Chapter Text
Home Economics
On the first day in Abed’s dorm, the girl who lived opposite asked if Jeff if he was Abed’s boyfriend while the man had gone to the bathroom. After his hurried denial, the girl had expressed her relief before ducking behind her door when Abed returned.
Jeff didn’t think much of it; the neighbour, whatever her name was, just had a crush on Abed. He didn’t bring it up, and Abed didn’t either.
On the second day, Jeff started to hear the rumours.
Two boys in the shared bathroom, discussing who was a better lay – and one of the options was Abed. A girl, poking her head in with her mouth open in a question before she noticed Jeff and pulled back blushing. Someone who lived a few doors down had gotten halfway into a conversation with Abed in the short time it had taken Jeff to go to the bathroom, biting their lip and twirling their finger in their hair.
On the third day, Britta came and shook him out of his stupor with a well-thrown faucet, fully distracting him from his observations for the time being.
Debate 109
Only two weeks later, once Jeff had moved into his own place and an interesting debate had been won between Greendale and City College, did the people in the dorms return to his mind.
Late the night after the debate, when the rest of the study group were packing up and getting to their feet, Jeff raised an eyebrow at Abed in a silent question.
Abed, who had been picking up his bag, paused to give Jeff a confused look. “What?”
The question was barely audible over the loud chatter of the others as they left the room, but Troy frowned, turning back to glance at Abed. “You okay?”
“Jeff raised an eyebrow, but I don’t know what that means,” Abed told him.
Jeff sighed. So much for subtlety.
I should have remembered that Abed isn’t good with facial expressions.
“I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay?” he said, trying to be as gentle as possible as he gave Troy a placating smile.
The young man grinned back, enthusiastically nodding, “Of course!” before he bounded out of the room.
Abed turned back to Jeff, the confused expression still on his face. “What do want to talk about, Jeff?”
“I’m going to ask you something,” Jeff said, “and you don’t have to answer it. Is that acceptable to you?” He kept his voice even and reassuring, as he had no idea how Abed would react to his question. While he normally wouldn’t care, Jeff knew the struggles he himself was having with considering coming out to the study group.
Abed nodded, his brow furrowed.
“Are you attracted to men and women?”
His expression clearing, turning to something relaxed, and a tension in his shoulders Jeff hadn’t even noticed fading, Abed nodded. “Yeah.”
Jeff nodded too. “Okay.”
“How did you know?” Abed asked, tilting his head slightly to one side.
Jeff shrugged. “Remember when I stayed in your dorm? A lot of people there were talking about you. Some of them seemed to think we were dating”
“Does that bother you?” Abed was studying him, as if he were an interesting specimen in an experiment.
Jeff shook his head, took a deep, deep breath, then said, “Well, I’d be a hypocrite if it did.”
No shock registered on Abed’s face, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t surprised. He was in the sort of mood where Jeff couldn’t read him at all. “You’ve been a hypocrite before.”
“Not this time,” Jeff told him, shaking his head again.
“So you’re bisexual then.”
Jeff shrugged, aiming for nonchalant and missing it by half a mile. He could feel the tension in his shoulders, in the unnatural stiffness of his back even as he tried to slouch in his chair. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Abed said. “Me too.”
Hesitating for a moment, Jeff inhaled before saying, “Don’t tell the others.”
Abed’s eyebrows drew together. “I wouldn’t,” he said. The words weren’t spoken any differently to normal, yet they sparked something warm in Jeff’s chest. Somehow, despite every doubt that had ever crossed Jeff’s mind, he believed Abed with every fibre of his being.
He smiled. “Thanks. I won’t tell them about you.”
This time, Abed shrugged. “I haven’t mentioned my sexuality because it hasn’t come up as a plot point.”
Jeff could feel surprise making itself clear on his face. “Huh.”
“Yeah, I’m not actually that bothered.”
For whatever reason – perhaps Abed’s near-eternal sincerity, or something else – Jeff found himself believing the other man. Abed being comfortable with his own sexuality, while Jeff was sitting there and stewing there on his own feelings, was odd.
“I get why most people are,” Abed continued, “but I’m not.”
Jeff gave him an appreciative look. “I’m impressed.”
“Why?”
It took Jeff a moment to realise exactly why he was, in fact, impressed. “In my experience, people aren’t that secure with themselves even when they’re straight.”
“Jeff, I have sex with people of all genders most weeks.” Abed didn’t look embarrassed in the slightest as he said this. Despite having regular, similar, encounters, Jeff wasn’t sure he’d ever have the confidence to say the words so frankly. “I have self-esteem falling out of my butt.”
Jeff huffed a laugh, looking down at his hands where they were clasped in his lap. “That you do.”
“Do you think that’s a good thing or a bad thing?” Abed asked, his expression turning confused again.
Smiling warmly, in a way he rarely did, Jeff said, “Good. Very good.”
Environmental Science
“Why did you manipulate Chang?” Abed asked. His face was as impassive as usual, and Jeff still didn’t know him well-enough to read him any better.
“Because you asked me too,” he answered, not bothering to look up from his phone. He was leaning against the wall, in the corridor down from the dance, Abed stood in front of him. “Why did you choose a romantic duet to sing with your friend?”
Abed hmm-ed. “We asked you to talk to him. You contacted his estranged wife and convinced her to dance with him.”
Jeff glanced up from his phone, then shrugged. “They’re the same thing.”
“I like the song,” Abed said, the words casual. “Troy liked it too.”
“It’s a nice song,” Jeff had to admit.
Except he didn’t have to admit that. In normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have said anything and just raised a judgemental eyebrow at Abed; with most people he wouldn’t have let his opinions be known.
Yet he trusted Abed, for some reason.
“It is,” Abed said, then hummed the first few notes.
They stood quietly for a moment, then Jeff let out a deep, only mildly exasperated, sigh and shoved his phone in his pocket. “What do you want?”
Abed said, “I’m sorry for kicking you out of the group.”
Oh, Jeff thought. His mouth tried to spread into an involuntary smile. He didn’t let it.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “I don’t care.”
Now Abed frowned, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t,” Jeff said, just a touch too loud. He winced as someone down the hall looked in their direction.
Abed didn’t seem to notice. “You trusted me last week, and I let us kick you out this week.”
After glancing around to make sure no one was too close, Jeff leant in slightly and lowered his voice to say, “We trusted each other last week.”
Abed looked at him for a moment, seemed to realise Jeff wasn’t going to say anything more, then said, “We should go back to the dance. Britta was wondering where you were.”
Jeff nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets before inclining his head in the direction of the cafeteria. “Back to the Irish folk music it is, then.”
“Actually, I’ve got a water gun fight to get to,” Abed said, pointing down the hall, towards the Library. He walked off, leaving Jeff to watch him go.
