Title: Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction
Author: Carly
Characters/Pairings: Everyone, Nick/Jess, Schmidt/Cece
Spoilers: Up to 2.22
Ratings/Warnings: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own New Girl. No give me cookie.
Summary: When Jess gets the boys to help her with a creative writing task, fiction suddenly becomes non-fiction.
Notes: My first attempt at a long-ish fic for this show. This was fun!

Nick glanced at the clock on the DVD player as Schmidt paced around the kitchen, muttering furiously to himself. "It's been half an hour," Nick said under his breath to Winston, who was sitting across from him on the sofa. "What are we going to do? I'm getting car-sick watching him and there's no beer left in the fridge to dull the pain."

"There's no 'we' in this," said Winston, sipping on a juice box. "I've already spoken to him twice and both times I got a crazy-person lecture. It's your turn, man."

Sighing, Nick twisted his body so that he was facing Schmidt, frowning when he noticed the new addition to the sullen man's attire. "What's with the eye glass, Schmitty? Is there a party in the 1800s we're late for?"

"Very droll," Schmidt said, turning on his heel to continue his trajectory. "If you must know, this monocle gives off a certain air of studiousness. And God knows I need a higher level of thinking right now to solve my dilemma."

"God knows you need to sit your ass down before I staple it to a chair," said Winston, eyes fixated on the TV screen.

"Is this you not taking your turn?" groused Nick. "Because it looks a lot like a turn to me."

"You're right," said Winston, waving around his hand. "Please continue."

"Schmidt," Nick attempted in his most appeasing tone, "how about you take a break from wearing a hole in the floor and come and watch the game with us? I won't even joke about you looking like The Count from Sesame Street in that barnacle."

"Monocle," Schmidt emphasised, shaking his head. "Honestly, it's like you were raised in a gutter… By a pack of wolves… And they were still more civilized than you."

Nick squinted at him. "Why would wolves raise me in a gutter? Wouldn't I be in some sort of wolf ranch? No wait that's cattle. Help me out here, Winston."

Winston shrugged. "They roam free, man. That's what they have to do."

"… They do?" He paused. "Like here free? Because I don't want any surprise wolf encounters on the street."

"That's one!" Schmidt interrupted in a heavily accented voice. "One minute of my life I won't get back, a-ha-ha-haaa."

"Did you just borrow my Count Von Count joke to burn yourself?" asked Nick.

"It was a good call," Schmidt mumbled, adjusting his eyepiece. "Now leave me alone so I can pace in peace. I don't need anymore distractions."

Jess burst out of her room, waving a sheet of paper in the air. "Guys? I need everyone's help with a thing!" She stopped directly in front of Schmidt, blocking his pathway. "Now I know what you're thinking and don't worry, it's a good thing. Not like that other time where I was like, 'Hey, help me with this thing!' and then you all ended up having to go to the hospital to get rabies shots."

"They were bad times," said Winston.

"That cat was down that drain for a reason, Jess," said Nick. "To be closer to Satan."

"Oh come on, he wasn't…" she paused, feeling warms puffs of air on her skin. Turning slowly, she came face-to-face with her roommate. "Hey Schmidt. Um, why are you breathing down my neck like a serial killer?"

"Because you're in my way. And nobody gets in my way…" Flinching, he delicately clutched his chest. "Plus I think my asthma is returning."

"Oh." She blinked at him. "Creepiness aside, you look really dapper with your monocle."

He broke into a grin. "Why thank you. I feel like it really brings out the curvature of my eyebrow, you know?"

"Yeah I can definitely see that." She flared out her skirt to curtsy. "That is one highbrow eyebrow, good sir."

Winston abruptly cleared his throat. "I will no doubt live to regret this but… you said you had a thing?"

"Right! My thing," Jess said, snapping back into focus. She walked over to the boys and sat on the coffee table. "So I've been doing some planning for my creative writing course and…"

"I'm gonna stop you right there," said Nick self-assuredly. "I can see where this is going."

Jess tilted her head to the side. "I don't actually think you do, Nick."

"Come on, it's pretty obvious."

"It is?"

He nodded. "You want me to co-host your classes with you."

"Co-host," Schmidt scoffed as he strode around the bench. "You do realize this isn't the Oscars, right?"

"Co-host, co-teach, whatever," Nick replied, straightening his shoulders. "I'll do it, but under one condition: I get to wear some sort of writing cap and they have to call me Mr Pepperwood."

