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Britta, Annie, and Abed are sitting around the table at their housewarming party. Shirley is bustling around in the kitchen. Troy is holding the brick that Annie brought up when she arrived to their apartment and is heading downstairs to let the people who buzzed up inside the building. Probably Pierce or Jeff.
Abed is trying to enact the rituals he has read about in their Perfect Party Hosting book, which told him that you should show your guests how much you appreciate their arrival. He thinks that's nice because he does appreciate that everyone has come today, it's fluttering in his chest, and while he might not show that in a traditionally readable way sometimes, he's more than willing to say It upfront if it'll make him good at this job. “I'm glad you guys were able to come,” He says, looking from Britta to Annie with what they'll most likely consider to be a neutral expression, but he considers to be a smile.
Britta grins back and gives him a rub up and down his arm. “Of course, Abed,” she replies easily. “This is a big step for both of you, and I'm happy you're choosing to share it with us.”
He gives her a small smile and averts eye contact, silently unable to differentiate if she is being kind or condescending.
In the meantime, Britta, oblivious, turns to Annie. "It’s so nice to see you outside of study group again, Annie! I feel like we haven't been able to hang out that much lately since you've been so swamped with work."
Annie manages a small laugh and then it dissolves into a sigh. "Yeah, you're right, Britta. I'm sorry you guys. I feel like I've been really stressed about school lately.” She looks down at her lap.
"Oh, well, Annie,” Britta begins, “you don't have to adjust your schedule for us if you're really that busy-”
But Annie cuts her off with an insistent shake of her head. “No, no, no. It's not even just you guys, I swear, it's just that whenever I want to do something fun and try to take time off of studying, I become, stressed , that I'm not working hard enough. It's like somehow because I'm relaxing, my brain assumes I'm automatically going to underperform academically. It's seriously been something I've been thinking about for a while, I'm going to try to sort it out."
Abed knew about this. He’d been tracking this plotline in her life ever since he noticed the degree to which she had been shutting herself in, lately. He had also seen her planner in study group and noticed it had been much more full than other years, and judging from Annie's character traits and history of overachieving, it doesn’t surprise him that this has been an issue that she’s relapsed into. However, he doesn't say this because he knows I know is probably a less than appropriate reaction.
Britta speaks before he gets a chance to, anyways. “From a therapist’s perspective, burnout is a real and damaging thing, Annie. You are valid in both your anxiety and fear of failure. The Western school system is frankly, an ableist mess infected by capitalism that programs children to feel like the only way to be useful to their society is to become a blank copy of their ideal interchangeable wage slave without imperfection or distraction.”
Annie shoots her with a deadpan look. "Are you really playing therapist right now?” The expression drops, quickly being replaced with confusion. “Advocate? You kind of shifted halfway through."
But Britta doesn't get defensive, so she must not have been that angry. She just sits back in her chair. "Hey, you already know what I'm going to say to you as your friend."
Annie shakes her head. "Yeah, and there's no way I'm ever doing that."
Abed wants to be included. "What are you going to say to her as her friend?”
Britta grins. “I think Annie should smoke some weed about it. "
"Oh." Abed's mind immediately goes to Scooby-Doo, followed by That 70’s Show. He takes a few seconds to headcount (Troy is Kelso, He is Fez, Britta is Hyde, Annie is Donna) before replying. “It might not be a bad idea.”
Britta’s face lights up and she turns to Annie. "See?!” She makes a wild gesture. “Abed gets it." He nods, and does.
At this, Annie cocks her head inquisitively. "Really Abed? What do you know about weed?"
“Not much,” he admits. "Lots of people really like weed medicinally for anxiety disorders. I've never tried it myself, truthfully because I just never looked into it, but I know it's reputable. It would make sense that it would help with your stress.”
Britta chimes in. "And again, it's not like other drugs you can become physically addicted to within a few tries, and it's very different than a stimulant. Trust me, " she says eagerly.
Annie looks around, seeming to be toying with the idea. However, before they can continue their discussion, the door swings open and Troy is leading Jeff and Pierce in with the exclamation, “Bienvenido de la casa chez Trobed!”
