Quick Story Notes: This is an AU of the first time the gang all meets. In this universe, Jess moves in with her good friend Schmidt after Spencer cheats on her. Nick and Winston have just moved to LA from Chicago. Nick is a new bartender at Clyde's and he moved in order to be with Caroline. Winston joins him because his basketball career in Latvia has been cut short. More details will be in the story, I just thought a little background might help.

If this story looks familiar, it was up here once before but I took it down because I got the idea for "Twenty-Two" and it took over. I'm giving this one another shot though!

Pairings: Ness & Schmece

Set: Around the same time as season 1.

Out of Context
Chapter One.

This can't be happening.

Well, that is actually incorrect. It can be happening. It is happening. But she is really starting to wish that it isn't happening. This is terrible. This is Jessica Day and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Date.

She's been single for three months. Three long, weird, Spencer-less months spent living with her long-time friend Schmidt, trying not to be disturbed by the surprising amount of strange that wanders out of his room on the weekends. At first, crashing with Schmidt had been pretty bearable (and even amusing). But she probably should have known better. Around six weeks after her breakup, Schmidt had started referring to Jessica's lady parts as Death Valley, and though she doesn't like to admit it, the nickname is starting to have an effect on her self-confidence. To help her get out of her rut, Schmidt created an online dating profile for her and she had finally picked a guy to go on a date with. Which is why she's here, at a bar called Clyde's, drinking wine and pretending not to notice that the guy she's with is a total douchebag.

She's going to kill Schmidt as soon as she can escape.

It takes her forty-five minutes to convince her date (she's mentally referring to him as Douche McToolbag) that she isn't interested in hooking up. He doesn't seem to understand the concept, not even when he's walking out of the door alone.

Man, she needs a drink. Being single is terrible.

Trying to ignore the fact that her love life is a complete mess, she trudges over to the bar and slumps down on it, covering her face with her hands. She doesn't uncover her eyes when she hears the bartender stop in front of her—it's probably Big Bob, and she's afraid she'll see pity if she looks up at him. Lately she's been here way too often.

"Two fingers of something Irish please." Without looking, she puts her hand up to silence an older, redheaded regular who has eagerly leaned forward. "That's not a literal request, Patrick."

The glass clunks down on the bar top in front of her and a healthy dose of whiskey is deposited in it. Jess' sigh is deeply satisfied and she glances up to thank Bob—

—And meets the gaze of a new bartender. A new, sexy-in-a-scruffy-way bartender with warm brown eyes. Eyes that are currently crinkled up at the corners because he's smirking at her. She gapes at him for a second, caught off guard by a new face. Where had he come from? Nothing ever changes at Clyde's. It's like the bar in Cheers and she is a sucker for nostalgia and 80s sitcoms.

"That didn't look like it went too well," he says, jerking his head toward the door she'd practically forced McToolbag out of a moment ago. The words aren't without sympathy, although he is obviously trying to make a joke of it.

"Uh…noooo. No, it really, really didn't." She picks up the glass of whiskey and takes a sip, wincing as it burns its way down her throat. She isn't normally a whiskey drinker, but it has been an extremely frustrating three months. She looks shyly up at the bartender through her bangs and finds him studying her in return. He doesn't seem to be too concerned that she's caught him staring. Instead his lips turn up at the corners and he slowly casts his eyes away.

"Sorry to hear that," he says. "I hope the whiskey helps."

He goes back to wiping out empty glasses, not shutting her out but giving her a little space in case she wants to drown her sorrows in silence. God, if only her date had been as nice as him...

She takes another long, burning sip of whiskey, wishing it's an acquired taste that she'd actually acquired before now. Maybe she'll switch to a daiquiri next. Before she can decide, a well-manicured blur comes rushing toward her from the door.

"Jess! I got your text. I came right away. Where is this guy? Huh? Where'd this punk go?"

Schmidt nearly crashes into the bar because he ran up to her so fast. He is as fashionable as ever, but in that overly polished way that she finds slightly annoying. He is breathing hard, as if he'd run all the way from their apartment. His eyes are moving around the bar, looking for McToolbag. She pats his arm, hoping to soothe his apparent rage on her behalf.

"Thank you, Schmidt. He's gone now but thank you for defending my honor," she tells him, fighting a smile. "Everything's okay now."

"Oh. Okay good, because I was going to take him to pound-town, Jess. Right to pound-town. Blammo, done!"

