12: fanfiction ahoy.
Title: The (not so) Obvious Conclusion (part one of two)
Fandom/Characters: Mentionings of everyone, but mostly Troy, Abed + Britta. Britta/Troy. Abed/Troy friendship.
Summary: Takes place after the finale episode. Troy wants to make things better; he just doesn't know how. Abed tries to help him out.
Notes: Ha, the title for this is... idek. Awful. But I wanted to post it, and I couldn't think of a title. So I sat with it open for like an hour and then finally came up with this. The idea for this fic completely comes from heartoutofstone, although her suggestion only really comes out to play in the second half.
The evening had unwrapped in a way that he might not have predicted. In all honesty, Troy was not the kind of person to over-think anything, in fact, on most occasions, he tried his hardest not to think at all. Perhaps that was how he wound up being sick in the toilet stalls half-way through the dance, having eaten a giant cookie that for whatever reason had upset his stomach. It was certainly the reason behind his full-on sulk over Abed not wanting to live with him. That had been a prime example of where thinking was necessary. Once he thought about, he reached a logical conclusion.
Either way, when he felt the pang of anger - mixed with something else he couldn't quite put his finger on - after seeing Jeff making out with Annie outside the dance, somewhere around the second puke-fest, he decided not to think about what that meant. Instead, he dashed back behind the shrubbery in the school yard, waited until they'd left (in his car, not bothering with any goodbyes to the rest of the group, or Britta), and sneaked back into the dance without saying a word. He wasn't sure what Jeff and Annie locking lips had to do with him, let alone why it would make him want to punch someone. He was generally the type of person who shrugged off bafflement, went about their daily lives shrouded in confusion without a second thought. When he was particularly muddled, he confronted Abed, who, when he wasn't just spurting references that Troy didn't understand, was often helpful. He decided, an hour after the event had happened - he still kept thinking about it, between dancing with Shirley and trying to cheer up Britta - to finally give in and say something.
“Annie and Jeff kissed,” he started, expecting Abed's eyebrows to shoot up, or at least his face to twitch. Some kind of registry of shock. But Abed didn't even blink. “I don't know why he did that.”
Abed shrugged, as if he hadn't had to think about the situation at all, and Troy braced himself for the inevitable pop culture reference, “Jeff and Annie are the Barney and Robin of our group. They're relationship is fundamentally flawed by their clashes in personality, but they hook up nonetheless,” he tilted his head to one side, “and it surprisingly works. Fans probably saw this coming from a mile off.”
Frowning, Troy tried to ignore the fact that Abed was still referring to their lives as a television show (this time, one he didn't even recognise), or that he had implied they had 'fans'. Ever since watching The Matrix, Troy had been left completely flummoxed as to what that meant about his life. The idea that someone was making his decisions for him made things slightly relieving; he hated choices. But at the same time, it was confusing. He had watched the entire movie in silence, trying to digest what was going on, and ultimately, failing. The stunts and effects were cool. That was about as far as he got.
“What about Britta? Don't you think what Jeff did was mean?”
They had a tendency to discuss their friends' personal lives. Abed enjoyed character analysis more than anything else, and Troy went along with it because he was often confused and wanted to understand the rest of the group better. Nobody ever spoke to them about important decisions. They had to keep up by themselves.
“Britta's tough. She can handle it. And even if she can't, her ego and her fear of crying in public won't allow her to let on to any humiliation she might be feeling.”
Troy sighed, “I don't think I like it when she's miserable. Jeff shouldn't have done this to her,” he paused, “what if it's like that drunken phone-call, and she ends up leaving the group over it?”
“I fixed the phone-call,” Abed reminded him, “but this plot-twist might be harder to overcome. She holds grudges, and once she finds out Annie has taken her love interest for the second time, she's probably going to be mad.”
Troy found himself staring across to where Britta was sat on the other side of the room, beside Shirley who was animatedly speaking. She was trying to put on a brave face, the tacky plastic crown she'd been awarded for being voted Tranny Queen left abandoned on the seat next to her, a permanent frown on her features. It was obvious even from this distance that she wasn't listening to whatever Shirley was prattling on about. He felt his chest tighten, the same way it had earlier, when he'd silently prayed that Jeff would pick her. The same way it had when he'd seen her on stage in that dance recital, all helpless looking. He'd been overcome with the urge to look after her then, covered it up with some throwaway comment about making himself look good. Something arrogant. He didn't really remember.
