anxieties talking, and your anxieties don't know crap. You have to remember that none of it is real, okay?" She holds his gaze until he nods reluctantly and looks down at his hands. If he keeps telling himself that, maybe someday he'll believe it. It helps that she believes it. "And you should probably know," she adds, after a deep breath, "that I'm not planning on not starting anything with you."

It takes him a second to parse the last sentence, and when he does, his head lifts up, and he finally really looks at her. She blushes a little, but meets his gaze courageously.

"I'm willing to give it a shot if you are," she says. "I wasn't planning on saying it so soon, but I was going to say it, because I think we've waited long enough. And if things go wrong, we can tackle them together. When we've worked together, has anything ever managed to stand in our way?"

He gives the question his honest consideration, and a little of the tension leaves his shoulders. "Never," he admits. Whenever it's been the two of them against the world, the world has blinked first, every time. He wouldn't bet against them.

"There's one possibility you don't seem to have considered," she says, leaning closer. He feels his heart rate pick up again, but in a much more pleasant way. "The possibility that nothing will go wrong and that it would be... wonderful."

"I want to believe you're right," he says, slowly. "I want to believe that you're not just a crazy optimist who sees the best in everyone and everything - and," he adds quickly, before she can interrupt with the protest on her lips, "I want to believe that's just my fear talking, trying to push you away."

Annie has this look: calm, clear, challenging, non-judgemental. It cuts right through him, every time. It's like she sees him, really sees him, and accepts him, and she's just waiting for him to catch up. "Either way," she says, "it comes down to one question in the end: is it worth the risk?"

She's right, he realizes. He can't ever know for sure whether it's all going to go to hell, or if they'll ride off into the sunset and be together forever. All he can do is decide whether the potential for future pain is worth... her. And when she's sitting there beside him, giving him that look, there's really only one answer.

He reaches up to stroke a hand through her hair, trailing down to cup her jaw. Her eyes widen dramatically, and it might almost be funny if he wasn't so fucking scared. He shifts closer, wordlessly asking permission, and she tilts up her face to his without hesitation. As he leans in, she closes her eyes, her unending faith in him flooring him all over again. He really needs to kiss her now.

With his lips just brushing hers, he pauses. "I'm counting on you to prove me wrong," he whispers, and feels her answering smile.

"Every time, Jeff," she replies.

He closes his eyes and surrenders.

---

Twenty minutes later, he pulls his hand out from under her top and rolls back against the couch, breathing hard. "My parents better not find us like this when they come home, or they'll never let me have girls in my room again."

She ducks her head towards his chest to hide her smile, and smoothes a finger down the placket of his shirt. "Come on, babe," she says, in her best horny-teenage-boy-trying-to-get-laid voice. "Hands over clothes only? I promise I won't tell anyone at school." She toys suggestively with his top button, and Jeff flashes back to Hector the Well-Endowed. Christ, that had been an eye-opener. Troy had not-so-subtly taken notes at the time, but Jeff had waited until after the game to sneak away and type some pointers into a file on his phone. He shifts, hyper-aware of the warmth of her body next to his, and clears his throat. If he's not careful, she is going to seduce him right out of his resolve. He puts a hand over hers, enclosing it, and shuffles down so they're lying face-to-face.

"I can't believe I'm about to say this, but I'm trying to be good here," he complains quietly. She pouts. "There's nothing I'd like more than to take you to bed right now." She closes her eyes and presses her lips together, breathing in deeply through her nose. Apparently she's pretty keen on that idea, too. "But maybe we should take this slowly?" He's not about to voice the thought that he's in kind of an emotionally-vulnerable state this evening, but he's pretty sure she knows that already.

She sighs mournfully. "I guess," she says, and he's already beginning to doubt the wisdom of his decision, because damn, she's in his arms and she's willing and he wants this more than anything... but the fear of screwing everything up is lingering, nevertheless, and he just knows that he wants to wait.

"Let me do this right," he asks softly - and when she gives him that soft look, he knows she's already said yes, but he continues nevertheless. "I'm not aiming for perfection, but I think we can do better than pizza on my couch after you've spent a day traveling and I've just had a minor breakdown in the airport." He brushes his nose along hers, and she gives a tremulous sigh. "I wanna seduce you," he whispers.

"Okay," she breathes. "Yeah. That would be... nice."

He presses a kiss to her parted lips, and then wraps his arms tightly around her and pulls her close. Annie gives a happy little sigh, and for a while they just lie there in contented silence.

She's the one to break it. "So... kids, huh?" she asks.

Jeff groans. He'd been hoping she'd forget that. "Kid, singular," he says. "And can we not talk about it?"

"Okay, okay," she agrees. She's silent for all of three seconds. "Boy or girl?"

"Annie..." he whines.

"I'm just curious!"

He knows she's not going to let this go. "Boy," he admits.

"Aw! That's a really big step for you, Jeff – I'm so proud of you." She rubs a hand over his back. "You know that I'm absolutely not getting pregnant this side of thirty, right?" she adds, brightly. "I mean, it's beyond adorable that you're thinking about it, but my next five years are completely booked solid."

"Thank god," he says fervently, but for a moment he pictures it: a tiny, crinkled hand wrapped around her finger, her wide blue eyes and his nose in miniature, a chubby-cheeked face gazing up at her in wonder... "GAH."

"What?"

He shakes his head. "Can we go and do something sophisticated and pointless?" he begs. "I need to pretend for a while that I'm still a slacker with no feelings."

"Don't worry, Jeff – some people will always think of you that way." She rolls off the couch and holds out her hand. "Come on. Let's go to Britta's bar and order cocktails she doesn't know how to make."

"Perfect," he sighs, letting her pull him up. "Thank you." He keeps hold of her hand as they head for the door, and although she gives him a teasing smile, she says nothing about it.

"So did this imaginary boy have a name?"

"Annie..."

And they (and they are a 'they', except for a few minor blips when Jeff lets his issues distort his perspective) lived happily (although happiness is a very subjective concept, and Annie always preferred 'busy' to 'happy' anyway) ever after ("...for as long as you both shall live?").