Schmidt doesn't seem to realize he's yelling. And if he notices the stares from the other bar patrons, they don't seem to bother him. A few paces to her right, Jess can see the bartender trying not to laugh. He glances over, shaking his head, and then looks away again when he catches her eye.

"Listen, Jessica – that guy was not good enough for you. You can do better." Schmidt sounds extremely earnest—too earnest, really.

"Thank you for saying the exact words that you're obligated to say as one of my close friends," she replies, more amused than annoyed. He isn't really listening anyway. He's fully engulfed in his role of dashing protector and is already plowing ahead with the conversation as if she hadn't spoken.

"Perhaps you should consider lesbianism."

Her glass plunks down hard on the bar top as she turns to him, her mouth hanging open in outrage, but before she can tell him how incredibly offensive it is to belittle people's romantic and sexual choices that way, he shushes her.

"Hear me out, hear me out! It's because girls are so much more into, you know, personality. You have lots of personality, Jess! And…also breasts."

"Are you serious, Schmidt?! What the hell?" She smacks his arm, and he jerks out of her reach, rubbing his bicep where she'd slapped him.

"I'm just trying help you, Jess! I care about you! And honestly this is an absurdly long dry spell. It's starting to get really weird."

Jess throws the last of her whiskey back. Unbelievable. "It is truly and disturbingly amazing how you can insult entire demographics of people as well as me personally without a single shred of shame."

Schmidt's smile is wide, full of delight at his own mischief. He is pretending not to understand what she's talking about. He opens his mouth to continue giving her terrible life advice, but she's saved by his ringing phone. She watches him dart away to a quieter corner of the bar and shakes her head. He really is too much.

She peeks over to see the bartender staring after Schmidt as well, and she pulls a face.

"If I told you I was friends with him out of pity, would that make any sense to you?"

He laughs. It's a nice laugh.

"I think that's the only way it makes sense to me," he assures her, and she giggles with him for a moment.

"Thank you! I feel like I have to explain it a lot."

For a moment, both of them watch Schmidt gesture wildly as he shouts into his phone on the other side of the room. With another chuckle, the new guy then grabs the whiskey bottle and pours her another drink.

"I think you could probably use this. On the house," he says when she starts to decline.

"Thank you!" She takes the glass and lifts in in a salute to him, and he gives her a nod. She notices that while he continues working—cleaning glasses and wiping down bottles—he doesn't move too far away from her. She tells herself that she's already reading too much into his body language. She doesn't even know his name yet, and already she's over-analyzing his proximity to her.

Seriously, it's time to get a grip.

"Can I ask you something?" she says suddenly, straightening her posture as he looks back over to her. Her tone is so serious that for a moment he looks concerned, but he walks toward her immediately.

"Shoot. I'm an open book."

"Can we be friends?" At his look of surprise, Jess rushes to explain. "I just think it would be useful to have a friend that can professionally provide me with alcohol—please don't read into that—and who won't try to persuade me to change my sexuality." Or refer to my vagina as Death Valley. She manages not to say the last part.

He laughs again. "The alcohol I can help you with." Then he pauses and looks thoughtful. "Actually, I might be able to help you with the sexuality thing too. I've been told I have that effect on women."

"What, the effect of turning them into lesbians?" She's cracks up as he gives a sheepish little shrug.

"Let's just say college was rough."

She sticks her hand across the bar. "I'm Jess."

He gives her hand a firm shake. "I'm Nick," he replies.

"Thanks for cheering me up."

"What're friends for?"

Ten minutes later she has more of his backstory: he's just moved here from Chicago, which explains the accent, and Big Bob has hired him on full-time. She's just explaining to him about being a teacher when a woman walks up, leans over the bar and kisses Nick quickly on the lips.

"Hey, handsome!" she says. She's a pretty blonde woman, probably a year or two older than Jess, and wearing a blouse that Jess immediately approves of due to its tiny daisy print.

"Hey!" Nick's smile is wide. "I'm almost done. Want a drink while I finish up?"

She turns him down and glances curiously at Jess. Nick gestures between them.

"Meet my new friend Jess. Jess, this is my girlfriend Caroline."

"Nice to meet you Caroline." Jess takes her hand, giving it a warm shake and hoping she hasn't made the wrong first impression. Nick's cute and surprisingly easy to talk to, but she's not interested in usurping anyone's position. Home-wrecking is not her style, especially not after Spencer's transgressions.

