Disclaimer: I don't own Community, yo.
Description: Why is Jeff Winger the way he is? Two brief character studies, based on prompts from the community_tv livejournal comment ficathon.
Prompt: Jeff- he mentioned owning a guitar in 1.12; take that wherever you like – baller-annie
Rating: PG-13
The Guitar
There are things that Jeff keeps to himself, like the way he used to play baseball for a girls league because he couldn't make the boys team, or how he once entered a project in a science fair and won an actual trophy for it. He doesn't talk about his father, or his mother, or his creepy uncle Larry who has spent the better part of the past four years in a state penitentiary for armed robbery.
All of these things Jeff keeps to himself for one simple reason: they're nobody's business. Just like it's nobody's business that whenever the mood strikes, he pulls out the old acoustic guitar that was left behind by his father, and plucks away the few tunes he ever bothered to learn.
Playing guitar was never a passion of Jeff's, but it was a passion of his father. One of Jeff's earliest memories is of his father pulling him onto his knee, strapping the guitar over his shoulder, and teaching him a few chords. Nothing spectacular, just enough to strum and have it come out sounding like it should.
Jeff's dad left when he was five, but he had two years of guitar practise with the man before that fateful day. In all honesty, the only good memories Jeff had of his father were those in which the older man would pull out his guitar and play a few chords, sometimes singing along with the tune, sometimes just letting the melody take them away. Those were the best days that Jeff could remember—the only days he ever felt like his family was really a 'family.'
He remembered one particular evening when he was five. Things were getting worse and worse between his parents. His dad would come home drunk nearly every night and the evening would soon devolve into a screaming match, in which he would inevitably become the target of his father's ire and venom. His mom never knew how to handle his dad when he was drunk, so she'd just go off into a corner and cry when the man turned on his young son, telling him to 'man up' and 'stop being such a goddamn pussy' whenever he cried.
This one particular night, Jeff thought it would end up like that. His father was already tipsy when he walked in the door, and his mother was on the verge of yelling at him for it, when something different happened. The man walked in with a laugh and a joke, grabbed his mom by the hand and spun her around as if they were dancing. Jeff watched on with a smile as his dad and mom laughed and teased each other good naturedly before the older man pulled his guitar from the case and sunk down into his favourite chair to play a few tunes.
Jeff can remember watching on as his dad sang to his mom, "Sweet Caroline", "Love me Tender" and "Are You Lonesome Tonight" – three songs that he'd tried to teach Jeff on the guitar, but soon gave up because he was just too young to get it.
That was the last time his father came home with a smile on his face. It was only a month later that the man walked out following a terrifying argument in which his mother was thrown against a wall, and Jeff was locked in a closet for three hours before she realized he was missing.
In his rush to leave, William Winger forgot his guitar, which had been sitting out next to his chair where he'd left it.
Jeff taught himself to play a few tunes here and there. It was never a passion, but it almost felt like a responsibility when all he had left of his father was an old guitar.
And so now when Jeff relaxes back into the cool darkness of his apartment, he'll pull out his old guitar and strum a few lines of "Are You Lonesome Tonight". Sometimes, he even sings along.
End
Prompt: Jeff, what drives him to call a sex-line and say he's 400 pounds - freakykins
Rating: PG-13
Hunger Pains
Jeff's stomach grumbles as he lays in bed. He's eaten a little bit today: a salad, some fish and cashews. He mostly just runs on coffee though. Lots and lots of coffee. And push-ups. Coffee and push-ups, coffee and push-ups... so that when the group has him over he can eat the pizza and no one will side-eye him for passing it up.
Jeff isn't anorexic. He's careful to maintain the minimum daily caloric intake that is considered healthy for a person his size.
Okay, healthy for a person half his size... but the point is, he's eating. He had a few years in his 20's when he couldn't make that claim, so now in his mid-thirties, he considers this a win.
Nonetheless, the hunger pains never really go away, even after he's eaten. They're like feeling phantom pain in your hand after losing your arm.
They're worth it, though. Worth it to look the way he does and fit into the clothes he likes and present himself to people who think slim, well-toned guys are sexy. Hell, Jeff thinks slim, well-toned guys are sexy, and he wants to be one of them.
But there are times... times like tonight, when he thinks he might just be done with it all. Done with the salads and the three-times-a-day workouts. Done with the bathroom scale that tells him that no matter how hard he tries, he just can't get his 6'4 frame below 185lbs. It's not fair, really. People like Abed can eat whatever the hell they want, be it pizza, buttered noodles or copious amounts of special drink, and they never, ever gain a pound. If Jeff eats a piece of bread he's bloated for a week.
Of course, even when Jeff was recovering from his so-called "eating disorder" in his 20's, he still did well with women. Even when he ballooned up to 210 lbs and had what could liberally be called a 'beer gut.'
But he's still afraid. Still afraid that once his handsome face is puffy, and his sculpted abs are gone, that he'll suddenly lose the magical hold he has over the world. That people who like him will realize he's just a scared, selfish bastard without anything to offer them, and they'll leave.
Jeff sighs and grabs his phone, dialing a number by heart. He tells the operator his preferences, and closes his eyes to wait for a sexy, soothing voice to fill the line.
He tells her he's 400 lbs. He tells her he's alone, and disgusting, and that nobody wants him around anymore because he's just a pig and a waste of time.
And she tells him he's sexy, and that she wants him, and "What do you want me to do to you? Do you like this? Do you like it here? Oh, god, yes, yes, yes."
He hangs up and he can't tell whether he feels better or worse.
His stomach grumbles again. He ignores it.
End
I find Jeff Winger absolutely fascinating. Hopefully that comes through in these little ficlets. Thanks to those who prompted for letting me have fun with this. Hope you liked it.
