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The sky was a beautiful baby blue without even the slightest hint of a cloud; the Manhattan harbor was in sight, no less than fifty yards away. Troy stood on the bow of the ship, arms folded and pensive, brow knitted as he looked through a telescope. On shore, a group of men in suits stood together holding a comically large check on one side of a horizontal red ribbon; his mother, father, his father's girlfriend, and his grandmother were on the other side of the ribbon, holding a large sign that read 'Welcome home, Troy' and talking amongst themselves. He sighed heavily, his right hand flexing around the telescope. The group wasn't there. And, as a matter of course, this had to be the one day they'd run out of disposable batteries for their cell phone chargers.
LeVar emerged from the quarters, looked first to the shore then to his friend, "We're finally here, Troy, finally home."
Troy could hear the excitement and relief in his voice but couldn't reciprocate it, "Yeah. Home."
"What's wrong?"
Troy folded the telescope, "I don't know! I'm freaking out! I always thought this moment would be different. I thought, I thought my friends would be here. Maybe it's just, I don't know. What if they don't care about me anymore? What if I never see them again? What if I never see Abed again? What if he—"
"Troy," LeVar cut him off sharply, "For the past three years, just who have you been texting every single time you caught even the slightest cell signal?"
"Abed. But—"
"And who have you been Skyping every month, minimum? Well, except the year we got kidnapped."
"Abed," Troy said, nervously fiddling with the brim of his captain's hat.
"And who sent you that package on your birthday when we were harbored in The Phillipines?"
"...Abed. And Annie. And Shirley tried to send us those brownies in the mail but they got all moldly in the mail." Troy winced, "They still tasted so good though. But then I had to go to the hospital."
"I told you not to eat them, but you still—" LeVar shook his head and held his hands out, "Look, Troy. The group still loves you. Especially Abed. Trust me. With the way you've been talking about him all these years, and the way you talk to each other on Skype? Just confess to the kid already. He'll say yes."
Troy perked up, "You think so?"
"I know so."
Troy placed his elbows on the guardrails, smiling to himself; LeVar stood next to him. Troy came to the conclusion he was madly, hopelessly in love with his best friend as soon at the boat began to pull off in the parking lot. He left his heart at Greendale, with Abed; he always had. And it took him entirely too long to admit it to himself.
"You know, LeVar?" Troy started, "Sometimes, I look back to the person I used to be and go, 'Who was that?' I was so obsessed with looking cool, with being someone I wasn't. I have pretended for so much of my life that I didn't even realize I was pretending. Until I was with Abed. I was myself around him and he was himself around me. He was the first person who ever made me think that being Troy Barnes was cool."
"I know, Troy. I know."
The boat landed safely in the harbor; the gangway lowered and Troy stepped slowly but meaningfully off the boat. He gave his best smile.
"Hey Mama. Grandmama. Dad. Dad's girlfriend."
His mother nearly tackled Troy in her hug; and he swears that he could see a lingering tear in his grandmother's eye, although she still wore her signature scowl. And, of course, everyone took extensive pictures with LeVar Burton as sweaty and slightly smelly as he was. He couldn't deny, the man had charm.
A man in a pressed dark purple suit handed Troy the comically large check and shook his hand, "You earned it."
"Yeah," he looked down at it, "I guess I did."
The man stared at him while handing him a crisp white business card, "It'll take a few days to transfer everything into your name. And then we'll be yours."
Troy nodded before looking at the card in his hand, the text was silver which made it a bit difficult to read against the white background, but he was definitely impressed and a bit intimidated. Hawthorne Wipes hosted a semi-informal photoshoto and, at the end, Troy's mother tried to kiss LeVar Burton on the lips and Troy was forced to drag her away from him crying, kicking, and screaming back to the escort car.
Troy and his family were flown back to Greendale that night as his lawyers — he had his own personal team of lawyers now, the tenth-best in the country — finished the paperwork. The first thing Troy did when he got back to his home in Greendale was plug his phone into its charger; and the second thing he did was crawl into his childhood bed and sleep for eighteen hours. It was ever-so-slightly short for his frame, which caused his feet to dangle off the bed, but it the first time he'd been in a bed that didn't make him seasick in years and he didn't know how much he missed it. He missed everything terribly.