The Politics of Human Sexuality
Jeff frowned, squinting up at the clock. No one else was around, and it was dark outside, but surely it wasn’t as late as his watch said?
The wall clock, unfortunately, also read eleven thirty. Jeff had slept half the evening away, curled up on one of the couches in the cafeteria.
“Ugh,” he groaned as he straightened, then pushed to his feet.
The lights had been turned off, and the whole room was completely empty of people. Moving slowly, his limbs aching from the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in, Jeff started across the room with the intention of going to his car and driving back to his apartment.
Before he left, though, soft footsteps echoed and then Abed strode into the room.
Jeff blinked. “Abed? What are you doing here?”
“Troy wants a glass of water,” Abed said, stopping a few meters away. A hand was clutched around the strap of his bag, and his face was as blank as usual.
Shrugging, Jeff went to move past Abed, only to stop when Abed turned to continue facing him.
“What?” he asked, still bleary from sleep.
“Why are you here?” Abed asked.
Jeff didn’t want to tell the truth; it was embarrassing, and made him feel old. No one had been around anyway – they’d all been at the STD fair.
“I was just getting something to eat,” Jeff said, forcing a smile to curl on his face.
Abed looked at him for a moment more – not making eye contact, he rarely did that, but looking in that way that the study group knew meant he was paying attention. Jeff was beginning to get the odd feeling that he was being studied.
“Half the food in the vending machines is out of date anyway,” he continued, shoving his hands into his pocket. “Didn’t go well.”
Abed didn’t do anything for a few seconds, then nodded slowly. “I get my own snacks.”
Jeff’s smile widened, even as something in his chest twisted. He so rarely felt bad about lying, why was this time different? “Yeah, exactly.”
There was a pause.
“I should get going,” Abed said abruptly. “Troy’s waiting for me.”
Jeff gave him a jerky nod, looking down at the floor. “Of course, yeah, you should get going.”
Abed hesitated for a moment more, then gave him a slight wave before turning and walking out of the cafeteria. “Bye.”
Comparative Religion
Not entirely sure what he was doing, Jeff stopped outside the door to Abed’s dorm.
Abed had texted him that morning, inviting Jeff over. While the two of them had grown closer over the last month, and Jeff was used to entering without knocking after living there for a few days, this time felt slightly different.
For one, Abed rarely sent an invite without mentioning a specific show or film he wanted to watch. For another, he’d requested that Jeff… dress a certain way.
Before he could dwell on it any longer, the door was yanked open, and Abed was there, grinning at him rather uncharacteristically. Jeff knew by now that, even when Abed was happy, he rarely expressed the emotion with his face. Pierce called Abed an emotionless robot because of it, but Jeff was starting to learn that that wasn’t the case.
“I like your sweater,” Abed said. The words came out as abruptly as they usually did, and something in Jeff’s chest eased at them.
“I don’t,” he replied, trying his best to ignore the jumper he was wearing. It wasn’t too bad, but it was still too ugly for his liking – dark blue, with red snowflakes around the wrists and across his collarbone.
When Abed moved back to the couch, Jeff stepped further inside and closed the door behind him.
“Your text said to dress festively.”
“I thought you didn’t like Christmas,” Abed said, tilting his head to one side.
Jeff shrugged. “This was the least offensive one I could find.”
“Christmas sweaters aren’t offensive,” Abed said. His brow furrowed. “Offensive to who?”
Jeff took a seat at the other end of the couch. “My eyes.”
Abed laughed and shook his head. “Christmas sweaters are supposed to be bright.”
“Are they supposed to look like that?” Jeff gestured to Abed’s own Christmas sweater. On it, Santa was riding a dinosaur. “Why did you ask me over?”
Now, Abed looked down, his fingers twisting the hem of his sweater. “My mom’s coming later.”
Memories of Gobi Nadir, and what Abed had filmed for him, made Jeff’s eyebrows shoot up.
“Your mom?” he echoed, more than a little incredulous.
The video Abed had made a few months before had given Jeff and Britta the impression that Abed didn’t know his mom.
Abed just nodded. “Yep. It’s our tradition. Every year, on December ninth, she comes and we watch Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer.”
Jeff didn’t know what to say, so he did what he did best: improvised. “That’s good, it’s good that you… keep in touch with her.”
Abed nodded again.
“How long have you been doing this? Do you see her often?”
“She’s comes every year. Dad used to complain about it,” Abed answered, seemingly unaware of Jeff’s shock. “I used to go to her house once a month.”
Jeff eyed the other man, a little wary. “And now?”
“And now what?”
“And now how often do you see her?”
Abed shrugged. “At Christmas.”
“You only see your mom once a year?”
Something about that felt wrong to Jeff – instead of straight up leaving, like the video had suggested, Abed’s mom had been hovering at the edges of his life for a long time.
“I used to see her more,” Abed repeated, frowning slightly. “She’s come less recently.”
The acceptance on Abed’s face, in his posture, hurt Jeff. Memories of his own father – there one day and gone the next – rose up. He shoved them back down.
“When is she arriving?” Jeff asked, gentling his voice.
Abed wasn’t meeting his gaze, but he never did that. “Ten past twelve.”
“That’s oddly specific time,” Jeff muttered.
“I factored in mom’s lateness,” Abed said. “Mom is always late.”
Jeff paused, waiting for Abed to say more, but he didn’t. “Why did you ask me to come?”
Abed shrugged again, tugging on a loose thread in the hem of his sweater. “I’m worried she won’t come again.”
“What?” The word escaped Jeff before he could stop it.
“I put the data of mom’s visits together, and the trend shows that this is the last year I’ll see her for Christmas.”
Well, damn.
“I’m worried,” Abed said. “I want to see my mom again.”
Jeff took a deep breath in, trying to find an angle on a situation he knew very little about. “I haven’t met your mom, so I can’t speak for her, but I know that you’re worth knowing. If your mom can’t see that, that’s on her. Not you.”
Abed frowned, his hands stilling for a moment. “But I want to see my mom.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jeff told him. “But, sometimes, people are shitty. Your graphs and data and all that are good, I’m sure, but they don’t tell the whole story. Unexpected events occur.”
Shaking his head, Abed said, “Not my mom. She’s very predictable.”
“If she’s so predictable, then why aren’t you sure that she won’t come next year?”
“I hadn’t considered that,” Abed said. “I don’t know.”
Something clicked in Jeff’s head, and he knew what he could argue. “Abed, you’re scared your mom won’t come next Christmas. That could happen even if she’s the nicest person in the world.”
“She is very nice,” Abed interjected.
Jeff didn’t respond to that, instead just continuing. “Something like forty thousand people die in a car accident in America every year. Your mom could be one of those. Any number of reasons outside of human control could stop her from coming next year, but you can’t spend your life worrying about them. Just… enjoy the time that you have with her. If she chooses to not come next Christmas, that’s on her.”