Britta reaches across the table to tap her twice on the arm, soothingly. "We can talk about this later, just think on it." Abed gets up because he can hear Jeff is about to mention Boobs and Billiards Club. Troy and Abed suggest Yahtzee, but they never really play it and they all just end up dancing to Roxanne, together. Crisis averted.
A few weeks elapse before the subject comes up again. Annie's move into their apartment has her recognizing that while Troy and Abed need to take more responsibility, It definitely wouldn't hurt if she took it upon herself to to mellow out a little bit. She wants to learn how to speak their language, and they want to learn how to speak hers too. They’re watching the credits to The Road to El Dorado in the living room when Annie checks her phone and then turns to Troy.
“Troy, have you ever,” she starts, and then clears her throat. “Smoked pot?"
Troy furrows his brows. "Yeah, a few times, but it was mostly at parties I went to. The people who smoked outside were always way more chill than everyone drinking inside. Plus, If you had to pee you could just discreetly go in the woods lining the kid’s house instead of accidentally walking in on one of your teammates in the bathroom and having that be a whole event that makes everything so awkward for like the next 2 months."
Annie doesn't seem too surprised. "Did you like it? Weed, I mean."
Troy thinks for a second. "Thank you for clarifying. And, yeah, I liked it a lot. I liked how social it was, because everyone was usually passing around a joint and it was nice to have it be a group thing. And I also liked being able to talk to everybody about stupid stuff. There's a lot of pressure around drinking, I think, because guys have to drink competitively while somehow holding their liquor well and being really cool?”
Annie nods, looking about as seriously as if she were taking notes. Troy squints his eyes, and asks, "Why?"
Abed cuts in for the recap, raising a finger. “Annie's been more stressed out with schoolwork lately, and Britta thinks it would be a good idea if she smokes weed to reduce some of her anxiety. Annie's opposed to the idea because of her past substance abuse and previous connotations of cannabis."
Annie adds on immediately. "Britta texted me to ask how I feel about it because apparently she's... picking up an eighth this weekend and wanted to know if she should get any more, ” Annie reads from her phone. “I guess I have to reply to her soon, and I was curious to hear what your thoughts would be on it, seeing as you're not Britta and you're capable of making decisions with a separate goal than disappointing your parents every day.”
Troy nods agreeably. "Annie, honestly, I think you should go for it. I haven't smoked that much, but I've heard a lot of stories about how people have used it to help with things like control issues and had it completely turn around their lives. And you don't have to worry about becoming dependent on it, because weed is so good now that using it all the time is an actual skill.” He grabs for the remote as the credits end on the TV. “And honestly, I wouldn't mind smoking again. I think that would be a fun thing for us to all do together."
Annie's face has changed. There's a glint in her eye and she’s got the corners of her mouth turned up, an expression Abed can recognize because in study group it means there’s a task that she is going to get done. "Huh. I guess I never thought about it like that." She turns to Abed and asks, "Would you want to smoke with us too, Abed?"
Abed stills. He doesn't have a lot of information about how weed would treat someone with his particularities. He looks at Troy, in silent question of would that be good for me? And Troy understands him immediately, looking back at him with a small shrug of assurance.
"Yeah, sure,” He answers after a moment of silence. “It'll be an interesting bonding experience, plus I'm excited for the potential of homage.”
Troy and Annie grin back at him. "So we're going to do this?” She asks. "We're all going to smoke some weed together?"
"Guess so," Troy says, with an excitement in his voice that is undercut by how he chuckles at the way she says it, like she's an undercover cop.
"Cool," Abed agrees.
They’re all in apartment 303, sitting surrounding the window that leads to their fire escape. Annie and Britta are perched on the windowsill, while Troy and Abed take up the small couch directly below it. Britta is holding a joint, which Annie watches with rapt attention while Britta talks.
