#wr jeff chatzy

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Phancy Pheromones || Morgan & Jeff

Before Miriam, before the endless night, Morgan went to Dell’s Tavern...

(pheromones were released, but no witches are harmed in the writing of this chatzy)

Morgan’s face was starting to ache from smiling at the woman in front of her, and not in a good way. Sure, she had a star-crossed not-girlfriend she would much rather be with, but that wasn’t happening at the moment. So to ease her sanity, or at least to feel less like a pining damsel, Morgan continued to swipe and chat and on occasion, even meet. Unfortunately, the meeting part tended to implode. 

Morgan’s date, a barely thirty admin assistant from the university with bright curls, seemed to be feeling the foreshocks for how the night was going as well. She kept checking her phone and when, at last, it sprang to life to the tune of the FRIENDS theme, she took the call faster than Morgan could say, “No worries! Do what you need to!” When she excused herself early a minute later, Morgan let her go with the lightest, most pitiful of hugs, and turned back to her margarita, ready to dunk her face right in. Maybe she was self-sabotaging, she thought glumly. Or maybe the universe really needed to remind her that, yep, still one hundred percent cursed.

She waved at the bartender. “Hey,” she said, not even hiding her pout. “Another one please?”

Jeff had watched the failing date a little painfully. He had seen it before, and he certainly would see it again, but the second hand embarrassment was always hard to watch. He was happy, though, that it at least didn’t seem like he was going to have to step in and throw anyone out. There had been far too many ‘blink twice if you need help’ or the ‘special drink order’ in his life time. He watched as the woman took a call and as he expected, dipped out as fast as humanly possible. 

He had already been making the woman another margarita before he’d been waved down for one. Jeff was not a smart man, but he knew. He placed it down in front of her, and leaned on the bar, looking at her out with  a grin. “Bad night?” he asked. “That’s alright, but maybe we should be a little careful with the margs, yeah? I’m Jeff.” 

Morgan welcomed the margarita with a dejected sigh and began to slurp straight from the sugar rim. “Was it that obvious?” She said, lifting her eyes to the bartender. He was one of those big, stupidly chiseled types, the kind that probably moonlit as actors or bouncers and got the best tips from sad moms who liked men. But he seemed kind, and his name lit something in the back of her mind. “Jeeeff…” It was a little name, but that big slurp of margarita made it hard to finish. “Are you Jeff with the dog Jeff? Wait, like fa--” She stopped herself and covered her drink with her hand while her brain sloshed back into the right position. “We maybe talked online Jeff. Which would be making meeting you so great if I was less of a mess right now.”

He gave her a wary smile. “Only a little. I’ve seen much fuckin’ worse, let me tell you. Before you two came in, one couple threw their drinks on each other and I had to toss them out. Totally fucking public and embarrassing.” It was true, someone had been filming. But he left that out as she said his name, and he brightened slightly when it looked like they actually knew each other. Or, well, he had talked about his dog with her, at least. “No shit?” Jeff asked. “I have a dog. Lettie. She’s a mastiff.” He grinned widely at her. “Ah, don’t fucking worry about it, no big deal. What’s your name. I talk a lot about Lettie, you know.”

Morgan smirked, a little prolonged by all the syrupy mix and tequila. “Lettie! That’s her name. I have a pet too, she goes on walks, but she’s a cat. Oh, but me. I’m Morgan,” She said. “Morgan Beck. I sell rocks to people who don’t know better and teach frat boys to like reading. You told me about your coin and about your umm…” She gestured clumsily around her back. “But like not really? You’re a very nice Jeff, but you’re also very obvious. I still bet they’re really cool though.” Brain sloshed back enough into place, she took a sip from the straw, smiling at him with her bright blue eyes. 

“Morgan!” Jeff said enthusiastically. “You helped me with my fuckin’ mime problem! The coin shit worked. With the coin.” He was still going to go find that stupid ass mime and beat the shit out of it, though. For Lettie. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when she gestured to her back, unsure what she meant, before his eyes widened. “Oh fuck,” he said, leaning in slightly and lowering his voice. “You figured out I have…. Well, you know.” Jeff shrugged slightly, wincing. “We can’t, uh, fucking tell people about that. Wait. How do you know about wings? Are you a fairy?” 

“JEFF!” Morgan put out a hand on his face to shush him. And in that moment of contact, she realized even his beard was ridiculously perfect, like, better product than what she used perfect. “This is you being obvious! I’m two margaritas deep and I’m not even using the...F word. And don’t your people hate that word anyway?” She looked at him incredulously, shaking her head. She took back her hand, trying not to be too obvious about giving it a sniff. Jeff’s product smell or maybe Jeff smell was...really good. “Jeff, you gotta be more careful than that. You’re way too pretty to get Warden’d-d…” Morgan waved the word away. She was confident enough he got the point.

