Dynamics of Masculinity and Matrimonial Celebration Rites

Author: Palgrave

Fandom: Community

Characters/Pairings: Britta/Annie, Britta, Annie

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Dan's the man, not me.

Author's Notes: Submission for the "Time in a Dream" comment ficathon at community-tv (Annie/Britta, 'Annie convinces Britta to join the Glee club'). Gifted to eleventhimpala for the awesome prompt and to lemonjelly, who a while ago inspired me to write in this pairing with some awesome fics which I'm only just now finding the time to get around to. Set in an alternative universe where it's Annie and Britta who get all the sexual tension rather than Annie and Jeff.

Summary: In which Britta has mixed feelings about Annie's Christmas dance.

"- Booby-doopy-doop-boop-sex!"

Annie Edison giggled happily as she 'accidentally' landed in the lap of the sole member of her audience, who was looking rather stricken for numerous reasons, not least because of the by the incredibly cute and sexy young woman who had just completed an incredibly cute and sexy (if also incredibly anti-feminist and problematic) song-and-dance routine. It also didn't help that Annie's cleavage, generously supported by the skimpy red Santa's Wife suit, was very close to her face at that point.

If ever there was a person who could have somehow managed to look simultaneously scathing and turned on in that situation, it was Britta Perry.

"Annie," Britta said in a voice that was trying so so hard to be severe, condemning and judgemental (and not at all aroused), "I hope you realize you've just set the cause of women's rights back seventy years."

"What's a womey-rummy-rimmy-righ-ruh-ruuughhhh?" Annie pouted childishly.

"Okay, and the baby-talk thing? That's another ten."

Annie whined petulantly and pouted.

"Eighty years, Annie. That's the '30s. We're pre-second wave at this point. We've only had the right to vote ten years. That's how far back you've put us."

Annie leaned in seductively. "But Britta," she giggled, smoothing a hand across Britta's chest in a fashion which did not help her sense of feminist outrage in the struggle against her libido which as currently going on, "who needs second wave when you've got a Christmas slave?"

"Kind of my entire point right there, Annie." Britta squeaked. The 'squeak', admittedly, did not help her attempts to remain severe, but in her defence, Annie's fingers were a-wanderin'.

"So Britta," Annie pouted, "we could really use you in the Glee club."

"I find that unlikely."

"Mr. Rad says we need a sexy-wexy mutey-wutey Christmas-wistmas treesy weesy."

"Then he - wait, he wants me to be the tree?"

"So whaddaya say?" Annie squeaked. "Wanna join me singin' and dancin'? Think about it; you an' me, together, just covered in Christmas glaze..."

"'Christmas glaze'? I don't even know what that is. I'm pretty sure that's not even a thing."

"Well, what do I know?" Annie demanded, breaking character and crossing her arms over her chest. Which did further wonders for her cleavage in that costume. Damn - I mean, stop it, Britta. "Jewish, remember? Did you even listen to the song, Britta?"

"Was kind of distracted, actually," Britta mumbled, trying to figure out whether the fact that she had her eyes locked on Annie's boobs (not the monkey) was, in this current context, her participating in the infantilisation and objectification of women or her reclaiming it.

Annie narrowed her eyes and leaned in menacingly. "You gonna join the Glee club, Britta?"

"Well, Mr. Rad wants me to be a tree, so, wasn't planning on it, no."

"Then you leave me no choice."

Oh, that didn't sound good.

"Looks like I'll just have to bring out the big guns."

"Big g-" Britta was cut off when Annie leaned down and stuck her tongue down Britta's throat. For very long time. Did she not need to breathe or anything? 'Cause Britta certainly did, and she was fairly certain that by the time Annie broke the kiss she'd suffered serious oxygen deprivation. Damn. That was more like it. Not a trace of Annie-Boop in that kiss, or in the glare Annie was giving her.

"Join the Glee club," Annie said in a voice that, in it's demanding bossiness, was far sexier than anything else she'd done in that silly red dress, "and I'll have sex with you right now."

"Done," Britta said instantly.

Sure, she ended up a shiny happy brainwashed Christmas slave in a tree suit afterwards, but it was totally worth it.