"That's two conditions, genius," said Winston.

"Hey, I'm a writer not a mathologist." He held out his hand for Jess to shake. "When do I start?"

She gently lowered his arm. "I don't want you to teach my class, Nick. I just wanted everyone to try out some writing prompts for me so I can choose the best ones for my students."

"… Well that's a relief," Nick laughed, twisting the lid open on a green bottle. "I mean I was just doing you a favor. I don't have time to shop for a new hat." He took a swig of his drink, nearly gagging as he swallowed. "What the hell is this? Why does it taste like an armpit?"

"That's Cece's aloe vera juice," Jess explained. "She must have left it here when…" Noticing Schmidt come to a standstill, Jess trailed off. "She must have left it here a while ago."

"You can say it, Jess," Schmidt sighed. "She must have left it here when she wasn't engaged to a douchelord who steals people's thunders at their tinfinity celebrations."

"Well I wouldn't quite put it like that."

"You're right. Douchelord is too regal." He raised his glass of skim milk. "Douchenozzle it is."

"Sooooo what do you say, fellas?" she asked hopefully. "Care to help a gal out?" She frowned as they all began to ramble at once.

"… Important part of the game."

"… This pacing won't pace itself."

"… Can't just write on command; it's a process."

Jess folded her arms. "I'll buy you each a six-pack of beer before we start."

The boys glanced at one another. "We're in," they chorused.

An alarm sounded on Jess's phone, letting her know fifteen minutes had passed. "That's a wrap on the first prompt, guys," she smiled.

"Wait, what?" Nick cried, looking around to see that Schmidt and Winston were calmly placing down their pens. "That was nowhere near enough time."

"I don't know, I thought that was pretty sufficient," said Winston. "Maybe even too much time."

"They don't have to be complete, Nick," Jess reminded him. "I only want to get a sense of where you're going with them."

"Did you Mississippi between seconds?" said Nick, pointing at her. "I can only work to a Mississippi time-frame."

"OK, one, I don't think my phone's wired that way," Jess replied. "And two, if you were so panicked then why did you sit there for the last five minutes making weird air gestures?"

"I was acting out the story in my mind! It's what we professionals do."

"Professional my extremely toned butt," scoffed Schmidt.

"Your ass is puffy," Nick retorted.

"Let's not re-live the butt rebuttal of 2012," Jess intervened, just as Schmidt indignantly began to remove his belt. "I don't want to see all of your heinies on parade like last time."

"Well how else are we supposed to compare them, Jess?" said Schmidt.

"How about we just listen to everybody's stories instead?" Jess nudged her glasses up her nose and smiled at Winston. "You seemed to write a lot, Winston. Do you want to go first?"

"Sure, let's go." Taking a gulp of beer, Winston stood up with his paper. "A loud scream was heard in the distance," he began in a deep voice, "and that scream was followed by a chilling howl. A howl that could only be associated with one terrifying thing: a wolf. But not just any wolf, oh no." He paused for dramatic effect. "A lone wolf."

"Ooh, nice start!" said Jess encouragingly. "Keep going."

"That wolf used to belong to a pack," he continued, "but the pack kept doing things without him, like hunt rabbits, howl at one another or go to karaoke bars. He too, would have like to have sung Hungry Like The Wolf. Or even a non-wolf-related song: as he may have been a lone wolf, but he was not a fussy one." Winston scrunched up the paper and threw it over his shoulder, muttering the rest. "Then the screaming person went missing and everyone was sad, the end."

Jess blinked at him. "Right. Well. Let's hear it for Winston everyone!" She started to applaud, urging the other two guys to join in. "That certainly took a turn I wasn't expecting, but that's why it's called creative writing."

"What are you talking about?" said Nick. "He clearly just wrote out the plot for Twilight, am I right?" He frowned as everyone shook their heads. "I'm not right? Not even a little bit? I am so confused about that book you guys."

"Schmidt, why don't you share next?" said Jess.

Fitting his monocle to his right eye, Schmidt cleared his throat. "A loud scream was heard in the distance. It was a scream of pleasure. It was a scream of lust. It was the fusing of two bodies, one named Dee Dee and one named Smith. Fabian Smith was a love god amongst humans with his…"

"Fifty shades of stop right there, mister!" Jess yelped, snatching the notebook from her friend's hands. She glossed over the rest, her face traumatized. "Eww, Schmidt. You can't call it a love wand! That's gross."

