Book: (Troy/Abed 1/1)
Title: Book
Fandom/ Pairing: Community: Troy/Abed
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Abed introduces Troy to Firefly. Troy starts crying when Book dies in Serenity. Abed's not sure why.
A/N:
amuly is an enabling enabler. All credit is hers, all fault mine. :) First time writing the pairing. Hope it works!
Abed's watched this scene at least two dozen times, now, knows every beat and line, every camera angle, every discussion going on over the currently muted commentary track, but it's never hit him like this before.
Then again, he's never watched it with Troy's knee jerking against his own, or with Troy's barely-muffled sobbing providing the soundtrack.
Abed redoubles his attention on the screen, trying to figure out what it is that's causing the tears- it's Shepherd Book, dying on Haven, every hint of his real identity being cut off too soon. It's a brilliant scene, highlighting all the questions surrounding Book's secret past while proving, without doubt, that those questions would never be answered. It's as frustrating as the series itself, thirteen perfect episodes and a movie, and a hundred story lines that never got to be.
It's got something else to it, though, that's making Troy feel this way, that's bringing him to the point of digging his fingers into his own elbows as he leans forward, choking on his own gasps. It's something Abed suspects he's supposed to understand, if only from a filmmaker's perspective. The emotional response is exactly what films are supposed to be about, and as much as he wants to crawl out of the fort- he could go to the kitchen, mix up another pitcher of Special Drink, give Troy some space and get some distance of his own- this is more important. He needs to find the clues in Troy's reaction.
It probably means turning to look at him more directly, though, instead of out of the corner of his eye, and he's not certain that Troy wants the attention. Not looking might be one of those things they're just supposed to understand without discussion, like their special handshake or the organization of their intermixed DVD collection.
Troy lets out a small keening sound that sends Abed's fingers twitching towards the remote. Troy's going to miss the next scene if he doesn't look up, and this'll be so much worse, if he doesn't see how it's actually one of the crucial points of Mal's character development, how his motivations become galvanized due to the tragedy, and he could let the video run and explain it later, but it's not the same.
But Abed's got no idea what comes next, here in their fort, as he pauses the DVD. For a moment, there's nothing but the light from the television and the sheets hanging low over their heads and Troy's labored breaths, slowly being tamed.
"He's gone," Troy eventually chokes out, face screwed up tight, not looking at Abed but at least aware that he's there. "Before we even get a chance to get him, you know?"
"And that makes it sad," Abed nods eagerly. He was right about this, at least.
"No," Troy sniffs, rubbing his arm over his face, and whether he's trying to hide behind it, or his face is just really damp, Abed doesn't know. "It's not just that, it's..." One deep, shuddering breath later, Troy's glancing up at the television again. The blue of the screen is reflecting too clearly on his face. Maybe the fabric of his pajamas isn't as absorbent as it looks.
"It's just. You."
Abed frowns. Troy's statement doesn't make sense, and neither does choking expression he's wearing when he finally turns his head to look squarely at him.
"At first I thought you were like River, because you're weird but in a really cool way? But we get to understand River. The blue hands guys made her like she is, and she's got Simon there to try to help her." Troy catches his breath. "Meanwhile, Book's always there, and he doesn't talk as much but when he does, it's smart. It's always exactly the right thing. But you don't always know if he's saying something he thought up, or if he's quoting from a book." He waves a hand in Abed's direction, sniffing loudly.
"I'm usually quoting television." He's pretty sure everyone already knew as much already, Troy especially, but the close space here needs to be filled. "Or a movie. Most likely, but not limited to, films released between-"
Shaking his head, Troy's frowning, now, but at least it seems more due to puzzlement than sadness. "Yeah, but if I haven't seen the movie, it's like Book when he's saying something smart and not telling anybody anything about himself. And he's got all these side adventures, too, that nobody really knows about. And that's kind of like you, sometimes."
