elasticella

Michelle likes to think she has self-respect. Not enough to leave her comfy nook of teaching at Greendale, or enough to be the bigger person in what’s clearly become a fight between her and an undergrad, Jeff on the side nearly irrelevant. But there is enough that when she goes to walk out, when she sees Jeff making out with yet another pretty young thing, Michelle is done.

Back inside, blondie is looking dejected, and Michelle entirely blames her feet for carrying her to her.

“You wanna go get a drink?”

Britta blinks, wide eyed and confused beneath her crooked crown. The lost pauper princess, Michelle can’t help but think, fingers itching- to pull the tiara off or straighten it, she couldn’t say.

“I thought you- what?”

“Party’s over,” Michelle shrugs, and it’s so much easier to admit to her pseudo-rival, now that they both lost. It’s all black and white, and Michelle thought she’d care more about this. “Winger’s outside making out with someone else.”

“Well shit.”

“Yeah. I uh, I’m not getting drunk on six-dollar white wine.”

Britta raises an eyebrow, an amused smile on her lips, “That invitation for real?”

“Yeah,” and Michelle surprises herself, realizing that she means it. “I live pretty close by.”

There’s catcalls when they leave together, Britta flipping off the crowd. It’s a weird moment to recognize that she’s actually amused by the kid, could see them being friends in another world.

The nippy air cuts right through the single glass of wine she snagged, and thank fuck she’s only two blocks away. (Cheap, economical, and convenient- god her life’s boring from the outside.)

“I am sorry Britta. Winger… he felt like a sure thing, like a safe choice and when he didn’t instantly take me back- well, there you were.”

Britta laughs, nearly falls into her, and Michelle’s about to make a crack about her stumble when Britta says, “No way! I- fuck- I wasn’t even interested in Jeff, not seriously until he started dating you! He was like this option that was always nice to have, and then he was gone in a way I didn’t expect.”

Michelle unlocks her door with a snort, “Yeah, well, you dodged a bullet there. Welcome to my luxurious abode.”

Britta’s clearly biting back a comment, and Michelle goes straight for her bottle of tequila. This night is gonna get way better or worse, and she’s only interested in extremes.

.

By the time the tequila’s nearly gone, they’ve discovered a bunch of fun and not-so fun facts. Like:

1. Apparently the little brunette is Annie, a young friend from the study group they’re all in- awkward.

2. They fully catalog Jeff’s faults to the point that it’s a really good thing no one else is drinking with them.

3. Britta is bisexual. Well, she has the vibe anyways and endless leather jackets. Michelle’s pretty damn sure.

When they’re hitting white girl wasted, they’re acting like fresh coeds and pouring endless compliments on each other. They’re past the tear stage, that’s good. And then they’re hugging and making out, and holy shit, Michelle did not expect taking Britta home to be so much like taking her home. (Okay, they probably could have skipped that last drink.)

Britta stays for breakfast. As far as Michelle’s concerned, that means round two might happen whenever the coffee kicks in. (It’s a hundred percent cliché and true: Britta looks adorable in her nightgown and bedhead.)