A/N: Thank you for the lovely response to the last chapter. Oh, when I mention Tweets here, there should be a little 'at' email symbol in front of their Twitter handles so I've bolded them instead. :)
Three days later Jeff stands in the middle of Piccadilly Circus, sipping on the last dregs of his coffee. The air is unbearably close, thick with heat and pollution that clings to the sweat on the back of his neck, and the noise of traffic and people pouring out of the tube station, hurrying from all directions, is a little overwhelming so early in the morning.
He'd rather be in bed right now - maybe order in some room service and catch up on his tweets and emails and a few of the games on his phone he hasn't had the time or inclination to play the last couple of days. If he had a choice Annie would be there too, preferably naked or at least wrapped up in his sheets, but he's really not sure what Annie wants and it's the uncertainty that makes him reluctant to find out, for now.
There was a moment last night after dinner in Soho, when their hands swung back and forth between them, brushing every now and then as they moved through the crowds in a silence filled with bitten lips and searching eyes, and his racing pulse thought she was going to ask to come back to his hotel.
She didn't.
When they eventually parted he watched her wander off into the night with a frustration he hasn't felt in a long time, rooted in the pit of his chest and buried there ever since. He doesn't blame her hesitance because this is Annie and it's only been four days of whatever it is they're doing - he's not even going to begin to label it - but spending every minute of the day in her company is heightening everything he feels to a level he's increasingly unable to suppress.
He watches her standing by the fountain trying to photograph the detail on one of the streetlamps – 'Victorian' according to Annie's endless supply of useless facts. She looks so tempting in another skimpy sundress that clings to her in the best way when the wind catches - the color light enough that he can see the soft outline of her body through the material when the sun lights her from behind - but it's her enthusiasm for everything that has the smile inching across his cheeks. And when she turns to catch his eye, she wiggles her fingers at him in a flirtatious little wave and his heart swoops low.
It really needs to stop doing that.
To distract himself he shakes his recyclable coffee cup to check that it's empty and throws it in a nearby trash can. At that moment a red double-decker bus pulls up along the sidewalk and Annie runs over, clapping excitedly.
"It's here!" she sing-songs happily. Stretching on tiptoe she presses a quick, almost distracted kiss to his lips – somehow so habitual now – and tugs him to join the queue forming alongside it and -
"Jesus Christ, Annie, there's a tour guide. You never said anything about a tour guide."
"Oh. Didn't I?"
He smirks at the faux innocence twitching her lips, knows she's trying not to smile - the same way she does when Troy and Abed do something childish that she can't help but find entertaining sometimes, even though she thinks she shouldn't.
"You so owe me for this."
"Hmm. We'll see." She strokes the length of his forearm with her fingertips, her nails scratching him slightly. "But out of interest, how would you like to be repaid?"
"I get a choice?"
"Sure. There's kisses or scotch or...?"
He's liking the sound of that missing option - seriously, consider him sold whatever it is - but Annie is distracted with the task of handing over their tickets and dragging him to the small steep stairwell that winds up to the top deck where they grab a couple of seats near the front for 'optimal photography' - Annie's words, not his.
As they wait for the rest of the bus to fill, she busies herself taking photos of the illuminated advertisements of McDonald's and Diet Coke lining the curve of one building while Jeff thinks about his repayment and everything it could involve. Annie naked. He shifts a little. Him naked. Even better. Annie and him naked. Together. His foot taps a frustrated beat and he checks his watch, although it's more for distraction than a need to know the time.
"How long is this bus tour?" he asks.
"About two hours. I thought we'd get off at Marble Arch and walk down Oxford Street. I also looked up all the best menswear stores. I know how much you want to go shopping."
Jeff grins. "You think of everything don't you?"
She throws a flirty little smile over her shoulder, camera still poised in the air. "I thought we established I'm the day planner, Jeff."
"So we did," he smirks, stretching an arm across the back of her seat, the ends of her hair tickling his skin as she moves.
"Besides, I've always wanted to see you in your natural habitat. Watch you work your magic. All these years we've been friends and we've never once been to the mall together."
"Oh, well, you're in for it now."