It's disappointing, but Abed should've known it would eventually come down to this. "You want me to stop," he realizes, because people always want him to stop, and Troy's people, too, even if he is Abed's best friend, of course it would eventually reach a point where Troy got tired of him. Maybe this is where one of them is supposed to stand up, leave, and the staging's all wrong for this, there's no good way to exit a blanket fort, nothing that will mean anything to the audience. Or maybe Abed's in the wrong kind of film, again, maybe it's supposed to be awkward.
Staying here, though, with Troy's knee pressed against his own. It's more important than a movie.
Troy's face is still screwed up and his head shaking's resumed, he's wiping at his face again, sharp, jagged gestures. "No, Abed. I don't want you to stop. That's kind of the point."
"I don't understand."
"I don't want you to stop. Ever." Troy leans sideways into him, their shoulders press together in a way that turns the statement into some sort of declaration, and Abed's not used to wanting the contact, but he's surprisingly glad, now, almost relieved that it's here. But sitting here like this, it's impossible not to feel the twitches of Troy's muscles, even if he can't see his face. There's no way of knowing whether he's calming himself down or working himself up.
Abed's not sure if he's supposed to hug Troy. If he were someone else, had a different script, maybe he'd do it anyway.
Onscreen, Mal is frozen in speech, and this feels a lot like that.
"I. I," Troy stutters like an audio track that's not quite in sync. "I mean. I don't want you to go-" he gestures at the screen, the rest of his words coming out in a rush "I don't want it to be like Shepherd Book, dying before we knew him."
"It's okay, I'm a leaf on the wind." Abed's muscles suddenly jump as he realizes what he's said, and his eyes shoot back to the screen. It's okay, though. Troy hasn't seen this movie before, he doesn't know what's going to happen to Wash, doesn't know how ironically hollow the reassurance actually is. "Watch me soar," he finishes quietly, though, for symmetry's sake, when Troy raises his head back up to study him.
For a terrifying moment, he's sure that he's been caught, that the confusion in Troy's eyes is about to click over into suspicion- or worse, back into tears- but instead it settles into something like relief. As much as Troy doesn't, apparently, want Abed to wind up like Shepherd Book, he's satisfied enough for now with things as they are. He's okay with this, with Abed just being Abed.
"What's that line from?"
Abed shakes his head, vehemently enough that Troy's weight against his shoulder is dislodged.
"Not important for this scene." The explanation is flimsy, and he holds up an index finger in hopes that it'll give his words more rigidity. It's only half a gesture, though, doesn't mean anything until he points at Troy, the ceiling of their fort, and then- it shouldn't take this much effort- at himself.
Nodding to himself, Troy's gaze feels weighty, like the fort's falling in on them, and Troy slowly eases back into Abed's space until their arms are touching through their shirts. It's closer than before, might mean more than it did a minute ago. The fact that Troy waits nearly a full minute before speaking might reflect this. "Start the movie again?"
Abed looks at Mal's stunned expression frozen on the screen, and plays it out in his head. If they start it again, Troy's going to watch Wash's death scene, Abed's previous reassurance will prove to be anything but, and they'll have to stop the movie again.
Troy's still watching him when he turns back, the tears dried on his face now. Speculation has completely taken over now- Abed's taken too long to answer- and it's turning into concern.
"Or, you know. We don't have to right now. I know I kinda..." Troy trails off, giving him an out, half smiling. "Whatever you want is good with me."
And that's the thing- Abed needs to think about it more, but he's getting the gist. Troy would be okay with whatever Abed said next, even if it was just from a movie. Even if he didn't know what movie Abed was quoting, like Book and his books. Even if he wanted Abed to say something else.
Abed's confident enough in his abilities that he knows that he doesn't know what he's supposed to say.
