Disclaimer: I do not own NBC's Community or any show or movie references mentioned herein. This is done merely for fun and to let lose some annoyed, confused steam.
Authors Notes: I haven't posted in the longest time but I've been a fan of the show Community since it began. And when Jeff fell for the self-assured, crazy righteous Britta, I fell for them too. But as of the finale, it seems that once again I've chosen the ship that has the least amount of online supporters. Oh well. The finale, 'Pascal's Triangle Revisited', drove me to write my first Community fanfic. This is a post-episode story. (Spoilers and references of episodes up to the finale.)
Different Sides To It (or Phone Calls)
If someone had told Britta Perry that she would be standing on a stage, in a Miss Tranny sash, declaring her love for an egotistical, jerk of an ex-lawyer in front of a hundred or so people, she would have laughed in that person's face. Or asked what they were smoking and where she could get some because it must've been the good stuff.
Her psychiatrist had suggested she loosen up and go to that transfer dance in the first place. Maybe try to win the crown. Sure it may have been stupid to apply the advice metaphorically and try to compete with Professor Short Skirt for Jeff's feelings but at least she didn't get drunk and try to rap. Badly. Yeah, her psychiatrist had issues. As she watched two guys in Dalmatian suits try to break up a fight between him and Señor Chang (she'll be damned if she calls him by his first name whether he's a student or not), she got the oh so brilliant idea of going after Jeff. Because even though the guy needed his space, fifty years of romantic comedies and a well known plot device couldn't be wrong, right?
He had been gone a good ten minutes and she felt a need to explain what happened. A day or so earlier she was harping on him for touching her hair so she could understand why he'd be weirded out by her saying she loved him. With five different speeches being rehearsed in her head she found herself walking into another time-honored plot device: accidentally witnessing the guy you like kissing another girl.
God damn it. (The atheist in her tried to argue religion and philosophy but the rest of her told that voice to shut the hell up.)
How could he? She put herself out there for him and of all people... he decided to choose Annie? So young "we don't like to sexualize her" Annie? Where the hell did she even come from? She was supposed to be on a bus to Delaware by now. With her boyfriend. She was tempted to go out there and give them both a piece of her mind. Go for broke and make it a humiliation trifecta. But then she remembered that they weren't Ross and Rachel. Hell, they were barely David and Maddie. 'Did they ever bring Moonlighting to DVD. Wait, why do I care? Oh right. Distracting myself from the gaping hole in my heart.'
Okay, that was a bit of an over-dramatization but she was definitely hurt. She walked back, replaying that stupid, stupid thing she said on stage. Now that was definitely an overdramatic move but she had to say something. She didn't want to lose him to Slater and what was blurted out could not be unblurted so she rolled with it. Besides, she did like him, and "like" was more or less the precursor to "love", wasn't it? At least most of the students and faculty who were there for the free food got themselves a surprise show to boot. Ah, cynicism. That little voice in her head was welcomed.
She passed Slater in the hallway as she neared the party entrance. 'Such a copycat. Sorry but he likes his girls a little younger. Or in your case, a lot younger.'
Channeling her heartache she delivered a performance worthy of the drama club and informed Slater something along the lines of, "It doesn't look like Jeff is chosing me." The smug look on Brunette Barbie's face was worth the horrified scream that followed two minutes later as she heard her heels make it to the patio. Damn, that Jeff sure does like to make-out. And now she was back to sad again.
When Shirley confronted her, concern and surprise on her face, Britta figured she might as well tell someone – though perhaps the pot-stirring queen of gossip wasn't exactly the best choice. She stuck to a one sentence explanation of what she saw and somewhere between getting her coat and a meek Annie poking her head into the room, word spread, the story grew ("Jeff and Hannah were totally doing it on the blonde chick's car! Harsh!"), and all hell broke lose. Though with all the spiked punch everyone had been guzzling, it was a surprise there wasn't a fight sooner (well, besides Professor Duncan getting quarter punched in the face). In any case, she thanked her lucky stars she stuck to bottled water and made a beeline for the exit. But not before taking advantage of the dean's distraction and snatching the little plastic tiara and flowers. The other contestants could suck it, she earned that stupid crown.
One hour of quiet bliss greeted her as soon as she got home. In that hour she mixed herself some drinks (she didn't remember when exactly she bought the vodka and rum but she was glad they were on hand), brooded to some Radiohead at eardrum splitting levels (her neighbors didn't take too kindly to that), sulked at a Toni Braxton song when she accidentally switched off the CD (it was nineties night on some local radio station), and took some pictures of her cat in that ridiculous party sash and crown (she got way too much pleasure from dubbing him Sir Meowington with a wooden spoon scepter.)
And then her phone rang.
She debated whether she should answer it or not. She wasn't really in the mood for pity or apologies. After five rings her cat decided for her and jumped up, knocking over the phone. As soon as she picked up the receiver, a familiar motherly wail came out, loud and clear.
"Britta, oh, sweetie! I am so sorry!"
She sat back down and lifted the phone to her ear, "Hi Shirley."
"I just can't believe Annie, our little Annie, could do such a thing. I bet it was all that time hanging around with the hippie with the tiny nipples. I knew he was a bad influence!"
