Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s something different. Abed shifts in his chair, looking around the group. It doesn’t look like anything is different; they’re in their study room, sitting around their joined tables, in their usual seats. There are history textbooks open in front of each of them, papers and pens rolled towards the center. Everyone else’s attention is on Jeff, but Abed keeps getting distracted by the feeling that something is off.

“Sometimes,” Jeff continues anyway, apparently leading them into the conclusion of his episode finale morale-boosting speech. This one is about the history homework they aren’t working on. “Sometimes it seems like there’s no way forward, but how many tv shows get canceled, only to get picked right up again and again? Sometimes cast members allegedly quit, or certain creative members get fired, but at the end of the day, another network is willing to give it a shot, and—”

“Something’s different,” Abed interrupts him. The feeling has been clinging to him since he woke up this morning, but nothing like the way he feels right now. There’s something familiar about it, but he can’t quite put his finger on it yet.

“Abed,” Jeff says, hands flat on the table, eyebrow rising up his big forehead, like a spaceship taking off into the sky. He speaks slowly, like Abed’s father when he wants to yell, but sighs instead. “What did we say about interrupting others?”

“Only when it gives you room to speak,” Abed answers, pointing a finger at him.

Annie and Britta turn to Jeff, both making different (but equally indignant) sounds, and Britta hits him on the arm. Jeff smirks for a moment, leaning away.

“So you can see where you went wrong now,” Jeff says, not quite a question.

“You don’t understand. Usually this is the turning point of the episode, but it doesn’t quite feel like an episode anymore.” Abed pauses, trying to find a way to explain what’s happening. It’s similar, perhaps, to when they venture deeper into a genre that requires a voice over. But this isn’t so much a voice over as it is narration. “Ah. Bad news, everyone. I believe today we’ve moved mediums into fanfiction.”

There’s a pronounced silence in the study room, as Abed waits for them to take it in. The others look around, in a silent eye and eyebrow language. Not wanting to be left out, Abed turns to Troy, wiggling his eyebrows. Troy sends back a sequential wave made with his own, a look of concentration on his face, mouth open, his eyes almost engulfed by the furrow of his brows. Nice.

“And what’s that, exactly, Abed?” Britta asks slowly. The tone is familiar in a way Abed doesn’t appreciate, reminding him of when his father insists he gets help.

“Oh, I know this one!” Annie brightens up, hands touching the table as she leans forward. “Fanfics are stories people write and share online about tv shows and books!”

“Oh, like stealing intellectual property? Nice.” Britta doesn’t sound like his father anymore, which is good. It’s weird when more than one member of the group does it at once.

“That’s not nice,” Shirley says, with a frown. “And there are no characters here, anyway, so that can’t be it.”

“Well, sometimes it can be about real people too.” Annie tucks some hair behind her ear, a smile growing on her face, as she looks down at the table. “Once, I read this story about Zac Efron getting trapped in a jacuzzi with Robert Pattinson, and it got very—”

“Annie!” Shirley turns to face her properly. “I’m sure those nice young men don’t want people to use them for stories like that! I certainly wouldn’t, would you?”

“Well,” Pierce leans across the corner of the table, closer to Shirley. “I wouldn’t mind if they wrote you getting stuck in a hottub with me.”

“It’s too late,” Abed says over Shirley’s threat at Pierce. “We don’t have a choice anymore. It’s already happening. We’re in the fanfiction realm now.”

Another silence, with more eye contact and eyebrows signaling. Abes tries to find an eye willing to meet his own, and lands on Troy again. He does the wave this time, and Troy replies with three wriggles. Cool cool cool.

“You think that what’s happening right now,” Jeff says, in the voice he uses when he doesn’t understand the genre shift, “is that some sad cat lady is writing about us doing homework, and what, posting this online to feel less single?”

“I don’t know who’s writing it,” Abed points out, “but this is our new medium, yes.”

“Is this another metal breakdown?” Pierce asks. “Like that Christmas you went nuts? What happened now, did your mother send you a Valentine's card saying she was too busy to love you?”

“Pierce!”

“Not cool, man!”

“It’s a reasonable deduction,” Abed says. “But my mother hasn’t contacted me again.”

Given that it’s February, it would be a sensible guess for those who don’t understand how their world operates, but Valentine’s Day had just passed them by with nothing but the usual antics. The Human Being had been painted in a strong red, the dye not entirely fixed, leaving bloody prints everywhere on campus. Jeff had received several large bouquets from the dean, which made Shirley feel defensive of the three roses she got from her family. This had also set off Pierce into buying himself several gifts, which kept escalating the less attention he got from them. Britta renounced the capitalistic holiday even as she left them for a date. Annie decorated their flat with paper craft. Troy got a Valentine’s card. Abed got a selection of phone numbers, but he hasn’t shared that information with the group. He’s saving them, sure they’re some sort of Chekhov’s gun.

“Usually our genre shift is related to events happening to us. It might be Valentine related,” he muses. “Most likely romance adjacent, maybe someone has unfinished business from Valentine’s? We should move along to the actual story to find out.”

“No,” Jeff crosses his arms. “I don’t care if you think we’re in a comic book, or written in the diary of a preteen girl, we have this stupid project to finish so we get a passing grade in History of Something. I’m not taking this class again.”

“Sorry, can’t do,” Abed says, getting up. “Homework isn’t compatible with our new medium. We have to search for what is.”