They share another smile that makes more than his cheeks hurt and it must show on his face because Annie flushes and dips her head before turning back to her camera. While Annie's busy taking more pictures, Jeff figures now is a good time to ignore that weird feeling in his chest and check his phone for messages. He grins as his Twitter feed from last night pops up across the screen.
Thanks for tweeting AbedsTweets that picture of the weird time zone thing JeffWingerAtLaw. Real cool. Now we can't get him to stop screaming.
And from Britta a minute later:
JeffWingerAtLaw, AnnieEdisonGCC douchebag.
Jeff chuckles loud enough that Annie turns to look at him finally, face lit inquisitively, and he thrusts the phone into her hands. "Look."
Shielding the screen from the sunlight she squints as she reads and gasps, "Why am I a douchebag?"
"Uh, because I told them it was your idea?" His head shakes amusedly. "I can just picture Troy and Britta flapping around your apartment trying to calm Abed down. You're an evil genius when you want to be, Edison." He turns to her, frowning immediately at her look of surprise. "What, you don't agree?"
"You told them we met up?"
He blinks in surprise at her question. "Yeaaahhh. Didn't you?"
"No. I haven't been in touch with the guys at all because I promised Abed I wouldn't call from the future, you know, because we're seven hours ahead?" She dismisses his blank look with a careless flap of her hand. "Anyway, to be honest I thought you'd prefer to keep it a secret, even more since we've been, you know…"
Jeff shifts awkwardly in the seat clearly not made for someone over 6ft tall, trying to dislodge the discomfiture rising in his gut, that same sensation of dread he feels whenever he might have to talk about feelings and, well, having them.
"No, Annie, I don't know, and why would I keep it a secret?"
Her eyebrows rise pointedly. "Oh, so you'd have no problem telling Shirley and Britta that we've been making out all over London the last four days? Or that you got a little hands-y on more than one occasion?"
"I wouldn't say all over London and please, as if you didn't want me to touch your ass wearing shorts like that."
"Jeff! Ew. I can't believe you said that."
"Okay, okay. Sorry." He takes a deep leisurely breath and smoothes his palms against his thighs a couple of times. "Look, I think the fact that I like you is probably the worst kept secret at Greendale. I'm pretty sure even Leonard knows."
Annie smiles almost bashfully, pinching the fabric of his jeans where it's gathered and creased at the bend of his knee. "You like me, huh?"
"Annie." His head rolls languidly to one side. "Take a minute to process where we're sitting right now."
She frowns, taking a measured look around them. "Piccadilly Circus?"
"Yes, but I'm talking more about the bus. The open-top double-decker bus."
"O-kay…"
"Do I look like an open-top double-decker bus kind of guy? Does this look like the face of a man who enjoys listening to some British guy with the worst shirt and tie combo I've ever seen, drone on and on and on about buildings I don't care about? I mean, London Bridge? It's just a bridge, Annie. It opens and closes for tall boats. Amazing. Never seen one of those before."
"Jeff."
"And how many sarcastic comments did I make when you bought those ridiculous giant Union Jack hats yesterday?"
"Two, and you know they were for Troy and Abed."
"It doesn't matter who's going to wear them, Annie. The point is you bought them. You tried one on before you bought them and I stood there and only made two sarcastic comments. The restraint employed was god-like."
She grins. "Okay."
"And I've spent three days walking around museums and art galleries looking at stuff that isn't even art. I mean, anyone can cut out colored pieces of paper and stick them on a canvas and call it a snail."
"You've lost me."
"Plus, I have journal now, Annie." He widens his eyes meaningfully. "A journal. Admittedly, there's only one entry that, well, was kind of ripped out but still. The thought counts, right?"
"You…" Her mouth parts into a little 'o' shape. "You started a journal?"
His mouth opens soundlessly for a second before he clears his throat and settles into a half-hearted sort of laugh that sounds a little uncomfortable if he thinks too much about it. "I drew the line at Hello Kitty."
"That's. Um... So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying you should read between the lines."
"I think we both know 'reading between the lines' doesn't work for us, Jeff."