"Shepherd Book was more than just what he said," he begins, but that's not it. He'd watched The International last week and Skarssen's words to his son, "You must think like a man of action and act like a man of thought," are ringing loudly in his head, but he hadn't liked the movie and can't honestly apply the sentiment here. He doesn't even know who he's supposed to apply them to, himself, or Book.
"I know you are," Troy replies, his tone carefully reassuring in a way that his own words, when Troy'd been needing them, probably hadn't been. And Troy, he's a man of action- it's why they hadn't even questioned the fact he'd play Kickpuncher in their films, after all- and sometimes, he's a man of thought, too. The frown returns as he processes whatever it is that he's thinking, but his eyes stay on Abed's. They're not nearly as wide as his own feel.
They've been in the fort long enough that the air is heavy and warm, hard to breathe in, and he should want to leave, but the motion would only draw even more attention to himself. And he'd want to bring Troy with him, anyway, enough that when Troy's hand finds it's way to Abed's shoulder, it feels like something's going right, though it's not the special handshake kind of right. Experimentally, he leans sideways into it; Troy's fingers splay wider.
Troy's eyes, his face, they're closer now- hadn't been all that far away in the first place, for far longer than even Abed's realized- and suddenly he's found his mark, knows his place in the script. The realization should be calming, but his heart's pounding through his ribcage.
"I know I said you were like him," Troy says, because sometimes it's like he can read his mind, "but you're not." He somehow moves even near, finally, giving Abed his cue. "I never wanted to kiss Shepherd Book."
Abed's not sure he'd be the one to lean in first, but it's like their handshake- they just know, and the action is seamless, lips against his own, salt, pressure, slow drag as he shifts for a better angle. And it's over with. Nothing over the top, just what the scene needed. It's believable.
"That was awesome," Troy whispers, his grin wide and close. Abed'd hands, he discovering belatedly, are wrapped around Troy's ribs, the flannel warm and soft. He could probably let go now, but he doesn't. Neither does Troy. "We should do that all the time."
"Cool," Abed decides, because maybe it's a step in the right direction if he's only quoting himself. "Cool cool cool."
Fandom/ Pairing: Community: Troy/Abed
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, don't take this too seriously.
Summary: Abed introduces Troy to Firefly. Troy starts crying when Book dies in Serenity. Abed's not sure why.
A/N:
amuly is an enabling enabler. All credit is hers, all fault mine. :) First time writing the pairing. Hope it works!
Abed's watched this scene at least two dozen times, now, knows every beat and line, every camera angle, every discussion going on over the currently muted commentary track, but it's never hit him like this before.
Then again, he's never watched it with Troy's knee jerking against his own, or with Troy's barely-muffled sobbing providing the soundtrack.
Abed redoubles his attention on the screen, trying to figure out what it is that's causing the tears- it's Shepherd Book, dying on Haven, every hint of his real identity being cut off too soon. It's a brilliant scene, highlighting all the questions surrounding Book's secret past while proving, without doubt, that those questions would never be answered. It's as frustrating as the series itself, thirteen perfect episodes and a movie, and a hundred story lines that never got to be.
It's got something else to it, though, that's making Troy feel this way, that's bringing him to the point of digging his fingers into his own elbows as he leans forward, choking on his own gasps. It's something Abed suspects he's supposed to understand, if only from a filmmaker's perspective. The emotional response is exactly what films are supposed to be about, and as much as he wants to crawl out of the fort- he could go to the kitchen, mix up another pitcher of Special Drink, give Troy some space and get some distance of his own- this is more important. He needs to find the clues in Troy's reaction.
It probably means turning to look at him more directly, though, instead of out of the corner of his eye, and he's not certain that Troy wants the attention. Not looking might be one of those things they're just supposed to understand without discussion, like their special handshake or the organization of their intermixed DVD collection.
Troy lets out a small keening sound that sends Abed's fingers twitching towards the remote. Troy's going to miss the next scene if he doesn't look up, and this'll be so much worse, if he doesn't see how it's actually one of the crucial points of Mal's character development, how his motivations become galvanized due to the tragedy, and he could let the video run and explain it later, but it's not the same.