He took a deep breath, finished, and watched Abed closely for a response.
Abed frowned, his eyes pinching like they always did when he was considering something. “Are you saying my mom’s going to die in a car crash? I really don’t think my mom’s going to die in a car crash.”
“That’s not the point,” Jeff said. “My point is--”
“I know what your point is,” Abed said. “Are you saying my mom’s going to die in a car crash?”
“No, I--”
“Answer the question, Jeff.”
Jeff paused. There was a minute quaver in Abed’s voice, the slightest tugging at the corner of his mouth, but he wasn’t sure what it meant. “Abed?”
“It’s fine,” Abed said, the smile returning to his face as he relaxed. “I’m just messing with you. I know you’re not saying that.”
Jeff let out a deep breath, slouching back into the sofa and resting an arm along the back. “Phew, I was worried for a second there.”
“Do you want to watch Die Hard?” Abed asked, reaching behind himself to pick up a DVD a hold it up.
Jeff checked his watch. “Do we have time before your mom arrives?”
“Die Hard is two hours and twelve minutes long. We have two hours and seventeen minutes,” Abed said.
“Sure,” Jeff said. “What else would I have to do?”
“You could go shopping,” Abed said. “You like to go shopping on Sundays.”
Jeff scoffed. “You think I’m going to go shopping in Dec—wait. How do you know I sometimes go shopping on Sundays?”
“I know these things,” Abed told him. “Do you want to watch Die Hard?”
Jeff considered inquiring further about Abed’s strange knowledge of his schedule, but decided it wasn’t worth it. “Sure.”
The corners of Abed’s mouth curved up into a small smile, and it made something in Jeff’s chest feel fluttery.
The next day, when Abed walked into the study room, Jeff raised an eyebrow at him.
“So? How did it go?”
Abed gave him a thumbs-up. “Cool.”
“What’s this?” Britta asked, her head snapping up from the incredibly boring Spanish textbook.
“None of your business,” Jeff said reflexively.
Britta pulled a face at him, then turned to look at Abed as he sat down. “Abed?”
“My mom visited,” Abed answered easily, as unfazed as he always was.
“Your mom?” Britta yelped. “I thought she left when you were a kid.”
“She did,” Abed shrugged, then pulled his textbook out of his bag and set it down on the table, flipping it to the page they were set for homework.
Britta frowned, her gaze flicking to Jeff as if asking for an explanation, but he just shrugged and started his own work.
Later that day, once they’ve fought the guy who hit Abed, Jeff looks across at Abed – who’s sucking on a candy cane, the blood on brow dried already – and grins at him, wide and toothy. The smile he receives feels like a gift of its own.
Even later than that, Jeff joins Abed in decorating Troy like a Christmas tree and thinks that, over those two days, he’s already had one of the best Christmas seasons of his life.
Investigative Journalism
Once Annie was gone, Jeff reached for his martini. Before he could take a sip, Abed dropped an olive in it.
Jeff smiled to himself, staring down at the drink. “Thank you,” he said, “Radar.”
“Ooh.” Abed sounded excited. “You made me so happy I just peed a little.”
When Jeff twisted around his chair, there was a small, genuine smile on Abed’s face. It was soft and delighted and Jeff liked it. A lot.
There was a knock on the door, distracting Jeff, and he spun around his chair to call, “Come in.”
The door swung open, and one of the Greendale Gazette Journal Mirror staff who Jeff only vaguely recognised walked in. Strangely enough, the student wasn’t even looking at Jeff; instead, he was glaring at Abed, who had tensed minutely when he came in.
“What’s this?” Jeff asked, gesturing to the sheets of paper the student had set down on the desk.
The student’s expression was dark, and angry, and it made Jeff want to know more about why he was acting like this towards Abed.
“My article,” the student answered. His tone was sharp.
“Okay,” Jeff said, setting down his martini as he leaned forward to grab the article and drop it into his ‘Unread’ box. When the student just stood there, still glaring at Abed, Jeff frowned. “You can leave.”
“I want to know that he” – the word was heavily emphasised – “won’t just throw it in the bin. Like he did to me.”
Jeff could feel his eyebrows inching upwards, but when Abed tensed even more next to him, anger coiled in his chest. “Leave,” he ordered, the word coming out even more harshly than he had intended.
The student’s eyes widened, then he stomped back out of the room. The way he shut the door wasn’t quite a slam, but it was close enough that Jeff saw Abed flinch ever so slightly out of the corner of his eye.
He turned the chair back around, to raise an eyebrow at Abed. The other man was still except for his hands; he’d taken one of the pencils on the desk to rub between his fingers.
“What was that about?”
Abed shrugged, the motion too stiff and robotic for Jeff to believe it was genuine. “That was Steven. I slept with him last week. He wanted a relationship with me, so when I reminded him that we only agreed to a one-night stand, he became angry.”
“Sounds and looks like an asshole,” Jeff muttered, glancing back to the door Steven had left from. “Why did you let him talk to you like that? You normally tell people if you think they’re wrong.”
“Responding to him only makes him worse,” Abed said. “If I ignore him, he goes away faster.”
Jeff blinked. “He’s that bad?”
“He’s shouted at me three times,” Abed admitted. “I don’t like loud noises.”
“Well, my original judgement was right then: he’s an asshole. Can I help?”
Abed opened his mouth, as if to say no, then shut it again. Something sparked to life in his eye. “Ooh! I have an idea.”
“Is he close?” Jeff asked, keeping his voice a whisper as he glanced in the vague direction of the door – it was pitch black in the supply closet when the door was closed.
Abed, pressed again him, nodded. “Annie asked him two minutes ago, she sits a two minute and thirty second walk from this supply closet. Steven should be here in the next thirty seconds.”
There was silence for a moment, just the sounds of their breathing as they waited for Abed’s asshole ex-one-night stand to arrive.
Less than thirty seconds later, the door made the click it always did before it opened, and then Abed was surging forward to press his lips to Jeff’s.
The world stilled, and Jeff’s mind went blank as he wrapped his arms around Abed’s waist, and let himself be pushed back against the wall.
It felt they were frozen in time, just to two of them pressed together, Jeff’s heartbeat echoing in his ears. He faintly registered how soft Abed’s lips were – from the Chapstick he liked to put on.
Suddenly, light was flooding into the room, and Jeff turned just in time to see the student from earlier – Steven – gasp and run off. The door slammed shut behind him, returning the room to darkness.
Abed pulled back, and a second later a torch turned on, blinding Jeff momentarily.
“You good?” he asked.
Jeff nodded, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”
“Cool,” Abed said. “Cool, cool, cool.”
There was a slightly awkward silence for a moment, then Jeff asked, “You ready for Spanish?”
“I did my work last night,” Abed responded. “I assume you didn’t.”
“Actually, I did it this morning,” Jeff said, feeling a slightly triumphant smile blossom on his face.
