This was supposed to be only 300 words, I SWEAR. (1,000+ words totally count as a drabble, what are you talking about?)
Title from All This Time by One Republic. Spoilers up to the season 5 finale.
01. Beginning
He isn't exactly sure why, but as he stares at the back of her head, he thinks of that one night outside the gymnasium four years ago.
He hears: Milady.
And then: Milord.
Then:
The doors open.
And he panics.
::
"We saved Greendale, hell yeah!" he yells, idiotically, then raises his hand for a high-five.
She smiles a tiny smile at him, then slaps it.
Then she completely turns away to go dance with Abed.
(He doesn't know why, but it feels significant.
Almost like an ending.)
::
He watches her as she tapes the Save Greendale star on the task wall.
There's an air of confidence about her, as she turns around and flashes the group a small smile, a smile of quietly modest pride and accomplishment. He claps along with the others as he watches her take her seat and look down with an expression that's almost shy, and it's—
(It's endearing. Because Annie Edison pretty much led the Save Greendale Committee single-handedly and with as much passion and determination and drive as she puts into pretty much everything else she does, and she's shy about it. It's different and new and impossibly endearing to him, all at once.)
::
He watches her as she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. As she pulls out a purple pen to neatly scribble in her notebook, the letters uniform and small. As she smiles at Abed, as she laughs at one of Shirley's jokes.
He notices Abed's gaze, watching him, and he looks down quickly, like he's been caught red-handed doing something he's not supposed to. And it's not like it's a crime—he's allowed to stare at a pretty woman, so he doesn't know exactly why he feels trapped.
Except—
It's not just any woman, and maybe, after yesterday, after Racquel—he now knows that it means something.
::
(It scares him to death.)
::
He stays behind in the study room as everyone starts to leave in a cloud of happy, contented chatter. He pretends to be busy with his phone, randomly punching keys, but he's really watching Annie out of the corner of his eye as she puts her papers back her binder and stuffs her books and pens in her purse. He takes note of the slight crease between her eyebrows, the slightest peek of her tongue as she methodologically proceeds about her task.
She finally notices that he's still there—there's a tiny hint of surprise in her face. "Oh! Aren't you leaving yet, Jeff?"
There's coolness in her tone and sadness in her eyes that she tries to mask in a face of indifference, but this is Annie and he knows her a bit too well. He can't deny that watching her face now is kind of like being punched in the gut because—he is the world's biggest asshole and he knows it and he just. He wants to make it up to her. He wants to let her know. "In a bit." He tries to keep his voice casual, but there's an embarrassing coat of sweat forming on his palms and his heart is thumping away like a goddamn traitor.
"Oh. Okay." She lifts her shoulder in a shrug and grabs her binder off the table as she stands. "I should get home. Haven't really slept properly since yesterday, because of everything. Kind of need some time to settle down."
"This is Greendale," he offers, by way of explanation, "and you saved it. Of course you need time to settle down."
Her cheeks turn pink. "We all saved it."
"Yeah," he says, "but thanks to you."
She's quiet for a minute as she swings the strap of her purse over one shoulder—and not for the first time, he thinks she looks incredibly different in jeans and sans backpack. Older, but still as attractive as ever. "You were the one who opened the door, though. Before."
Oh.
This is not how he really expected this conversation to go, and holy shit, he cannot afford to be panicking right now. "Well…" Or to be inarticulate.
She tilts her head to look at him, and he quickly averts his gaze. "You never did tell us how you opened it, Jeff."
"It was—it was nothing." Crap. Crap. "Don't worry about it."
She stares at him for an uncomfortably tense moment.
Then she nods, slowly. "Okay." She smiles a little. "Fine. Tell me some other day. I really gotta go, anyway. Rachel and Abed have a date and I'm planning on doing nothing and being goosy-loosy the rest of the day."
"Well, you do deserve it," he says, and then he smiles.
"So do you." She smiles back, something more real and genuine this time, with just the tiniest shade of shyness. "See you tomorrow, Jeff."
She walks out the room without looking back, and he sits slowly back down in his chair and stares at the wide expanse of the study room table.
::
(His mind is going haywire.
He hears: a burst of human passion and we have to let each other want what we want and maybe it's time to move on.
He remembers milady and the doors opening and Annie's excited grin and the neutral look on her face when he and Britta unceremoniously announced the end of their unceremonious engagement.
He remembers her face, all those years ago, as he extended his arm out to her and she looked at it for a tentative second before she smiled up at him and took it.)
::
"Hey, Annie!"
She's heading down the front steps of the library when she turns around, her hair a little messy from the wind. "Jeff?"
He stares down at her and he remembers another night: the end of a semester, twinkling lights, two un-profound declarations of love, an existential crisis, and her, standing there in front of the library steps with a pink duffel bag and uncertainty on her face.
He also remembers a kiss.
His breathing is maybe coming out a bit labored. "Do you, uh. Do you want a ride home?"
She stares up at him for a tentative second.
Then she smiles.
::
His breathing starts to even out.
(Because this is Annie and she's his best friend, and she's passionate and idealistic and independent and beautiful, and maybe, just maybe, she's what he's needed all along.)
::
He opens his car door for her. "Milady."
She smiles at him, shyly, genuinely, in a way that's more Annie. "Thanks," she laughs, "milord."
::
It feels like a beginning.