But Abed's got no idea what comes next, here in their fort, as he pauses the DVD. For a moment, there's nothing but the light from the television and the sheets hanging low over their heads and Troy's labored breaths, slowly being tamed.
"He's gone," Troy eventually chokes out, face screwed up tight, not looking at Abed but at least aware that he's there. "Before we even get a chance to get him, you know?"
"And that makes it sad," Abed nods eagerly. He was right about this, at least.
"No," Troy sniffs, rubbing his arm over his face, and whether he's trying to hide behind it, or his face is just really damp, Abed doesn't know. "It's not just that, it's..." One deep, shuddering breath later, Troy's glancing up at the television again. The blue of the screen is reflecting too clearly on his face. Maybe the fabric of his pajamas isn't as absorbent as it looks.
"It's just. You."
Abed frowns. Troy's statement doesn't make sense, and neither does choking expression he's wearing when he finally turns his head to look squarely at him.
"At first I thought you were like River, because you're weird but in a really cool way? But we get to understand River. The blue hands guys made her like she is, and she's got Simon there to try to help her." Troy catches his breath. "Meanwhile, Book's always there, and he doesn't talk as much but when he does, it's smart. It's always exactly the right thing. But you don't always know if he's saying something he thought up, or if he's quoting from a book." He waves a hand in Abed's direction, sniffing loudly.
"I'm usually quoting television." He's pretty sure everyone already knew as much already, Troy especially, but the close space here needs to be filled. "Or a movie. Most likely, but not limited to, films released between-"
Shaking his head, Troy's frowning, now, but at least it seems more due to puzzlement than sadness. "Yeah, but if I haven't seen the movie, it's like Book when he's saying something smart and not telling anybody anything about himself. And he's got all these side adventures, too, that nobody really knows about. And that's kind of like you, sometimes."
It's disappointing, but Abed should've known it would eventually come down to this. "You want me to stop," he realizes, because people always want him to stop, and Troy's people, too, even if he is Abed's best friend, of course it would eventually reach a point where Troy got tired of him. Maybe this is where one of them is supposed to stand up, leave, and the staging's all wrong for this, there's no good way to exit a blanket fort, nothing that will mean anything to the audience. Or maybe Abed's in the wrong kind of film, again, maybe it's supposed to be awkward.
Staying here, though, with Troy's knee pressed against his own. It's more important than a movie.
Troy's face is still screwed up and his head shaking's resumed, he's wiping at his face again, sharp, jagged gestures. "No, Abed. I don't want you to stop. That's kind of the point."
"I don't understand."
"I don't want you to stop. Ever." Troy leans sideways into him, their shoulders press together in a way that turns the statement into some sort of declaration, and Abed's not used to wanting the contact, but he's surprisingly glad, now, almost relieved that it's here. But sitting here like this, it's impossible not to feel the twitches of Troy's muscles, even if he can't see his face. There's no way of knowing whether he's calming himself down or working himself up.
Abed's not sure if he's supposed to hug Troy. If he were someone else, had a different script, maybe he'd do it anyway.
Onscreen, Mal is frozen in speech, and this feels a lot like that.
"I. I," Troy stutters like an audio track that's not quite in sync. "I mean. I don't want you to go-" he gestures at the screen, the rest of his words coming out in a rush "I don't want it to be like Shepherd Book, dying before we knew him."
"It's okay, I'm a leaf on the wind." Abed's muscles suddenly jump as he realizes what he's said, and his eyes shoot back to the screen. It's okay, though. Troy hasn't seen this movie before, he doesn't know what's going to happen to Wash, doesn't know how ironically hollow the reassurance actually is. "Watch me soar," he finishes quietly, though, for symmetry's sake, when Troy raises his head back up to study him.