Abed’s eyes widened in surprise. “I wasn’t expecting that. You typify the ‘do homework in class at the last, last minute’ stereotype.”
“Well, it looks like I’m not completely predictable after all,” Jeff said, more than a little smug.
“Maybe, but we need to go.” Abed held up his arm to show Jeff his digital watch. “We have five minutes before class starts. And we’re still standing in a supply closet.”
“Shit,” Jeff swore, pushing the door open before he remembered that he and Abed were in a very small closet; most people could guess what they were doing upon seeing them emerge from it together.
Luckily, the hallway was empty, so the two of them weren’t seen by anyone as they made their way out and to Señor Chang’s class. But, the whole way, Jeff felt his lips tingling where Abed’s lips had met his.
Interpretive Dance
After Jeff talked to Britta, and handed her the bouquet of flowers that she seemed to like, he lingered slightly longer than he might have otherwise done; Michelle was going to be another few minutes and rain was pouring down outside – he didn’t want to sit in his cold car waiting for her.
That meant he was standing just inside the door, scrolling on his phone, when the sounds of someone tap-dancing started.
At first he just dismissed it, but whoever it was continued dancing, so Jeff pushed off the wall and strode around the corner to see the stage and –
It was Abed dancing; he was going from side to side, his arms open. His gaze caught Jeff’s, and he stopped immediately, returning to his usual stiff posture.
“Oh. Hi, Jeff.”
“Hi, Abed,” Jeff said. “I didn’t know you tap-danced.”
“I don’t,” Abed said.
“You don’t?” Jeff could feel his eyebrows rising.
Abed shrugged. “I borrowed the shoes from the changing room. I know what people do when they tap-dance, I copied that.”
“Well, you’re very good.”
“Thank you,” Abed said, nodding. “Did you want to talk again?”
Jeff couldn’t help but feel like their conversation was slightly awkward, without the usual ease, but he didn’t know why; their kiss – successful kiss – had been five weeks before, and they’d been absolutely fine after that. “Michelle should be finished with the Dean by now,” he said instead, checking his watch.
Something in Abed’s half-smile deflated, and his next words were a little stiff. “Oh, yeah. See you, then.”
Jeff gave him a slight wave, scrabbling for something to say in response. In the end, when he came up with nothing, he just went with, “See you Monday.”
He strode out, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he used his shoulder to shove through the doors.
“Bye, Jeff,” Abed called out just before the door closed behind him.
Michelle was waiting in Jeff’s car, and she smiled across at him as he slid into his seat, quickly pulling to door to behind him to keep out the rain.
It was pouring down, hammering against the roof of the car, and in the walk from the theatre to the parking lot, Jeff had been drenched.
“What took you so long?” Michelle asked him, pulling back and wrinkling her nose when he pulled off his soaked jacket to toss into the backseat. “Was it that blonde from your Spanish class again?”
Jeff blinked. “Britta? No, I talked to her, then while I was waiting, I heard another friend of mine dancing.”
“Someone else from your study group?” Michelle asked, frowning. It struck Jeff that she was much more expressive than Abed.
He nodded. “Yeah, Abed. Nadir.” For some reason, he didn’t feel like volunteering any more information about the closeness of his and Abed’s relationship.
“Oh.” Michelle looked more relaxed, and Jeff knew it was because Abed was a boy. He hadn’t told her that he was bisexual; he didn’t know how to tell her. “He was dancing?”
Jeff shrugged. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath, shook his hair to get some of the water off, then turned to grin at Michelle. “My place, then?”
Michelle smiled back at him, the faint light of a streetlight catching on her hair and making it shine. “Your place.”
Romantic Expressionism
Communication Studies
When Jeff, already slightly tipsy from the alcohol, told Abed that he’s a horrible drinking buddy, he didn’t expect Abed to say that he’s right, and drink straight from the bottle.
But then Abed poured them each out a glass, and said something in Polish, and then they were drinking.
The next morning, when Jeff woke up on the lower bunk bed with a throbbing head and dryness in his mouth and the light blinding him, the first words out of his mouth were swear words. The second ones were asking after Abed.
He pulled the mask off his face, then the second mask off, and looked up, blinking. Abed’s legs were dangling over the edge of the drawer above him.
“It’s three o’clock,” he said, the words coming out low and scratchy. “What happened?”
Abed’s voice, when he replied, was dull and lifeless. “The last thing I remember is you were dancing like that girl in the movie… Kids in Detention?”
That’s not good, Jeff thought.
“Breakfast club?” he suggested.
There was a pause, then Abed said, “Dear God. What have you done to me?”
Jeff processed those words for a moment, then the reason they were drinking in the first place came to the forefront of his mind. “Wait. Did I call Britta? Where’s my phone?”
“Got it,” Abed said, still sounding exhausted. “You made two out-going calls. One to Britta. One to your girlfriend.”
Jeff groaned, pressed a hand to his face. “I don’t remember either of them.”
“Neither do I.” The next words out of Abed’s mouth were the most dejected Jeff had ever heard him: “I don’t remember the name of the girl in The Breakfast Club.”
“Tomorrow,” Jeff mumbled. “Tomorrow will be fine.”
“Mary?” Abed tried. “Margaret? Molly Ringworm? You broke me.”
Jeff struggled to his feet, using the bed frame to help him up, and when he turned around, he saw Abed. The other man was flopped in the top drawer, a purple feather boa around his neck and a green bullet stuck to his forehead.
When did that get there?
Jeff fumbled for his phone, reaching out to take it from Abed’s hand, and peered down at the screen. “This isn’t good.”
Jeff followed Abed into the study room, trying to ignore how good Abed looked in black sunglasses with messy hair and that shirt, and instead faked a laugh at whatever it was Britta said.
“Can you please be quiet,” Abed mumbled, waving his hand vaguely. “I feel like…that person in the TV show.”
Then Britta asked if he remembered calling her the night before, and Jeff froze. He shared a look with Abed, who didn’t seem to have the energy to care about the drunk phone call right then, and answered, “Yeah. Why?” He tilted his head down, trying to peer over the top of his sunglasses to see Britta better. “Are we cool?”
Britta gave him a smile that made him regret the entirety of last night and said, “Oh, yeah.”
Except he didn’t regret last night, because he had a great time with Abed, from the flashes of memory he could piece together (Abed’s adorable turtle face – a pizza delivery guy dancing with them – sword fighting with Abed’s plastic replicas – drinking, and drinking, and drinking). There were too many blank spots, but he knew he had fun.
“Have a seat,” Britta continued, her dangerous smirk still in place. Luckily, she then moved to take her own seat, giving Jeff the opportunity to exchange another glance with Abed
“Balance restored, I guess.”
Abed was still very much out of it, even with his comically huge coffee, and just mumbled, “Movie reference.”
