notes Just wanted to have a place to compile any oneshot I may write for Community. You're ~welcome.
prompt "I can't lose you, Annie."
All the Goods on Display
some profanity, you'll imagine lots of dicks
A pantless man with dreadlocks and a tiara shoved a giant neon green glow-stick in Annie's hands. Perturbed, Annie glanced up at Jeff and asked, "What are we protesting again?"
"Hell if I know."
Troy pushed his way past a throng of people surrounding an "art piece" that looked suspiciously like a giant bong to join them. "Britta says the problem we're fighting is too complicated for the study group to understand, but I don't think she knows either. There are so many naked dudes; do you think I should get naked, too? I should get naked. Does the word naked sound weird to anyone else right now? I think it's all these bare butts messing with my brain."
"Troy!" Annie gasped, but then paused with an intrigued look on her face as she glanced up and down his body.
Jeff noticed. "Annie!" he mocked in a silly high pitched voice. He returned to his own register with a biting tone towards Troy, "We are not stripping out of our clothes. It's freezing out here and every penis looks like a frostbitten thumb."
Troy discreetly peaked inside his jeans as Annie shrieked and slammed into Jeff's chest when another nude man almost pogoed right into her. Jeff's arm immediately fell around her. Growling, he said, "Alright, that's it! We're out of here. Troy, tell your activist girlfriend that Annie and I walked, nay, ran back to the car to escape this stupidity. Maybe if we apologize profusely with fresh donuts Abed will let us join his Firefly marathon and not hate us for choosing Britta's protest over his invite."
"We thought we were going to be marching for a worthy cause! It's not our fault theeee-" Annie's eyes widened as Jeff was already fighting his way through protesters and leaving her behind. "Jeff! Wait! I can't see through all the fumes of these over-zealous potheads!"
Jeff called back to her, "Annie, I can't lose you: a) you're wearing the brightest sweater in your closet, b) you're wearing clothes. You don't blend into this massive crowd of male flesh. Come on...Annie? Annie!?"—and he had lost her. Shit.
As well-endowed twenty-something with a square jaw, washboard abs, and silky Fabio hair skipped past him, Jeff suddenly had a panic-inducing flashback to freshman year when Vaughn had his New Age-y lips suctioned to Annie's face and their little cuddle games he used to spy on in the quads, convinced it was dirty hippie foreplay. Now there was a whole Greendale block's worth of Vaughn-types with their goods on display, and Annie was out there walking amongst them all, alone, lost, and vulnerable—vulnerable to these protesters' Vaughn charms. SHIT.
"Annie!" he yelled while brutishly pushing people out of his way. "If one gross nudist lays a finger or an appendage on you I'm—"
"Jeff?"
"Oh, hey."
He was flushed and breathing hard and sweating (he'll say its morning dew). Thankfully, she says nothing about it, but smiles knowingly.
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