“MORGAN!” He responded instantly, almost jumping from the sudden contact. “Ah -” Fuck. Humans and their damn body heat. Jeff was glad he had fed before this otherwise he’d be tempted to take some from Morgan. He didn’t like feeding off people he knew. At least, well, not anymore. He shook it off. “Oblivious? That’s not - oh. Yeah. Fuck, I forgot again.” He frowned. Deirdre was going to be disappointed. “I’m a little new. Sort of. And I don’t get what the big fucking deal is, it’s just a - oh. You know about Wardens?” Jeff frowned, rubbing the back of his neck slightly. “I know about Warden’s alright, don’t fuckin’ worry. They killed my father. I’m up to speed.” 

“Ob-vi-ous,” Morgan sounded out the word gently, although she was no longer confident about which one she had actually said. She wondered if by ‘new’ Jeff meant that whatever he was had been freshly activated, wings and all, but it seemed rude to ask in a busy bar. “Words have power,” she said, nursing her straw some more, eyes still fixed on Jeff. He had the brightest eyes, like little blue lanterns. “But you can reclaim things for yourself, that’s a real thing,” There was a very clever and very helpful speech to accompany that, but it fell out of Morgan’s head as Jeff frowned (it was a very pretty frown) and mentioned his father. “Oh, Jeff! I’m so sorry, that’s horrible! Did someone kill them for doing it? I probably can’t do it, but someone should. Could I do something to make you feel better instead?”

Jeff looked at Morgan a little doubtfully. He wasn’t even a real fae - well, he was, and he had the fucking wings and iron allergy to prove it. But he missed the memo where they were supposed to be better than everyone else. “I don’t think so,” he said with a shrug. “I’m supposed to remember so my fair- fae friend doesn’t get upset.” He though that was a good explanation as he looked back at Morgan, before his eyebrows shot up. “Kill them? The wardens? Fuck if I know. I was only called in to identify his body - asshole listed me as next of kin or something. We weren’t closed. You don’t have to - I mean, that’s kind of fuckin’, you know, murder.” Jeff said, thinking on it. He didn’t think the rules were the same for humans, and he wasn’t especially sympathetic to people that would murder his father just because he was Fae. Maybe murder was the right answer. He shrugged it off. “You know what would make me feel better?” He said, realized that Morgan was a little sloshed. “If you let me get you a glass of water.” 

“Equivalent exchange, Jeff,” Morgan said with fond patience. “And it’s different when you’re doing it for payback, or to protect someone, even if that someone’s you. There’s probably other good reasons, but I can’t think of them right now.” She laughed again, encouraging Jeff to smile. Jeff really should smile more. Morgan propped herself up on her elbows as he mentioned something to make him feel better. She looked at him eagerly. “Water! Because I’m this close to being sorority girl drunk, right? Aw, Jeff, you’re so sweet! For you, yes, I will have water. So much water. A whole pitcher if you want me to!”

“You can’t think of them because you’re drunk,” Jeff informed her, with a wry grin. He probably should have been more annoyed, but he wasn’t. He liked Morgan, she was clearly a sweet woman and wanted what was best for not only him but for others. He hoped that the shitty world would be kind to her and give her a better date the next time she went out. He held up one finger to her, to tell her to wait a second while he grabbed a glass and filled it with ice water. “If you were a drunk sorotiy girl, I’d make fuckin’ Marty deal with you. You’re my friend. Why don’t we try one glass, for now, and then we can call you a car. I’m sorry, but I need your keys too.” Jeff said sheepishly, putting the glass in front of her.

“One glass? That’s easy.” Morgan took it in hand and started to chug. She was halfway through when Jeff asked for her keys. She put the glass down with a pout and fished the keys out of her pockets. “But I love my car! Will you take good care of her? She’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever had. Like crazy pretty, like the girl that gave it to me. It’s a Subaru.” She plopped them into his hand with a sigh. “Do you have a pretty car, Jeff?”

“Oh! Hey! Don’t chug, it’ll upset your fucking stomach!” Jeff said, quickly, shaking his head, but he relaxed when he safely took her keys from her. “Your car will be safe, I’m sure it’s very pretty, don’t worry. Your Subaru is safe with the bar, they won’t tow - ” Jeff stopped slightly, eyes narrowing as he looked at her. Girl that gave it to her. She was on a date a girl. Subaru. Jeff had been pretty sure Morgan was giving him the drunk cow eyes a half second ago, before he realized something. He hadn’t been paying attention to his fucking pheromones. He cursed, and leaned forward. “Morgan,” he said, carefully. “Look at me a sec. You, uh…. How are you feeling right now?” 

Morgan moved down to a sip at Jeff’s insistence. Anything to make that big guy happy. She even made a show of it, holding the glass up for him to see. “Ooh, me? I’m feeling great! I’ve had so much tequila I’m not even sad anymore, and I have you! Sweet, pretty friend Jeff!” She blinked at him, lashes fluttering coyly. “And how are you feeling, Jeff? Are you feeling better yet? Because we can keep working at this if you’re not.”