“Wait, woah, how did you do that?" Troy asks, catching up to him in the hallway, the glass door closing behind him. “That was weird.”

Abed stops outside of the study room and turns to face him. He points out with a finger as he speaks, tilting his head. “Pierce is right. Most fanfiction is about romance, and Valentine’s Day was just yesterday.”

“Oh,” Troy says with a small frown, stopping beside him. “Thought we’d do an Inspector Spacetime thing, like our adventures but in a book or something?”

“That would be easier, yes,” Abed nods. “But in this medium, crossovers aren’t as popular as people working in coffee shops, or enemies becoming lovers.”

“Aren’t friends to...you know,” Troy gives him a small shrug. “Don’t friends make better couples?”

“Maybe in real life,” Abed nods. “But this is fanon. None of it is real. There’s more tension and reward from an antagonist.”

“Like Catwoman and Batman!”

“Yes. I figured we should maximise the outcome to finish our job.”

“So we need two enemies who work at a coffee shop?” Troy leans against the wall, crossing his arms.

“Shirley has Shirley’s Sandwiches. And Pierce just said he wouldn’t mind if—”

“Shirley and Pierce?” Troy makes a complicated face Abed can’t follow, but he adds words that clear it up somewhat. “Pierce is super old, man. Shirley doesn’t really like him.”

“That’s what makes them enemies working together,” Abed tries to explain. “It’s the perfect setting. We just need to push the plot forward.”

“I don’t know, buddy.”

Abed takes a moment to look over his friend, at his frown, the way he shifts his weight back. He could do with subtitles. He tries again. “It’s not canon.”

Troy frowns a bit more, thinking it over. “If it’s not canon then it’s not happening for real, right?”

“Only in fanfiction.”

Troy makes another face that Abed doesn’t know how to interpret. “What should we do?”

“We need to create conflict,” Abed says, “preferably centered around the shop. Pierce is the money of the business, we need to cause some damage so Shirley would have to go to him for help.”

“Oh!” Troy leans forward, into Abed’s space. “We could sneak in and steal all of the sandwiches! Free meals for the week!”

“That could work,” Abed nods. “One of us causes a distraction, the other goes around the back.”

“You’re the runner, you should go around the back,” Troy says. “Besides, you’ve got those sensitive eyes, no one will be mad if they catch you.”

Abed feels a squeeze in his chest. It’s probably his stomach thinking of the free meals ahead of them. He nods at Troy, and they hold their hands out at the same time, doing their friendship handshake. His hand thumps his chest twice, almost over where the feeling lies.

“When Shirley notices the food is missing she’ll turn to Pierce as her financier, and in gratitude she’ll have no choice but—”

“Excuse me!”

They turn their heads at once to see behind them. At the door of the study room, where they were still talking, is Shirley, hands on her hips and glaring at them. That’s not a happy look.

“What’s this about stealing my food?”

“Shirley!” Troy turns to her. “We were just…”

“Wow, Troy,” Abed says, adding inflection to his voice as he turns his head to him. “Isn’t Pierce a very handsome man? Such a silver fox.”

“Ew,” Troy makes a face again, but then his eyes widen, “I mean, yeah! He’s…uh, very alive for his age.”

“His eyes are like two sky blue orbs,” Abed continues, “and I bet his tongue battles for dominance.”

“Abed!” Shirley lets out loudly, clutching her purse to her chest. “This is too much, even for you! What do you think you’re doing?”

“Making you see you’re interested in Pierce,” Abed says. “Follow your heart.”

“I’m a married Christian woman!“ Shirley closes her jacket more tightly around her. “Lord knows I don’t understand what this fan-made fiction is, or why would you think that it’s about us, but you better keep me out of it!” She frowns then, her tone going grave, “Or I’ll show you dominance.”

“Got it.” He turns to Troy. “Perhaps they’re not the pairing for this fanfiction. We should try our luck elsewhere.”

She hmphs and moves past them, out into the hallway, holding her purse close to her chest. Pierce comes out of the study room next, looking at them in a way Abed can almost deduce means he had been listening in on the conversation.

“You know,” Pierce says, “I am a virile man, if you need me for a body ripper, then—”

“No thank you,” Troy makes a face.

“You had your turn.”

“Fine, fine,” Pierce starts walking away, waving them off. “But we could have made quite the number with my sandwich.”

“Ew, go away, Pierce!” Troy lets out loudly, his face twisted. It’s the same face he makes when their toilet olives fall into the toilet, so it’s probably a mix of disgust and regret.

“Abed,” Britta is at the door now. They really should have moved further away from it. “Do you really think we’re being written by someone?”

“I don’t really know how it works,” Abed says. “Only that it’s fanfiction, somehow.”

“If this is like last time,” she says, slowly, like his mother used to do, “then you know something happened, right? We need to find out the source of this delu—”

“It wasn’t Shirley and Pierce,” Troy speaks over her, loudly. He’s glaring at her, but Abed thinks the words are aimed at him.

“Where is everyone going?” Jeff is by the door now, behind Britta. “Look, we have to turn in that stupid paper tomorrow, we don’t have time for this.”

“Sorry, Jeff, we have a story to find,” Abed says. He starts moving away, and he doesn’t have to look to know Troy is doing the same, both going down the hallway as they hear Britta call them back.

“Maybe we should try someone single this time,” Troy says, two corridors away from the study room. “And maybe younger than Pierce?”