Jeff took that as ‘I’m glad this worked, and you’re right, balance has been restored’.
Physical Education
Jeff didn’t comment at first, when the rest of the study group was jumping up and down about finding a picture someone drew in their textbook of Abed; if Abed wanted to deal with it, then he could, he decided.
But then, they continued in Spanish, and ignored Abed saying that he wasn’t planning on talking to her.
“Guys,” Jeff said, looking up from his phone to interject, “come on, you heard Abed. He’s not interested. Drop it.”
Of course, Jeff was also the only one in the group aware that Abed had one-night stands regularly so he may have been projecting his own knowledge onto the situation, but he did think the group were projecting their own ideas of who Abed was onto him when they knew that he wasn’t that simple to understand.
“Jeff, you need to mind your own business,” Shirley told him, then looked down at Abed and said, “Abed you need to get with this girl immediately, if not sooner.”
Abed made a non-committal noise.
The group only took that as agreement.
“Abed,” Troy started, and Jeff know what this was ramping up too and was really struggling to not roll his eyes right now, “for guys like you, this kind of opportunity only comes around once in a—while.”
Pierce nodded, moving forward to rest his hands on Abed’s desk and say, “It’s important to date in college, Abed. It’s a time of freedom and exploration. A time when a simple pillow fight between two innocent girls could turn into a steamy night of unbridled lust.”
There was a pause, where they waited for Abed to respond.
“Cool. You guys are going to Can’t Buy Me Love Me, right?”
Jeff got to his feet then, striding forward until he was next to Abed. He looked around the group. “Alright. No one here is Can’t Buy Me Love Me-ing anyone. Abed only needs to be himself.”
Pierce muttered something, but Jeff ignored him as Britta strode forward and said the words he loved to hear: “Jeff’s right.”
After the pool debacle, Jeff found the study group in an out-of-use classroom just in time for Pierce to say that Abed was going to be ‘a half-Polish, half-Arab virgin in his thirties’ if he didn’t get his act together.
Jeff was very, very tempted to go ‘actually…,’ but Abed’s life wasn’t his to share; if he hadn’t mentioned it already, then Jeff certainly had no right to.
He didn’t stride in immediately, instead standing in the doorway for a minute to see if they were all being like that or if it was just Pierce.
Jeff was surprised to find he liked Don Draper-Abed, even if not as much as the real Abed, and shifted uncomfortably when he leaned into kiss Annie.
When they started discussing other characters Abed could be, however, he entered to demand, “What are you guys doing?”
“They’re teaching me how to be someone else,” Abed answered easily, as if it weren’t a big deal. And it may not have been, to him – Abed had, himself, said that he had high self-esteem – but Jeff thought the principle was important; Abed shouldn’t be made to feel like he had to change, even if he didn’t actually care that much.
“For God’s sake,” he exclaimed. “Can’t you just leave Abed be?”
Then Abed got up and did an impression of him. It felt… accurate. Scarily accurate. Just how well did Abed know him?
Troy noticed it too, apparently, and commented on how accurate the impression was, which prompted Abed to explain it.
“Abed, what if you pretended to be Jeff for Jenny?” Britta suggested.
Abed did the impression again.
Something about the idea of Abed pretending to be him to get with some girl made Jeff squirm, which made him feel weird, so he made an excuse and stormed out. The faint sound of Abed repeating what he’d said could be heard, even down the hall.
The next day, when Abed surprised them all with his confidence, Jeff was not faking his proclamation that Abed was a god.
“Thank you,” Abed said, his body relaxed in his chair.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have Couch to beat at pool while wearing shorts,” Jeff said, letting a grin spread on his face.
As he left the room, he heard Abed say “Nice.”
[Jeff wouldn’t find out for another few years that Abed had not taken his eyes away during the pool match – not even when Jeff had been, quite literally, baring himself to the world.]
Family Genealogy
“It’s over,” Michelle said, her voice even as she met his gaze. She didn’t look like she cared at all.
Jeff stilled, taking a sharp breath in. “What?”
“This relationship,” Michelle said, gesturing between them. “I’m breaking up with you.”
“What?” Jeff repeated. “Why?”
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “No.”
Jeff blinked, took a step back. “I don’t understand, I thought we were good. I--”
“Jeff, I’m going to leave now,” Michelle told him. “If you’re going to freak out, you might want to go somewhere more private to do it.” With those words, she strode off. Her heels clicked on the floor, the noise ringing through Jeff’s head and drowning out the chatter of the people walking past.
Keep it together, he ordered himself. You only dated her a month.
Taking a deep breath in, Jeff pasted a smile on his face and turned to head in the other direction, to the study room.
That evening, when the day had gone by and Jeff was already regretting kissing Amber, he went to buy something in the vending machine only to find Troy and Abed stuck.
“Oh.”
Both of their faces lit up; while Abed’s was more subtle, with just his mouth turning up into a smile and the tense line of his shoulders loosening, Troy looked like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Jeff!” he cried. “Thank god, we’re stuck.”
Jeff stopped in front the vending machine, sticking his hands in his pockets at he fully took in the situation. “I can see that.”
“Can you help us?” Abed asked.
Jeff raised an eyebrow. “If you get me a bag of chips.”
“Jeff!” This time, Troy’s shout was annoyed. “We’re stuck in a vending machine and you’re bargaining.”
Jeff shrugged, crossing his arms.
“This is so cool,” Abed murmured, barely audible through the glass, as his eyes followed the movement. “He’s being really cool.”
“We can’t get you a bag of chips until you let us out,” Troy said, pulling his ‘I’m trying to act grown-up’ face and fixing Jeff with a look.
“Is that a yes?”
Troy huffed, rolled his eyes, then said, “Sure, it’s a yes.”
Jeff gave him a grin and a nod, then turned and walked off. Troy and Abed made complaining noises behind him.
A few minutes later, he returned with the key and unlocked the vending machine. Both boys tumbled out, collapsing on top of each of other on the floor.
“That,” Troy groaned, reaching up to click his neck, “was so cool.”
He leaped to his feet, grinning, and was practically jumping on the spot as he gazed up at Jeff with adoration.
“See?” Abed said, a smile on his face. “I told you he was being cool.”
Jeff could feel his brow furrowing. “I’m always cool, obviously, but what about that in particular was cool?”
Troy looked even more delighted to explain. “You took in the situation without blinking, negotiated for some potato chips, then knew where the keys for the vending machine were.”
“Where are the keys for the vending machine?” Abed asked him, pointing at the massive key ring dangling on Jeff’s finger.
Jeff smirked. “If I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?”
Troy and Abed took a collective breath in, exchanged a look, then hissed in unison, “So cool.”
“Dorks,” Jeff muttered under his breath, then brushed past the pair of them to pluck a bag of chips from the vending machine. Once he had done that, he locked the vending machine and turned back to face Troy and Abed. They were both still staring at him.