“So, what’s about to happen,” she says as she holds it out in front of her, "is I'll light the end of the joint, and you smoke it, like a cigarette." She brings it up to her lips and takes an exaggerated mimed inhale. If she were in an audition, Abed would say that she's overdoing it. "And this is the most important part, you have to breathe with your belly instead of your chest, so it gets all the way into the bottom of your lungs. And it's okay if you cough, because it means you're doing it right. Like this."
Britta holds her lighter to the end of the joint, watches as it ignites, and takes a long drag, pointedly gesturing to the way her tummy pops out as she does it. She exhales easily and manages to get most of the smoke outside of the apartment’s window. "You have to breathe right, or else you won't feel it,” she reiterates.
Abed wrinkles his nose a little bit at the smell. He could sniff out the joint the moment that it was taken out of Britta’s bag, and honestly, maybe even before then. The combustion makes it stronger. It's a little overwhelming, at first, but he knows he'll be able to get used to it because the rest of the environment is calm and nice.
Britta hands the joint to Troy next. Annie and Abed observe as he does the same, his lower half expanding as he breathes it in. He almost coughs as he exhales but manages to avoid it at the last second. "Britta, did you get the peppy kind, or the chill kind?" He asks.
"Do you mean indica or sativa?" Britta says pretentiously. Abed is a little amused that Britta could manage to turn something like smoking pot into a competition. Troy takes another drag and nods good-naturedly as he holds it in his lungs for a second before exhaling.
"It's a hybrid, but indica dominant, because that's what we're trying to do here, after all. Chill kind," she adds on at the end.
Troy looks at Abed next, who's seated on his left, since they’re sitting facing the back of the couch. He holds the joint out for him to take, which he does rather clumsily before placing it between two of his fingers. He furrows his brows and brings it up to his lips. He only takes a small drag before he pulls away, smacking his lips together.
"The taste?" Troy asks.
Abed nods, trying to make peace with it. He tries again, and focuses on taking deep belly breaths like he's been instructed. He’s smoked a few cigarettes before, and this doesn't feel quite as bad as that. He exhales before realizing that he should be trying to blow out the window and manages to get the tail end of his hit outside the apartment.
"Good job buddy!" Britta praises. Abed shrugs. He takes another drag and tries to hold it for a little bit longer this time, playing with the joint in his fingers and liking how cinematic it makes his hands look. He wheezes a little bit, but manages to exhale without further complication. Something in his brain reminds him, puff puff pass , and he remembers to pass the joint to Annie next, whose eyes are wide with anticipation. He can understand the social appeal that Troy is talking about, now. This is a kind, learning activity, it's very together.
Annie takes the joint from him between her thumb and index finger, like she isn't exactly sure what to do with it. She says, "here goes nothing," and then takes an ambitious hit, making the cherry glow bright, strong, orange. She sputters immediately into a heavy coughing fit and Britta passes her a glass of water that she'd already prepared for whoever would need it. In the meantime, while she recovers, Britta takes the joint from Annie’s hands and steals another hit.
"Ash," Abed says matter-of-factly as he points to the end of the joint. Brita hums and taps the end into a Red Solo Cup they put aside for this purpose. Annie has some mascara smearing under her eyes. "How long does it take to kick in?" Abed asks.
Britta shrugs, blowing a smoke ring before inhaling it back in again. Cool. She exhales through her words. “About 10 minutes, usually. But honestly, since it's your guys's first times, there's a chance that you won't even get that high."
Annie takes the last of many deep, gasping breaths and finally manages to recover enough to ask for the joint back from Britta. She takes her second hit, more apprehensively but successfully now.
Abed knits his brows together and nods thoughtfully at Britta's response. Troy uses his elbow to give him a little nudge. “You'll probably know if you feel it," He tells him, and it's comforting. “It can make your thoughts more creative sometimes, and you might start to experience some sensory things differently. That's why food is so good.” He says.
Troy gets passed the joint again and Abed observes him as he takes a long drag. He likes the way he holds it, gracefully in a motion that naturally reveals it had been practiced before. And he likes the way the smoke tumbles out of his lips before he remembers to try to aim it outside the window of their apartment. If he listens really closely, he can hear the crackle of the flower burning and he likes that noise too. He thinks about debauched party scenes in movies and what it means to truly rebel if this is the thing he's been warned about for so long, how he can possibly feel this safe while he's doing it.
