Advanced Introduction to References

By Taygeta

Author's Note: Jeff x Britta + Community References. Spoilers up to Season 5 - "Bondage and Beta Male Sexuality".

Jeff Winger sat in the study room looking at his whittling wound. The room was empty. Everyone had left him behind to get some froyo and he found himself making some lame excuse about waiting for a call.

He wasn't waiting for a call, but he was waiting for something. Something about Greendale made him always realize he was waiting for something. Although yesterday made him think that that something might be a someone…maybe.

The thought weirded him out so he started picking at the bandage on his hand, noticing that it was stained a slight red.

In this room of memories, it only served to remind him of one in particular.

The surface wound on his stomach. That first paintball fight. That first time.

With Britta Perry.

He laughed at the thought of her "trembling fingers" and his wounded torso, until he thought about how much he kind of missed those fingers on his torso.

That first time should have felt like a triumph and admittedly it did – but not in that underwear trophy kind of way that would come later, in that sex part of their relationship where it was honestly just about sex. After all, he did make up the stupid hawk story (and to his argument, it wasn't completely his fault that she believed him).

But it wasn't just the hawk story that was stupid – it was all dumb. He shouldn't have stolen them in the first place because it was the old Jeff – the childish Jeff – who treated women like prizes to be won. He remembered Starburns telling him after the disastrous dance followed by the fake relationship fiasco: "I know that you and Britta did it…and now I hear you frenched the brunette? What more could you have gotten out of that group?"

Somehow it was all full circle. It always led back to him being a kid about it all. He cared about Annie, but anything flirty that he did with her was rooted more in not wanting to grow up.

Yet there was always another full circle that wound its way back every year: Jeff and Britta. Britta and Jeff.

For two people who Abed claimed weren't Ross and Rachel, they did almost get married…twice.

As he once said in Anthropology 101 class: "So it begins. The greatest relationship ever known." Sure it was the start of their fake relationship, but now he was starting to think that maybe it also was kind of true.

It was in how "Hot Blonde from Spanish Class" became "Britta".

It was in how Britta's significance always slipped through the cracks in his walls, how "what we did was not dating" turned on its head so easily that he openly admitted she was his "former lover" to Duncan. And let's face it, how easy it was to say once so simply in a lie, "I'm, like, Britta's boyfriend."

Because, with Britta, in his lies were always truths.

Britta's words to the crowd last night echoed in his mind: "Just listen to yourself. And make sure you tell yourself the truth."

He had claimed to Duncan: "Something about everybody liking her turns me on." But the moment he said it, he knew that wasn't true because he was listening to himself and telling himself the truth.

It wasn't everybody. It was Britta. He was seeing again the Britta he always loved the best – the one before "Britta-ing" became synonymous with the worst, the one who wore her heart on her sleeve who always took it too far.

But he liked that about her. About how she could mix up Susan B. and Sophie B. and still rise to the occasion in floral Doc Martens.

She might as well have been dressed in that stupid ham costume again, yelling: "Help me heal your heart hole!"

And looking back at the wound in his hand, and thinking back at the wound on his torso, Jeff couldn't help but wonder if he should tell her that she might already have.

"Hey…you still here?"

He turned around to see Britta walking in the room and found himself catching his breath.

"Uh, yeah…what are you doing back here?"

She shrugged, "Forgot my notebook." She grabbed the red notebook on the table and looked at him thoughtfully, "I thought you had a call…or something?"

"Uh, yeah…already happened. It was a quick thing about my apartment – thought I might have to talk with the contractor a little longer to wrangle a deal, but he was pretty quick to convince."

She smiled, "Well, that's the Jeff Winger we all know and love." He half-smiled as a silence set in. She wrinkled her nose, "Well, the guys are still at the froyo place waiting for me to come back. You want to come with now?"

He stood up, "Yeah…sure. Since my call is done."

As they walked out, Britta asked, "Jeff – are you okay? You seem a little off…"

"Just remembered something I hadn't thought of in awhile…"

Britta perked up, "Well, you know psychologists say that memories…"

"Britta…"

She resigned, "Fine. Never mind."

Jeff took a deep breath and - feeling bad - said, "Okay, fine, what do psychologists say about memories?"

As he closed the door of the study room behind him, he was rewarded by the widest smile. It reminded him of one where she greeted him with a wave and hipster glasses after a summer absence. Maybe because she had been dating Troy then that he didn't want to make that look significant. It was significant - in the way that little things are significant and moments add up into something possibly tiny but substantial.

He decided, at least, that sometimes it was worth hearing "psychological facts" if it meant a little less hole in his heart and especially if it made her happy.

The greatest relationship ever known? Probably not.

But he liked looking into the hurricane and he was pretty sure he had never really left it.

End. Feedback appreciated!