Disclaimer:I don't own "New Girl", but I sure do love it!

Author's Notes:With this, I FINALLY wrap up the "Pilot" arc that I started with "Worm Holes and Doors to Enlightenment", and "Five Days of Jess". WHEW! I want to keep writing, but I do NOT intend to get three stories out of every episode, from now on. ;o) I just thought there were so many gaps to fill in, for the pilot, since by necessity they had to rush the story along at that point. Now I feel a little more satisfied, in my own little mind ;o), as to the guys' motivations behind the way the ep ended.

I love Nick!
And I love Nick and Jess!
But I also personally prefer to stick with show canon.
So while you won't find them hooking up in my stories any time soon, you WILL find lots of delightful little relationship seeds sown along the way, and if you're like me, that's the stuff that makes you SQUEEEEE, anyway. ;o)

"What's this douche-bag's name? Phillip or something?

"Peter. And don't look at me like that, it wasn't my idea, he found her on his own."

Nick and Schmidt were sitting at the dining room table, eating whatever they could find in the fridge to eat. They'd been up late at the bar the night before, Nick working, of course, and Schmidt and Coach helping their new roommate Jess find a rebound to help her get over her recent devastating break-up.

Nick hadn't approved of the whole rebound plan in theory, and he SURE didn't approve when the only guy who had seemed willing to apply for the job was one of Schmidt's lamest friends, "P-Funk".

But, this dude didn't seem as bad as the complete D-bag Benjamin, and Jess had a way of bringing out the best in people anyway, so who knew, maybe it wouldn't be a complete disaster.

Still, he couldn't seem to shake the nagging feeling that nothing good was going to come of it.

And it wouldn't have been so bad, if Jess didn't seem so darn excited about it. She'd been dancing and singing around the apartment all morning. Not like a Disney princess, mind you, but like the complete, silly, naive dork that she was, and Nick felt somehow responsible for being a part of setting her up for what would probably just be another heartbreak.

"Schmidt," he pointed at his friend forcefully, "I'm holding you personally responsible when this just ends in tears. So help me, if this whole thing blows up into another month full of manic baking sessions and Dirty Dancing marathons, I will punch you in the teeth. Because I can't keep living that way."

"Seriously Nick, ok, number one, she's not planning on marrying this guy or anything, it's just a rebound date. That was the premise from the beginning. And number two, are YOU still grousing about having to put up with her break-up drama? Because if you are, I simply can't stand the irony."

"YEAH, ok, I went through a tough break-up of my own, and yeah, you had to put up with a lot for a couple of weeks..."

"...WEEKS?..."

"...but allow me to point out what I consider to be a vital difference here, which is that you and I had been friends for a very long time before Caroline and I broke up. You were basically bound by the codes of friendship to see me though that tough time."

Schmidt snorted at that, while Nick continued with his postulation. "Need I point out, WE JUST MET THIS GIRL? Sure, I feel for her, I really do. But there are no bonds there, historical, familial, or otherwise, requiring me to react with patient understanding every time she falls off her emotional rocker!"

"Touching, Nick. Real sensitive of you."

"Oh, I freely admit, I'm a selfish bastard. I've never claimed otherwise."

Coach walked in yawning and stretching. "What time is it? DAMN, it's almost one. What's been going on this morning?"

"Jess has been chirping around the apartment like Minnie Mouse on helium, and Nick has confirmed once again that he is, indeed, a selfish bastard."

Nick nodded his full agreement, while Schmidt continued, "Glad you got your beauty sleep Aurora, because tonight we GET OUR PARTY ON!"

Coach still wasn't fully awake. "Huh?"

"The Wild Wild West Charity Auction. Thanks to Nick growing a pair and texting Caroline to get us tickets, we will be rocking the range tonight! Frolicking on the frontier! Lassoing some cowgirls! Put 'er there, pardners!"

Schmidt held out his hands for a fist-bump triangle, which only Coach took halfhearted part in. Nick just sat with his hands in his lap, and said, "Oh, no, I will not be attending that function."

"WHAT? Nick you got us the tickets! You HAVE to go!"

"I fail to see how that dictates my attendance."

"Don't you see? This is YOUR time to rebound! It's been six months, dude! Time to put Caroline behind you! Look how awesome you did texting her for the tickets!"

"Uh, yeah, I've been meaning to talk to you about that. Do you WANT me to get back together with Caroline, or what?"

Schmidt and Coach shuddered in unison. "GOD no, why would you even ask that?"

"Well did it not ever occur to you, the whole time you were pressuring me to call her, that she is my kryptonite? I can't resist her force. It's an innocent text one day, a needy phone call the next, and next thing you know I'm going to be moving back in with her, then breaking up again, and then it will be me hanging out on the couch with Jess watching Dirty Dancing and eating Chinese take-out while we sing Alanis Morrisett songs into our chopsticks."

"Nick you don't get it...SIX MONTHS, dude. It was time. That brief contact was the next step in the process. You passed with flying colors. Now it's time for you to SEE Caroline again, and pass that test as well, so that you can stop wincing in visible pain every time you hear someone start to mention CARole Burnette..."

"...CARob chips..." Coach chimed in.

"...CARotid arteries..."

"Oh, no, I can't see her again! That cannot happen!"