"That's erotica, Jess," Schmidt huffed. "And I'll have you know it's very popular right now."

"Just keep it in your writing pants would you? Especially if you're going to include someone named Dee Dee," she said pointedly. "I don't want a reminder of what you two got up to."

"Do you think Cece would?" asked Schmidt. "I was thinking a personalized erotica novella could make a nice wedding gift."

"First of all, no," Winston interrupted. "Second of all, stop saying erotica, and no, Schimdt."

Jess threw the notebook back. "Dude, are you insane? Why on earth would Cece want a book about sexy times with her ex on her wedding day?"

"I don't know, I panicked OK," Schmidt shouted, burying his head in his hands. "It's been driving me crazy for a week now. That's why I've been spiralling – I need to get her the perfect gift so…"

"She'll stop the wedding and marry you instead?" Nick filled in. "Come on, this isn't Twilight, man." He glanced at Jess, who raised an eyebrow. "No? Still not it?"

Schmidt lifted his head. "I just want Cece to have a memorable gift, is that too much to ask?" He looked over his writing. "OK, what about this: an erotica sonnet. Thou bosoms art bountiful, like two…"

"For the love of sanity please read your story, Nick," Jess interjected.

Grimacing, Nick clutched the scrap of paper to his chest. "It's not finished."

"It's this or hear more about a certain person's 'love wand'."

"Aloudscreamwasheardinthedistance," Nick blurted out. "It was dark. Like night time dark. 'Look out, Laura! Zombies!' But it was too dark for her to hear…" He licked his lips. "That's all I got so far."

Jess clasped her hands together, searching for a response. "Nice job on getting the prompt started. I'm definitely… intrigued?"

"Just out of curiosity, Nick," said Schmidt. "How did they hear the scream but not 'the dark' as you put it?"

"Yeah, I hate it when I can't hear the dark," mocked Winston.

"Shut up, jerks, I meant it was too dark to see. And I was under a lot of pressure!" he added, his voice rising. "I despise you all. I don't want to do this anymore!"

"Nick, just relax," Jess replied in a soothing tone. "No one's pressuring you about anything. We're all buddies here."

"You'd better speak up, Jess," said Winston solemnly. "Your voice might be too quiet for him to see."

"Not helping, Teen Wolf." She patted Nick's knee as he picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Can you please just try a few more prompts? For me?"

He peered up at her hopeful face. "Fine," he sighed. "But they're only going to be short. I can't just go churning out word butter like gold."

"That's confusing, but also fine by me," Jess smiled before picking up her notes. "Alright boys, your next one is: 'The floorboard creaked'."

"One question," Schmidt queried. "Can I change floorboard to 'bedspring'?"

"No."

"… And so the bride was deliriously happy with her time-share in the Hamptons, because it was such a thoughtful gift. And because it made her feel like Emily Thorne, whom she sometimes liked to role-play in the boudoir." Schmidt beamed at the group. "Well? That locked door prompt was genius."

"It sounds great, Schmidt," said Jess.

"Really?"

"Yes, on opposite day." She clenched her fists in annoyance. "For the fifth time, stop using my writing exercise as a kinky gift registry!"

"But it wasn't just a zombie zoo. It was a zombie petting zoo. Which in hindsight was weird, but [insert good reason here – endorphins?]." Nick ran a hand through his hair. "That one kind of got away from me. Maybe instead of endorphins there'd be like a crossword or something… What was the sentence again?"

Jess looked back at her notes. "Grandma blew out her birthday candles."

"… And the lone wolf howled himself to sleep while the pack across the road played yet another game of True American without him. The end."

"OK Winston, I let it go the past eight prompts, but not any longer," said Jess. "You obviously have some beef with us that you're exploring through your writing, but how about you get it all out in the open. I can get my talking stick if you want?"

"Wait, didn't we lose that in the ocean a few months ago when I got into a tug-of-war with that stray dog on the beach?" said Nick.

"Oh yeah," Jess replied. "I named him Elmo because he liked to be tickled."

"Was that before or after we got kicked out of the lifeguard stand?" asked Schmidt.

"Here's another question," said Winston with a fake smile. "Was that before or after we forgot to take a certain someone on yet another little group adventure?"

"What are you talking about?" said Schmidt, punching Winston on the arm. "We're always hanging out as a group, dawg. Like when we went to the aquarium!"