There's a slight harshness to her tone that he doesn't like, and he stares at her unblinkingly for a few moments, noting the way she's watching the agitated twist of the camera strap in her fingers and not him, and he really needs her to look at him right now.
The bus engine guns hard, sending out a buzz and hum vibration beneath their feet.
"Okay. I'm saying…" He holds her chin in a pinch and swallows hard against what he's about to say, breathing out the words in a rush. "Yes. I like you. I wouldn't have done all that stuff if I didn't."
Her gaze darts coyly to the floor and back again before she smiles and fists his t-shirt in one hand, pulling him in for a kiss. It's gentle and innocent and nothing like the kisses they've shared the last four days but maybe that's the point.
Annie pulls away, resting her chin on his shoulder and for a moment they both just breathe together quietly. "How terrified are you right now?" she asks eventually.
"On a scale of 1 to 100?" His head tilts to consider. "About a 95."
"Do you…Do you want to hold my hand?" She bites her lower lip and draws her fingertips in a gentle brush across the back of his hand that actually makes him shiver slightly. "It might help."
He shrugs one shoulder, trying to be cool about it, but his lips curl upwards. "Can't hurt to try."
She smiles, threading her fingers through his, slightly hesitant at first, before resting their joined hands on his thigh. The bus finally pulls away from the sidewalk and the speakers thump with intermittent white noise as the tour guide fiddles with the microphone settings. As the breeze picks up around them, Annie snuggles closer and Jeff feels a warm sensation in his chest.
"Jeff?" He hums in response as their eyes meet, soft and smiling. "I like you too."
There's a low rumble of thunder in the distance by the time they climb off the bus two hours later. The air has cooled slightly, and the sky has darkened to a menacing gray and Annie knows from her research that their luck with the weather is about to run out. As she quickly checks her map for directions, Jeff busies himself frowning at the sky and then at the ground steadily darkening with giant spots of rain.
It's catching on her skin now, and a drop hits her right in the eye, so Annie thrusts her map back into her purse and pulls out her umbrella, blinking against the raindrops and grinning at the sight of Jeff holding both palms flat above his head in an attempt at shelter. Shaking her head in amusement, she swiftly unfolds the umbrella with a click and hands it to him. His nose wrinkles a little.
"Uh. No. I don't do umbrellas."
"Fine. You can get wet then."
His lips pinch in deliberation as he looks at the sky again, and seconds later he sighs like it's a huge inconvenience and, with a muttered curse under his breath, snatches the umbrella out of Annie's grasp, curling his arm around her so she's pressed against his chest, sheltering them both as the rain grows loud and heavy around them.
"Clearly we got off that stupid bus just in time."
"Oh please, it wasn't that bad."
"Seriously, Annie, if I had to listen to that guy mention the 'wonderfully rich architecture' one more time, I was about to commit a felony."
"Don't be so dramatic. Anyway, it's over now and you can spend the next few hours doing your favorite thing, you know, looking at your own reflection in all the changing room mirrors. Oxford Street is just, well, there." She points at the busy road running alongside them.
"You needed a map for that?" he smirks.
"Shut up."
They huddle close, unmoving, listening to the rhythmic pitter-patter against the purple polka-dotted material stretched taut above them. As neither of them seems to want to move, Annie presses her cheek to his chest and tightens her grip around his waist, trying not to think about how close they are, how manly he smells, how solid he feels beneath her fingertips.
She wants him.
It's not a new feeling but it bubbles up inside her almost desperately, unexpectedly at times, and the kissing and touching, laughing and chatting for four days straight has just amplified everything and now…now her hands itch to run through his hair and grab him – really pull him flush against her so she can feel the hard planes of his chest and his heartbeat – to feel him inside her. She wants him to take off her clothes and do things to her she rarely lets herself think about, things that still make her flush when she does.
She knows it's going to happen and the sureness of it is more than surprising after all this time, especially where Jeff Winger is concerned. But she just doesn't know how - or when. She was kind of hoping he'd take the lead but he hasn't and goddammit, why?
