The Feel-Good Movie Of The Summer (1/2)
Title: The Feel-Good Movie Of The Summer (1/2); Complete
Rating: PG-13, for a little language.
Pairing: Abed/Troy
Spoilers: Up through 1.09 (Debate), but I wouldn't consider it necessarily spoilery for the show. But it does spoil both 'Pretty In Pink' and 'Some Kind Of Wonderful' - two John Hughes movies.
Author's Note: I'm kind of a semi-retired fic writer, but I got badgered into this by a couple of friends. Slight angst, fairly fluffy.
Abed liked coming out movies. “They have all the great elements of drama: secrets, love, lust, betrayal, troubled family relationships-and at the end either the protagonist finds true love with his or her partner, or they are rejected by the prospective partner due to societal pressure, personal issues, or, again, troubled family relationships-however, at the end of those our heroine is finally certain in her own sexual identity and in discovering herself she gains fulfillment and peace and most of the time, there’s a final shot of a new prospective lover and the audience is left to imagine their eventual happiness.”
Shirley’s mouth had frozen mid-chew.
“Which I like, because it’s good value for money. You get one story and it’s almost as good as two. Of course I’d prefer it if they filmed the sequel, but budgets being what they are.” He shrugged. His still-full lunch tray mocked him. He hated when they glomped the green beans into the second slot instead of the first - the second one was smaller, and nearly always spilled green bean juice all over the entrée. He could work around food-mingling, but it was just another needless error that couldn’t be fixed in post-production.
Because life didn’t have post-production.
Abed didn’t like to dwell on those kinds of thoughts. “I thought we were in a buddy movie at first, but I figure that’s more likely to happen to Jeff and Pierce. I think it could really work for them.”
The sandwich finally unstuck from the roof of Shirley’s mouth. “Sweetheart,” she said carefully, chewing and swallowing, “are you trying to tell me that you and Troy are…?” She choked a little.
“Wow, that must be a dry sandwich.” Abed sliced his cornbread into four sections with his fork. “We’re in a coming out movie. Specifically a lesbian coming out movie.”
Shirley coughed and pounded her chest. “Down the wrong pipe,” she gasped.
He nodded, and ate half his cornbread while she swigged back a bottle of water.
Once Shirley was composed again, she asked, “Forgive me if I’m being uncomfortably personal.” She gave him a pointed look. “But why lesbian?”
“As a whole I think they tend to be a little softer as far as the affection and the stigma involved, and there’s not a lot of aggression in our plot so far. Of course my father would be against us, and though I don’t know much about Troy’s parents we could reasonably assume they might have issues.” Abed considered the story arc. “But I think the real conflict is here.”
“At the lunch table?” Shirley glanced around. Nearing two o’clock, the cafeteria was emptying out.
“At Greenfield. We met here, we became friends here-it’s the perfect setting. Also it would keep the production costs low. Plus so many coming out movies involve parental relationships, so if we want something that’s less cliché, then I think we’ll need to shift the focus totally away from that.”
“I see.”
“It doesn’t look like you do.”
Shirley leaned over the lunch table. She placed her hand on top of his, giving it a careful pat. “Abed honey? This movie you’re making-does Troy know about his part in it?”
Abed looked at her hand on top of his. “Have I missed subtext?” His eyebrows shot upward. “Do you have secret feelings for me that you’re only now admitting to the world?”
Shirley’s smile tightened into an expression that looked painful. She gave his hand another couple of pats. “No, sweetie.”
“That’s a shame,” Abed said. “Dramatically speaking.”
Shirley nodded slowly. “I think you’ll have plenty to work with.”
*****
Jeff stood over him.
Abed would have liked to have thought that Jeff loomed over him, but he could never get Jeff to loom. Jeff just didn’t have the personality for looming. At best, he leaned. Even with his arms folded and wearing his most withering expression, he just-stood. He’d never make a good heavy. “Hey, Jeff.”
Jeff leaned. “Abed. What are you doing.”
