Disclaimer: I don't own Community or Michael Bublé's Christmas album.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
It was probably the coldest night that Greendale had had all year. It was cold enough that you could see your breath with each exhale, and each inhale hurt just a tiny bit. It was cold enough that the tiny puddles on the street had frozen over into tiny skating rinks for you to slip and make an ass of yourself on. It was cold enough that the rain the weatherman had predicted was coming down in large crystalline flakes of snow, each one landing on another and accumulating in a way that gave the downtown core of Greendale a slightly magical glow—the kind that makes you think of Christmas.
All of that information should have been enough to keep Jeff firmly locked inside his apartment on this cold December night—but for some reason, he was out. His coat was insufficient, his boots were leaking and he had no gloves to speak of. His fashionable scarf was tied tightly around his neck, but it only did the bare minimum when it came to actually keeping him warm. His nose was cold, and was starting to run as a result of the constant sniffling that the cold forced him to do.
Nonetheless, he wandered further away from his apartment on the outskirts of city central (really just a small public park surrounded by two 14 floor "skyscrapers" and a Walmart. Greendale wasn't exactly New York City). All around him were signs of the holidays. Store windows boasted sales, obnoxious carollers stood on street corners singing hymns, and every once in a while he'd pass an overly romantic couple who forced their Christmas-induced lovey-doveyness on his general Scroogey attitude about the holiday season in general.
As he made his way further into town and neared the public park, he could hear the sounds of Michael Bublé's Christmas album becoming clearer and clearer. The city had insisted on playing the album on repeat every day from the first of December onward, and would likely keep it going until the New Year. Normally Jeff didn't possess homicidal feelings toward Michael Bublé, but he felt that murder would be justifiable if he was forced to listen to that up-tempo White Christmas duet with Shania Twain even one more time.
The closer he got to the entrance of the park, the lighter everything became. Streetlights and quaint old-timey lanterns were plentiful around this part of Greendale—it was the only area that the city put any effort into maintaining. There was even one road that was cobblestone (it was originally pavement, but the mayor decided to dig it up and put in cobblestones to give the relatively new town an 'historic feel.'); ironically, the street was called 'Innovation Avenue,' and was home to Greendale's main gas station and smoke stacks.
Sometimes Jeff couldn't quite figure out why he stayed in this town. He wasn't even from Greendale; he was raised in Denver and made his way out here when he found out there was a law firm with lax regulations about the whole 'legally able to practise' thing. He supposed he stayed because Greendale Community College was an easy way to attain a legitimate degree, and he really didn't want to move back to his hometown with his Mom and his creepy Uncle Larry. And he supposed—supposed—that maybe there was another reason to stick around. In spite of himself, he had come to enjoy the time he spent with his eccentric group of friends from school.
In spite of the mild irritation that Michael Bublé's crooning caused him, Jeff turned into the park when he reached the front gate. There was a small, round ice rink that was filled with skaters to the left, and a few snow-covered benches to the right. Straight ahead was a small, but elegant gazebo where a poor, cold man was tasked with keeping that damn CD on an endless loop. He looked miserable. Jeff wasn't surprised to see him take a swig from a bottle hidden in a paper bag.
Jeff walked along the path drawn down the centre of the park. Each side was flanked with tall streetlamps and snow-covered weeping willows. If Jeff was able to admit that he liked things, he'd probably admit that there was a quaint charm about this place, especially when it was covered in a blanket of fresh, white snow. But Jeff didn't admit to liking things, so he kept a slightly agitated expression on his face as he wandered around the back of the gazebo where more lights illuminated the falling snow and cast a dreamy glow over that which had already come to rest on the ground.
He was just about to crack a small smile when he took another step, slipped, and landed flat on his butt.
He really hated winter.
"Jeff!" he heard a voice from somewhere behind him, followed by soft, snow-muffled footsteps coming toward him. He closed his eyes tightly, willing away the realization that someone had just seen him fall ass-over-tea-kettle in the middle of the park.
"Are you okay?" she asked, running up to meet him. Jeff blinked up at the intruder. She was backlit by the street lamps, which gave her a kind of ethereal glow that slightly freaked him out. Her pale skin seemed paler in the diffused light of the night.
"I'm fine," Jeff said, struggling to get up. He slipped one more time on the patch of ice before finally making it to his feet with Annie's help. She began brushing snow off the back of his coat, ignoring the large majority of it that was stuck to his butt.
"Come sit with me." She directed him to the bench she'd been occupying when she saw him fall. They both settled onto it, trying to ignore the very cold snow soaking into their pants.
"What are you doing out here so late?" Jeff asked, trying not to be too cranky about his fall.
"It's 8:30, Jeff. Not quite curfew yet," she teased. "Besides, it's the first snowfall of the season. Didn't want to miss it!" she exclaimed with false enthusiasm.
