Get It
…she doesn't get it. And that pisses him off.
She tries to change what she wears around the apartment because he tells her that she's driving him insane. How is he supposed to function normally with her there? In her skirts, her dresses, her pink robes, her deep-vs, her shorts.
Instead of shorts, she starts wearing jeans, but they just cling to her hips and ass in a way that makes it very hard for his hands not to touch.
Instead of V-necks or low shirts, she wears button ups or even friggin turtle-necks. Well guess what; he can still see through that button up in certain light at certain angles and the turtle-neck is tight enough that he isn't bothered anyway.
She bought a plain black robe, but guess what, it's just as short as the pink one and it's been added to his catnip list.
She doesn't get it because in the end it doesn't matter anyway.
He knows what the skin of her legs feels like once the jeans come off; knows how smooth they are and how they shake slightly as his hands move higher.
He knows what her breasts look like underneath the shirt; knows how they feel, the exact ratio of their size to his hands. The way her breathing gets heavy and loud when his scruff scratches them.
He knows exactly what's beneath that black robe; has it burned in his mind how her tiny stomach heaves as his lips move below her belly-button.
She doesn't get it. How it's not just what's beneath the clothes she wears that drives him crazy.
It's mostly about who is in the clothes.
It's her crazy giggle-scream.
The way her eyes get even wider and brighter with enthusiasm and emotion when she talks about her students, or his writing, or her family, or a bird she saw…pretty much anything. He's not even gonna mention the eye color, that's too easy.
The way the right side of her mouth turns up whenever he's talking to her. Even if it's about the wrestling technique he would use against a gorilla. It's a feeling that happens at that look. That he knows somehow, for some crazy reason, she's not laughing at him. The she finds immense pleasure in just hearing him speak.
It's the way her voice starts to get a bit scratchy when she's reaching the upper registry when screaming at him if he doubts himself.
The way her chin sort of scrunches in consternation or sympathy, depending on the day.
It's the way she doesn't give up on him. Doesn't let him give up on himself. And about how much that scares him. How the fear of letting her down is worse than failing at anything he's ever done.
…maybe she gets it.
It's about how he can't get any writing done; when he's in his room, trying to concentrate, beating an uneven rhythm on his laptop keyboard, waiting for inspiration and out of nowhere he'll get a whiff of her hair (she uses some sort of vanilla-cinnamony-type shampoo) and he'll glance at his bed, where the sheets and sleeping bag comforter are still twisted up from what they did there that morning. And he ends up doing something else with his time (involving his hand).
He doesn't get why when he's with her, the thoughts and voices telling him to cut and run, that he's not good enough seem to disappear. Problem is they reappear, sometimes even louder when she's gone.
It's about that moment he realized he found her random singing and dancing endearing versus annoying. How he heard her humming a song from a band he really liked and had told her about, and the weird pleasure he got out of the moment.
The way he gets weirdly jealous whenever she does something nice for Schmidt or Winston, or even Cece. It's her selflessness and optimism, which can endlessly frustrate him. He knows she sent that batch of cupcakes she made the other day to his ma for her birthday (how the hell does she know when his mom's birthday is?). He catches himself watching her in the kitchen, if he's sitting at the metal island reading the newspaper, and she's bustling around making something for someone, never for herself. He stares and then has to leave, either because he's too turned on or too confused/angry at being too turned on.
It's how if she's not at the apartment, he's worrying about her. How there could be 20 more Edgar's that are obsessed with her and have a shed full of weird ass googly eyed deer drawings.
How he can't look at her if she cries. How the feeling in his chest reminds him of when Sam (her incredibly handsome and successful ex-boyfriend…shut-up) punched him, only it seems harder and hurts more.
It's about how he thinks he's in love with her.
That's it. That's what it's about.
She doesn't get it. He hopes she'll figure it out soon. Then maybe he wouldn't be so pissed off all the time.
AN: Based off of NG lines: "You're an upper boob guy?" "You are so annoying in your little shorts." "Pink robes are my catnip" "And I hate it, you sing and dance about nothing"
Music inspiration: AWOLNATION – "Not your fault"
Enjoy and thanks for reading!