When he woke up, he sat at the kitchen table and immediately made himself a bowl of Lucky Charms — despite the fact it was seven in the evening. He checked his phone; he had twenty voicemails: three from Annie, two from Britta, two from Shirley, one from Jeff, one from Abed, and the rest were from his lawyers and publicists. His eyes were immediately drawn up down to Abed's name, he was the first one to call Troy; his heart skipped a beat. He hit play.
"Hey Troy. Hawthorne Wipes alerted all of us that you were back. But we weren't allowed to be at the harbor when you arrived because we didn't have security clearances. We were waiting in a car four miles down from the harbor, watching from bioculars. Then we started fighting over the bioculars and trying to catch your attention. It almost turned bloody. But you looked good talking to LeVar though. I could tell it was some kind of emotional speech, probably about how you've changed, real Hero Returning Home moment like Frodo returning to The Shire. Anyway, call me, y'know, whenever. Hopefully soon. Bye."
Troy didn't process anything outside Abed telling him that he looked good. He inhaled the rest of his breakfast — or was it linner? Wiping the milk from the bottom of his lip, Troy steeled himself and dialed his best friend and long-time crush. Abed answered immediately.
"Troy."
"Abed! Hey! How are you!" he said, trying and failing to keep his voice neutral.
"I'm fine. We're in Manhattan." Troy heard muffled voices on the other end of the reciever behind Abed.
"What?" he drawled, "What do you mean you're in Manhattan. I was in Manhattan!"
"We saw you enter the port. Did you not get my voicemail?"
"No, no, I did. I just, kinda. I just woke up from like a day-long nap and I kinda didn't process anything you said. Outside for you saying how good I looked." he paused for a second, just now processing the words of the voicemail, "You definitely said 'You looked good talking to LeVar,' didn't you?"
"Yep. And you really did."
"Thanks, Abed," he said, playing with the hem of his shirt. He refocused, "If I knew you guys were there, I defintely would've stopped them from flying me home."
"Oh. You're in Greendale right now?" Troy could hear a carcophony of voices blooming behind Abed. He felt a sharp pang of nostagia; he began remembering the days and nights in the study room, arguing over nothing. The best days of his life.
"I am. Oh shit." They were definitely yelling now.
Abed hummed.
The phone call went silent for a moment.
"Abed? You still there?" Troy removed the phone from his ear and checked his signal out of habit. Full bars. He returned the phone to his ear, "Wait. What am I checking my signal for?"
"Years of seafaring, if I had to guess," Abed whispered, "Dread Pirate Roberts."
"Dude! I was totally like Dread Pirate Roberts. I was literally with pirates."
"Lucky."
"We have got to do a rewatch."
"ASAP."
"Oh! This is unrelated but dude! Get this, I have lawyers now. Like a whole team." Troy leaned into the reciever, whispering, "Their business cards have silver text."
"Do you think you'll get a Saul Goodman-type?"
Troy grinned. He loved Abed so much. "I fucking hope so. But does that mean I'll have to start a meth empire? Can I be Jesse instead?"
"I'll have to be Walt, but I don't think I can pull off being bald like Bryan Cranston. Or having cancer."
"Yeah," Troy sighed, "Still an evil genius though. And looks good in a pork-pie hat."
"I don't know, Troy. He did leave the book in the bathroom."
Troy gasps, "And Batman keeps putting the Joker in Arkham Asylum."
"Good point."
They talked for another ten minutes before Abed abruptly changed subject.
"Sorry Troy, but Jeff wants me to mention that we are definitely stuck in Manhattan. We are all broke and we'll need at least a month to make enough money to afford bus tickets back home. It's one of those episodes."
"That is... incredibly convoluted. Why don't I just fly back out to New York to hang out with you all for a few days or a week or whatever and then fly you all home?"