There had been a moment last night when Jeff slipped his hand into hers, as if it was natural, instinctual, and the certainty of his desire, the soft affection dancing in his eyes and tilting his lips to one side, sent an empowering zip all the way to her toes. She thought for sure that he was going to invite her back to his hotel but he didn't and she had to resist stomping her feet all the way home.
She sighs at the thought - at the frustration she felt back in her cramped hostel bunkbed, that had her flushing and wriggling and thrusting a cold pillow into her face - and pulls back slightly, tilting her head to study him. He's already gazing at her with that look again – the one she knows so well, the one she's dreamed of and agonized over at times, so soft and full of something…
Jeff presses a kiss to her forehead, eyes roaming her face as though he's memorizing every feature, and sometimes his affection just doesn't seem possible.
"What are you thinking about?" he asks.
"Oh, just the weather. We're in London experiencing a classic English summer rain. Isn't it amazing?"
"Rain is rain, Annie. That watery substance that falls from the sky back in Colorado? Same thing."
"But it's different. It smells really cool and fresh here." She sniffs the air pointedly, feeling the crispness hit her lungs, invigorating after the morning's strangling humidity. "Can you smell that?"
"I can't smell anything but your hair." His eyes widen a little, as if he didn't mean to say that. "It's...nice, good even. Vanilla?"
She nods, the play of her mouth all softly demure as she fingers the hem of his t-shirt where it sits low against his jeans. "You know, there's something sexy about kissing in the rain if..." She peeks at him through her eyelashes. "If we got rid of this umbrella."
His eyebrows rise in amusement. "Annie, I'm not making out with you in the pouring rain just because you think it's romantic."
She pouts. "You're no fun."
"Let's think about this for a second. Those romantic comedies you watch where the guy runs in the rain to the woman and professes his love? Never. Happens. And don't you think it's convenient how they never show what happens afterwards, with the guy in hospital dying from pneumonia or some other rain related disease?"
Annie blinks up at him. "Are you finished?"
"Plus this shirt was expensive." He meets her slow smile with one of his own. "Now I'm finished."
"You know there's a flaw in your logic, right?"
"Impossible."
"Oh, so you don't see the merit of getting soaking wet while you make out?"
"No. Sounds pretty uncomfortable if you ask me."
"Huh." She taps her chin slowly, deliberately. "You don't think the rain would turn this dress see-through?"
His gaze darts down to her soft pink sundress, a little startled. "I…no?"
"And you also don't think that people have to get out of their wet clothes quickly? And possibly what they do once they've removed their clothes is enough to warm up and stave off any illness?" She watches his mouth part soundlessly. "Wow. And I assumed Jeff Winger thought of everything."
"Hey." His voice cracks around a swallow. "I'm allowed my off days."
"Let's not pretend, Jeff. You just don't want to get your hair wet."
Jeff sighs. "Flat hair is not a good look on me, Annie, and that's saying a lot because everything looks good on me. C'mon."
"I was right before. You really are ridiculous."
"Forgive me for not wanting to walk around London soaking wet."
"Well, I didn't think we would." Her pulse races as she runs through what she's about to say and she has to stop herself from bouncing in a rush of nervous energy and adrenaline. "We'd have to go back to your hotel to dry off because honestly, this dress would be completely see-through."
Jeff's eyes bug wide and Annie has to smother a triumphant smile. "Completely?"
"You'd probably see everything."
There's a pause as he licks his lips and fingers the strap of her sundress where it's clinging damply to her collarbone. "You know, we don't actually have to be wet to go back to my hotel. I'm just... putting that out there."
"But where's the fun in that?"
"Uh, there's lots of fun in that." He winks at her flirtatiously, his free hand moving down to squeeze the firm curve of her hip, creeping to the swell of her ass, and she can feel the heat of his palm through the thin material of her dress. "Just say the word and I'll show you."
Her heart flutters fiercely but she shrugs, trying to keep as loosey-goosey as possible because she knows now, knows that Jeff was never going to take the lead on this tenuous thing between them, the move was always hers and he's just waiting for her to make it.
"Okay."
"Okay?" His hands tighten against her, just a little. "Is that the word?"
Annie shakes her head in amusement. "Don't be silly, Jeff. When I say the word, you'll know it."