“You’re right,” Abed says. “That should be easier. The choice of characters is also important.”

Troy looks around, as if searching for their protagonists. “Why can’t this be an Inspector Spacetime thing again?”

“Well—”

“You guys!” Annie comes into the hallway, stopping next to them. “I want to help with the fanfiction thing! Where do we start?”

Abed looks at her, then at Troy, and then before his eyes the scenario shifts.

“The question isn’t where,” Inspector Spacetime says, turning to her again with a cunning look. “But when.”

“Abed?” Annie asks, confused.

“Ah, it seems you’ve fallen for our clever disguise,” Inspector Spacetime glances at his Constable. “Constable Reggie and I are on a very important mission.”

“Indeed, Inspector!” Constable Reggie says, grinning.

Annie salutes them, leaving her finger pressed to her temple as she stands straighter. “Constable Geneva reporting for duty, sir! What’s the mission?”

“Miss Edison,” the Inspector, puts a hand on her shoulder, “Constable Reggie and I have just arrived through the X-7 Dimensionizer with one clear purpose: you.”

“Me?” Annie asks, blinking at them. She lowers her hand. “Oh.”

“We’ve come from a terrible future,” he holds out a hand to show the devastation, “and you are the catalyst that can prevent it. Miss Edison, the fate of the world rests on your shoulders.”

Around them the hallway is starting to fill up with people exiting classes to go lunch, unaware of the time travelers standing among them. Inspector Spacetime and Constable Reggie indeed had done a good job of dressing as community college students.

“Okay,” Annie says, smiling at them. “What do we have to do?”

“Us? Not much,” Inspector Spacetime says. “You must fall in love.”

“Oh,” she looks between the two of them. “Today? With whom?”

“We don’t know that yet,” the Inspector says. “Have you met anyone recently?”

“Didn’t you get anything on Valentine’s Day?” Reggie asks.

“Even your friend Troy got a card from someone special,” Inspector Spacetime points out.

Reggie frowns. “I- he did?”

“Of course. And who wouldn’t send one to the lovely Miss Annie?”

“Oh, Inspector,” Annie smiles, her cheeks rosy. “Well, if you must know, I did get a couple... but not from someone I’d be interested in.”

“Hm, what a shame.”

“Who would you be interested in, then?” Reggie asks.

“I don’t know,” she says, looking down. “Are you sure it’s me?”

“Very sure,” the Inspector confirms. “Perhaps your friend Jeff?”

“Jeff?” Annie asks, crossing her arms. “It’s not… look, I’m not really interested in Jeff, not for something real. It’s just a nice fantasy.”

“Alright. Britta, then?”

“Britta?” Annie’s blush grows. “Pff, it’s— I’m not— she’s not—”

“That’s debatable.”

“I’m not sure dating anyone in the group is a good idea,” Annie says, fixing a strand of her hair next to her face. “What if we mess it up?”

“Even if you really like someone in the group?” Reggie asks. “Not just a crush, but really like.”

She looks between them, and smiles at Constable Reggie. “Then it might be worth it, yes.”

“We’re getting off track,” Inspector Spacetime says, “and time is of the essence, always. Is there someone here you could be interested in?”

She looks between them a bit more, and then nods, smiling. “Okay, so there’s this guy, from my Intro to Introductions class, and he’s really… nice.” She looks down with a smile, bobbing once, almost shy.

“Then the mission is clear,” the Inspector says, “we must find this person and get his number.”

“His phone number is the code that unlocks the protection sequence of Earth in the future,” Constable Reggie says, “if we don’t get it now, nothing will stop the Pharoahbots invasion.”

Annie lets out a laugh, and nods. “Alright then. We have to track him down first, follow me!”

They go down several hallways, peeking into rooms as they go, but most rooms are empty now, with people either in the cafeteria or walking towards it.

“There you are!” They spot Jeff and Britta at the corner of a hallway walking towards them. Jeff calls out again. “We still have to finish that stupid homework, and I am not doing any more more than I have to!”

“Jeff, that’s not important right now! Abed thinks we’re fiction!” Britta hits his arm, and turns to them. “Abed, we really should talk about this!”

“Watch out, Inspector! Blorgons!” Reggie grabs his arm and points at the two members of the group, who now the Inspector recognises as the tormenting robot aliens that follow him across time and space.

“Oh no, Inspector, what should we do?” Annie asks, stepping closer to him.

The Inspector pats down his own clothes. “Blast! This undercover outfit has no room for my Quantum Phaser. Run!”

The three of them turn around and run down the hallway, away from the Blorgons.

“Oh!” Annie lets out, pointing towards some couches, two hallways later. “There he is!”

“Go!” Reggie says, “We’ll hold off the Blorgons while you finish the mission.”

“Aye aye, sir!” Annie salutes them, and goes off towards one of the couches, where a man with shoulder length wavy hair, dressed in a leather jacket, sits.

They watch as she approaches him, tucking her hair behind her ear as she speaks, blushing again. The man watches her, then nods, speaking back. When they see Annie pulling out her phone and typing something, Reggie pats the Inspector’s shoulder.

“A job well done, Inspector.”

Annie comes back to them, holding the phone to her chest. “I did it! He said my introduction was perfect.”

“Good work, Miss Edison.”

“Oh, you guys!” She opens her arms and pulls them both into a hug, squeezing them against her for a moment, before she pulls back. “I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

“Found you!” one of Blorgons says, from behind them.