"That was just you and me," he replied, narrowing his eyes. "And what have I told you about dawg-ing me?"

Schmidt tentatively folded his hands into his lap. "I only get to say it once on my birthday and only in private."

"How about the time we flew kites in the park?" said Nick. "That was some whimsical, beautiful junk right there."

"I'm pretty sure that was you and your old Asian buddy," Winston pointed out.

A grin slowly spread across Nick's face. "That adorable sonofabitch. I owe him an update after my last visit."

"Update on what?" said Jess.

"My, uh, tomato plant," muttered Nick, quickly taking a swig of beer.

"Isn't it dead?"

"I wouldn't say dead. More like… resting. Waiting for the right time to strike to get with another tomato plant and be all, 'Hey, man! Let's do this thing?' Y'know?" Jess frowned in confusion. "Tomato vines, like, intertwining," he added, threading his fingers together. "Making music together, or sauce, which is also a thing…" Nick trailed off before pointing at Winston. "This guy, huh?"

Jess studied Nick a few moments longer before turning back to Winston. "I can understand where you're coming from, Winston. You do seem to miss out on a few loft adventures, which is weird. But I'll bet we miss out on some cool Winston time too, am I right?" She playfully nudged his leg with her toe. "Mister awesome fun guy over there."

A small smile crept up Winston's mouth. "I have played a few pranks on the radio station manager. One time I put some paperclips on top of his desk…" he started to giggle. "There's not usually paperclips on there! And then there was!" Winston broke out into more hysterical laughter. "It was like there was a paperclip ghost but it was just me!"

The rest of the group watched him in silence before Schmidt started a slow clap. "Prank Sinatra ladies and gentlemen."

Winston's laughter subsided. "Yeah, well, you look like Mr Peanut in that monocle."

"Joke's on you," Schmidt retorted. "Mr Peanut is a style icon."

"Do we have any peanuts? Or anything that resembles food?" Nick wondered. "I'm starving."

Hearing a knock at the door, Jess stood up to answer it and came face-to-face with a giant fruit basket. "Nick," she called out. "Don't be alarmed, but I think you might be the food whisperer."

"Can I come in?" Cece's voice rang out from behind the elaborate display. "This thing weighs a ton."

Jess and the boys watched as Cece placed the basket onto the kitchen table before pointing at Schmidt. "You. Explain why these grapes spell out 'Love Schmidt'."

"You don't like the fruit?" asked Schmidt, wandering over to inspect the basket. "That's cool, this was just a trial run anyway." He pulled a list out of his pocket and scratched off an item.

"Does that list have anything to do with all the random parcels showing up on my doorstep lately? Including the edible underwear?" Cece added with a frown. "Shivrang thinks I have a shopping network addiction."

"Well you can tell your precious fiancé not to worry – he's allowed to enjoy everything too." Schmidt fiddled with the pen in his hand. "I'm just trying to come up with the perfect wedding gift for you… both."

Cece's face softened. "Schmidt, you don't have to do that. I don't care about what presents I get, I just care about everyone being there for me. Supporting me." She glanced at the grapes and then back at Schmidt. "You are still supporting me, right?"

Shoving the list into his pocket, Schmidt plastered on a smile. "Of course I am! I'll be there with bells on. Not literal bells of course because that wouldn't go with my Armani. But if you wanted me to wear bells I would do it for you. I will support you with bells, my friend."

"A suit will be fine, Schmidt," Cece replied with a smile. "And in the spirit of support, please don't wear that monocle."

"Noted."

Nick's body popped up between them as he reached into the fruit basket. "Sorry," he stage-whispered. "Didn't mean to ruin the nice moment, just wanted a snack. I'll be quiet." An apple fell to the floor as he grabbed a handful of grapes. "Sorry again." Reaching down to pick up the apple, Nick bumped his head on the basket causing a fruit avalanche to land on top of him. "OH COME ON!" He angrily karate chopped the air in a vain attempt to protect himself. "THIS IS WHY I HATE HEALTHY CRAP!"

Ignoring Nick's plight, Schmidt sighed at the mess. "Well that was a waste." He stepped over his friend, still writhing on the ground. "Would you like a beverage, Cece? I think Nick only backwashed into one of your aloe vera drinks."

Jess walked into the kitchen. "Are you OK?" she said, peering down at Nick, who was rubbing his forehead. "Do you see any little cartoon birds flying around? Or little dancing bananas?" she added with a smirk.