Jeff stared at her a moment, before cursing again, running a hand down his face. She was definitely fucking pheromoned. Pheromones mixed with alcohol… Not great. He glanced at the clock behind him, and around the bar. It was quieting down too. Marty could survive a half hour without him. “Morgan,” he said, carefully, lowering his voice. “Fuckin’ look at me a sec - uh - you know what a Gancanagh is?” He asked. And then, “Nevermind, you’re drunk, I accidentally fucking gor you with my pheromones. I need to take you home.” 

“A gang-a-roo-huh? Is this a, you know, the f word thing?” Morgan asked. She gasped. “Are you telling me your species?” She whispered, badly. “That’s so sweet! Jeff, I don’t even know how to pay you back for something like that.” She arched a brow, laughing. “Take me home? Seriously? You know, I’m usually way too gay for this, but you’re just like--the man, Jeff. If you’re in, I’m in.”

“Fuck me,” Jeff groaned, running his hands down his face. His fellow bartender glanced over, and Jeff just waved him off. “Marty, I gotta take this ‘ne home. I’ll be back to help you close up.” Technically, he was head bartender. He could do what he wanted. And Marty wasn’t an idiot, he trusted him. He looked back at Morgan. “Yes, I am,” he said, “Lower your fuckin’ voice - and don’t get any funny ideas. We’re not doing anything, I’m taking you home because I accidentally pheromoned you. Shhh, let’s go. I’ll drive your car home and take a car back.”

“Whatever you say, Jeff!” Morgan sing-songed. She slipped off her stool, clumsily. “You are the man, I’m just along for the ride.” She made her way around to the other side of the bar, legs shaking like a baby deer and braced herself on the end to meet him, smiling big. “But, you know, if you changed your mind, you could get to say you did it with a lesbian. And you’ll be nice to the pretty car, right? She’s fae-ry magical. You see what I did there?” 

“No! No, stop that!” Jeff scolded, but he couldn't exactly be mad at her because this was his fucking fault. He almost groaned when she saw how she was walking, but he remembered his manners his mother taught him. He was going to have to help her to the car. Jeff held out his arm for her to grab. “Morgan, my friend, you will not be fucking saying that tomorrow. And also, you’re drunk,” he reminded her. “I did that. Very fuckin’ funny.” He started to very carefully lead her outside. “Subaru, right? What color?” 

“No one says the same thing tomorrow,” Morgan said, feeling very clever in the moment. “Mm, yes, pherom-men-o-menomes. You’re gonna have to explain the details on that one later, and I trust you, because you’re Jeff! And it’s the red one! She’s perfect right? I love her, but ssshhh. You’re bad at keeping secrets Jeff, but sssshh. I trust you to do the thing though. You’re a good Jeff.”

“You might be right about that, but it’s different when - ah, why the fuck am I bothering,” Jeff muttered. He couldn’t believe he had done it again. It was different when he accidentally did it to the occasional too-drunk Karen, where he could shove them in an uber and feel a little bad about it later, but Morgan was his friend. “She is a nice car,” Jeff said, rounding to the passenger side to open the door for her. “What thing? We’re not doing any fuckin’ things. And yeah, I’ll explain when you have your head on straight tomorrow.” 

“The thing thing!” Morgan said. She plopped into her seat and fumbled with the buckle and ran her hands fondly over the upholstery. “The um…” It was slipping out of her brain again, like so much margarita mix over the rim of a glass. “Well whatever it is, you got it just fine, because you’re the best, you know? Oh, but hey, can you um--?” She held the buckle over her eye, like an alder stone. “I can’t make my hands do the thing. I can’t do a lot of things without making a mess but you got me for this one, right Jeff?”

“No, no!” Jeff said, having gone round to the driver's side. “No thing thing either!” He was assuming all things were sexual in nature until specified otherwise. Abso-fucking-lately not. He glanced over at her. “Your seat belt? Ah - it’s going to make it worse,” he muttered shaking his head. Still, safety first. He turned the car on, and gingerly reached over pulling the belt across her and clicking it into place. Then he adjusted the seat so he could drive more comfortably, and pulled out of her spot. “Alright, you tell me where to go now. When I get you home , you have to drink a lot of fuckin water, alright?” 

“Aye, aye, Jeff!” Morgan said. She gave him her address and settled into the comfy seat, still fondly running her hands over the upholstery. She gave Jeff her address and let him walk her inside, where she promptly collapsed face down on the couch. It was after a massive jug of water had materialized at her side (had she peeled herself off the couch like Jeff asked? Had Jeff gotten it for her?) and after she accidentally turned on the TV by rolling on top of the remote wrong, that something cleared in her head. Something not quite the rapid intake of tequila she’d had. Morgan sat up on the couch. She looked to the door. Looked at the water jug. Looked to her car keys. “...Did I seriously hit on a guy??”