"His name's Vaughn."
"Yeah, and you should know since she stole him away from you too!"
As much as she wanted to rip into the little doe-eyed teenager, she had to restrain herself, show maturity, be the better person and all that crap. That would show Jerky McPointy Face and Little Miss Jailbait.
"Shirley," she steeled herself with a deep breath, "Let's not bring in personal feelings and vigilante justice into this."
"I didn't say vigilante justice you're the one who's thinking those evil thoughts... so what's the plan? Shred her books? Switch her pills? Oh! My boys have some stink bombs-"
"No plan, okay? And I don't think she takes pills anymore," she felt the stirrings of a headache in the back of her mind, "This isn't like when your husband left you for a younger woman. I'm pissed off and I'm upset but it wasn't like that with me and Jeff. We weren't together in a any sense of the word so he had every right to... to..."
"Rip out your heart and break it into itty bitty pieces after you declared your love for him in front of God and everyone?"
"Yes." She hated how high-pitched her voice sounded just then.
"Oh, sweetie!"
She spotted her cat gnawing on the pointy top of the little crown, apparently having moved on from the Miss Tranny sash after tearing it into ribbons. Grateful for an excuse to go, she yelled, "Sir Meowington, don't eat that! Sorry, gotta go!", and hung up. After locking away the little crown in a cupboard and making sure her new cat wasn't in need of any dental work, her phone rang. With a sigh she picked it up.
"Yes?"
"Hey Britta. It's Troy. I heard about what happened."
"From who?"
"Annie. And some other people. But the last person I talked to was Annie."
She couldn't stop the disgusted groan from leaving her mouth.
"You didn't eat a giant cookie too, did you?"
"What?"
"Never mind. So... you missed a hell of a party. Everyone got into this huge fight so they had to call the cops and the dean was practically crying. I think Jeff got a black eye."
"Really?" Suddenly she was very interested.
"Yeah. After Chang and the British dude were separated, Professor Slater told everyone what she saw and started dissing Annie, and then a bunch of guys, calling themselves Annie's Defenders or something were dissing her back. So it was Team Britta versus Team Slater versus Team Annie, all arguing, Team Slater was calling us a bunch of words I didn't really understand and I led Team Britta with yo' mama jokes-"
"You were on Team Britta?" Her voice went soft and she was getting really emotional now. Maybe she should've stopped after that third Long Island iced tea.
"Actually I was with Starburns and wanted to bring Conan back but when they were talking about how stupid you looked in that play, it was on. Next thing you know we're all jumping on each other – I literally broke a chair over some dude's back!"
"To be fair, those folding chairs were really cheap."
"Okay, yeah, but then one of those dudes in the dog costume took a side, the other dog dude took our side, and it turns out they're both amateur boxers over the weekend so I kind of bailed after that. And after the cops. They didn't even have those cameras."
"Umm, that sucks, I guess."
"Yeah," he was quiet for a while and she didn't know what else to say. She was just about to say goodbye when he said, "So, your apartment, how big would you say your couch is?"
"You called because you need a place to stay, didn't you?"
"No! …Not entirely. It's just, the thing with Pierce and me is not going to work out and you're the only one who doesn't live with her parents or in a cheap motel."
"I don't think it would work out with us either. You said once that you didn't like cats."
"No, see, I was talking about the musical. Those singers in the costumes kind of freak me out. I mean, either wear the whole costume and cover your face or just the sexy tail and ears with a mini skirt like on Halloween."
"Troy..."
"I'll bring your cat a cheeseburger! Cats love 'em!"
"I'll get back to you. Bye."
She didn't have to wait long before the phone rang again, "Who is it this time?"
"I heard about you and Jeff. And Jeff and Annie. I gotta say, I didn't see that plot twist coming."
She recognized that fan-like analysis and replied with a sigh and some weariness, "You and me both, Abed."
"The choice he made was polarizing but not as polarizing if he had chosen you or professor Slater so I can see why he made it."
"I guess you're on Team Annie then." With all the sighing and groaning she was doing she'd be hoarse by morning. But maybe she could trick some particularly nosy neighbors that her love life wasn't as crappy as the melancholy songs and booze indicated.
"Actually, I just want to let you know that this early on in the year, the odds of them staying together until the end is minimal. They shared a kiss but then so did you and Jeff which means you could be Pacey to his Joey."
"What?"
"Dawson initially got together with Joey and there was a lot of back and forth tension between the three friends as to who's the better match. Dawson and Joey broke up, dated other people, had some very special episodes, and by the series' end it was the artistic rebel Pacey who won Joey's heart in a ratings-grabbing, melodramatic, flash forward two-parter."
"Yeeaah... I think you could've picked a better example."
"Probably."
"Hmm. Isn't it weird how Pacey is kind of a feminine name and Joey is more of a masculine name?"
"You're categorizing what type of gender a name should be," he said in his straightforward way.
"Yeah, I may have been drinking. But just a little. And definitely not to dull the pain because I know that's what you're thinking and that is seriously cliché," She sighed, "But thanks for calling, Abed."
"No problem. Oh, and if Jeff pulls a Say Anything to apologize, will you take pictures?""