“So cool,” Abed whispered, and Troy nodded enthusiastically.
“What are you even still doing here?” Jeff asked. “Did you honestly think you could both fit into a vending machine?”
Troy shrugged. “We wanted free snacks, and we saw one of Shirley’s kids do it earlier.”
“What are you still doing here?” Abed asked.
Jeff hid his wince, and schooled his expression so he looked nonchalant. “On Thursdays I normally go to Michelle’s place.”
“Oh,” Abed said, his eyes growing wide. “Are you sad?”
“Do you want a shoulder to cry on?” Troy asked, looking far too excited by the prospect.
Jeff gave him a look.
“I’ll take that as a no,” Troy mumbled, glancing away.
“I didn’t like Slater,” Abed said flatly.
Troy twisted, leaning in to whisper, “You can’t say that, Jeff’s sad.”
“It’s fine,” Jeff told him, holding a hand up in a placating gesture. “I’m fine, remember.”
“But I saw you crying on Pierce’s shoulder,” Abed said, his expression becoming what Jeff could now recognise as confused. “You aren’t sad?”
Troy shook his head, clapping a hand on Abed’s shoulder. “No, he’s doing that thing that people do when they lie and say that they’re fine when they’re actually not.”
“So, I shouldn’t have said that I didn’t like Slater.” The words came out slowly, as if Abed were committing them to memory.
“No,” Troy said, “you shouldn’t.”
Abed nodded, a touch stiffly, then turned to Jeff. “I’m sorry, Jeff.”
Jeff shook his head. “It’s fine, Abed. I don’t care.”
“And when people say that they don’t care, they do,” Abed said, looking to Troy as if for confirmation.
Jeff winced. Troy, to his credit, looked a little awkward as he replied, “Yeah, but you don’t say that in front of them.”
“Ooh.” Abed nodded.
“Can we do the water fight now, Abed?” Troy asked him. “Jeff, do you want to join our water fight? Pierce cheated last time so we banned him and it doesn’t work as well with just two people.”
Abed shook his head. “Abra’s staying with my dad and she doesn’t come to America that often. We’re having a family dinner.”
“Shit, I have to go see Nana Barnes,” Troy cried, his eyes widening as he checked his watch. “We were in there too long, I’m already late!”
He sprinted off, half-crashing into the wall in his hurry.
That left Jeff and Abed standing there, staring in the direction he’d disappeared.
“I’ll walk with you?” Jeff suggested.
Abed smiled and nodded. “I’d like that.”
They started through the dining hall at a sedate pace, Jeff shortening his strides to keep pace with Abed.
“So, your cousin,” Jeff said. “Are her side of the family more religious? I mean with the burka and everything.”
Abed nodded. “They live in Gaza. My dad’s much less strict. It’s called a niqab.”
“Sorry,” Jeff said.
“It’s fine. Most people don’t know the difference.”
They left the cafeteria building and went down the steps in silence. The campus was completely empty, with only the occasional street light fighting against the black of the night.
“Wait a second,” Jeff said when they reached the parking lot. “You don’t own a car.”
Abed turned and gave a grin that said he knew exactly what he was doing. “No. Drive me?”
Jeff kept the eye contact for a second, trying to resist, but Abed’s eyes were pretty and Jeff caved within a few seconds. “Fine, get in.”
“Thank you,” Abed said, dashing around the car to get in the passenger’s seat. “Have you seen Avatar yet?”
Jeff groaned, faking exasperation, but something warm and bright bloomed in his chest.
Beginner Pottery
Something’s wrong, Jeff realised as he watched Abed rub his fingers together. Every few minutes, the other man would let out a high-pitched squeak, only to press his lips together and shake his head.
“Abed?” he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle as he reached out. Before he could make contact, he paused, leaving his hand hovering just above Abed’s shoulder.
Abed didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on his fingers. They were rubbed red.
“Abed, what’s wrong?” Jeff tried again.
He hadn’t seen Abed like this before, but memories of his accusation from the first day – that Abed had Asperger’s – flooded back. Jeff didn’t know what to do.
They had been watching one of the Indiana Jones movies – Jeff wasn’t entirely sure which one – in Jeff’s house when this had started.
Abed didn’t say anything, his eyes wide as hunched in on himself.
“Abed?” Jeff repeated, making his voice even softer this time. He pulled his hand back, then considered putting it on Abed’s knee but aborted the motion at the last moment.
Abed grabbed his hand before he could pull away, latching onto his hand and rubbing the skin with his fingers.
“Jeff,” Abed managed to get out, his gaze flickering from side to side.
Relief felt like a bolt of lightning, shooting through Jeff. “Thank God,” he muttered. “Abed, what’s wrong?”
Abed shook his head, pressing his lips tight together.
“You don’t want to talk about it? That’s fine. Do you, uh, need anything?”
It took a full minute before Abed said anything else, but Jeff just sat there, letting Abed fiddle with his hand, and didn’t say anything.
“It’s—too much.”
Jeff blinked. “Too much?”
“I don’t like loud noises.” Abed said the words quickly, as if that would make them less real. “The fan and the blender earlier and clicking fingers.”
“What can I do to help?” Jeff asked, making himself even quieter now he knew Abed wasn’t doing well with loud noises; the words came out as a whisper.
“Turn the TV down. And the fan.”
“Okay,” Jeff murmured, looking Abed up and down before he gently pulled his hand out of his grip; Abed immediately started tapping his fingers on his knee, while Jeff got up to generally make the apartment quieter.
“I get like this sometimes,” Abed continued. He was staring down at his fingers as if they held the answers to the universe. “When I get overwhelmed. Today was a bad day. I tried to ignore it.”
Jeff frowned. “If you’re feeling like that, you should tell me. I won’t be offended.”
“I said I’d come over.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jeff said. “You shouldn’t be suffering in silence when there’s an easy solution.”
“Then I should probably go,” Abed said, glancing up when Jeff sat back down next to him. “Your apartment is boring.”
His eyebrows rising, Jeff huffed a laugh. “Yeah.”
“Blankets are good,” Abed added. “I like blankets.”
“I have very few blankets,” Jeff had to admit. “Would it help if I had more blankets?”
“Why would you do that?” Abed tilted his head to one side, his brow furrowing.
Jeff blinked. “Well, I like it when you come over to my apartment and I’d like you to be comfortable here.”
“Oh.” Abed smiled.
The next day was Monday, and Jeff entered the study room fully prepared.
“As we stand, once again upon the deadline to drop or add classes,” he said as he strode in. Everyone was already there, and turned to look at him. Abed was spinning a piece of paper around a pencil, staring down at the table, “I hereby present this semester’s Jeff Winger pick for ultimate blow-off class: Beginner Pottery,” he said as he strode in. Everyone else was already there, and turned to look at him. Abed was spinning a piece of paper around a pencil, staring down at the table.