"Sure you can. She's going to walk up to you, and she's going to do that thing she always does..."

"What thing?"

Coach answered from where he now had his head buried in the fridge, "That thing where she pretends to actually be sane and normal, in order to lure you back."

"RIGHT," continued Schmidt, "and she's going to say, 'Hey Nick, what do you say you and I go out for a cup of coffee and discuss what we're going to name our future children', and YOU'RE going to say...?"

"I'm going to say, sure, let's stop by the bookstore and get one of those books with baby name meanings," Nick said in defeat.

"NO! You're going to say, 'I'm sorry Caroline! There's been a misunderstanding! This night is not about you and me! This night is about my friend Schmidt...I'm just here to support him!'"

"Ok, like she would ever buy that!"

"Why not?"

"Because she KNOWS me! She knows I don't just do things for people, unless there's something in it for me. Need I repeat, I am a selfish bastard! No one has pointed that out more than Caroline. Well, ok, my mom, then Caroline."

Coach came in dipping a carrot stick in a huge tub of strawberry yogurt, earning a horrified double-take from Schmidt. "Your mom calls you a bastard, man? That's cold!"

"You don't know my mom, man...she's hardcore. But NO, just all the rest of it, minus the bastard..."

"MEN, COULD WE PLEASE FOCUS HERE!" Schmidt interjected impatiently. "I'm going to this babe-fest tonight, and I need wing-men. Coach, as an ethnic minority already, it seems appropriate for you to dress up as an Indian. Nick and I will go as cowboys."

"I'm not going, Schmidt!"

"You're going!" Schmidt shouted, before gathering himself, and then he went back to pleading with his friend, since it had seemed to finally work the day before. "Please Nick, I'm asking you as a favor. I need you and Coach both there in order to complete my appeal portrait with the ladies."

Nick and Coach both looked at him in askance.

"Coach's bumbling interactions with females will only exaggerate what a smooth talking cat I am. And standing next to Nick will draw full and proper attention to my spectacularly toned physique!"

"Now I'm thinking about not going," muttered Coach.

"YOU'RE GOING!"

"Wow Schmidt," Nick said, "although you really sweetened your case with a complete insult, I repeat, I have NO interest in helping you out tonight, in any way, shape, form, or fashion. If you need me, I'll be here on the couch, except that, OH YEAH, don't bother calling, because I won't care. Because I'm a selfish bastard.

"Case in point," Nick continued, "this thing with Jess. For some unknown reason, you and Coach thought that I was the obvious person to try to help her navigate the treacherous sandbars of heartbreak. And I tried to care about her, I really did. I feel for her. But she's all yours, now! As soon as I realized that there was nothing in it for me but ceaseless mental and emotional frustration and exhaustion, I was OUTTA there! I shut down. I'm done. That's what I do. Because I AM... say it with me..."

"...a selfish bastard." His friends rolled their eyes.

"That's right, good, I'm glad we're all on the same page here. It's really nice to have friends who know you and accept you for what you are. I'm glad we've had this little talk." Nick stood up, and started towards his room.

"Then why are you worrying over her like a Jewish grandmother?"

"Hmmm? What?"

"If you're such a heartless bastard, and if you've completely washed your hands of her, then why have you been kevetching about this stupid date all day? I have to tell you buddy, you've come dangerously close to sounding like someone who actually, you know, and I don't mean to hurt your feelings here, but...CARES."

"Can't hear you, can't answer your question, I'm answering the door," Nick said flippantly. Which wasn't actually a lie...someone had been knocking very insistently, angrily even, at the front door.

He opened it to find himself face to face with one of the most fiercely beautiful women he'd ever seen in person.

And yeah, she looked mad.

For one crazy second, he entertained the possibility that she was one of Schmidt's scorned lovers, then he half-laughed at the ludicrousness of that thought, even as he started telling the ethnic goddess before him, "I'm sorry, I think you must have the wrong apartment."

"I wish," muttered the girl, as she pushed her way past him unceremoniously. "You're Nick, right?"

"Ummm, yea-"

"Look Nick, I already know everything I need to know about you. You've been through your own terrible breakup. Real sad. But listen, don't even think about trying to use your 'connection' to wrangle empathy sex out of my best friend. It's not going to work. Not while I'm around."

She turned towards Schmidt and Coach, who by then were standing behind Nick, and he could practically feel the vacuum suction from their gaping mouths.

"Look, Jess has this horrible, fatal flaw. She sees the good in everyone. So you guys might have her fooled, but not me. I've got your number."

"YOU," she indicated Coach, "Are a testosterone-fueled misogynist, but Jess thinks you're really just a teddy bear. I'm on to you A-Rod. Watch the 'roid rage."

"And YOU..." she considered Schmidt for a few seconds, and then just shook her head dismissively. "Never mind, no matter how emotionally scarred Jess might be right now, even she wouldn't be stupid and naive enough to get messed up with the likes of you. Now where is she."

The guys mutely pointed her down the hall, and for a few seconds the stunned silence that followed was broken only by Coach whimpering, "Mommy!"

Nick slowly turned back to his friends, and marveled wonderingly, "Guys, I'm serious. I think my testicles just crawled up inside me, and are currently huddling behind my spleen."

But Schmidt just grinned happily, "Congratulate me, my bros. I have just met the girl I'm gonna marry."