They turn around to face them.

“You’re never getting the code, you filthy Blorgons!” Annie says, holding the phone away from them.

“And you better not test the Inspector,” Constable Reggie says. “You know his legend!”

“It’s alright, Constable Reggie, Miss Edison,” Abed says, raising a hand calmly. “I know how to deal with these Blorgons.”

“What? Cut the crap, guys,” one of the Blorgons says, his shape flickering between his small robot form and Annie’s friend Jeff. “Abed, stop this, we have a stupid paper on something to finish.”

“That’s not Abed, he’s Inspector Spacetime!”

“No, it’s okay,” Abed says, as the Blorgons shift into Jeff and Britta for good. He turns to Troy. “We’re still in the medium, we have to find a new pairing.”

“It wasn’t Spacetime? Damn.” Troy looks disappointed.

“It was a good effort,” Abed says. He hesitates, and adds. “A good idea. And fun.”

Troy grins at him, eyes almost closed from the pull of it. Abed is pleased to have spoken. He forgets, sometimes, the rewards he gets from complimenting his best friend.

“I can’t believe it’s me of all people who has to say this,” Jeff says. He’s probably frustrated. “But we have work to finish, and I’m not flunking a class named History of Something. This is supposed to be our easy credit class, why do you have to make it so hard?” He turns to Annie. “Shouldn’t you be worried about this? Isn’t that your job? Maybe I’m the one going crazy.”

“Jeff, Abed’s mental health is more important than some stupid class,” Britta says, and turns to him. “Abed, maybe we should go to Professor Duncan.”

Annie crosses her arms, frowning. “He didn’t do much last time.”

“He still helped, even if he was after some stupid book deal,” Britta says. “Or we could talk about what led us to this! As someone taking Psych 101 I can help, Abed! Last time it was your mother—”

“I told you, my mother hasn’t contacted me. She never does on Valentine’s.” Abed stops her, a feeling crawling up in him, like fingertips running up his arms.

“And nothing different happened this year?” Britta insists. “It’s okay to be sad if you didn’t get anything—”

“Of course Abed got something!” Troy says, stepping a little in front of him. “Have you seen him? He got a ton of phone numbers.”

Abed blinks at him. “How did you know—”

“Dude, we live together.” Troy raises his eyebrows at him. “I saw you putting them on your phone.”

“Oh.”

“Maybe someone didn’t text you back?” Britta asks. “Or said something hurtful to you?”

“I didn’t contact any of them,” Abed answers, heart hammering in his chest. “And I don’t want to. We’re getting off topic.”

“Maybe you feel like there’s a lack of romance in your life,” Britta says. “Maybe there was someone you wanted who didn’t give you anything for Valentine’s. Maybe they wanted someone else instead. And this fanfic thing is you trying—”

“Alright, let’s talk.” Abed says. The crawling feeling has reached his throat, as if there are hands curling around his windpipe. He doesn’t like this feeling. “Why don’t we talk about you?”

“Me?”

“You could be prime material for fanfiction. Single white young woman who wants to be an activist, any fandom would eat you alive.” He pauses, tilting his head as he looks at her.

“Abed, we should be talking about y—”

“You said some very specific things about Valentine’s just now,” Abed continues. “Perhaps you were projecting. Is there someone you wanted? Jeff, maybe? No, you’re over that. Subway? No, he’s gone for a while now.”

He looks over her shoulder, at the people passing by around them. He spots a woman with long blonde hair and a gray hat with their back to them, talking to a brunette, and it seems like a sign. One of those coincidences in fanfiction that are really just easy excuses from the writers to force contact between the characters.

“That’s not—”

“How about Page?” he asks, looking at Britta again. “She was your date last Valentine’s.”

“Page?” Britta’s eyes widen, and she takes a step back. “Why would you—”

“You liked her, didn’t you?” Abed replies. “You do like women, and you went on a date with her. Perhaps Valentine’s reminded you of her, and you realized you miss Page. A year has passed, but you can’t forget her.”

“Abed.” Her shoulders are tense, there’s a flush on her cheeks. “It’s not cool to out someone.”

Next to Abed, Annie gasps, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. Troy’s mouth falls open.

“Oh. I didn’t realize you weren’t out,” Abed replies. He frowns, and then points a finger at her. “You did kiss her in front of the whole school.”

“Wait so it’s true?” Jeff asks, leaning back. “I can’t believe Pierce was right.”

“Only if he’s right about you,” Britta shoots back. “You cannot tell Pierce any of this!”

“How did you know, Britta?” Annie asks, hand tucking her hair behind her ear again. “That... you know.”

“That I’m bi?” Britta asks, raising her chin. “It’s not a dirty word, Annie.”

“Wait, this is about the party where Britta kissed a lesbian?” Jeff asks, crossing his arms. “I gotta hear more about this.”

“Yeah,” Troy nods, eyes on Britta. “In detail, please.”

“We should get you two back together,” Abed suggests. “Rekindle the old flame.”

“No!” Britta says loudly. “No way I’m doing that! I don’t want to see her again!”

“Why not? You kissed her.”

“Yeah, duh doy!” Britta crosses her arms, almost as if hugging herself. “I found out I like women while kissing one that only hang out with me because she thought I was lesbian!”

“Well,” Annie tilts a little towards her. “You did hang out with her because you thought she was a lesbian.”

