These.... are really late. And bad.
These few are >500 word tumblr fics I did to get me over general creative block.
summer days driftin' away- Jeff/Britta, G
Prompt: Jeff/Britta, High School AU
Word Count: 555
“You’re worried,” Jeff tells her, a smile disguised as a smirk playing its way onto his face.
It’s the last day of summer before their senior year, and the last place they’d wanted to be was at home, or even worse, school. So they’ve settled for the ice cream parlor at the heart of Greendale, eying the bar with a red door across the street and waiting for the day where they didn’t have to rely on fake IDs that Britta somehow procured.
“Am not,” she fervently denies, her chin jutting upwards. There’s a haughty, defiant air around her, one that seems impenetrable and vacuous. Nothing’s much changed since Jeff approached her, on the first day of freshmen year, with a sleazy smile and a fake study group. And then again, everything has.
Jeff flashes a knowing smile, and Britta relents. She doesn’t go down without a fight and manages to scoff noticeably. “Fine,” she admits, crossing her arms, “Maybe it’s a little weird knowing that you’re going to go off and about to college—” she hisses the word like it’s an expletive “—while we’re all stuck in calculus. You’re graduating before Annie! Have you even considered how weird that sounds?”
Jeff tilts his head. “A little bit. But Annie’s overloading on credits to get into the Ivies. I just need one more to meet the minimum and get the hell out of there.”
“And into four more years of school,” Britta rains on his parade, “And however much longer it takes to become a fancy-schmancy lawyer-pants.”
“And the award for Most Supportive Best Friend goes, as usual, to Britta Perry,” Jeff snarks, “Who will be joining me next August at Greendale Community College.”
“If she can survive yet another year of this crap that we call the public education system,” Britta interjects passionately, “See what happens when we let our government control—”
Jeff raises a finger to her lips, which, physically, does nothing, yet still manages to shut her up. In return, Britta glares. “But, seriously,” she jerks her head backwards to free herself and pushes his hand away. “One of these days, I might just up and drop out.”
“You’d really drop out just because you didn’t have my presence bringing light to half of your senior year?” Jeff gives Britta his smarmiest grin.
“Tch,” she snorts. “As if. But starting Thanksgiving, Radiohead’s doing their national tour. So, I could possibly cross something off my bucket list.”
“Maybe one day, if I decide that college is a drag,” Jeff muses wistfully, inwardly knowing that he’d never have Britta’s guts and stupid bravery to be able to drop out and pursue something worth pursuing (after all, it was Radiohead).
“Then I’ll find front row seats at Greendale Stadium on Black Friday,” Britta says confidently, “Because, trust me, if high school’s this bad, college will be even worse. Everyone’s just expecting you self-actualize and learn how to cook and know what you want in life.”
Fleetingly, Jeff glances over to his best friend, whose eyes were still fixed ahead, looking right at the Red Door. For a pretty thick rising senior, seeing Britta jabber on animatedly about the faults of the American education system, the sun unceremoniously blinding a large portion of her face, he seemed to know exactly what he wanted.
i'll be your gold - Jeff/Britta, G
Prompt: Pirates AU
Word Count: 566
“Yo ho! Yo ho! A pirate’s life for me!” Britta sang, somewhat out of tune, lounging on the deck of the small, rustic boat.
“Yes, Britta, go ahead and tell the whole world that we’re criminals in international waters,” Jeff sighed, shaking his head.
She rolled her eyes. “And you call me a buzzkill.”
“Well, I’m also making an effort to not get us arrested … again.”
“Look, Winger,” Britta stood up and made her way below deck, where Jeff stood, charting a badly drawn map of the Caribbean, “When people hear that, they’re going to see an intelligent and capable woman referencing a popular movie franchise. They’re not going to prosecute us.”
“Well, I’m the lawyer here, so technically, I should be on top of all those details,” Jeff reminded her. Sighing, Britta threw her hands up in surrender and collapsed on the unmade double bed squeezed into the edge of the boat.
They were an unlikely team for a pair of naval Bonnie and Clydes, Bonny and Rackhams. But, Jeff Winger needed cash, hard and quick, and Britta Perry wanted a more … effective protest against the BP oil spill, and that’s how two community college students became the worst pirates in history. But to everyone that they met (and robbed), they were simply John and Anne Smith, a couple sailing around the Atlantic for their honeymoon.
Then, in the distance, a siren sounded.
“It’s not foggy,” Britta tensed. Her eyes flew towards the skinny black box of cash and other pieces of incriminating evidence.
Jeff walked towards the closed door that led to the deck, peering into its narrow, circular window. “Coast Guard,” he murmured, then turned immediately to his partner-in-crime. “Should we go outside?”
“Not if we want them to come inside,” Britta reasoned. Giving her a quick, affirmative nod, Jeff opened the door slowly and clambered onto the deck. Britta followed after.