“This is like when they introduced Juliet to the already complicated Lost love-triangle, which ultimately solved the Jack-Kate-Sawyer equation, but made things more confusing. The introduction of a second female was necessary, but arguably disappointing for some fans.”
“Is the reference part of your brain the only part turned on?” Troy commented, not even turning his attention away from the blonde who was now sipping at a drink, alone in the same corner of the room. He gulped.
“Juliet got the guy in the end. But so did Kate. They all ended up with the right person.”
Britta took her cellphone out of her purse, checked the screen, shook her head, slipped the phone away. She was checking for a message from Jeff.
“Maybe you're Juliet?”
That last commented caused Troy to tune right back into the conversation, turning quickly back to Abed, narrowing his eyes, “what's that meant to mean?”
“You like Britta.”
He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't often that Abed did that; he more often than not left Troy to figure things out by himself. It was his way of helping out his best friend, and it had made Troy a better person, but occasionally, when he knew there was no chance in hell he was ever going to figure it out by himself, he just told him. This was obviously one of those times. It never occurred to him that Abed could be wrong. He turned his attention back to Britta. He thought about earlier in the night when he'd first seen her walk in dressed like that. He had stared, mouth slightly open like a goldfish, for a long moment, but a quick glance to the rest of the group and they had all been looking just the same way. It was more because she never ever wore a dress (apart from that one time... but then, he'd been practically wearing a dress too, so they didn't like to talk about that) than anything else... but was it? He couldn't deny that she looked hot. Her hair was different, and she usually wore looser clothing, but this dress looked better on her. It was like that time where Jeff had talked to him about Annie; suddenly he'd seen her in a different light entirely. Troy only hoped that someone wouldn't one day have the same conversation with him about Shirley. Because that would be weird.
“Maybe,” he said in a small voice, and when Abed didn't respond, he turned, guessing that his 'maybe' had been too quiet... only to find that Abed was no longer there. Perhaps he was still teaching him a lesson.
He took a deep breath, sucked in his chest, and tried to decide how to approach this. Annie had not appreciated having someone full-on hit on her, and she hadn't been upset to begin with. Shirley always told him he wasn't sensitive enough. Maybe Britta needed somebody to talk to, a shoulder to cry on. Then again, she was Britta so that was probably not the case. He realised he had no idea. Maybe he should just go over there and see how it goes...
“Soooo.”
----------
She was not really suited to him at all. Without trying to sound like a lame Taylor Swift song, he was the high school jock, whilst she spent her time sitting on the sidelines, pretending not to be disappointed that she wasn't picked for the cheer-leading team. She was the very definition of uncool; she knitted cat clothes, owned a disc-man and, worst of all, she attended a community college. Sure, so did he, but he somehow managed to make it seem cool, planned even. She acted like she was purposely 'indie' or whatever, that she believed in feminism and world peace, and a load of other shit on the side, because it was better than admitting to believing in nothing. In reality, everything that made up her personality, all the little titbits that people picked on her for, that she insisted were important, she'd been forced into. She wasn't purposely trying to be different, she just didn't fit in anywhere. She'd tried to, really she had but the problem had been that nobody wanted her. Even her own damn parents were ashamed of her (she didn't talk about them, didn't really like to think about them at all. Especially her father. He might as well be dead for all she cared).
All these things counted toward why Jeff was just one of many men who she could not have. It was ridiculous really; to begin with he had wanted her and she'd turned him down. Never in a million years had she seen herself standing on a stage in front of at least 36 people announcing that she was in love with him.
And there was something else; she wasn't in love with him. Give it a few months and maybe she could be... she could try to be, at least. But honestly, she wasn't sure she'd know what love was if it hit her in the face. She didn't know why she'd said it, so she sure as hell didn't know why she was now sitting by herself in a corner, having cried her eyes out because he hadn't felt the same way (the way she didn't even freaking feel). Seeing him outside, his tongue down Annie's throat, however, had felt like a sharp stab in the gut, love or no love. And it was one of those images that was impossible to get out of her head. A girl's worst nightmare. The man she loved (or didn't love... whatever) kissing their best friend. Finally, she realised what she'd missed out on in high school by not having a best friend.
She'd hardly even noticed him come over. Her head bent and her shoulders slumped and tears clogging up her eyes with mascara, it wasn't really any wonder, and she'd spotted his shoes before anything else. His shoes, followed by a trail of cookie crumbs. There was no mistaking who it was, she just hoped he wasn't going to make things even more awkward like he had succeeded in doing earlier. She often wondered if there really was nothing going on between his ears, but she regretted doing so. He hadn't even opened his mouth yet; she shouldn't make assumptions. She needed all the friends she could get, especially since she'd just lost two, as far as she was concerned. She snapped her head up, forced a smile, sniffed back tears.