For a terrifying moment, he's sure that he's been caught, that the confusion in Troy's eyes is about to click over into suspicion- or worse, back into tears- but instead it settles into something like relief. As much as Troy doesn't, apparently, want Abed to wind up like Shepherd Book, he's satisfied enough for now with things as they are. He's okay with this, with Abed just being Abed.
"What's that line from?"
Abed shakes his head, vehemently enough that Troy's weight against his shoulder is dislodged.
"Not important for this scene." The explanation is flimsy, and he holds up an index finger in hopes that it'll give his words more rigidity. It's only half a gesture, though, doesn't mean anything until he points at Troy, the ceiling of their fort, and then- it shouldn't take this much effort- at himself.
Nodding to himself, Troy's gaze feels weighty, like the fort's falling in on them, and Troy slowly eases back into Abed's space until their arms are touching through their shirts. It's closer than before, might mean more than it did a minute ago. The fact that Troy waits nearly a full minute before speaking might reflect this. "Start the movie again?"
Abed looks at Mal's stunned expression frozen on the screen, and plays it out in his head. If they start it again, Troy's going to watch Wash's death scene, Abed's previous reassurance will prove to be anything but, and they'll have to stop the movie again.
Troy's still watching him when he turns back, the tears dried on his face now. Speculation has completely taken over now- Abed's taken too long to answer- and it's turning into concern.
"Or, you know. We don't have to right now. I know I kinda..." Troy trails off, giving him an out, half smiling. "Whatever you want is good with me."
And that's the thing- Abed needs to think about it more, but he's getting the gist. Troy would be okay with whatever Abed said next, even if it was just from a movie. Even if he didn't know what movie Abed was quoting, like Book and his books. Even if he wanted Abed to say something else.
Abed's confident enough in his abilities that he knows that he doesn't know what he's supposed to say.
"Shepherd Book was more than just what he said," he begins, but that's not it. He'd watched The International last week and Skarssen's words to his son, "You must think like a man of action and act like a man of thought," are ringing loudly in his head, but he hadn't liked the movie and can't honestly apply the sentiment here. He doesn't even know who he's supposed to apply them to, himself, or Book.
"I know you are," Troy replies, his tone carefully reassuring in a way that his own words, when Troy'd been needing them, probably hadn't been. And Troy, he's a man of action- it's why they hadn't even questioned the fact he'd play Kickpuncher in their films, after all- and sometimes, he's a man of thought, too. The frown returns as he processes whatever it is that he's thinking, but his eyes stay on Abed's. They're not nearly as wide as his own feel.
They've been in the fort long enough that the air is heavy and warm, hard to breathe in, and he should want to leave, but the motion would only draw even more attention to himself. And he'd want to bring Troy with him, anyway, enough that when Troy's hand finds it's way to Abed's shoulder, it feels like something's going right, though it's not the special handshake kind of right. Experimentally, he leans sideways into it; Troy's fingers splay wider.
Troy's eyes, his face, they're closer now- hadn't been all that far away in the first place, for far longer than even Abed's realized- and suddenly he's found his mark, knows his place in the script. The realization should be calming, but his heart's pounding through his ribcage.
"I know I said you were like him," Troy says, because sometimes it's like he can read his mind, "but you're not." He somehow moves even near, finally, giving Abed his cue. "I never wanted to kiss Shepherd Book."
Abed's not sure he'd be the one to lean in first, but it's like their handshake- they just know, and the action is seamless, lips against his own, salt, pressure, slow drag as he shifts for a better angle. And it's over with. Nothing over the top, just what the scene needed. It's believable.
"That was awesome," Troy whispers, his grin wide and close. Abed'd hands, he discovering belatedly, are wrapped around Troy's ribs, the flannel warm and soft. He could probably let go now, but he doesn't. Neither does Troy. "We should do that all the time."
"Cool," Abed decides, because maybe it's a step in the right direction if he's only quoting himself. "Cool cool cool."