All For You [New Girl]

14. God Willing

A/N: hope y'all are having a happy holidays and staying safe! can't wait for 2020 to be done.

"I'm here! I'm here. Don't yell at me," Claire said, tugging at the straps of her dress.

"You're late!" Schmidt called disdainfully.

"I said, 'don't yell.'"

"Do the words 'five o'clock sharp' mean nothing to you?'"

"Not when the words preceding them are '4D family photo.'" Claire used the side of her finger to comb up her eyelashes.

"At least you're dressed. Nick! What are you wearing?"

"Clothes." Schmidt shook his with disgust.

"The e-vite specifically said 'business casual.' In what world are those jeans business casual?" Nick frowned and she rolled her eyes in response.

"Schmidt," Nick said, "You know I didn't read the email and that even if I did, I don't know what business casual is, and even if I did, I wouldn't care. Just take the photo." Malcontent, Schmidt called the other residents out of their rooms and ushered them in front of the living room wall.

"Why are we taking a photo, again?" Claire asked, being pushed into Winston.

"We need to document this time of togetherness before the Thanksgiving Sex-fest begins."

"Jar!" said three different voices. Claire had almost forgotten about how Schmidt invited a small convention of models to their Thanksgiving dinner. Well, not almost forgotten. Completely forgotten. So completely forgotten, in fact, that upon hearing the words "Thanksgiving Sex-fest," she was briefly under the impression that Schmidt had invited everyone there to an orgy. Schmidt whipped out a five and threw it in the general direction of the douchebag jar.

"Everyone pose. I'm starting the photo timer. Winston, fix your hair, it's a mess."

"What are you talking about, man? My hair looks great."

"Pose! Pose!" Schmidt's phone, perched between a cushion and the backboard of the sofa, blinked three times.

"Oh, I definitely blinked," Nick said. Full disclosure.

"Okay, I'm going to start it again. Ten seconds. Eyes forward. Smiles bright."

"You sound like a Russian ballet teacher," Jess said. Schmidt clicked a button on his phone and backed away hurriedly.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four.

"Wait, is it ten seconds or three?" Nick asked just as three consecutive shutter noises went off.

"Nick! Don't talk during the photo." He started the photo again.

Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Four. Three. Two.

Winston sneezed loudly. Schmidt balled his fists and glared as the camera went off.

"I'm sure it's fine," Claire said, "You can photoshop it." She made to walk away.

"Nobody move!" Schmidt commanded. She froze.

"Everybody stays until we get the perfect photo. Nick, put your arm around Claire. Jess, close your eyes a bit so you look more normal-"

"Hey!"

"-and no sneezing! Here we go!"

It took around seventeen tries. The only reason Claire lost track of the number was that somewhere around eleven she realized Nick and Winston were messing with Schmidt on purpose and her concentration was wrecked by trying to hold in her laughs as they messed up each take in progressively more ridiculous ways.

By the time they were done, Schmidt had worked up a sweat from running back from the camera. And also from yelling at Nick and Winston. It was five-twenty.

"Colin is supposed to be here in ten minutes," Claire said, "When are the models coming?"

"The models have names. They're people, you know."

"Which is why you're treating them with all the dignity of inviting them to a 'Thanksgiving Sex-fest?'"

"Precisely. They'll be here any moment."

"When are we eating?"

"Six."

"God willing," Winston added. He'd seen too many Thanksgivings gone awry to have confidence in a dinner, only hope. The door rang.

"I bet five bucks that's Colin," Nick said quickly, "Nerds are always early."

"I'll take that," Winston replied. They shook hands while Jess opened the door.

"Colin!" she enunciated so the boys in the back could hear. Winston picked up the bill Schmidt had throw onto the sofa earlier and handed it to Nick. Claire wrapped her arms around Colin's neck and kissed him hello. Nick smiled at his five-dollar bill. He could buy a sandwich.

~~~~~

Claire pulled Nick aside pretty early into the evening. She dragged him into his bedroom.

"Thanks for putting up with him. I know you don't like him." They didn't even have to name names. In fact, Nick preferred if they didn't. Then he could pretend that a certain someone wasn't there and that this was a normal football-and-food Thanksgiving.

"I never said I didn't like him," he said, "And I haven't done anything nice yet." She gave him an unintentionally piercing look.

"Whatever," he conceded, "You kind of deserve it." Great, now he had to be nice to the human equivalent of Saltine crackers.

"Yeah, you did kind of owe me for dropping a pot of sugar water on me."

"That wasn't me. I was asleep when that happened. I wasn't even there. I was doing my taxes."

"Sure," she laughed.

"Oh, by the way, I found this charger," Claire said, pulling a long cord out of her purse, "I think it should fit your phone-"

"You didn't have to get me a charger."

"I know." She rubbed her bare arms with the opposite hands.  Stepping into Nick's room was like traveling into an alternate dimension. Somehow, it was five degrees colder in there.

"Why does your room have its own microclimate?" she asked.

"I don't need you to get me stuff," he said, ignoring her attempt at diversion.

"Okay." He looked at her. She looked back. Nick had been expecting a bit more of an argument. He found his anger falling a little flat. Which made him angrier.

"Hey," Claire said, interrupting whatever course of action he was about to take, "You wanna know a secret?"

"What?" he asked gruffly.

"I didn't buy the charger. I stole it from the asshole at my office who keeps eating my lunch." Nick cracked a smile. He didn't even care if the story was real or fake. He was grateful she had lifted the burden off of him.

"Is this the same guy who accused you of stealing the gas out of his car?"

"No, it's the guy who has a collection of cowbells that he's always knocking over." They laughed and talked and laughed some more, and then it became too cold to stay in Nick's room and they ventured back out into the party. It was a joyful conversation so unlike their next one that the next day Nick would look back at with envy at his past self.