Title: Kitchen Counter
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don't own Community, yo.
Summary: Brief ficlet: Jeff/Annie, drunk with a can of whipped cream.
Kitchen Counter
Jeff carefully closed his bedroom door, coming out into his main living area where only one friend remained.
"Okay, for some reason Troy, Abed and Britta are all asleep in my bed." Annie giggled, then hiccupped, then sipped her beer.
"You should be glad they didn't pass out in the middle of the floor," she said. Jeff dropped onto the couch next to her and grabbed his own beer, taking a swig.
"I'll be glad if and when we make it to morning without anyone puking or pissing on my bed."
"Gross," Annie said with a grimace, before swigging her beer again. "Anyway, it'll be your fault if they do." Jeff sat up a little straighter, turning toward her.
"In what world would that be my fault?" Annie gestured to his coffee table.
"People get less drunk when they have more food to soak up the alcohol, and you provided us with this." Jeff took in the spread and rolled his eyes.
"Well maybe if I'd known you were all coming over to get loaded I would have been prepared with more than Special K and grapes." Annie giggled again and finished off her bottle.
"Ugh, I'm empty," she moaned.
"How many have you had?" Jeff asked.
"Four," she answered quickly, then counted on her fingers. "No, three. I'm about to have four." She tried and failed to get up from the couch. Jeff laughed and pushed himself up, holding his hands out to her.
"There's no way you're this drunk after only three beer. It's not possible." She glared at him, but took his hands and let him pull her to her feet, at which point she stumbled into him, her hands coming to rest on his chest.
"You're weirdly stable," she commented. "Like a post. Or a brick wall. Or a brick post...wall." She giggled again, dropping her head against him. Jeff just grinned and held her steady until she got her bearings.
"You sure you need another?" She raised her eyes to him, casting at him some version of a condescending glare.
"Jeff. Winger," was all she said, before giggling again. Jeff couldn't help but laugh along. On his list of favourite versions of Annie, "Happy Drunk Annie" was way up there.
Eventually she did manage to gain her footing, at which point she gracelessly tromped into the kitchen and pulled open his fridge.
"Whaaaat?" she exclaimed, peering into the cold space.
"Keep your voice down, everyone's asleep," Jeff cautioned. He crossed over to where she was. "What is it?" She peered over at him and gave him a swat on the chest.
"You have strawberries and whipped cream in here," she said, a certain level of awe clear in her tone. She levelled him with a glare. "Why am I just figuring this out? Why weren't these out hours ago?" Jeff rolled his eyes and reached around her, grabbing the can of whipped cream and bringing it to his mouth, spraying some in. Annie grabbed the strawberries and wandered over to the counter, waiting for him.
"Hurry up!" she said impatiently, unwrapping the strawberries and holding one out to him. Jeff grinned and crossed over to her, aiming the can at the berry and attempting to mostly get the cream on it and not on her or the floor. He was almost successful. He watched as she brought the strawberry to her mouth, taking it down in three bites, and then licking the rest of the whipped cream off her hand and wrist. Jeff probably could have maintained his composure a little better, but Annie insisted on watching him the entire time.
"Okay, now you have one," she said once she was finished. Jeff tried to respond, but found his throat remarkably dry. He grabbed two more beer from his fridge and popped them open while Annie concentrated extra hard on getting all of the whipped cream in the right place. He'd gulped down half the bottle before she was done.
"Okay, half of the whipped cream is on your hand," Jeff said, attempting to focus on the berry, despite the sudden rush of alcohol in his system. Annie giggled and reached over with her other hand, taking a swipe of cream off her wrist and bringing her finger to her mouth, sucking on it in a way that Jeff was almost positive she'd learned from a porno.
If he had to explain his actions from that point forward, he would have blamed it on the half empty beer bottle in his hand.
Jeff leaned in, eyes pinned to Annie's, and wrapped his mouth around the berry, taking a bite. Annie watched him with her mouth slightly open as he finished it, before returning to her hand and taking a swipe along the cream-covered skin with his tongue.
"This was an awesome idea," he said in a low tone. Annie's eyes glazed over slightly as he took the can and sprayed a little on his finger, bringing it to her lips. She blinked up at him as she wrapped her lips around his finger, swiping her tongue around it and cleaning every ounce of the sweet treat away.
"Good?" he asked, a small smirk on his face. Annie nodded slowly and grabbed his beer from his hand, taking a few long gulps. "I did get you one," he said, pointing to the full bottle on the counter. She shrugged and swigged his once again, emptying it.
"I like this one better," she said, a little winded from drinking so quickly. She teetered a little on her feet, and Jeff shot out a hand to steady her, though he was also feeling a little unsteady by that point. She offered him a small, sultry smile before grabbing the can of whipped cream once again.
"You want more?" she asked. Jeff swallowed hard and nodded as she looked over herself for a moment, before eventually bringing it to her chest, mostly bare thanks to a painfully low-cut top. "Here?" she questioned. Jeff swallowed harder.
If he hadn't been drunk, or if he had been thinking clearly at all, he probably would have insisted they stop before all of this got them into trouble. He might have mentioned their three friends sound asleep in the next room, or the fact that neither of them was in any condition to make a good decision at that moment.
But because he was drunk, so very drunk, and he had a gorgeous woman in his kitchen tempting him with whipped cream, he just nodded dumbly and watched, awe-struck, as she sprayed a line from the centre of her clavicle down to her cleavage, then levelled him with a challenging smirk.
"Fuck," Jeff whispered, mostly to himself. He looked between the line and Annie and then back again several times, before finally giving into his primal need to lick it up. There was no way around it. He had to do it.
Jeff leaned down slowly, offering Annie a playful smirk before he finally dipped low enough to lick up the line of whipped cream from her chest. Annie's head dropped back as his tongue made contact with her skin, and he could swear he heard a moan escape from her lips the further he went.
If asked, neither could really explain how Jeff's tongue got from Annie's cleavage to the inside of her mouth. All that mattered was that Annie was soon situated on the counter with her legs and arms wrapped tightly around Jeff as the two made out for what seemed like hours. In that time, they each gained a drunken memory of each other's bodies, hands grazing, grabbing and groping each part they could reach—except for the really good ones. Somehow, both of them had enough awareness to keep this a PG-13 encounter.
Nonetheless, neither would complain about the kissing, or the unspoken assumption that Jeff's kitchen counter would never look the same way to either of them again. Or his couch, where they both eventually retired to, sticky, drunk and lazy as they continued to kiss until they each fell into a deep, snoring, alcohol-induced coma until morning.
A/N: Inspired by this line from the song Kiss on Me by Tyler Hilton: Starting now I will never see my kitchen counter quite the same babe, after we drank the final hour.
Hope you liked it. Let me know!