Later that night, Jeff leads Annie out of the restaurant in Covent Garden where they just ate dinner. It's late and dark and the only lights grazing them as they walk over the uneven cobbles is the flicker of lanterns from nearby pubs and restaurant tables spilled outside into the market square. There's a real buzz about this place – people drinking outside, street entertainers, the sound of music in the distance and the low rumble of the underground trains. Everywhere is still a little wet from the earlier rainfall, and there are puddles in patches of uneven ground; the water glinting and reflecting moonlight.
Jeff steals a glance at Annie, eyes bright in the darkness as she beams eagerly at their surroundings and tightens her cardigan against the evening chill. He's contemplating whether to take her somewhere for drinks to warm up – maybe the bar in his hotel, or even the mini-bar in his room, possibly just throw his body on top of hers, that'll keep her warm – when she suddenly squeals in delight and rushes over to an old red phone booth by the side of the road.
"Jeff!" She opens the door and peers inside, eating every detail. "This is so exciting! It's just like the one in -"
"Inspector Spacetime." Jeff grins, folding his arms across his chest. "I've seen like ten of these already, Annie. You didn't notice?"
"No! And I was looking for them. I was starting to think they were some sort of British conspiracy."
He laughs. "Yeah, well, you'll see them everywhere now."
"I know, right? Why is that?" She bounces animatedly and rifles through her purse for her phone. "Take my picture. Troy and Abed will love it! It might make up for the time zone photo."
"Annie. It was your evil plan to mess with Abed. Why do you feel bad? It worked. Mission accomplished."
"I know but I feel guilty leaving Troy to deal with that. Abed's freak outs are not pretty."
"Says the woman who once screamed her head off because she lost a pen."
"Uh, the pen was stolen from me, Jeff. There's a difference. And this is not about me. This is about Abed."
"Really," he smirks.
Her eyes widen in horror. "You have no idea. When the clocks went back, Troy and I had ringing ears from his piercing screams for two whole days. Then there was the time I rearranged their bedroom just a little, you know, to keep things organized and give them some more space, and that was...well. Don't ever touch Abed's things. It's not worth it." Her hand snaps to cover her mouth, like the dawning horror of her actions has finally caught up with her. "Oh god, I really need to make it up to them. Here."
She hands Jeff her phone and stands just inside the open door of the phone booth, striking a pose with one hand on her forehead and one finger pointing across the square.
Jeff frowns. "Uh, what are you doing?"
"I'm channelling Geneva," she says, as if it's the most obvious thing, and sighs in annoyance at his blank confusion. "Jeff. You watched all of the Inspector Spacetime specials with Abed. You should know who Geneva is."
"Yeah, I don't really pay much attention to be honest. I just like hanging out with Abed."
"Aww. Me too, well, when he isn't freaking out, or moaning that I haven't put enough butter in the buttered noodles. Or when I -"
"Okay, okay," he laughs. "I get it. Abed can be difficult."
"Difficult? Have you forgotten that he wanted to cut off your arm?"
Jeff huffs out a laugh. "Yeaaahhh. Let's just pretend that never happened. These guns are too sacred." He flexes lightly, ignoring the roll of her eyes with a smug flirty little grin. "You know I'm right."
"I suppose so." Her lips twist as she ushers close, reaching out to trace the muscled indent of his bicep through his shirt, and he makes a show of flexing again so that the muscle is hard beneath her hand. "Losing one of your arms would be a tragedy – purely for symmetrical means of course. Wouldn't want you to look lopsided or anything."
"Oh, yeah, of course," he smirks. "It's all about the symmetry baby."
Annie giggles and tugs on his arm. "Come on, get in here. We need to take a picture together."
"What? No." He shakes his head for extra emphasis, even though he knows it's futile at this point. Annie is nothing if not determined and he knows from three years of friendship and ridiculous adventures that he'll pretty much do anything if she asks right. He always has.
"Jeff. We've been here four days and haven't taken one picture together yet. Come on," she sing songs a little. "Troy and Abed will love it! It's the D.A.R.S.I.T!"
"It's a phone booth, Annie."