“Soooo.”
Yep, awkward.
“You don't have to be nice to the crazy lady Troy. Sometimes crazy ladies are better off being crazy on their own.”
He turned to leave, and she stopped him, a hand on the wrist, a brief gesture that seemed so absurd, so out of place for them, for a guy she called a friend, but whom she didn't really know. He almost jumped at the contact. But it did its job: he stopped.
She let go.
“I didn't mean that,” she paused, “I've said a lot of things I didn't mean.”
He looked confused. Strangely interested, but confused nonetheless. Most people would have caught the hint, not pressed any further. But Troy was not most people. She fully expected him to say something ridiculous, make the situation a hundred times worse than it already was. She would have liked for him to just walk away, leave her to it. Shirley had already given up on her after the second or third time of Britta yelling. She was trying desperately to put on the brave face, act like nothing mattered, like she didn't care one bit. Like she always did. But this time, it was more difficult. And to make matters worse, Troy had picked up the darn Tranny Queen crown and was sitting down next to her. She bit back another spiteful comment. It was not the first of the night.
“Are you okay?”
It was so not what she'd expected him to say that she was too surprised to respond to it with the usual bitter, sarcastic reply she'd been throwing out to just about anyone who asked. It was not often that Troy was sincere. He actually cared. She turned to him, her brow slightly furrowed. It took a while for words to form.
“Well, I just saw the guy I apparently love kissing my best friend, so...” she shrugged; her heart wasn't in it any more, “I guess not.”
“Oh. You saw that too.”
Britta groaned, she had been trying to keep it a secret. It wasn't like she needed to be any more humiliated than she already was, “I did.”
He twitched, folding his hands in his lap like maybe there was something else he wanted to do with them, but he couldn't. She let out a deep breath. For not the first time that night, she contemplated going out for a smoke. Somebody in this place must have had a packet she could steal one from.
“Anyway,” he seemed to finally give in to the awkward silence, putting the crown on her lap and leaving, only wavering for a millisecond. He was acting odd. Even by Troy standards. But Britta didn't have it in her to wonder why. She just watched him go.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Fandom/Characters: Mentionings of everyone, but mostly Troy, Abed + Britta. Britta/Troy. Abed/Troy friendship.
Summary: Takes place after the finale episode. Troy wants to make things better; he just doesn't know how. Abed tries to help him out.
Notes: Ha, the title for this is... idek. Awful. But I wanted to post it, and I couldn't think of a title. So I sat with it open for like an hour and then finally came up with this. The idea for this fic completely comes from heartoutofstone, although her suggestion only really comes out to play in the second half.
The evening had unwrapped in a way that he might not have predicted. In all honesty, Troy was not the kind of person to over-think anything, in fact, on most occasions, he tried his hardest not to think at all. Perhaps that was how he wound up being sick in the toilet stalls half-way through the dance, having eaten a giant cookie that for whatever reason had upset his stomach. It was certainly the reason behind his full-on sulk over Abed not wanting to live with him. That had been a prime example of where thinking was necessary. Once he thought about, he reached a logical conclusion.
Either way, when he felt the pang of anger - mixed with something else he couldn't quite put his finger on - after seeing Jeff making out with Annie outside the dance, somewhere around the second puke-fest, he decided not to think about what that meant. Instead, he dashed back behind the shrubbery in the school yard, waited until they'd left (in his car, not bothering with any goodbyes to the rest of the group, or Britta), and sneaked back into the dance without saying a word. He wasn't sure what Jeff and Annie locking lips had to do with him, let alone why it would make him want to punch someone. He was generally the type of person who shrugged off bafflement, went about their daily lives shrouded in confusion without a second thought. When he was particularly muddled, he confronted Abed, who, when he wasn't just spurting references that Troy didn't understand, was often helpful. He decided, an hour after the event had happened - he still kept thinking about it, between dancing with Shirley and trying to cheer up Britta - to finally give in and say something.
“Annie and Jeff kissed,” he started, expecting Abed's eyebrows to shoot up, or at least his face to twitch. Some kind of registry of shock. But Abed didn't even blink. “I don't know why he did that.”
Abed shrugged, as if he hadn't had to think about the situation at all, and Troy braced himself for the inevitable pop culture reference, “Jeff and Annie are the Barney and Robin of our group. They're relationship is fundamentally flawed by their clashes in personality, but they hook up nonetheless,” he tilted his head to one side, “and it surprisingly works. Fans probably saw this coming from a mile off.”