“I don’t know,” Annie said. “Your last ‘blow-off’ class ended up teaching me to live in the moment. Which I will always regret and never do again.”
“This one’s different,” Jeff told her. “I researched. You don’t even have to make a good pot. You get an art credit for participation.”
Shirley ‘ooh-d’, and Abed nodded very seriously.
“This class is like a redhead who likes to drink scotch and watch Die Hard. I suggest you get her number.”
He’d researched the class the night before, finding one that was calm and wasn’t likely to cause any sensory overload – which he’d also researched – for Abed.
It was then that Pierce entered, and told them all about his sailing class, and Abed pointed out that the nearest body of water was hours away. Pierce chuckled, patting Abed’s shoulder like he was a silly child, and Jeff knew he wasn’t the only one who saw how Abed flinched away from the touch; Troy frowned at his friend, his concern written across his face.
Later, after Jeff had lazily walked into pottery a few minutes late and settled down next to Abed, who was next to Annie.
“Hey, Laura Ingalls, Home Depot Guy. Who’s making pots, huh? Let’s participate this thing.”
Abed poked his ball of clay. “I’m going to make falafel.”
“And, guess what, this class is supposed to be nice and quiet,” Jeff continued, grinning at Abed, who looked surprised. “I thought you might like it.”
“Why would Abed like that?” Annie asked, glancing between the two of them.
“It’s not plot-relevant,” Abed said, still poking rather dejectedly at his ball of clay, but, to Jeff, added, “Thanks. I think it’ll help.”
Jeff gave his award-winning smile. “That’s all I was looking for.”
“The thanks, or the fact it’ll help?” Abed asked.
“Can’t it be both?” Jeff countered, still wearing his award-winning smile.
Of course, in the end, Jeff’s plan was derailed by the appearance of Rich, and his own, consequent, reaction; though that, in it itself, seemed to entertain Abed as he discussed it in Spanish class.
“Good to see you getting along with Rich,” Abed said. “What’s he like?”
Jeff grinned, perhaps a little viciously, and replied, “He’s a ringer.”
“A what?” Abed’s reaction seemed less like he doesn’t understand the word, and more like he was doubting Jeff.
He explained it anyway. “You know, a con man, a grifter, a ringer. He’s an expert potter who signs up for novice classes to impress people.”
“But if he wants to impress people, why join a pottery class?” Abed asked. “Why not just say ‘Hi, I’m a doctor’?”
“Because he’s crazy,” Jeff said. “And fancy jobs don’t impress people. You’ve never been impressed that I was a lawyer.”
Abed was quick to counter, “Well, anyone can be a lawyer. You can even represent yourself.”
Which…ouch.
“You can’t do surgery on yourself. It’s illegal. You’d get arrested. And then you’d get a free lawyer.”
Even bigger ouch.
Jeff wanted Abed to be impressed by his job as a lawyer – his job as a very good lawyer – but it clearly wasn’t taking. Before he could try and convince him further, Annie came over to spout more praise for Rich, who was really starting to get on Jeff’s nerves.
In the end, Jeff went too far and got kicked out of pottery, and his plan to help Abed was lost and forgotten.
The Science of Illusion
“This investigation is going nowhere,” Pierce announced, getting to his feet. His wizard robe swished as he did. “You need a psychic!”
“Perfect,” Jeff muttered, rolling his eyes as he slouched back in his seat.
“Now, this process may alarm you,” Pierce continued, poking his fingers into Jeff’s cheeks as he laid his hands on either side of his head.
There was deep breath, and then Pierce gasped. “Oh! Gay, gay, gay. So gay! Oh-oh, dark… nightclub. Throbbing… music. Men’s room—Men’s room stall. Penis. Two penises! Oh. So gay, he’s so gay.”
On either side of him, Annie and Shirley turned away, and Jeff was sure they, too, were rolling their eyes.
Pierce made a disgusted noise, pulling away.
“Pierce!” Annie shouted. “Sit down. We’ll take it from here.” She leant down, resting her hand on the table as she met his gaze. “Jeff, where we you last night?”
Even before he said he was at a bar the night before, Jeff knew what Pierce was going to say. He was right.
“Called it,” Pierce said.
Shirley ignored the annoying man, and continued with the line of questioning. “Who can confirm that?”
Jeff’s mouth was talking before his brain was thinking. “Your mama.”
“What?” Shirley exclaimed, her face contorting with anger.
“While I’m--” Jeff started to say, only for Annie to grab his head and slam it into the table. Twice. “What the hell, Annie?!” he shouted. An ache started to spread from where his forehead had collided with the wood.
“Her name’s not Annie, it’s psycho,” Shirley snapped, her voice low and dangerous.
“That’s not the issue here,” Jeff shouted back at her.
Then the two of them were pulling out pizza cutters and brandishing kitchen implements and what the hell was going on.
Britta slapped her hands down on the table, leaping to her feet. “Guys, guys, stop it. I did it,” she cried, and thank every god out there.
Something about having his neck bared with a blade held to it was making Jeff wary.
“I framed Jeff,” Britta confessed, her voice wavering like she was upset.
I’m the one with a pizza cutter at my throat, and she’s upset?
“I’m sorry Jeff.”
Annie asked, “But why?”
“Because I’m a buzzkill, that’s why. That’s who I am, that’s my role. You guys create fun and I destroy it. Of course a silly little joke ends with a dead body on the lawn. I should have known that but I wanted to do it anyway. Cause I wanted to be like you, I wanted to be funny.”
And then Annie said something about her own worries, and then Shirley chimed in, and they were all having a crying session and Jeff was still tied up.
Abed moved to perch on the back of the chair beside Jeff, studying the other five with an entertained smile on his face.
“Hey, Abed,” Jeff said. “Why are you and I the only sane--?”
“Shh, just watch,” Abed told him, patting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful.”
Jeff waited a second, then asked, “Can I have some popcorn?”
“Sure,” Abed said, grabbing a handful of his popcorn and holding it so Jeff could eat some.
“You know what’s weird?” Jeff was sure the group couldn’t hear the two of them, huddling in a circle and wailing as they were, so said, “Pierce was actually right. I hooked up with a guy at the bar last night.”
“Maybe he really is psychic,” Abed said, looking even more entertained. “Ooh, that would be a good story: cult member discovers supernatural powers, much to the surprise of his cult.”
“Would it?” Jeff raised an eyebrow at Abed, who shrugged.
“I don’t know. I’m the middle of a different movie – Annie and Shirley’s one. Want to see the poster?”
Jeff sighed. He wasn’t getting out of his handcuffs anytime soon. “Sure.”
Contemporary American Poultry
Jeff had told them it would end like this, but he hadn’t honestly been sure; now, with the study group calling out his name and running towards him down the hallway, he knew he had been.