“Yeah, I know, Annie, that’s the point! It’s super embarrassing.” Britta’s head seems to sink between her shoulders. “No way I’m talking to her again.”

“Really?” Abed asks, and then points over her shoulder. “Because she’s right there.”

Everyone turns to look where he’s pointing. Now sitting on a couch next to the Intro to Introductions student, is Page, long blond hair thrown over one shoulder, fedora hat on her head. She’s still talking to the brunette, who nods along to whatever she’s saying.

“Oh God,” Britta shrinks herself, moving to hide behind the group. “What is she doing here?”

“It’s fate,” Abed says. “It seems you were destined to meet again. Maybe you’re soulmates, with a red string of fate or matching tattoos. Maybe you’re reincarnations of a past love, fated to meet through the ages. Take your pick.”

“Or maybe she just still goes to school here, like the rest of us.” Jeff says dryly.

“Do you still like her, Britta?” Annie asks softly, moving a little closer to her. “If you want, I can go with you—”

“No!” Britta lets out loudly. She pauses as several people around them stop to look at her. She gives another step back, and another, and then doesn’t stop. “Fine, you win, Abed! I’m out of here.”

“Britta, wait!” Annie trails after her, moving through the students in the hallway.

“Do we go after them?” Troy asks, frowning a bit.

“I don’t think the story is about her after all.” Abed frowns, looking down. Nothing about this story path feels right.

Abed turns to Jeff, with a frown. “Did I out Britta?”

“I think she outed herself when she thought wearing a denim vest was cool,” Jeff replies. He looks over their shoulders, towards the hallway Britta and Annie had left through, and adds “Speaking of coming out.”

A familiar voice comes up behind them in the hallway. “Oh, hi!”

Dean Pelton goes around them, stopping next to Jeff. “If it isn’t some of my favorite students! Jeffrey,” he adds, a hand touching Jeff’s bicep for a moment.

“Dean.”

Abed looks at the two of them, and cocks his head. “I think this means it’s your turn, Jeff.”

“We’re doing Jeff now?” Troy asks, raising his eyebrows. “Alright.”

“He’s the only one left in the group,” Abed explains.

“Oh, what’s going on? How can I help? I can do Jeffrey,” the dean adds, leaning closer to them.

“Abed says we’re in fanfiction,” Troy tells him.

“And just after Valentine's Day! How sweet,” the dean places a hand on his own chest, leaning closer. “You know, just the other day I read this titillating story between the reader and the host of The Soup—”

“We don’t want to hear it,” Jeff interrupts him. “Did you need something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes!” The dean turns to face Jeff properly, his hand still on his arm. “Jeffrey, I need a favor from you.”

“No, I’ll pass that too.”

“It’s very fitting with the theme,” the dean insists.

“What is it?” Abed asks.

“Well,” the dean glances at him. “I was on the phone with the board of directors, they’ve invited me to a work bonding weekend retreat, and when they asked me if I had a plus one…” He trails off, looking back at Jeff.

“No.”

“But Jeffrey, I was so surprised that I said I did.”

“Nope.”

“If you could just go and pretend—”

“Ask someone else.” Jeff insists, now looking at his phone, pretending to type in it.

“But I accidentally mentioned you!”

Jeffrey raises an eyebrow. “How do you accidentally say my name?”

“It’s more likely than you’d think,” the dean mutters, a hand coming up to touch the back of his own ear.

“Look, I’m not interested.”

“The dean is right, this is very much like a fanfiction setting,” Abed points out.

“Which is why I think it’s bullshit,” Jeff replies. “You accidentally said we were dating? How does that even happen? Just say I can’t go.”

“Come on, Jeffrey, it will be fun! A n all expenses paid weekend in the mountains, it will be just like a day in the mall with Craig!”

“What’s in it for me?” Jeff asks.

Abed feels eyes on him, and turns to Troy, meeting his gaze. Troy tilts his head, pointing at the other two, and his eyes widen. Abed blinks at him. Troy raises his eyebrows. Abed nods.

“If you go, Abed and I will do the homework by ourselves,” Troy says.

Abed feels a smile tugging on his lips. There’s a curling, pleasant feeling in his chest, as there alway is when he manages to understand Troy without words. There’s no one else he can communicate like this.

Jeff raises his eyebrows at them, finally looking away from his phone. “As much as I don’t want to do it myself, the two of you won’t cut it.”

Abed looks at Troy, watches his face and nods again. He opens his mouth to speak, but he’s cut off.

“Why would you even do this?” Jeff asks. “What do you get from this?”

“Nothing,” Abed says. “Just an ending to the fanfic.”

“Guess what,” Jeff puts down his phone, frowning at him. “You want to know why it didn’t end with anyone else in the group? Because you’re forcing us! What do you think will happen here, that if I pretend to date the dean we’ll date for real?”

Troy is moving slightly between them, but Abed pays it no mind. “Yes. Fake dating in fanfiction is an easy tool to force people into romantic situations and realize—”

“There’s nothing to realize, Abed!” Jeff is starting to raise his voice, adding an edge to it that he usually reserves for Pierce. “You can’t force us to like people just because your life lacks love! I’m never going to be into the dean, so drop it!”

Troy’s shoulder is in front of Abed’s chest, his posture tense. Jeff seems to be done with his speech, taking a deep breath and leaning back.

“Well,” the dean says, his voice a little higher than usual. “I can tell when I’m not welcome. I, I have important business to take care of in my office so...” he shrinks down a bit, pointing with both hands over his shoulder. Before anyone can reply, he turns and leaves.

