No idea where this came from... just caught up on New Girl and these two are my favorites. So stoked that they are finally bonding!

Winston's eyes fluttered open to a forceful shove on his shoulder. He groaned once, digging his heels into the soles of his newly purchased hiking boots, and swallowed the odd taste of avocado on his tongue.

"Come on. Hey! Wake up, Winston." A voice was hammering, relentlessly above him. It was so familiar yet agitating. "Okay. Okay." He grumbled, his eyes wide now.

Winston was not in his room, under his covers, the soft fur of Ferguson rubbing against his arm. But instead, he was laying awkwardly, neck against an uncomfortable metal chair in the hospital waiting room. He moved stiffly, all his muscles tightening in protest.

"What time is it?" He asked, finally looking up at the pretty woman above him. CeCe looked slightly amused. Her narrow brown eyes staring him down through hooded lids. She looked exhausted.

"Around noon." Her voice broke for a great sigh that seemed to pull the words out of her. She eyed the chair next to him, but didn't sit.

"Come on, I'll drive you home."

Winston was fully awake now. "Where's everyone?" He looked around, but aside from the old lady giving him the side eye, the room was empty.

"Schmidt and Coach left. You were asleep." She shrugged. "Nick is still in Jess' room. He's staying. But I'm leaving. So do you want a ride?"

Winston smiled weakly and nodded. He got up, stretching, hearing the little cracks throughout his body and followed CeCe towards the sliding doors.

She drove fast. Maybe she was in a hurry to get home. Or away from Winston. Or a mixture of both. But the man in her passenger seat had one hand bracing the seat belt and the other in his mouth, his teeth chewing methodically on his nail beds.

CeCe pulled in front of the apartment complex, not a hair out of place, a serene smile on her lips. She tilted her head to look at Winston, an amused glean crossing over her dark eyes.

"Thanks." Winston cleared his throat, unbuckling his seat belt and sighing. Thankful to be in one piece.

"Don't mention it." CeCe shrugged, – still laughing at him inside her head – Winston was sure.

"No, I mean for actually listening to me this whole trip. If you weren't there I would've been alone until Nick and Jess ended up in that hole." He shook his head, almost ashamed for admitting it.

" And thanks for driving me back. They wouldn't have woke me up, and I'd be calling a cab."

CeCe frowned. "Why do you put up with it?"

Winston grinned. "Why do you?"

They shared a laugh that was muffled by a loud car horn in the distance. Winston seemed to remember where he was now. "Sorry. I'm gonna.." His chin jutted towards the building in front of them.

Cece nodded while Winston got out of the car, shutting it gently. He let his hands brace the window's ledge for a moment, pondering.

"Wanna grab coffee sometime? Or come to the cat park with Ferguson and me?"

"There aren't any cat parks." Cece informed Winston with an eye roll.

"Yeah there are. Little dogs just show up sometimes." Winston argued. Cece opened her mouth but closed it with a little laugh.

"Yeah, Winston, coffee sounds great." She smiled. And when Cece smiled, it finally clicked in Winston's head that he was in the presence of a model.

"I think we can both use a break from the chaos sometimes."

Winston grinned. "Thanks for being a friend, Cece."

The tan, beautiful woman inflicted the full force of her smile on the man in front of her. "You too. I probably would have killed those guys if you weren't there."

Winston rose a brow, digesting her words. But Cece already winked and stormed off, leaving a small cloud of dust for Winston to choke on.

There wasn't a single fiber in Winston Bishop's body that led him to think Cece wasn't serious. He might have lived with them, but Cece had been Jess' friend for probably as long as Nick had been his. She got it. She got him. And that's all Winston really wanted.

Could he have made himself an actual normal friend? Without even trying? He smiled to himself, knowing he had to tell Ferguson, and walked across the street towards the main doors. Thanksgiving wasn't the disaster he expected, it was slightly better.