"I don't think he even owns a stereo."
"Goodnight."
"'Night."
As soon as she put the phone down it rang once more. She already got three phone calls from the group so there were only two other people it could be and she did not want to talk to either of them. She let the answering machine get it.
"Hey Britta, it's Pierce."
"Hmm. I forgot to count him," she blinked then suddenly giggled. Definitely too much iced tea.
"I know you're probably feeling lonely and unattractive. Drowning your sorrows in cheap booze and stroking your kitty," she looked down at Sir Meowington who had been occupying the space on her lap and shook her head. She wasn't going to touch that one. "But I just want to let you know I'm here for you. And may I say, if you want to use me to get back at Jeff, I understand. I'll be at the Plaza Motel off highway-"
"Pierce, seriously, what the hell?"
"That's it, take your anger out on me. We can meet up and get rid of some of that anger together."
"No."
"Alright, alright. You just want to talk, I can do that too. If you give me your address I can be there in person to lend a shoulder or any other body part-"
"No! How did you even get my phone number?"
"Get a few drinks in poor, old, miserable Jeffrey and you'd be surprised what you can get out of him."
Her stomach churned, "Jeff's not at your place, is he?"
"No." She waited for him to go on. "We're at his motel room. Actually it's the same motel I was saying in the message. I rented us a seperate room so we could, you know, talk and... hello?"
She didn't hear the last few words. All she heard was that Jeff was at his motel room (not with Annie!) and he was miserable enough to drink with Pierce of all people. Everything after that she sort of blocked out. Damn. She was being overdramatic again. Her mind was running away with her and concocting all sorts of scenarios where Jeff comes back all repentant and teary eyed, explaining how it was all a huge mistake, and hell, he had a stereo in his car, didn't he? Hopefully Chang didn't wreck that too.
"Quit opening yourself up, Britta. You're just going to end up hurt, again."
She decided she had enough calls for the night and went to sleep. Maybe when she woke up, it would turn out everything was just a horrible dream.
There were sixty two messages on her answering machine the next day and finding nothing particularly better to do on her first day of vacation she played them all, hoping for the best. A surprising amount of messages were from people she didn't really know. Their only connection being that they were part of "Team Britta". She wasn't sure whether to be appreciative or weirded out. When an older woman started talking about how that night was better than most of her soaps, the weirded out side won, with shades of embarrassment and self-pity.
A few of the calls were her friends re-dialing and making sure she was okay. Those would be the numbers she planned on calling back after enough time passed for her to reflect on everything and stab push pins into a photo of Jeff she taped on a little corkboard in her living room. The forehead was worth fifty points.
Message sixty one was about thirty seconds of static and half-muffled nervous breathing. With a few choice words uttered at Pierce, she started for the delete button. Then she heard a soft little voice. Like a girl who was apologizing to her older sister for taking her favorite doll.
"Britta? I'm... I'm sorry. Troy told me that you saw me and Jeff... I never meant to hurt you. It didn't mean anything and I... I'm just so sorry. Please don't be mad at me. I just..." A pause and a sob. "I was confused and I told Vaughn and now everyone's mad at me... can we talk about it? Please? I want us to be friends. I'm so sorry."
There was some more static and she imagined the young girl deliberating whether to hang up or continue her tearful apology. Annie hung up. And of course the last message had to be from...
"Hey, it's Jeff. Umm... I don't know if you're going to give this message a chance before deleting it but since I finally got through I figured I might as well try. See, I was trying to call you last night but, umm, your phone was busy and then my phone was busy. I actually got a bunch of messages from people shouting "Team Britta FTW". Took me a while to figure out what the letters F-T-W meant and I was relieved to find it wasn't something obscene. Though I did get my fair share of obscene messages, not the sexy kind either. ...Uhh. That was a joke... Sorry. So... I'm sure you had nothing to do with those phone calls. But even if you did, I guess I may have deserved it. I think we need to talk... like a face-to-face thing. Call me back when you can, and... have a great summer." A sigh and then a fairly long pause. "For what it's worth, I wish we-"
And then he got cut off. Damn him for leaving long-winded messages on her machine. She deleted everything and looked over at her cat who was busy a few feet away. It had gotten into the cupboard and was munching on that crown again. As far as she could tell, it was just using the crown as a chew toy, not actually swallowing anything. She laid back on her sofa and stayed in close proximity of her little pet anyway.
If someone had told Britta Perry that she would be seriously considering talking to and maybe even forgiving the jerk who broke her heart and her best friend who kissed him, she would've laughed in that person's face. And she really needed a laugh right about now but she just couldn't bring herself to make the effort. What she could do was get up, walk past that corkboard, stick a red pin in photo-Jeff's eye, and start up her coffee maker.
She needed to make a call.
–
End Notes: I just wanted to get off my chest how I feel, and how I'm sure many Britta fans feel after we saw our girl open up and put herself out there only to be snubbed for a younger, more naive kid who already had a boyfriend Britta's ex, mind you!) Oh, and it's up to the reviewer to decide who it is Britta calls and why at the end. Reviews, criticisms, praises or anything in between is welcomed.