Troy passes the joint to him before Abed feels like he's finished watching him. It occurs to Abed that if this were That 70’s Show, he would be the one being framed up now, the camera switching over with a blurred transition to a medium close-up of his face because it's his turn.
That means he should probably say something. “So, what does the genre dictate we do once we’re finally stoned? Are we going to listen to music, or try odd food combinations, or buy a van to paint so we can travel around the world and solve mysteries?” He takes a pull.
If this were That 70’s Show, Annie would be the next to talk, but it's not. "Abed, you would probably really enjoy watching a movie right now,” Britta says.
Abed takes his second hit and then passes to Annie. He considers it for a second, but eventually shakes his head. “You're probably right, but I think if we do that we won't have a chance to share this experience because we'll be busy concentrating on the movie.”
Troy pipes up, “does anyone have any fun stories to tell? One time, I got punched in the face.”
Annie, ever the academic, has made immense improvement and now hits the joint without any coughing or wincing. "What if we played a game like truth or dare, or would you rather?"
Suddenly, Britta's back straightens. "Wait, you guys, I have an idea! I was reading a psychology magazine the other day about this series of questions you can ask someone to make you fall in love with them. The idea is that the answers are vulnerable enough that they create really effective bonding. I don't know if we actually have to worry about falling in love with each other, but they would probably be interesting points for discussion."
Troy, Annie, and Abed all exchange looks between each other. Britta gets passed the joint. Their faces move from skeptical, to surprised, to agreeable during a similar time frame. Abed doesn't expect any of these questions to be accurate personality indicators, but he figures another weed ingesting trope is having deep conversations about life and philosophy, so he's unexpectedly on board. They all nod and make noises of agreement.
Britta’s face lights up. It occurs to Abed that she probably wasn't expecting them to go along with it. "Neat! I'll pull them up on my phone right now."
Troy suddenly turns to Annie and Abed and points a finger at each of them. "How are we feeling?" He asks, joint perched between his lips.
Abed thinks for a minute. His mouth is really dry from the smoke inhalation, and his throat feels a little more scratchy. It's not in a bad way, though. He's really aware of how his hands are fidgeting with the fabric of his shirt, and how heavy his legs feel criss-crossed and the way their weight presses into the cushion. He feels very physically present. At the same time, though, his depth perception is definitely being affected and he's gazing at the people around him with a sort of disbelief, like he can't imagine that they're actually there with him. It's a combination of an involuntary, real-time reflection of all of his isolation when he was a teenager and an emotional awareness rising up from the yellow glow of the lights, the forgiving and homey visual textures of the sheets draped over their blanket fort.
Annie nods. "Pretty nice," she says simply. She doesn't seem too stoned yet, but her eyes have started to narrow and she's looking through her eyelashes lazily.
Troy looks at Abed. Abed’s eyes flicker all over his face, taking in what it feels like to be observed by someone so close to him instead of doing all of the observing. He guesses that he doesn't say anything for a little while, because Troy's eyebrows raise, surprised, as Abed realizes he's doing something kind of close to eye contact. it doesn't feel as uncomfortable because it's Troy .
Abed smiles at him and says, "happy," because he is.
Troy gives him a bright grin back. His insides feel warm.
Britta clears her throat. "I'm going to skip through because there are a lot of questions and some of them are definitively more fun than the others... Here's the first one. Would you like to be famous? If so, in what way?"
Troy passes Abed the joint. The group falls into a brief meditative silence to think about their individual responses.
Troy speaks first. “I mean, being famous would be fun because you probably have a whole lot of money. And you could probably do a lot more cool things, and go on more cool adventures.”
“People would probably take you more seriously,” says Annie wistfully. “But I don't know that I could commit to an entire life of being known by everyone around me. What happens when you want some privacy?”
“Well that depends on what way that you're famous,” says Abed.
“Ooh,” says Annie.