Abed leaned away from the receiver and spoke to the group before returning, "Although I was looking forward to starting a job as a Greenwich Starbucks barista, yours is the better idea. We're staying at the Grandiose Pool Motel & Spa on West 146th Street."
"Grandiose Pool Motel & Spa, West 146th. Got it." He wrote the address down on his palm. He, all of a sudden, remembered what he truly wanted to say to Abed. He had been too wrapped up in television talk, "Maybe we can— ?"
"Wh—" Troy heard the phone jostle around, like it was ripped from someone's hand
"No, wait, Abed! Hello? I have to tell you something!"
"Troy?" Annie's sing-song voice.
"Hey Annie."
"I only caught the last bit. Tell me what?"
"No. I need to tell that something to Abed."
Troy could hear a door creak closed behind Annie.
"You haven't told him yet?" she said incrediously.
"Depends. What do you think it is?" Troy said, bashfully.
"That you love him, and that you're in love with him, and that you have been since," she paused for a second, "probably sophomore year? Oh, I stepped into a new room so Abed can't hear me."
"Yeah. That's it. And so accurate. Wow."
"Dammit, Troy!"
His eyes widened, "What did I do?"
"You cost me a hundred dollars that I don't have!"
"What? Why? Wait," he paused, eyes narrowing, "Were you guys betting against us?"
"No, Troy," she drawled out, "Really, we were betting on when you guys would get together. Jeff and Shirley were adamant that you would get together after you came back. They said you guys could never do long-distance."
Troy sighed, "I couldn't confess. Though I don't know if that was because we were kidnapped by pirates for a year or because I was scared."
"Are you really alright, Troy? That must have been horrible," Annie said, her voice raised.
"Not really. They were actually pretty decent guys, except the ransom part. But they fed us decent food, and took lots of pictures with LeVar, and we had a Scrabble night every Tuesday."
"Who knew pirates could be decent roommates?"
"And smart. They beat LeVar in Scrabble every week, and he was The Book Guy."
"So," Annie sang, "how are you gonna confess, Troy?"
"Oh. Perferably over dinner. Candlelight. The entree would come and there'd be like a ring in it, but like a boyfriend ring. Or something."
Aww, Troy. I think your idea sounds wonderful."
"See, I thought it was kind of cliche but I couldn't think of anything else, really. And I don't want to mess it up."
"You couldn't if you tried. Abed didn't stop talking about you the entire time you were gone."
He smiled warmly, "Thanks, Annie."
"You want me to put him back on the phone?"
"Please."
"You got it." Troy heard the door open and the jostling of a phone, but the next one to talk was Britta.
"Troy! Hi! Congratulations!"
"Britta?"
"Of course it is. Did you forget what my voice sounded like? I was going to call you more, honest! I scheduled my vacation three months in advance just so I could be here. They didn't let us into the harbor, you know? Something about security, I think? Anyway, How are you, Troy?"
He held back his sigh. He was really touched that she'd done that for him, "No, I'm fine. It's still weird to stand and not be seasick. Or to sleep and not be seasick."
"Well, now, you could buy your own private jet if you wanted to. But don't because they pollute more than like 500 cars combined."
"Thanks, Britta."
The phone jostled around again.
"Give me this. Hey, Troy."
"Hey Jeff."
"Don't listen to her. Buy a plane and let me borrow it on weekends."
"Borrow?"
"Or I could rent it. Look, the point is, you don't have to listen to Britta or anyone about what to do with your money. You hold all the cards now. And if that happens to cause you to buy a plane that I can rent on weekends, then, who am I to stop you?"
"Thanks, but I already know what I'm doing with my money."
"And what's that?"
He counted on his fingers, "Mansion, cool car, Gushers, and investing in Abed's film studio."
"Concise. Wait, did you say Gushers?"
The phone jostled again.
"Hi Troy!"
"Hey, Shirley."
"I'm so proud of you! Did you visit Bethlehem?"
