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Abed woke up before Troy, as usual. He tossed aside his covers and got up to make breakfast for them both.
Annie was already in the kitchen when he got there, sipping some ginger tea from one of the Troy and Abed in the Morning mugs (they’d gotten her one because she kept stealing theirs), and she smiled when she saw him. “Good morning, Abed.”
“Hi, Annie,” he chirped, grabbing a poptart for Troy. He set the toaster to the exact setting he always did--he’d actually done experiments to see which setting was best, and this one was the perfect level of toasty--and inserted the poptart.
“How was your sleep?” Annie asked, making morning small talk. This was the routine--Abed hadn’t known how to do it at first, but over time he’d gotten accustomed to the type of chatter Annie liked.
“It was good,” Abed said mildly, watching the toaster do its job. He grabbed a plate while he waited, ready to put the hot pastry onto it when it was ready. “How ‘bout you?”
“I slept well. I had a dream that the world was made of marshmallows.”
Abed perked up. “Was the Stay Puft man there?”
“No, sorry,” she said, smiling a little. “But it was pretty cool.”
That was when Troy came in, dragging his feet a little. “G’morning guys,” he said, except he sounded bad. Bad, like sick. A rock dropped into the pit of Abed’s stomach.
“Troy, are you sick?” he said immediately.
“A little, I guess,” Troy said, voice still vaguely hoarse. Then, suddenly he began to cough, bringing his arm up to avoid spraying his germs everywhere. Abed made a whining sound.
“Not cool, not cool, not cool!” He ran towards Troy, trying not to hyperventilate, wrapping him in a big hug.
“Oh! Abed,” Troy gasped, having stopped coughing. “Are you okay?”
Abed ignored the question, releasing Troy from the hug and dragging him over to his recliner. “I’ll get you a blanket,” he said, running full speed to their bedroom to grab Troy’s favorite blanket, the soft red one with Spider-Man on it. He ran back to the living room, wrapping Troy in it like a burrito. “Are you comfy?”
“Uh, yeah,” Troy said. “Abed, what are you doing?”
“I’m taking care of you,” he said like it was obvious. “You’re sick.”
Troy shrugged. “Barely.”
“I’m taking care of you,” Abed repeated definitively, bringing Troy his favorite plushie, Abed’s blähaj. Troy hugged it automatically.
“Is this because you’re afraid of doctors?” he asked quietly.
Abed shuddered, whining a little. “I don’t want you to get sicker,” he whispered.
A pause.
Abed ran to the kitchen and brought Troy a glass of water. “So drink this. You need lots of fluids.”
“Okay, Abed,” said Troy. He took a sip of the water. “Thanks.”
“Your poptart’s ready,” Abed said. Annie moved aside from where she’d been leaning on the counter so Abed could grab it. He put it on the plate he’d taken out, quickly poured himself a bowl of cereal, grabbed an orange, and brought it all over to the tv, giving Troy his poptart and the orange and sitting down in his own armchair to eat his cheerios. “The orange is for vitamin C. Which is good for when you’re sick.”
“Thank you!” Troy chirped, taking a bite of his poptart. He smiled, and Abed smiled back.