Jeff watches him go with a frown, and then crosses his arms again. “Good riddance.”

“Way to go, Winger!” Leonard passes by them.

“Shut up, Leonard! I know you fake Alzheimers to skip finals!”

“I don’t remember doing that,” comes the casual reply, as Leonard leaves.

“You just hurt the dean!” Troy says, glaring at Jeff. “That’s not cool, man.”

“Not cool,” Abed agrees.

“Not cool?” Jeff turns to them again, with an edge to his voice. “You want to talk about not cool? How about everything you two have been doing since Abed decided this was fiction? How about this, whose turn is it now? I think it’s Troy’s.”

“Me?” Troy moves back. His shoulder bumps on Abed’s arm.

“Yes, you. Why not? You’ve done everyone else in the group, right? So who would be good for our T-bone?”

“I don’t know about this,” Abed says, arms pressing tight to his sides.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Not so fun when it’s you, is it?” Jeff insists. “So, anything happened yesterday, Troy? Anyone caught your eye?”

“No.”

“Yes. Jeff is right,” Abed says, glancing between them. The crawling feeling from earlier is back, and he tries to shove it down. “You got a card.”

“I didn’t!”

“I saw you yesterday,” Abed says. “You got a valentine’s card in your locker.”

“You, uh, you saw that?” Troy glances away, and then back at him. “Look, man, it’s not what you—”

“Why don’t we go there?” Jeff grabs each of them by a tight grip on their arms, and starts dragging them towards the lockers. “Let’s see this card.”

They move down the hallway once more, with the uneasy feeling in Abed’s chest growing with each step, with each of Troy’s protests. He looks at Troy, at the way he’s tugging his arm. Troy doesn’t want to show the card he’s got, and Abed isn’t sure he wants to see it either. But he can’t help his own curiosity, he knows it’s the same as when he presses his nails into a mosquito bite, easing the immediate itch, a painful relief that makes everything worse in the long run. He still does it anyway.

“No, stop, dude!” Troy shakes his arm off Jeff’s hold. They’re just one turn away from the hallway with their lockers. So close. “I didn’t get anything, so it’s useless, okay? Just drop it.”

They just have to turn the corner. “The card—”

“I didn’t get a card!” Troy moves around Jeff to face him. “Friends don’t lie, Abed.”

Abed looks at him. Troy is embarrassed, he thinks, tense and unwilling. And friends don’t lie. The crawling feeling eases. “Okay.”

“Oh, so with him you don’t insist?” Jeff asks. “Fine. Guess it’s your turn, Abed.”

“No,” Abed says, his voice clunky.

“Troy made it very clear you got a lot of admirers, so let's pick one! Hand me your phone.”

“No, this isn’t right,” Abed says. His heart is knocking hard against his ribs.

“He doesn’t want this, man,” Troy is stepping between them again.

“I think it’s only fair Abed gets a turn,” Jeff tries to move around him. “So what class is she in, Abed?”

“No. The romance isn’t for me.”

“You don’t get to decide—”

“This is over.”

+1

“Abed? Come on, it’s okay.”

Abed blinks, his sight focusing on Troy, who stands close to him, a hand on his shoulder, another on his chest, as if to keep track of Abed’s heartbeat. His face loosens, a frown vanishing.

“Hey, buddy.”

Abed glances around them, recognizing the study room. They’re by one of the couches, and glancing at their table he finds it empty, apart from Troy’s backpack, carelessly dropped almost at the edge. No one else is there.

“We weren’t here,” Abed says, a little uselessly. His brain is doing a windows update, the blue screen resolute in staying, little white dots going around in circles in a pretense at progress.

“Yeah, Jeff was being a jerk,” Troy says. “Wanna get up?”

Abed is sitting down on the floor, knees tucked against his chest. He nods, and gets up in a quick fluid motion. He notices too late the hand Troy was holding out for him. His own hands curl, fingertips hiding against his palms.

“You good?” Troy asks, brows furrowed.

Abed nods. Update at 93%, says his blue screen. “We were looking for the story.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t do that anymore,” Troy says, still close by. “At least for a while? We could do a no romance Kickpuncher thing.”

“But if we avoid the romance we’re escaping the medium.”

“I bet there are people who write about Kickpuncher fighting crime without dating stuff. Maybe he opens a coffee shop and punches the coffee beans into a pulp!”

“But,” Abed says, glancing around. Will he have to do this without Troy? He doesn’t want to. “The fanfiction…”

“I think people got hurt with what we did, man,” Troy says. He glances away, but then is back at looking at Abed. “You got hurt. And anyway, Inspector Spactime is cool without romance, right? He doesn’t need it.”

“Right,” Abed says. The update seems frozen now. “The Inspector doesn’t need romance.”

“Yeah!” Troy says, smiling, “so-”

“But you like it,” Abed says. “Jeff had a point, that card-”

“It’s just a card.”

“You saved it,” Abed says. “It means something to you. We could-”

“Look, Abed,” Troy says. “No one gave me that card. I got it myself.”

“Ah,” Abed says. Update at 100%, Windows is restarting now. “For someone else?”

“Yeah,” Troy says, looking down. “But I couldn’t do it.”

“Maybe that’s what’s missing,” Abed says. The crawling feeling returns, but he pushes forward. “That could be why we’re in fanfiction now. You need to give it away. Can I see it?”