The phone was quickly snatched away from her and back to Jeff. "We should let you get reacquainted with dry land. And, do remember that we are all kinda counting on you to get us flights out of Manhattan because these flights are ridicious. Five hundred dollars for a one-way flight to Greendale Airport? I mean what the hell is that?"
"Can you put Abed back on the phone?" Troy urged politely. The final jostle.
"Hey, Troy." Abed.
"Abed, before you hang up," he stuttered, "do you want to do something with me in New York? Just the two of us?"
"Like what?"
"Anything you want. I don't know. Coney Island?"
"Sure."
"Yeah! Awesome! It's gonna be so awesome."
"It always is."
Troy smiled widely, love-struckenly. "Yeah. It really is."
"See you later, Troy."
"See you later."
He stood and jumped up and down in joy. He was going to see his friends and confess to Abed in Manhattan, of all the places in the world. And he was fourteen million dollars richer.
* *
Three days later, as soon as all fourteen million dollars hit his account, he packed his bags and took the first flight out to Manhattan — business-class. He didn't want to be a douchebag just because he was a multimillionare now. He landed LaGuardia Airport at four in the morning and waited for an hour and a half for his bags to arrive. He was incredibly jet-lagged and could barely keep his eyes open. The bright and sickly light of the fluorescents made his head pound. He hailed a taxi and slurred out an address that, to Troy, sounded like the correct one. He rested his head on the window, soothed temporarily by the coolness of the glass. Thirty-five minutes later, Troy was standing in front of the Grandiose Pool Motel & Spa. It was a dinky little building in Upper Manhattan, outfitted with a neon sign that featured a martini and a woman with an incredibly large bosom. He took his phone out and dialed a number.
"Troy?"
He started speaking but he couldn't understand what, exactly, he was saying. Abed came out of a door on the third floor of the motel and led him to bed.
He woke up in an unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar room. It was clinically white with one bed, a wood desk, and an offset bathroom. His bags were tucked neatly to the side. It took him a moment to remember that he had flown to Manhattan and was at the motel with his friends, with his Abed. He shot up in his bed and saw Abed sitting in a wooden chair in front of his computer with his back to him.
"Abed?"
Abed turned to greet him, "Good morning, Troy."
Troy leaned back against the headboard, "If I had a nickel for every time I immediately passed out after finishing a journey and woke up at some point the next day in the past week, I'd have two nickels. Life is weird."
"And incredibly specific." Abed pointed, "You could try for a record."
Troy laughed good-naturedly, "If I went a record higher than two, I think my body would literally start liquefying."
"Judge Doom-style."
"Exactly. But I don't even get to be a cartoon first and then it's like what's the point?"
"And you're not evil," Abed turned around in his chair, "Last night, you don't remember anything you said on the phone to me, do you?"
"No. Why? Did I say something bad? Weird? Bad-and-weird?" Troy started panicking, he could feel his heartbeat accelerating, "Dude, I was so jet-jagged. I'm so sorry."
"You told me that you loved me. And that you wanted to kiss me. But, I assume, it was just jet-lag. It's okay. I know you didn't mean it so I'll just forget it."
Troy's heart hammered in his chest. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was supposed to confess while holding Abed's hand down on Coney Island. Or at a fancy dinner. But, of course, he said it while he was out-of-his-mind with jet-lag and at some random motel.
Troy stood up from the bed and walked toward Abed. He immediately turned back around to face Troy, "I did mean it. Every word. I love you, Abed Nadir. And I'm in love with you. And I have been since, like, sophomore year."
He was now standing mere inches away from Abed. They locked eyes with each other for a few seconds at a time, as much as Abed could stand.
"I love you, too, Troy Barnes," Abed responded, "Since the second week of freshman year."
Troy pinched himself on the arm and felt pain, "So, I'm not dreaming, huh?"
"It could be." Abed pointed, "Did you happen to see a thief who looks suspiciously just like Leonardo DiCaprio?"
"No," Troy answered disappointedly, "Did you?"
"No." Abed said, "Well, then this is just the manifestion of our mutual attraction and years long unsolved sexual tension reaching a boiling point."