“Damn,” says Troy. “I guess I would prefer not to be a type of famous where I couldn't carry on with my life, like Tom Cruise or Clive Owen. Maybe if you did something really cool and specific, only really cool specific people would know you.”
“But where is the line drawn?" says Annie. She receives the joint from Abed.
“It might be nice to have more people know about you,” Britta suggests. “You could probably spread way more awareness for social issues that need attention with your larger platform. I think that would be worth consistent, lifelong invasions of my privacy.”
Abed tilts his head. “I don't know, I feel like privacy would be important to me if I ever got famous. But it would be nice to be able to be recognized for my work, and with a lot of money I would be able to do more and more ambitious projects. I could never keep up with things like interviews and social appearances, though. But directors never get as recognized as actors, so, I have that advantage already.”
He rocks back and forth in his spot before electing to shift and lie across the couch with his head in Troy's lap. He closes his eyes for a second, allowing his body to settle, and when he looks up Troy is looking down at him with a satisfied, lazy smile. Abed flutters his fingers against his sides.
Just past his shoulder, Annie passes the joint to Britta. "So, when did you start doing this?” She asks, her voice a little slower and louder than usual. “I feel like I know you completely differently now. This is so not what I thought it would be. Everyone should smoke weed. I feel like we have a fun, secret, weed connection now.” Abed’s pleased that someone understands how he feels.
If Britta notices that Annie is rambling, she takes it in stride. "When I was in high school. It was one of the first things I figured my parents wouldn't like. Honestly, they reacted to it better than I thought they would, but I never really wanted to give it up."
Annie gasps. “They know ?" She asks, stunned.
Britta chuckles. "Yeah, if you think I'm bad at hiding it now, I was probably ten times worse back then. They said that they didn't care if I did it at home, as long as I didn't drive under the influence or get arrested it was fine. It pissed me off so much," she says with her eyes narrowed. She ashes, passes to Troy, and says, “roach.”
“So much for the questions,” Troy says quietly to Abed, who snickers.
“Do I look stoned?" Abed asks Troy, who's got the very last part of the joint between his lips, holding it carefully to avoid burning himself. Troy looks down at him in his lap and squints.
“Your eyes aren't red,” Troy notes. His voice is tight from the smoke. “But your eyelids are a little heavy. And you're kind of permanently wearing a smile on your face right now. Wanna share?” He gestures to the final few hits of the joint.
Abed’s hands come up to his face to feel around and inspect it. He wasn't grinning, but he thinks he knows what Troy is referring to, how the calm type of joy he's experiencing must seep into the subtle parts of his features, and it feels intimate, to be so read by him. Troy tries to hand him the end of the joint but Abed doesn't want to have to worry about burning his fingers, so he brings his hands back down to his sides again, parts his lips, and looks up at him.
Troy barely even questions it. The filter is long enough that he's carrying it between his index and middle finger still, so he brings the joint down and presses his fingertips to Abed’s mouth. Troy's other hand finds his hair and starts to slowly fidget by combing through his hairline. Abed’s eyes close.
“Careful, it's hot, " Troy says softly. Abed nods, a subtle movement of affirmation. He pulls back and exhales and his eyebrows raise in what Troy recognizes as genuine surprise, then he has the small tail end of a wheezy cough.
“Yeah, the end is a lot,” Troy agrees. Abed's face scrunches up and he manages to hold up a small Thumbs Up by his side while he silently recovers.
That makes Troy laugh. He tries to change the subject by asking him, “do I look stoned?
Abed doesn't even have to open his eyes, he just shakes his head, already having committed how Troy looks right now to memory. “I don't think so. But that being said, you know how I am with faces. You can tell if people look stoned, and I can tell if people are acting stoned.”
“Well, okay, am I acting stoned?”
Abed’s eyes open again. He scans him, up and down, before he cracks into a smile and his shoulders start to shake with laughter. “I don't know, I'm too stoned,” and then they both dissolve into giggles. Abed can register in the back of his mind that Britta and Annie have struck up an animated conversation between themselves in the background.