Frowning, Troy tried to ignore the fact that Abed was still referring to their lives as a television show (this time, one he didn't even recognise), or that he had implied they had 'fans'. Ever since watching The Matrix, Troy had been left completely flummoxed as to what that meant about his life. The idea that someone was making his decisions for him made things slightly relieving; he hated choices. But at the same time, it was confusing. He had watched the entire movie in silence, trying to digest what was going on, and ultimately, failing. The stunts and effects were cool. That was about as far as he got.
“What about Britta? Don't you think what Jeff did was mean?”
They had a tendency to discuss their friends' personal lives. Abed enjoyed character analysis more than anything else, and Troy went along with it because he was often confused and wanted to understand the rest of the group better. Nobody ever spoke to them about important decisions. They had to keep up by themselves.
“Britta's tough. She can handle it. And even if she can't, her ego and her fear of crying in public won't allow her to let on to any humiliation she might be feeling.”
Troy sighed, “I don't think I like it when she's miserable. Jeff shouldn't have done this to her,” he paused, “what if it's like that drunken phone-call, and she ends up leaving the group over it?”
“I fixed the phone-call,” Abed reminded him, “but this plot-twist might be harder to overcome. She holds grudges, and once she finds out Annie has taken her love interest for the second time, she's probably going to be mad.”
Troy found himself staring across to where Britta was sat on the other side of the room, beside Shirley who was animatedly speaking. She was trying to put on a brave face, the tacky plastic crown she'd been awarded for being voted Tranny Queen left abandoned on the seat next to her, a permanent frown on her features. It was obvious even from this distance that she wasn't listening to whatever Shirley was prattling on about. He felt his chest tighten, the same way it had earlier, when he'd silently prayed that Jeff would pick her. The same way it had when he'd seen her on stage in that dance recital, all helpless looking. He'd been overcome with the urge to look after her then, covered it up with some throwaway comment about making himself look good. Something arrogant. He didn't really remember.
“This is like when they introduced Juliet to the already complicated Lost love-triangle, which ultimately solved the Jack-Kate-Sawyer equation, but made things more confusing. The introduction of a second female was necessary, but arguably disappointing for some fans.”
“Is the reference part of your brain the only part turned on?” Troy commented, not even turning his attention away from the blonde who was now sipping at a drink, alone in the same corner of the room. He gulped.
“Juliet got the guy in the end. But so did Kate. They all ended up with the right person.”
Britta took her cellphone out of her purse, checked the screen, shook her head, slipped the phone away. She was checking for a message from Jeff.
“Maybe you're Juliet?”
That last commented caused Troy to tune right back into the conversation, turning quickly back to Abed, narrowing his eyes, “what's that meant to mean?”
“You like Britta.”
He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn't often that Abed did that; he more often than not left Troy to figure things out by himself. It was his way of helping out his best friend, and it had made Troy a better person, but occasionally, when he knew there was no chance in hell he was ever going to figure it out by himself, he just told him. This was obviously one of those times. It never occurred to him that Abed could be wrong. He turned his attention back to Britta. He thought about earlier in the night when he'd first seen her walk in dressed like that. He had stared, mouth slightly open like a goldfish, for a long moment, but a quick glance to the rest of the group and they had all been looking just the same way. It was more because she never ever wore a dress (apart from that one time... but then, he'd been practically wearing a dress too, so they didn't like to talk about that) than anything else... but was it? He couldn't deny that she looked hot. Her hair was different, and she usually wore looser clothing, but this dress looked better on her. It was like that time where Jeff had talked to him about Annie; suddenly he'd seen her in a different light entirely. Troy only hoped that someone wouldn't one day have the same conversation with him about Shirley. Because that would be weird.
“Maybe,” he said in a small voice, and when Abed didn't respond, he turned, guessing that his 'maybe' had been too quiet... only to find that Abed was no longer there. Perhaps he was still teaching him a lesson.
He took a deep breath, sucked in his chest, and tried to decide how to approach this. Annie had not appreciated having someone full-on hit on her, and she hadn't been upset to begin with. Shirley always told him he wasn't sensitive enough. Maybe Britta needed somebody to talk to, a shoulder to cry on. Then again, she was Britta so that was probably not the case. He realised he had no idea. Maybe he should just go over there and see how it goes...
“Soooo.”