"Uh, I know. They call it a phone box here. But it'll win us back some friendship points." Her eyebrows rise expectantly, her lashes just starting to flutter. "Please?"
Jeff sighs, shaking his head at himself as he squeezes inside, shutting the door behind him, and Annie grins her success all the while. It's a tight fit and there's a faint stench of urine, plus the wall behind the phone is covered in business cards advertising the kind of business he's surprised Annie hasn't squawked at yet. But he gets to huddle close to her body and curl an arm around her, his senses filled by some floral fragrance that he smells every time she moves.
The arousal guts him, just as the camera flashes.
Annie huffs a moment later as she checks the shot. "Jeeeffff! You're supposed to smile."
"I wasn't ready." His elbow catches the edge of the phone with a thunk as he shifts to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand. "Ouch. Shit. You should really warn a guy when you're about to blind him, Annie. Jesus."
"Stop whining and smile. I'm about to blind you." She grins and presses closer, thrusting one leg between his, her free hand low on his back, her fingers curling around his belt to anchor herself. Every muscle in him tenses at the proximity. He inhales sharply and starts a count of ten.
One. Two. Three. Four.
Just like some fucking horny teenager with no self-control, Jeff's gaze drops to the view of Annie's breasts pressed against his chest and he's momentarily entranced by the lift and swell with her every breath. Her dress is low cut tonight, enough that it shows one small freckle dark against her pale skin, and he wants to kiss it, trace it with his finger, find out if there's more.
Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
He's riveted by the thump of her pulse at the base of her neck and wets his lips involuntarily, every impulse flooded by the need to lick it, just lean down and flick his tongue against -
The flash blinds him again and Annie huffs exasperatedly, whacking his chest lightly.
"Oh for goodness sake. You look like you're in pain in this one. Having your picture taken isn't that bad."
He blinks rapidly to clear the white spots from his eyes and he's so disorientated he's not even thinking properly when he blurts, "It is with you pressed up against me like this and I can't touch you."
"You…" Annie starts. "You are touching me."
His gaze bites to hers and he swallows thickly at the intensity he sees there. "Not in the way I'd like." He pushes a few strands of hair behind her ear, and lets his fingers linger against the silk of her jawline. "Annie. You have to know that."
Her mouth parts with a soft gasp he feels against him as she inhales, and maybe she didn't know. The air narrows in the small enclosure, the square panes of glass already clouding with their body heat combined, and they both take a heavy breath at the same time. Annie's eyes dart across his face, searching for something or maybe everything, and it feels like forever before she speaks, voice slightly breathless and full of wonder.
"Jeff."
"Annie."
She makes a noise so unlike Annie as she fists his shirt and their mouths meet instantly, his nose sliding over hers as they work for a better angle. His hand smoothes against her cheek, their kiss deepens frantically and Annie whimpers, stretching closer as their tongues twist and they compete in a tug and press of war with their bodies, knocking the telephone off the hook in the process.
Distantly Jeff is aware of a slightly muffled siren, faint at first yet steadily increasing in volume the longer they kiss, and his hand swings and sways for the phone dangling from its metal coil, grabbing it and slamming it back on the hook with a clink. He doesn't mean to be so heavy-handed but the abruptness of it has Annie tearing her mouth away from his, and they both gasp for much needed air against each other's mouths.
She rests her forehead on his chest while she catches her breath and seemingly collects her thoughts, his shirt still clutched in her grip like she just doesn't want to let the moment go. Eventually she looks up at him beneath fluttering eyelashes.
"The word...I think..." She swallows and wets her lips a little. "I think I'm ready."
Jeff frowns, still a little disorientated by the kiss and her taste and everything. "What?"
Annie fingers one of his shirt buttons, studying the pattern of her fingertip before her chin lifts, all brazen and determined. "I want you to take me to bed, Jeff. Now."
A/N: In case anyone is interested, when Jeff discussed visiting art galleries he was talking about 'The Snail' by Henri Matisse which is on display in the Tate Gallery. It really is pieces of paper arranged on a canvas in the shape of a snail. Yeah. I might have coloured that dialogue with my own POV there. Hehe. ;)