“I should get going,” Abed said as he threw his feet over the side of the bed. “Can you give me a ride? I don’t think the buses run this late and I don’t want to call and wake anyone up.”
Jeff watched as Abed fished his clothes off of the floor. Under normal circumstances he liked watching Abed get dressed, not that he’d ever admit that to anyone. He had enough trouble admitting to himself that he liked Abed’s slim but surprisingly toned body.
After sex Abed always put his ill-fitting clothes back on one layer at a time and always in the same order. He never hurried nor did he move slowly as if he expected Jeff to ask him to crawl back into bed. It seemed like Abed never expected anything; he was pleased with whatever Jeff chose to give him. Honestly Abed was the perfect low-maintenance friend with benefits, boyfriend, or whatever the fuck they were now. It actually made Jeff feel a little guilty that he didn’t give more.
“Hey… Abed,” Jeff watched him pull his plain, white briefs up his legs. “Why don’t you – ugh. You need to start wearing different underwear if we're going to keep doing this.”
Abed stopped reaching for his socks and turned to study Jeff. “Women’s underwear?”
“What? No!” Jeff sat bolt upright on his bed. “Why would you say that?”
“Is this a sex thing? Because if you have a gender play fetish I could dress up next time.” How was Abed so completely nonjudgmental? It really wasn’t fair.
“It’s not that. I just feel uncomfortable sleeping with someone who obviously buys his underwear in a six pack at the same place he buys his groceries. Whoever told you tighty whities are a classic was lying to you. Only people who've given up on ever having sex wear those.” Jeff got out of bed to put on his own underwear, his post-coital calm mostly gone.
Abed processed that information silently for a moment. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“No, of course not. A little embarrassed for you sometimes but that’s neither here nor there.” Jeff moved in front of Abed and put both hands on his shoulders to stop him from dressing any further. “Look, I’m sorry. You know how I am. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight with you.”
Abed’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand. What do you want?”
Jeff let out a strangled sound and tilted Abed’s face up so he could press their lips together. He kept it slow and sweet like this was the final scene in a soppy romantic comedy and Abed was the plucky heroine who had helped him see the error of his ways. Once Abed had lectured the whole study group on all the popular kissing tropes in movies to settle an argument. Hopefully that meant he would be able to interpret what Jeff meant by this one: I like you a lot and I want you to stay.