He stopped and turned around.
“Abed killed my backpack,” Annie said.
Britta nodded emphatically, lifting her hat up to show Jeff the comically large chunk of gum. “Look what Abed did to my hair.”
“He released Annie’s boobs.” Troy sounded on the verge of tears. “Annie’s boobs could be anywhere. Annie’s boobs could be--”
“We get it, the monkey’s name is Annie’s boobs,” Shirley interrupted.
“That little Arab is off his rocker,” Pierce said.
“I caught him stuffing my man full of chicken,” Shirley said. “Tyler Perry has a whole series of movies about why that’s wrong.”
If the rumours in the dorms are correct, Abed did more with sexy dreadlocks than just feed him chicken, Jeff thought.
“I feel terrible for all of you,” he said, letting the sarcasm drip from his voice. “Wait, no, I don’t, because I warned you about all this, but you were so high on your backpacks and hairstyles that you accused me of being jealous.”
“You were right,” Annie said, “but what can we do?”
The words made Jeff pause, smiling. “I’m sorry, you brushed over that first part. Together.” He pulled out his phone, finding the voice record button and holding it out.
“You were right,” all five of them chorused, looking thoroughly dejected.
Jeff smiled to himself and saved the file. “What you can do is go home and write that on your bathroom mirror.”
Troy disagreed with him on that, and then a discussion started, but Jeff was able to silence them with a single gesture again.
Hiding his glee, Jeff said, “As for Abed, for his sake, I guess I’ll have to take him out.”
Everyone nods.
“I’m blaming all of you for this, though.”
“Oh, come on, that’s not fair,” Pierce said.
Britta shook her head. “No, it is.”
“Eh,” Annie said. “I’m not too bothered.”
Greendale’s kitchen was shockingly easy to break into, but Abed was stood by the fryer, and Jeff got pulled into a conversation.
“I just need to be able to make people happy,” Abed told him.
Jeff sighed. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“You got caught with a fake bachelor’s degree,” Abed answered easily. “By the way, they started using that as a seasonal arc on Law & Order. Total rip-off.”
“I’m here to dismantle the fryer.” Jeff leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest and looking over the cafeteria. “This has gone too far. You can’t use chicken to control people. That doesn’t make them happy. But don’t you see what happened? I manipulated the group into getting you this job so I could have some chicken. You’re the one who turned it into a way to make people like you.”
“I was acting like you,” Abed said. The words were simple, and honest, but they made Jeff hurt. “I sent the group a message, like you would.”
Jeff sighed. “You’re not me, Abed. You shouldn’t try to be. I am deeply messed up person. I was jealous that people liked you more than, that you had more power, which is why I got angry and left.”
“That’s pretty alarming behaviour, Jeff,” Abed said, twisting to look at him.
“Yeah,” Jeff admitted. “It is.”
“You should probably talk to someone about that.”
Jeff huffed a self-deprecating laugh. “I’ll look into that. In the meantime, I’ll help you connect with people. And you’ll help me do a better job with them.”
“Like Knight Rider,” Abed said, excitement sparking on his face.
“Exactly. Exactly like Knight Rider.”
Abed smiled. “Deal.”
He held his hand out, and they shook.
“I’ll put on a leather jacket and make out with an aerobics instructor. You pull around front and comedically startle passers-by with your ability to talk.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Maybe we should just stay here,” Jeff suggested. “Have a plate of chicken fingers.”
“Cool,” Abed said. “Cool, cool, cool. Can we eat them while sitting on a table like in Sixteen Candles?”
A romantic movie? Jeff’s face warmed, but he shoved his embarrassment away. “Pick one reference, Abed.”
Abed considered it for a moment, then decided on Sixteen Candles.
So they climbed up on the counter – and Jeff knew it wouldn’t be washed before food was served the next day, but couldn’t bring himself to care – and stuck two candles in a plate of chicken fingers and ate together.
Even in his fry-cook get-up, Jeff liked the way Abed looked in the dim light of the empty cafeteria with the candle-light flickering.
The Art of Discourse
Jeff was scrolling through his phone, deleting things to make space for a new download, when he came across his voice-recordings.
The first one, when he clicked it, played a chorus of, “You were right,” and he grinned at the memory of the situation.
The second one, though, he didn’t remember making – and from the looks of things it was a good five minutes long. He pressed play, and then his voice blared from his cell phone’s speaker.
“Abed! I’m missing you so much, you need to come back right away, it’s been minutes since you left.”
Frowning, Jeff checked the date of the recording then mentally counted the days in his head. He’d made this on the night they’d gotten very, very, drunk to call Britta.
“I needed to tell you that I really, really, really, really like you. Like, really, really like you.”
Jeff stopped the recording there. From the sound of it, he’d been drunk and Abed had left the dorm for a few minutes and he had tried to call him but accidentally recorded himself instead.
Taking a deep breath, he scrolled down and deleted it.
Modern Warfare
When Abed came sprinting around the corner, in his over-sized camo shirt and goggles, and pushed off from the wall, the first thing Jeff thought to do was duck.
The second thing he thought, once Abed had turned around and pushed his goggles up and said, “Come with me if you don’t want paint on your clothes,” was… hot.
Once they’d met up with Troy, and he and Abed explained the rules, Jeff took his shirt off and couldn’t help but wonder who, exactly, he wanted to show his muscles off to.
“Are the others in the game?” he asked, picking up the spare gun and inspecting it.
“You mean Britta?” Troy said.
Jeff cocked an eyebrow. “No, I don’t mean Britta. Did I say Britta?”
“Twice now.”
The rest of the study group seemed obsessed with the idea that he and Britta were attracted to each other, but Jeff knew that, while he thought she was pretty and had once wanted to sleep with her, he was over her now.
Before he could try and explain that, the door swung open and a Chess Club member was standing there, and the game began.
English as a Second Language
Pascal’s Triangle Revisited
Michelle kissing him didn’t feel right, and Jeff knew in that moment that he didn’t want to get back together with her.
That didn’t mean he wanted Britta to announce, in front of the entire dance, that she was in love with him.
But everyone was looking at him, staring at him, and expecting an answer, and the only thing Jeff could think was that this was wrong.
“Hey, man,” Troy said, sidling up next to him. “Just so you know, everyone here is waiting for your response.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that,” Jeff muttered.
Britta wanted him to tell her that he loved her too; Michelle wanted him to turn and kiss her; Jeff wanted to run.
And, because Jeff always took the easy route out, he turned to Troy and whispered: “Vomit.”
Troy blinked. “What the hell, man?”
“Throw up. On the floor. Please. Use the sick feeling from the cookie.”
Maybe it was the ‘please’ that did it, Jeff didn’t know, but Troy nodded, gave him a thumbs-up, and then turned to hurl his guts up all over the floor.
Jeff used the ensuing commotion to run.