“I'm happy you're having a good time,” Troy says earnestly. He takes another puff. “I was pretty sure you would like it, but I wasn't exactly sure how your brain would respond to weed.”
Abed nods knowingly. Troy begins carding his hands through his hair again and he closes his eyes so he can bask in it. “Everything feels really good,” he says. “And looks really pretty. I feel like I really understand you right now, but not in a movie way where I have to think about it, in a…”
“Gut way,” Troy finishes for him. “Yeah, I feel like that too.” The corners of Abed’s eyes crinkle. “You want the last bit?” Troy offers.
He tilts his head back a little bit, this time, as he opens his mouth for Troy to place the joint between his lips. At the last second, Troy adds, “if you inhale the smoke into your mouth first, It cools it down for a second and then you can take it into your lungs.”
And then he's there, and he is inhaling. it almost feels like he’s kissing the very tips of his fingers. His cheeks hollow in a little bit as he pulls and then Troy takes the filter away and when he opens his mouth some of the smoke stretches up above him. He uses the last of his inhale to bring it back into his lungs fully.
“I have no idea how you just taught yourself to do that,” Troy says, a little awed.
Abed grins and blows towards the window. “You're forgetting I’ve smoked cigarettes before.”
Troy hums thoughtfully. “You just gave that habit right up, huh?”
“Yeah, I had only bought one pack before I realized I couldn't make that type of financial commitment. And the smell lingers.”
“I mean, yeah, smoking sucks, you made a good choice.” Troy says. He uses his fingernails to lightly scrape against Abed’s scalp in a soft gesture. Abed lets out an involuntary kind of sigh.
“Does that feel nice?” Troy asks. Abed’s eyes are closed but he can hear he's saying it around a smile. He does it again.
Abed makes a long quiet humming noise, mostly to himself for the feeling of it. “That is crazy right now,” he says very seriously. Troy plays with the hair at the base of his skull, near the back of his neck. That makes his fingers start to flutter.
“Tonight, you should use your weighted blanket.”
Abed blinks his eyes open. He looks Troy very directly in the face and says, “oh my fucking God.”
A moment passes where they look at each other in the eyes, and then they're giggling like schoolchildren. There's an undertone of mirth in Abed's voice as he says, “I feel like I'm wearing my weighted blanket right now , my limbs are so heavy.”
“Weed suit,“ Troy says knowingly.
Abed’s brows draw together. “What's a weed suit?”
Troy turns around and gracelessly interrupts their conversation, but they don't seem to mind. “Britta, explain weed suit?”
Abed can just barely see her if he turns his head a little. She is a spot of blonde in his periphery, he can tell that she's also slumping against something. “A weed suit is when you feel really heavy after you smoke, kind of like you're wearing a suit that keeps your body down.” Her voice is heavy and languid, but he's seen her stoned enough times that the way she conducts herself is no longer surprising to him.
Abed’s got a much better view of Annie, who seems as if she's familiar with the phenomenon being described. Her eyes are closed and she's just sitting with the sensation of it, listening to the things that are happening around her with a light smile on her face.
Surprising himself, Abed reaches up and takes Annie's hand into his own. Her eyes flutter open as he does, and he gently plays with her fingers, feeling her soft skin against his. He's never really been one to initiate physical contact, but right now it feels too nice to avoid.
“I'm really happy we did this,” Abed says to her. He wants to say it all the time now, because of that party hosting book. He looks from her, to Troy, still above him and peering down, his features bursting with an expression Abed can't quite place, but has grown to mean all of the good things he’s ever felt. Great television, smooth tangle toys exactly when he needs them, soft sweaters. He twists his head to look at Britta, who's got the corners of her mouth turned up in a smile as she places a hand on Troy's shoulder. “I hope you are too,” he adds, to everyone who can hear him.
He looks around at all the places that they're connected in, hands meeting each other and in his hair and he thinks, I am so thankful we could finally give this to each other. He's not talking about the weed.
“Me too,” Annie says back.
Later, they share an orange and feed each other the little wedges. The flavor is vibrant. Everything is good.