So there are not Troy/Britta shippers out here yet? It's time to rectify this situation!
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"No."
"Troy…"
"My God, woman, for the last time NO!"
There were three things that Troy just could not stand. The first was racial intolerance. The second was scary teen slasher flicks. And the third … well, the third really was small rodents, but gaining on that and taking its place on the list, just this very moment, was a woman who just would not take no for an answer. And it made it all the more uncomfortable when that woman was Britta, and she was standing in the men's locker room. Even making him more uncomfortable: while Britta was decked out in her typical denim jeans and leather jacket combo, he wasn't wearing anything but his Calvin Klein leopard-spot boxer briefs.
"You do realize the sort of position this puts me in," Britta said, slightly raising her eyebrow.
"If you're implying about the severe discomfort about standing half-naked…"
"I'm talking about Title IX," she said.
Troy sighed, "Britta, I know you, and you're not going to…"
"You bet your sweet ass I would," she said. "Besides, what's your problem? The football team is clearly a co-ed team. Wasn't there a pregnant woman here last year?"
"It turns out she was just a fatty," Troy said defiantly.
"Be that as it may, I think I'm entitled to a try-out for a spot on the Greendale Human Beings. High five!" she said, raising her hand to a passing player. He ignored her.
Troy looked around the locker room. No one was listening, but he pulled Britta aside anyway. "What are you doing?" he whispered. "You don't even know the first thing about football."
"Way-ell," stammered Britta, "I can learn. This is community college. We're supposed to be open to new experiences and … things. Besides, why are you getting defensive? Afraid I might reveal your ballet secrets to your jock pals, hmm?"
Troy raised his hands. "Shhhh!!!" he said, nervously. "Just SHHHH!!!!"
The remaining players turned to watch Troy's panic attack. Britta waved them off. "Breathing exercises," she explained. "It's like Lamaze."
"Alright," said Troy. "If you insist, I think a position opened up at center. Wisniewski's on some sort of foreign exchange trip over the next month."
"Perfect!" said Britta. "I'd make a perfect center! What does … what does a center do exactly."
"Well," explained Troy, "when the game starts, you squat on the ground and hold the football until I'm ready to start the play. When it does, I move close to your behind. The I reach between your legs, and I snatch the ball from your hands."
Britta stared at Troy wide-eyed. Then her face softened, and her mouth turned up into a smirk. "Nice try, Romeo," she said. "But you're not scaring me off. I'm taking the position."
"Fine," said Troy. "You need to talk to Coach Bogner first. Yo, Britta, you've got to be telling me why you're doing this. Whatever people been telling you, take it from me, football is NOT a game!"
"Let's just say it's in the interest of a feminine cause," she said, giving Troy a sly look and a wink. Troy felt his heart jump a beat. "By the way," Britta purred, "nice undershorts."
Troy gulped. "I try to look nice," he said, blushing.