Fic: The Key To Directing
The second entry in my Month of Frienship, which is still open for prompts! I will be posting a new fic every day (barring weekends of course)
Today’s prompt was from the always wonderful nowishforwings and was Abed + Artie "directing"
Summary: Abed cocked his head. “You want to make it a musical?”
Author’s Note: Basically, Artie is taking a directing class at Greendale and gets partnered with Abed to make a film. Just go with it
Word Count: ~800
Abed cocked his head. “You want to make it a musical?”
“It’s not that I want to make it a musical,” Artie said cautiously, because explaining McKinley to outsiders didn’t always go well, “It’s just that because I am filming it, it will be a musical.”
Abed frowned for a second, before his eyes lit up. “You’re in Glee Club aren’t you?”
Artie laughed in relief. Maybe Greendale was as crazy as McKinley. There had to a reason the schools interacted after all. Artie was of the private opinion that McKinley Madness was like fandom. Only the already infected ever hung out together. Mike theorized that it was a virus, but Artie stuck with his fandom hypothesis. It also explained the fanaticism everyone showed. Also the fanfiction. He didn’t even want to know who this ‘Jeff’ guy was, who seemed to be paired with everyone.
“So is your show choir director secretly planning to kill you all if you don’t do what he wants?” Abed asked.
Artie considers it. “Not anymore at least.” Maybe that first year, but that wouldn’t have been all that hard to be honest. He just would have had to leave.
“That’s good,” Abed said, with the detached air of someone who knew that was what was supposed to be said. Artie could appreciate scripts; knowing them made it a whole lot easier to get people to do what you wanted. Maybe this directing project wouldn’t be so bad after all.
They regarded each other solemnly. Artie’s neck was beginning to hurt. Maybe he could run over Abed’s toes to get him to sit down and stop being so goddamn tall.
Hmm, but then again, Artie could use that in the film. The alternating view points of Walking and Wheeling. Maybe he could strap a camera onto a hat for Finn to get Giant viewpoint as well.
“So will your friends be okay with us filming them?” asked Abed, finally breaking the stand off. Artie cheered to himself, even though he didn’t really know why.
Artie blinked. “Does that matter?”
“Britta says that it’s a violation of human rights. Annie made Jeff draw up contracts about what I can and cannot film.”
Artie considered it. Then disregarded it. “You see this chair right?”
Abed carefully inspected the chair.
“It’s the chair of power. You know how you can tell a King is a King because of the scepter and crown and throne?”
Abed smiled, “Indicators. Like how characters with glasses are smart.” He gave Artie a withering look, “Crutches.”
“Well, between you and me, most people are pretty stupid.” Abed nodded. There was no arguing with that one. “So they need the crutch.”
Abed cocked his head to the side. “So while you are in that chair you are the absolute power? It doesn’t matter what others think as long as you are in it?”
Artie nodded.
“But you are always in the chair.”
“Exactly.”
“Cool cool cool.”
--
“Hey, shouldn’t you be nicer to him?” Finn looked so honestly concerned that Artie would have leapt to his feet and patted his head if he could.
“Who? Abed?” It was such an absurd idea that he had to check just in case.
Finn nodded earnestly.
Artie leaned to the side a little, to where Abed was using his brand new wheelchair (with flashing rims! Artie approved) to crowd Sam into a corner to get a close up of his mouth.
“Hey, I’m the one who actually can’t walk. He should be nice to me, and just let me direct the movie.”
Finn frowned. “But you don’t need anyone to be nice to you just because of that,” he said, “you’re kick ass, Artie.” He grinned that Finn smile, a weirdly endearing mix of awkward and goofy. “Even if, you know, you can’t actually kick ass.”
Artie tried not to preen too obviously. It was a little embarrassing how good praise from Finn still felt, but hey, you never really outgrow your first teddy bear and Finn was like, the embodiment of a battered old teddy. “Exactly.” He wheeled off to stop Abed from wheeling after Santana into the girl’s room with his camera. He was pretty sure even Abed’s bond with Brittany over the ridiculous portrayal of cats in Miyazaki films (“they don’t like wearing little top hats like that, it’s stupid. They’re not flattering.” “Exactly, bonnets. It would have to be bonnets”) would save him from that.
“I don’t get it,” Finn called after him.
“Exactly!” Arte shouted back, and slammed Abed in the side hard enough to send him flying. They could totally use the shaky angles from the fall as a metaphor for the madness of life, the instability and the inevitable fall everyone must face. Falling from power, falling in love, falling from a wheelchair, it didn't matter.
Artie grinned as he helped Abed to his feet. He ruled at this.