"I had a terrible date and Nick was very generous with the whiskey. Now I better go take care of my friend before he judges someone's private sexual decisions even though his own sexuality is questioned so often…you didn't need to know all that. Anyway, thanks again and it was great to meet you both!"

It isn't her most graceful exit, but it could have been much worse. At least she doesn't awkwardly tap dance across the room, which is usually her first instinct.

"Schmidt! Leave that nice man alone! He does not need your help choosing shoes to match his belt!"

Schmidt immediately protests that this is exactly what that poor stranger needs, and Jess hauls him out of the bar before he can humiliate her further.

The loft that Jess shares with Schmidt is beautiful. It's big and roomy and she has to admit that Schmidt has impeccable taste. She can't really afford it, but they've been friends for so long that Schmidt gives her a break on the rent as long as she supplies delicious baked goods for his office. He calls them his literal brownie points and she rolls her eyes every time, but she enjoys the baking so she doesn't protest too often. Honestly she hadn't expected to live with him this long, but her very best friend Cece already has roommates (models, yuck), and she doesn't really have anywhere else to go that isn't back to her mother's house in Oregon. As much as she loves her mother, she is keeping that as a last option.

She leaves Schmidt in the living room once he's changed into a short, silk kimono. There are some things no one should see, and the pale expanse of his upper thighs is firmly in that category. Anyway, she wants some privacy when she calls Cece, and if Schmidt knows that's who she's calling, he'll pester her to death. Cece has been his "Everest," whatever that means, for years.

She locks herself in her room and pulls on her pajamas before sliding into bed and calling her best friend. She hugs a pillow close while she waits for Cece to answer.

"I was just about to call you," Cece says when she picks up. "How was your date?"

"Terrible." Jess' voice is far too cheerful. "I mean it was really bad. He told me that his last conquest called his penis 'King Kong' and he thought I was there for a hookup."

"King Kong? Seriously?"

"Schmidt picked him."

"You've got to listen to me. Please, please, please stop listening to Schmidt when it comes to dating."

"You're right. You're one hundred percent right, I never should have gone out with this guy in a million years."

"You don't sound too upset. Did something else happen?"

Cece knows her too well. Jess deflects, trying to decide how to explain meeting Nick. On its own it was a completely unremarkable event, but she keeps thinking about his laugh.

"Did you know there's a new bartender at Clyde's?" she asks instead.

"Did you seriously have a first date at that dive bar? Jess, c'mon…"

"I thought you liked Clyde's!"

"No, you like Clyde's. I go there with you because the drinks are cheap."

"Cece, you never pay for drinks. I mean it, I've never seen you pay for a single drink. Guys always buy your drinks."

"Okay, well…they would be cheap if I had to pay for them. Tell me about the bartender."

This is it. The moment of truth. She needs to decide how to explain the instant connection she'd felt with Nick…and then how to explain the fact that he has a girlfriend. She's going to have to word it carefully because Cece is very perceptive. The years they've spent together means she can read Jess like an open book.

"His name is Nick. He gave me a free whiskey. He's from Chicago." She falls silent for a moment.

"And?" Cece coaxes, her tone playful.

"That's it."

"He's cute, right? That's why you brought him up."

"Okay, yes. He's cute. He's cute and he's funny. And for a second I thought we had this crazy connection."

"Just for a second?"

"He has a girlfriend."

Cece lets out a sympathetic sigh. "You do have a thing for unobtainable guys."

"I know." Jess buries her face in her pillow. "What is wrong with me, Cece?"

"Jess, nothing is 'wrong with you.' Lots of girls get crushes on unavailable guys. Do you want me to come over tomorrow and help you look at your online dating matches?"

"Yes please!" Jess can hear Cece smiling at her eager reply.

"Okay. Get some sleep, Jess. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay. Wear sweats. Schmidt has the day off."

"Perfect." Cece's sarcasm is heavy, but Jess has a feeling that in this case, the lady doth protest too much. She wisely keeps this observation to herself. That's a conversation for another night.

"Goodnight, Jess."

"Goodnight, Cece."

A/N: "Twenty-Two" isn't quite done but it is wrapping up, and I'm still not 100% sure exactly what direction this fic is heading in (I mean, other than a Ness direction)...but I really enjoyed writing this and I'm eager to see where it goes. Hope you enjoy!