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“Abed?” she calls out softly, then goes on and gives a tap to the door area too, which sends a gentle wave along all the blankets that make up both his door and walls. Then another, more pronounced tap-tap-tap, because sure, it’s almost midnight, but the lights are still on in there, and she really needs that flash drive.
“Speak friend and enter," he replies, so she quickly finds the opening between the blankets and steps in.
“Hi.” She gives him a big smile. “Do you think I can borrow a flash drive?”
“Sure.” He nods, then points at his desk briefly before adjusting his headphones and restarting the movie playing on his laptop.
She would really love to have a bit more guidance, but when she receives none, she sets out to look for it on her own. Her first target is the tray with all sorts of electronics. His second headphone. His earphones. The charge of his phone, a charger for something else, a few spare batteries, a cable, another cable, then another cable, and one of her scrunchies. But no flash drive. The mug holding his pens, pencils, and a strawberry flavored lollipop brings no joy either, so she goes on and ruffles through his books and papers, doing her best to ignore the bowl sitting at the middle of his desk. It still has a single sad froot loop stuck to its side, so it must be considered ‘still in use’.
“Hey, um…”
“Drawer,” he says without pausing his movie or even looking up from the screen.
It takes all her strength not to groan when she pulls the drawer out. It’s not just chaos in there; it’s where chaos brings its chaotic friends to have a wild party. At first glance it looks to be at least 80% cables – with at least one of them missing its end —, but she can also count three chapsticks, two forks, a small Iron Man figurine, some coins and a ball made out of rubber bands.
“Use the forks,” he says. “There are a few push pins on the loose in there.”
She can’t tell if she feels relieved to know that the forks are not used for eating, or revolted by the fact that he’d rather use a fork than do something about the pins, but she picks one of them up and tries to push some of the rubble away from the corner closest to her. Then the other. Then she bites her lip and tries the middle.
“I—”
He cuts her off by raising a hand.
Then just as she is about to start to feel really uncomfortable, he bends his pinky. Then his ring finger, to let her know he’ll be with her in three, two, one…
“Right,” he sighs as he pauses the movie. He takes off his headphones and puts them to the side with his laptop as he gets up from his beanbag to join her in her quest.
Taking the other fork, he pushes the contents of the drawer back and forth a few times, but surprise-surprise, he can’t find the flash drive either, so he takes the fork between his teeth and pulls at the drawer with both hands, taking it completely out and putting it on the floor.
“I need both,” he tells her, so she hands over her fork and kneels on the carpet next to him, sitting back on her heels and watching as he sticks both of them in, raises the nest of cables above the drawer and gives it a single firm shake.
A few things fall out (most of them push pins), but a flash drive is not amongst them.
“Well, that was a bit anticlimactic,” he admits, then goes on and starts shaking the nest again.
“Can I just…?” she asks when it starts looking like nothing else will come loose.
“Sure.” He gives her a nod and puts the nest down on the floor.
“Sorry for all this.” She starts gathering the push pins first. “But Britta still has mine, and I need to print a few things tomorrow.”
“Yeah, she’s lost a few of mine too.”
“Maybe I should ask Troy,” she says, then quickly realizes her mistake and clears her throat. “In the morning. There’s no need to wake him up now.”
“I think they are still up.”
“Hm?” She raises a brow innocently.
“They tend to stay up late when Britta’s here.”
“Britta?”
“Britta’s in there,” he says. “She spends the night two or three times a week, then she pretends she is here for a breakfast date in the morning after.”
“Does she?” she gasps.
“She does.” He gives her a nod. “And sometimes you help her get in and get out.”
“Abed, I—”
“It’s all right,” he says with a shrug. “I presume you tried to keep it a secret to prevent me from freaking out.”
“Well, yes,” she admits, hanging her head in shame and looking up at him through her lashes. “But still…”
“Actually, I quite enjoy it. The closer you guys feel to being busted, the more creative you get,” he tells her. “It’s like a heist movie, where I get to be the cool antagonist, like Andy Garcia in Ocean’s Eleven and I get a donut for breakfast too.”
She really wants to reprimand him for trolling them like that, but bites her lip just in time.
“Of course, sooner or later I will have to come clean about it,” he says with a frown.
“Absolutely,” she agrees. “I’m sure Troy will be happy to finally learn that you are all right with them being together. Because you are all right with them, right?” she asks, trying to read his face.
“I am,” he says. “But I need at least two more weeks. I have a few ideas that I would hate to see go to waste. And now that you know that I know, you can help me too.”
“Help you?” She raises her brows.
“It would really elevate things if I had my own henchwoman.”
“I don’t know,” she sighs, because she really shouldn’t encourage him in this. Then again… “Can I wear an eye-patch, or something?”
“Sorry, not for this.” He shakes his head. “It would give it all away. But you could make a couple of Special Drinks, serve them in martini glasses and join me as I start working on my evil plans.”