Troy looks away again, and Abed follows his eyes this time, to see once more the backpack over the table. “Okay,” he says.

It’s there, Abed realizes, as Troy goes to his backpack and opens it up, his back turned to him. Abed follows him to the table, curious despite it all, the mosquito bite still itching.

“Okay,” Troy says, holding the card to his chest. “I’ll show it to you, okay? But you can’t… Abed, you can’t say yes because we’re in fanfiction, okay? I know you want to stick to the genre, but you can’t do that to me, buddy.”

Abed looks at him, confused, but nods.

“Here,” Troy holds out the card. Abed takes it.

The Valentine’s card is Inspector Spacetime themed, a pinkish X-7 Dimensionizer on the front, with the text:

‘The question isn’t where, constable…’

Abed opens the card to see the inside. On the left there’s a collage over the printed image. It looks like the original should be Inspector Spacetime, who is mostly intact, and Constable Geneva, from the dress still visible underneath the collage. Over her is glued a picture of Constable Reggie cut at the waist, and over his face is a cut out of Troy’s. Overlapping Inspector Spacetime’s face is his own. He blinks at it, and then looks at the right page, where in a large font the sentence from the cover is finished:

‘But WHEN will we kiss?’

He stares at the valentine’s card for a long moment, to the uneven layers of photos glued on top, the sticky tape holding it all together. To their faces, which don’t seem able to hold each other’s eyes. He reads the text again, and looks up at Troy.

“This is for me.”

Troy nods, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Abed’s eyes drop to the card again. “From you?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you give it to me before?”

“I was gonna give it to you on Valentine’s,” Troy says, shifting his weight, “but you saved up all those phone numbers. Wasn’t going to risk our friendship if you’re interested in other people.”

Abed looks at him again. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Troy shrugs, his cheeks darkening. “Only if you want to, man. And not, you know, for the fic. Only if you have feelings for me.”

“I have plenty of feelings for you,” Abed says, his tone neutral. He closes the card. “I’m not a robot.”

“I know that, buddy,” Troy says, moving a little closer, and then backing away again. “I mean, feelings like the ones I have for you. I’m… didn’t you see the card? I’m in love with you.”

“Oh.”

“Do you,” Troy seems uncertain, “do you feel the same for me?”

“Am I in love?” Abed returns, and frowns a bit.

“It’s okay if you don’t,” Troy says, with a smile that seems off. “It’s cool.”

He doesn’t know how to answer that. He’s not sure he has the right answer, and he can’t lose Troy. But friends don’t lie to each other.

“I don’t know,” Abed says. “I don’t… I don’t have butterflies on my stomach. The world doesn’t turn pink when I look at you. I don’t fall asleep clutching to a picture of your face. Birds don’t sing when I think of you. You are not the moon or the stars or the world, obviously. Everyone else still exists when you’re beside me. That’s what love should feel like, right? That’s what you see on tv.” He pauses, shakes his head. “There is no fire in me when we touch. My eyes aren’t dragged to you like magnets, I don’t hold my breath without noticing when you talk, my heart doesn’t climb to my throat, my knees don’t go weak when you’re close, my face doesn’t burn or turn beet red. I never looked at you and felt an italicized oh. That’s how love is in fanfiction.”

Troy seems to need a moment, quiet, but his face doesn’t change much. “TV and fanfiction don’t show love the way it feels in real life,” he says slowly. “Those things don’t happen to me either.”

“Then how do you know that’s the way you feel?”

“Because,” Troy starts. He stops, and then starts again, a smile growing on his face. “Because you’re special, man. You’re like, my favorite person in the world. I like you more than LeVar Burton, more than anyone ever. Life is okay without you, but you turn everything into an adventure, anything can be fun if you’re there. You’re magic.”

“I see,” Abed gives him a nod. There’s something clutching at his throat, and his heart is hammering in his chest, but he pays that no mind. He’s focusing on Troy’s words. “I understand.”

“Yeah?”

“You make me feel like it’s okay to be me,” he tries to explain. “People are complicated, which is confusing and lonely, but your complications are like an intricate plot I want to unravel. Like a movie you want to watch several times so you don’t miss out on the details. Like when we watched Arrested Development for the second time and found new jokes that only made sense after the previous viewing. Remember Buster’s hand? It was good, right?”

“Yeah,” Troy says, grinning at him.

“Remembering my time with you is like that,” Abed says. “It’s good.”

"Cool," Troy says and he looks pleased.

"Is that romance?" Abed asks.

"That's up to you, man," Troy says. "For me it is. It's like, what we have is awesome, but it’d be… Firefly is amazing, right? But it’d be even better if we got another season.”

“And us kissing would be like a new season of Firefly.”

“Yeah!” Troy says, excited. “Or, well, not kissing necessarily? Just us, but closer, yeah. If you’re not into kissing that’s cool, man, I just wanna be wherever you are.”

Abed thinks it over, looking at him. “I have one more question.”

“Okay.”

His lips quirk up. “If it’s not where, then when will we kiss?”

“Uh- oh!” Troy moves closer again, very close, and then back a little again. “Whenever you want? Right now?”

“Okay,” Abed nods, and closes the distance between them.