“I’m editing. You can help, if you want. Keep an eye on the continuity.” Abed slowed his footage down at the 58 second mark-slow motion worked best in small increments, but it could be surprisingly effective when-
The screen went dark. Jeff’s finger lingered on the screen’s power button.
“I said,” Jeff repeated, in a serious tone of voice that would totally fail to scare a small child, “what. Are you doing.”
Abed wasn’t sure what his response should be. His therapist had told him that when he was in these kinds of situations, it was often best to remain silent or to ask the person for clarification. But he’d stopped seeing her a long time ago. “I’m editing a film for class.”
“Abed.” Jeff leaned away and took a couple of steps. He reached out with a long leg and kicked the dorm room door shut, never unfolding his arms.
He suddenly had an idea for a film about a Russian Cossack, fleeing his wintry homeland for sunny California-
“Abed!”
Jeff startled him out of his thoughts. “What?”
He flopped down on the lower bunk. Jeff’s ankles crossed in one smooth movement. His artfully rumpled shirt and hair were perfect. At a moment’s notice, he looked ready to play the Lothario. “So. I heard about you and Troy.”
And for the first time it occurred to Abed that he might not know Jeff as well as he’d thought. “You’re not here to seduce me, are you?”
Jeff didn’t move so much as an eyelash. Then, with exaggerated slowness, he said, “….No, Abed.”
“Okay, that’s good.” He breathed an inward sigh of relief. “You’re supposed to be my mentor figure. That would not go well.”
“Oh, so I’m in the lesbian love story?”
Abed nodded. “I'm pretty sure you help me confess my feelings to Troy.”
“Wait, let me get this straight.” Jeff’s ankles uncrossed, and he smoothly rolled to a cross-legged position. He was a poor stand-in for Buddha. “I’m your gay yenta.”
“Don’t be silly, Jeff. You’re not gay.”
“No, I’m not. But you’re gay?”
Abed thought about it. “Yes.”
“Huh.” And this seemed to have Jeff poleaxed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Abed, but I always saw you as someone who was… removed. From the dating scene.”
That made sense. “I’ve never had much interest in it. I knew my movie was coming up. I wanted to wait.”
"Uh-huh." Jeff re-folded his arms. “Tell me about this movie.”
And Abed did. He talked about the characters meeting, becoming fast friends, and about how one character had fallen in love with the other. He talked about the conflicts with their friends. He talked about making a grand overture. “It hasn’t been finalized. I’m playing with a couple of ideas about the approach. I was hoping you might be able to help out there.” He shrugged.
“And that’s the movie?”
He shrugged again. “That’s the pitch.”
“Sounds like the feel-good comedy of the summer. Does it end with a big white wedding on the quad? Let me guess: Pierce officiates?”
Abed turned his computer screen back on. He restarted the footage where he’d left off. “Do you like Pretty In Pink, Jeff?”
“I’m not as much of a John Hughes freak as you are. But no one is.”
“Here.” He found his battered VHS copy on the shelf and tossed it to Jeff.
“Not that spending a night with any Molly Ringwald film isn’t incredibly tempting, but what’s your point?”
Abed had the feeling that Jeff was being sarcastic, but he couldn’t always tell. “Watch it. Then I’ll tell you.”
Jeff glided to his feet. “In case you hadn’t noticed, my dance card is full. But maybe I’ll get a chance to look at it this weekend. Until then? Stop telling people you’re a lesbian.”
“I only told Shirley.”
“Abed, you’re not a lesbian. And telling Shirley anything is like painting it on your forehead and then lighting your hair on fire and-and-streaking down the hallway!” Jeff gestured with the hand holding the movie. He stopped and looked at it, disgusted. “You know, I have enough homework as it is.”
“It’s a good movie,” Abed said.
“You think every movie is good.” Jeff opened the door.
“That’s not true.”
“Name one movie you don’t like.”
Abed paused.
“Yeah,” Jeff said.