----------
She was not really suited to him at all. Without trying to sound like a lame Taylor Swift song, he was the high school jock, whilst she spent her time sitting on the sidelines, pretending not to be disappointed that she wasn't picked for the cheer-leading team. She was the very definition of uncool; she knitted cat clothes, owned a disc-man and, worst of all, she attended a community college. Sure, so did he, but he somehow managed to make it seem cool, planned even. She acted like she was purposely 'indie' or whatever, that she believed in feminism and world peace, and a load of other shit on the side, because it was better than admitting to believing in nothing. In reality, everything that made up her personality, all the little titbits that people picked on her for, that she insisted were important, she'd been forced into. She wasn't purposely trying to be different, she just didn't fit in anywhere. She'd tried to, really she had but the problem had been that nobody wanted her. Even her own damn parents were ashamed of her (she didn't talk about them, didn't really like to think about them at all. Especially her father. He might as well be dead for all she cared).
All these things counted toward why Jeff was just one of many men who she could not have. It was ridiculous really; to begin with he had wanted her and she'd turned him down. Never in a million years had she seen herself standing on a stage in front of at least 36 people announcing that she was in love with him.
And there was something else; she wasn't in love with him. Give it a few months and maybe she could be... she could try to be, at least. But honestly, she wasn't sure she'd know what love was if it hit her in the face. She didn't know why she'd said it, so she sure as hell didn't know why she was now sitting by herself in a corner, having cried her eyes out because he hadn't felt the same way (the way she didn't even freaking feel). Seeing him outside, his tongue down Annie's throat, however, had felt like a sharp stab in the gut, love or no love. And it was one of those images that was impossible to get out of her head. A girl's worst nightmare. The man she loved (or didn't love... whatever) kissing their best friend. Finally, she realised what she'd missed out on in high school by not having a best friend.
She'd hardly even noticed him come over. Her head bent and her shoulders slumped and tears clogging up her eyes with mascara, it wasn't really any wonder, and she'd spotted his shoes before anything else. His shoes, followed by a trail of cookie crumbs. There was no mistaking who it was, she just hoped he wasn't going to make things even more awkward like he had succeeded in doing earlier. She often wondered if there really was nothing going on between his ears, but she regretted doing so. He hadn't even opened his mouth yet; she shouldn't make assumptions. She needed all the friends she could get, especially since she'd just lost two, as far as she was concerned. She snapped her head up, forced a smile, sniffed back tears.
“Soooo.”
Yep, awkward.
“You don't have to be nice to the crazy lady Troy. Sometimes crazy ladies are better off being crazy on their own.”
He turned to leave, and she stopped him, a hand on the wrist, a brief gesture that seemed so absurd, so out of place for them, for a guy she called a friend, but whom she didn't really know. He almost jumped at the contact. But it did its job: he stopped.
She let go.
“I didn't mean that,” she paused, “I've said a lot of things I didn't mean.”
He looked confused. Strangely interested, but confused nonetheless. Most people would have caught the hint, not pressed any further. But Troy was not most people. She fully expected him to say something ridiculous, make the situation a hundred times worse than it already was. She would have liked for him to just walk away, leave her to it. Shirley had already given up on her after the second or third time of Britta yelling. She was trying desperately to put on the brave face, act like nothing mattered, like she didn't care one bit. Like she always did. But this time, it was more difficult. And to make matters worse, Troy had picked up the darn Tranny Queen crown and was sitting down next to her. She bit back another spiteful comment. It was not the first of the night.
“Are you okay?”
It was so not what she'd expected him to say that she was too surprised to respond to it with the usual bitter, sarcastic reply she'd been throwing out to just about anyone who asked. It was not often that Troy was sincere. He actually cared. She turned to him, her brow slightly furrowed. It took a while for words to form.
“Well, I just saw the guy I apparently love kissing my best friend, so...” she shrugged; her heart wasn't in it any more, “I guess not.”
“Oh. You saw that too.”
Britta groaned, she had been trying to keep it a secret. It wasn't like she needed to be any more humiliated than she already was, “I did.”
He twitched, folding his hands in his lap like maybe there was something else he wanted to do with them, but he couldn't. She let out a deep breath. For not the first time that night, she contemplated going out for a smoke. Somebody in this place must have had a packet she could steal one from.
“Anyway,” he seemed to finally give in to the awkward silence, putting the crown on her lap and leaving, only wavering for a millisecond. He was acting odd. Even by Troy standards. But Britta didn't have it in her to wonder why. She just watched him go.
TO BE CONTINUED.