There’s no fireworks at the touch of their lips, but it’s still nice. Abed doesn’t lit up from the inside, but he likes the way Troy’s mouth moves against his own, the way their mingled breaths fill his lungs with warmth. He enjoys the closeness the kiss forces on them for it to work. Abed has kissed others before this, and while the mechanics are similar, this feels nicer, somehow. He doesn’t feel like a character when he kisses Troy.

Troy breaks the kiss, ducking his head, giggling as he does so, his forehead on Abed’s shoulder, his hands on his forearms. Abed feels his own face shift to allow a smile to grow on it, and he places a hand on Troy’s back.

“Cool,” he says, “cool cool cool.”

“Yeah?” Troy turns his head to grin at him.

“Yeah.”

Troy pulls back, and without a word, they fall into their special handshake. Their eyes meet as their hands thump their chests, and Troy laughs again, pulling him into a careful hug. His head rests lightly on Abed’s shoulder again, who allows the contact. He can feel the warmth of Troy’s body against his own, his breaths on his neck. He’s closer than anyone has before. It’s probably better than a new season of Firefly.

The door to the study room bursts open, and Abed looks up from the top of Troy’s head to look at the glass wall, which barely hides the study group.

“You guys!” Annie rushes to them, joins in the hugging. “That was so sweet!”

Her arms force them closer together. Troy’s hand rests on his lower back, and he puffs out a laugh against Abed’s jaw. It’s good.

“I’m still mad, but that was kind of cute,” Britta joins in from Annie’s side, hugging more of her than Troy or Abed.

“Uh, is this a group hug now?”

The rest of the study group comes in through the door, joining in. It is a group hug.

“Glad this whole nonsense is over,” Shirley says, patting Troy on the head as she steps back from the hug. Her voice gets Shirley high-sweet.“You two are going to Hell for this, of course, but that’s none of my business.” Then her voice goes dark again. “Not unless you try to set me up again.”

Following Shirley’s cue, the group lets go of the hug, one by one, until it’s just Troy holding on to Abed’s wrist. Abed’s fingers curl, as he wonders if he should hold Troy’s hand. Is that another TV-only thing? He thinks Troy would like it in any case.

Pierce looks at the two of them, and waves a hand in their direction. “Still not as gay as Jeff.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jeff says dryly, and turns to Abed, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I shouldn’t have pushed you like that.”

Abed shrugs. “I pushed first.”

“You need to apologize to the dean,” Troy says.

Jeff crosses his arms. “For what, being honest?”

Not feeling needed in that conversation, Abed walks towards Britta, who’s now close to the couches with Annie.

“I didn’t mean to out you.” Abed tells her.

Britta has her arms crossed as she looks at him. “I know, Abed.” It doesn’t quite feel like forgiveness.

Abed doesn’t know how to make this better, there isn’t much TVon issues with coming out. “I’m sorry it wasn’t on your terms.”

She gives a shrug. “I could have denied it, I guess.”

“You don’t have to, not with us,” Annie is quick to add.

“And if it helps, you were right,” Abed says. “About what you said. About me. Part of it, at least. You’re going to make a good therapist.”

Britta grins at that. “Yeah? You know, we could do a few sessions-”

“No thanks.” Abed turns away, towards the rest of the group before she can insist. “We should finish the project.”

“Finally,” Jeff says as the group moves towards the table and starts sitting down. He remains standing over his own seat. “Time to finish this stupid project. Now, I know we were stuck, but as I was saying before Abed went crazy – the thing about cancellations-”

“Jeff?” Abed didn’t sit down as well.

“Again, with the interrupting,” Jeff says with a long sigh.

“Yes, but this isn’t to give you room. I think today I’m the one finishing the Winger speech.”

Jeff looks up at the ceiling for a moment, and then does a hand motion that Abed interprets as a go ahead.

“Sometimes what you get from canon is good,” Abed says, looking at Jeff. “It doesn’t mean there can’t be more. Sometimes shows get canceled too soon, sometimes they’re lucky enough to get picked up again. Sometimes they get waaay more airtime than they should. But even if they don’t, it’s okay, it’s like you said earlier.”

“What did I say?” Jeff asks.

“That cancellation isn’t the end of the show. Cougartown Abbey only had six episodes, but when you go online, you find entire new seasons in fanon. The story doesn’t end, as long as someone is willing to tell it.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“The same as you were earlier. If someone can write a 200k time travel fix it au for Cougartown Abbey, then we can finish our homework for History of Something on time.”

“Abed, have you been reading Cougartown Abbey fanfiction?” Jeff raises his eyebrows.

Abed points at him with finger guns. “That’s the wrong question.”

“Ah.”

Abed looks around the table at his group of friends, and shoots his finger guns at them, because they can’t be pulled up and remain unused. Annie pretends to be hit, which makes him smile.

He sits down, and Troy is already turned to him, so in sync they’re both reaching for their special handshake at the same time. He thumps his chest twice, and feels it reverb within his ribs. He reaches over and grabs Troy’s hand, just to hold it. He can hear Annie and Britta cooing, but he ignores it, as Troy looks at him, clear surprise and delight on his face.

Troy is grinning at him, and for once Abed knows what he’s feeling, because it’s translated, reflected inside himself. He doesn’t quite smile back, but he does wiggle his eyebrows. Troy does some quick gymnastics with his own in response. Cool cool cool.

The fanfiction comes to an end, but their story isn’t over. Maybe it won’t end at all, an ongoing series in whatever medium and platform they’re allowed to exist in. There are so many possibilities out there. And who knows? Maybe one day they’ll get a movie.