*****
He caught up with Troy after practice. Their relationship was sometimes talking, and sometimes silences, and Troy usually didn’t make fun of him if he said something that other people would think was weird. Which was nice.
They drove around the campus. It was warm out, and the radio played songs Abed mostly only noted as possible soundtracks. Troy had made him a CD of a few they’d talked about. He sometimes listed to it just for enjoyment’s sake, and wasn’t quite sure when he’d started thinking of it as their soundtrack.
Sometimes they stopped at a gas station and got a couple of drinks.
On a day when Troy had come fresh off a victory, a wad of congratulatory twenties from his Dad crumpled in his pocket, he’d bought one of every energy drink the gas station had and they’d taken turns trying each.
They’d agreed the other didn’t have cooties, and at some point between the shot of BLAST OFF MAX and the bottle of Puur Adrenalyne, Troy had started laughing so hard that he’d fallen to one side. His arm was warm over Abed’s shoulders, and their faces were close.
And Abed had realized-wow. That was it. That was what everyone had been talking about all these years.
“You thirsty?” Abed asked.
“Nah, I’m good. Some water in the bag, if you want it.” Troy nodded his head at the bookbag at Abed’s feet.
“No. I’m okay.”
“Really? You seem kinda… different.”
“What? No. I’m not.” Had that sounded normal? That was normal. Maybe he’d better restate it. “There’s nothing different about me.”
“You sure?” Troy frowned a little. “Seem kinda quiet.”
“I’m sort of turning over this new project in my head. It’s in the initial stages. Very preliminary.”
“Oh, yeah?” Troy perked up at that. “What’s it about?” He relaxed a little, resting his elbow on the ledge of the driver’s side windowsill.
“It’s… I can’t really go into it.” Abed thought he should change the subject. “Have you done your Spanish homework yet?”
“Saving it for group. Come on, man. You going to let me help out with this one?”
“The Spanish assignment?”
Troy rolled his eyes, but he also grinned. “The movie. Are you going to do the spy one? You gotta let me help out with that.”
“The screenplay isn’t finished, and anyway I need Jeff to owe me more of a favor before I ask him to star.”
“He’d star in a heartbeat. That guy’s got an ego the size of…” Troy trailed off. “You know the statues outside of Bob’s Big Boy?”
“The scary chef clowns that give me nightmares?”
“Yeah. I always imagined that’s how Jeff’s ego looks. And if you feed it, it just gets bigger and bigger, and then it would go rampaging through the city, smashing cars into buildings-”
“And he would kidnap Britta like Fay Wray. She wouldn’t be a very good victim. Too much arguing about the script’s gender problems.”
Troy nodded. “Maybe she could be the hot army general, and like Annie could be the one who’s kidnapped?”
In his mind, the film started to unspool. “Yeah, that could work. Do you ever see what you think is some kind of unresolved sexual tension there?”
“Between Annie and Jeff? Yeah. It’s kind of disturbing. But also a little bit hot.” Troy frowned as they turned onto an Industrial Parkway. They’d gotten pretty far from Greendale. That seemed to be happening more and more. “Is that weird that I think that?”
“No, I think that’s the consensus.”
“You think they’ll go out?”
Abed was torn. He considered keeping silent. “Troy, have you ever seen Pretty In Pink?”
“That’s that one where her Grandma squeezes her boobies?” Troy giggled.
“No, that’s Sixteen Candles. Also a great film. Do you think I don’t have discerning taste in film? Because Jeff implied that I like everything.” It worried him.
“Nah, you’re an awesome director. Plus Jeff is too cool to like anything. You gotta be just the right amount of cool or life isn’t any fun. You’re too cool, you miss out on awesome stuff. Like driving around, hanging out?”
“It’s pretty cool,” Abed said, finishing the line aloud, feeling the way it ended almost like a song lyric.
“Yeah,” said Troy. And for a while they just drove around and listened to music, and passed Troy’s water bottle back and forth.
*****
Part Two.