"Troy and Abed being weird?" Annie frowned and nodded.
"They're having a Superman marathon and they keep trying to save me."
"From what?"
"Pillows, teddy bears, refrigerator magnets... one time it was the tea kettle." Jeff smirked.
"Well, I guess you get what you pay for when you decide to live with fourteen year old boys." Annie sighed.
"They're usually a lot of fun... but that's probably because we're usually at school. This holiday break is kind of overkill on the Trobed adventures," she confided. Jeff nodded his agreement.
"Small doses. Why do you think I never invite them over?" Annie quirked a brow.
"You never invite any of us over." For just a moment, Jeff looked appropriately stricken, but recovered quickly.
"It's for the best, trust me. We all spend so much time together that any more and we would start hating each other. Trust me."
"You told me to trust you twice. You only do that when you're lying through your teeth," Annie pointed out.
"So, how boat this snow, eh?" Jeff said abruptly. Annie laughed out loud at his diversionary tactics.
"Wow, going full on Canadian for the holidays?" she smiled and nudged him playfully, giving him the out he was looking for. "I actually love the snow. I was hoping we'd have a white Christmas." Jeff raised a questioning eyebrow.
"You're Jewish," he pointed out. He felt like he'd been reminding her of that a lot lately. She shrugged.
"I know, but growing up in Greendale kind of gives you an appreciation for Christmas. I mean, look at this place," she said, gesturing to their surroundings. "If I didn't get a little excited for the holiday I'd be miserable for an entire month." Jeff chuckled.
"That's for damn sure. I swear to God if I hear this awful Michael Bublé album again, I'll shoot myself."
"I don't know," Annie said, listening for a moment to the final verse of Santa Baby. "I kind of like it." Jeff groaned.
"Ugh. Aren't you sick of it yet?" she shook her head.
"I may not celebrate Christmas, but I can't deny the music is kind of catchy."
"Yea, catchy like herpes," Jeff muttered. Annie made a face.
"One, gross, and two, hardly the whole truth. Yes, it keeps coming back, but it's not itchy and it doesn't give you a cold sore." Jeff couldn't help but grin. Annie had really changed since they'd first met, both in her acceptance of Jeff's cynicism and her willingness to occasionally engage in it. The mere fact that she was able to turn herpes into a fitting compare/contrast for Christmas music was evidence of that.
"How about genital warts?" Jeff poked. Annie looked like she was about to respond, but was quickly distracted by something. "Pubic lice?"
"Shh!" she put up a finger, indicating he was not to speak.
"What's...?"
"It's my favourite Christmas song," she said, still holding up the finger. Only then did Jeff realize that Santa Baby had ended and Michael was now crooning the opening lines to the classic Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.
He watched her for a little while, a small smile playing on her lips, her eyes closed gently, simply soaking up the melody and swaying ever so slightly in the bench. He couldn't help the small jolt it sent through him—she was so beautiful under the pale moonlight with the snow in her hair and her small, pink lips curved upward in a show of pure contentment. Bublé's voice dipped and rose in the background as her body reacted to each word.
Jeff's body made up its mind before his mind had made up its mind, and he pulled himself up from the bench and reached a hand out to her. She opened her eyes at the movement, staring up at him questioningly.
"Dance with me?" he asked. She smiled widely and accepted his outstretched hand, allowing him to guide her up and into his arms as the song reached its bridge.
Jeff felt lighter as Annie melted into him, her very small, mitten-covered hand held loosely in his bare one, her head resting against his chest as they swayed together in time to the beat. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and pulled her close, craving the feel of her body against his.
Here we are as in olden days,
happy golden days of yore.
Faithful friends who are dear to us
gather near to us once more.
He felt her sigh and sink further into him, and closed his eyes, dipping his head so his lips rested easily on top of her head. He breathed in the smell of her shampoo, feeling almost dizzy as it mixed with the fresh air and created a truly intoxicating concoction.
Through the years we all will be together,
if the fates allow.
Hang a shining star upon the highest bow,
and have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
The two barely noticed as the final strings of the song faded away and the song Christmas (Baby Please Come Home) began to play. The tempo sped up, but their movements slowed until they eventually came to a stop, embracing as the snow fell on and around them.
Eventually, Annie pulled back just enough to turn her face up to see Jeff. He couldn't help the small smile that had taken up permanent residence on his lips at having her in his arms. Her eyes shone in the dim light and he barely noticed their slow movement before their lips met softly.
In the background Bublé's voice provided their soundtrack, you should be here with me; baby please come home. In that moment, Jeff felt he finally was home, and the coldest night of the year suddenly seemed immeasurably warmer.
End
A/N: Just a little Jeff/Annie holiday fluff. Hope you enjoyed it :)