"I'm glad you're enjoying my misery," said Nick, before cracking a smile. "And for your information they're dancing strawberries."

"I stand corrected." She held out her hand. "Speaking of standing, why don't you give it a try because I'm pretty sure that's where Schmidt cut his gremlin toenails last night." Gagging, Nick grabbed onto Jess's hand and hoisted himself up.

"What were you guys doing before I came over?" Cece asked, noticing all the scrunched up balls of paper strewn around. "Is this another loft thing I'm never invited to?"

Winston suddenly grinned. "Hey! I was in a group thing that someone else missed out on!" He whooped with glee. "This is awesome – the lone wolf has re-joined the pack!" He held out his palm to Cece. "High five me, sucker!" Winston slowly lowered his hand as she stared him down. "I regret my actions. Please don't Emily Thorne my ass."

"What?"

"What? I don't know," he laughed uncomfortably. "Jess help me."

"How about we all just go out for a drink?" Jess suggested, receiving murmurs of agreement. "The five musketeers! Oh, this could be so cute. I think I have some wooden swords stowed away from the high school drama club. All they need is a bit of bedazzling and…" She stopped as she noticed everyone but Nick had moved out the door. "So that's a no on the swords then?"

"I think you had them at drink," said Nick. "Hey, are you sure you were finished with your writing thing? I have a feeling we weren't really that much help."

"No, it's cool. I got a vague idea of what I can use." She gave him a wry smile. "And more than enough info about zombies, wolves and Schmidt's sex life."

"Yeah, he's a treat alright," Nick said, chuckling. "I mean all that stuff about role-playing. Like, slow down, buddy! It's difficult enough trying to survive as yourself out there, you know what I mean?"

"Exactly," Jess laughed, playing with a strand of hair. "It's like, get to know the person first before you introduce a sexy lumberjack into the playing field." She eyed Nick's shirt. "With, like, all that plaid and a gruff exterior…"

Swallowing hard, Nick nodded. "Yeah, or some hot undercover spy who wears glasses and things with way too many polka dots, but it's kind of sexy anyway because it's like a grown-up version of connect the dots." He lifted his hand to Jess's stomach and slowly traced his finger from one spot to another. "Kind of like that," said Nick softly.

Jess stared into his eyes, her breathing becoming slightly erratic. "That spy owns polka dot underwear too."

"I think I might be having a heart attack but I don't care," Nick replied in a strained voice, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"Good thing I'm working undercover as a doctor today," Jess murmured, placing her hands on his chest.

"Oh. Dear. God."

They suddenly sprang apart, hearing Winston approach the loft. "And I'm hungry like the wolf," he sang to himself, strolling through the door. "Forgot my wallet," he explained, waving it around. "You guys coming to the bar or what? Please don't leave me alone with those two, I just keep thinking about Schmidt's stories and that ain't going to end well."

"Winston! Such a perv," Jess teased, avoiding eye contact with Nick.

"Yeah buddy, show some restraint, geez," added Nick. "Come on, let's get out of here." He put his shoes on. "Jess?"

"I'll be five minutes, I just need to find my phone."

"OK." He followed Winston out of the door, shooting a glance at Jess over his shoulder as he left.

Once they were out of sight, Jess sank into the sofa and fanned her face with some scraps of paper. "This is the hardware store all over again," she muttered to herself. Feeling something digging into her back, Jess reached around to find a scrunched up piece of paper. She was going to pitch it across the room when she noticed her name scrawled on it. Curious, Jess uncurled it and realized it was one of Nick's stories he'd decided not to read aloud.

The door was locked. Pepperwood and his gal Friday, Jessica Night, had been hiding away from the zombies for what felt like days, years. Even months. But with the stench of zombie breath in the air, Pepperwood knew time was nearly up and there was something he needed to know before he was zombie food. He took out a piece of paper he'd been holding onto since their non-date – just as Jessica Night took out her own. 'Here's that message I owe ya, dollface'. Jessica looked at his paper and saw a simple note. 'Let's do this thing.' Pepperwood looked at her piece and saw [insert message here – good? Bad? Not sure…]

Grabbing a pen off the coffee table, Jess crossed out the brackets and filled in the blanks. Walking to Nick's room, she left the paper on his pillow with a smile.

Let's do this thing, Pepperwood.

End.