Their small little boat paled in comparison to the magnificent combination of metal parts and wood that was the Coast Guard ship. From above, they saw a stern-looking black woman holding a megaphone in her hands.
“Excuse me,” Jeff began in his most average-innocent-honeymooner voice. Britta choked down a laugh upon hearing it. “Is there something wrong?”
Apparently the woman’s eyes were fixed elsewhere because she seemed startled by Jeff’s words.
“My apologies,” the woman put the megaphone down and cleared her throat, “Captain Shirley Bennett, Coast Guard. The siren was meant for one of our employees. He’s not exactly being cooperative at the moment. Sorry to disturb you two.”
Britta smiled graciously and gave a friendly wave goodbye to Captain Bennett in order to keep up their cover. The latter didn’t notice, her head turned in the opposite direction and furiously barking, “Lieutenant Hawthorne! You get back on this ship right now!”
Below deck, Britta let out a sigh of relief. “We dodged that bullet.”
“No kidding,” Jeff murmured, his breathing slowing down every second. “I think that’s the closest we’ve gone towards being locked away for good.”
Britta cocked her head, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know,” she said teasingly, “I think I’m already in a life sentence, being on a boat with you.”
Rolling his eyes, Jeff did nothing to suppress a smile. “Shut up,” he sighed, shaking his head in mock-exasperation. “Now, can we please get as far away from the lawful do-gooders as possible?”
necessary amenities - Jeff/Britta, T
Prompt: Hot tub
Word Count: 627
(Yay for me and my inability to write anything physical. ever.)
"No. No. Not in a million years. NO.”
“Britta, we’ve been hiking for three days. We’re separated from the rest of the group and you smell.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s you,” Britta snarled defensively. Jeff subconsciously took a step back, slightly startled.
“Fine, I smell. Either way, I’m going in,” Jeff declared. Frowning, Britta turned to look at her friend incredulously. Ignoring her, the former lawyer added with relish, “And then you’ll have to keep watch.”
“I am not keeping watch while you take a shower in someone’s hot tub,” Britta muttered through gritted teeth. “Do you even hear how ridiculous that sounds?”
“Someone owning a hot tub in the middle of the woods. That’s probably even more ridiculous, but it’s a sign from God or Susan B. Anthony or whoever you choose to follow, that we should probably stop smelling like crap right now.” Jeff snarked. He vaulted himself over the wooden fence that separated them from cleanliness.
“Henry David Thoreau went for two years in the woods without any of these privileges,” she called out through the fence, crossing her arms defiantly. “I could do the same.”
“Well, unlike him, you actually pay your taxes, so the comparison pretty much ends there,” Jeff retorted.
Ignoring him, Britta trained her eyes forward, finding a pine tree particularly fascinating for no apparent reason. She could hear the water running, the shuffling of his clothing from behind the fence and tried, very, very hard, to make her imagination stop there.
“The water’s warm,” Jeff called out, his voice reaching Shirley’s levels of singsongness. In a much quieter voice, Britta heard him murmur, “Crap, there’s a twig in my hair.”
“When we catch up with the rest of the group, they’ll wonder why I’m all alone and appropriately hygienic for spending three days in the woods. Then, I’ll have to tell them the sad, sorry tale of how Jeff Winger decided to violate trespassing laws in order to take a shower … without realizing that the person who owns a creepy cabin in the woods that happens to have a hot tub, also owns a Remington Action Rifle.”
Britta found footing on the tall fence and hoisted herself just enough to get a good view of Jeff lounging in the hot tub. “When Duncan said we’d take spring break to look at man in his most primal state, I don’t think this was what he meant.”
“Uh-huh?” Jeff stood up just a little, so that he teetered precariously on the edge of the hot tub, looking Britta straight in the eye. Then, before she could protest, reached out and effortlessly lifted her to the other side of the fence.
Reluctantly, Britta dipped a toe into the water. “It’s really … warm,” she said, trying to keep as neutral a tone as possible. Then, without further thinking, she relented, took off her outerwear and submerged herself into the tub.
“We’re never talking about this again,” she said firmly. “It’s was hygienically necessary.”
“Right,” Jeff grinned, watching as Britta scrubbed the mud off her knees, until it swirled straight through the open drain. “You know, there are also a million other things necessary to do in the presence of a hot tub.”
“Don’t even think about it,” Britta interjected, but not before giving him a wink. The coy smile dropped from her face. “Did you hear that?”
“Yeah, I did,” Jeff said quietly, inching closer towards Britta.
The back door of the cabin broke open.
Upon instinct, Jeff and Britta hurriedly leapt out of the tub and climbed over the fence, scrambling until they were a good ten feet away from the hot tub.
“Jeff,” Britta whispered quietly.
“Yeah?” He answered as they retreated slowly.
“We left our clothes back there.”
F for effort. F-minus for timeliness.
people collide, things happen, it can't be controlled
- Belated Short Ficlets