There was a beat. Troy looked at Abed's lips.
"Can I kiss you?" Troy blurted.
"Yes."
Troy climbed into Abed's lap, wrapped his arms around Abed's shoulders, and kissed him. The first was passionate but chaste; for the second, he slipped his tongue between Abed's lips where he felt the lazy drag of their tongues against each other. He couldn't deny that he was starting to get hard. They pulled away, panting softly out of their mouths.
"I wanna fuck you so bad," Abed whispered.
"Hell yeah. Yes. Yes. Fuck me, Abed."
"Yeah. Cool. Cool, cool, cool."
They continued kissing and stumbled the four-foot distance back to the bed. Abed pinned him down to the mattress, holding Troy's wrists lightly above his head. His other hand snaked under the hem of Troy's shirt, pressing feather-light touches on Troy's skin. Troy moaned desperately into the kisses, his hips subtly twitching up, searching for friction. Abed moved down from Troy's mouth to his neck.
"Can I leave marks?" Abed breathed.
"Yes. Please. Show 'em who I belong to," Troy moaned, eyes closed.
"Holy shit," Abed said, stopping to look down at Troy. He shot Abed a coquettish smile.
Abed sucked just below Troy's pulse, making him moan prettily. He left a proud trail of bruises — and a few bite marks — all the way down Troy's neck. They both removed their shirts and pants in one smooth motion and perfectly in sync, they couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Troy once again wrapped his arms around Abed's shoulders and pulled him down into a hot kiss, "Gd, I fucking love you. I've always loved you. I couldn't stop talking about you the entire time I was gone."
"Neither could I. Y'know, I wrote eleven screenplays about us. Filmed three of them."
Troy smiled and kissed Abed again, "Well, you have to show me now."
"Sure. It's some of my best work. You're my muse."
Troy stared at him, wide-eyed and flushed down his neck; Abed kissed him this time, soft and sweet. Troy intensified the kiss and Abed's tongue trailed down to Troy's nipples. Troy keened high in his throat, fingers gripping the sheets. Abed began palming his twitching cock. It was embarrassing how fast he wanted to cum.
"You like that, hm?"
"Fuuuck," Troy drawled. "Abed, that's, yeah. Fuck."
He tried to complete the most complex math problem he could think of in his head, 12×15, but he couldn't keep it in focus for long. Abed removed his boxers and his cock sprang free; he was average length but impressively girthy. Abed gave a few kitten licks to the head before swallowing down every inch.
"AbedAbedAbed. Holy fuck," Troy panted.
Abed's throat was incredible. Wet, tight, hot, hitting the back of his throat after each slow bob of his head like he was perfectly made to take Troy's cock. He slowly threaded his hands through Abed's hair, watching for any slightest sign that he wanted to stop; but Abed kept going, taking Troy like a champion. Simultaneously throating and tonguing all along his cock. He loved Abed, he loved Abed so much, and he was going to spoil the everloving shit out of him. He was going to be by Abed's side as all his dreams came true.
He tapped Abed's shoulder in warning, "Shit, Abed. Baby, I'm gonna cum."
They locked eyes; Abed hastened his movements with no intention of pulling away. Troy groaned loudly. How was Abed so gddamn sexy?
"FuckfuckAbedfuck. Gonna cum!" Troy came down Abed's throat.
Abed pulled off his cock and kissed Troy. He could taste himself on Abed's lips and tongue, which only made the kiss that much hotter. He was in bliss.
"You still want me to fuck you?" Abed asked breathlessly.
"If you don't, I'll die instantly."
Abed snorted, "That would be bad."
"There's condoms and lube in my bag. Front pocket." Troy said, half-proud, half-embarrassed.
"Prepared. I like it."
Troy merely hummed along.
"Have you ever done this before?" Abed asked, his eyes were intense.
"Not with a person. But I did buy this dildo in Italy that was," he held up his fingers about seven and a half inches apart, "like this big. It was—"
"Did you think about me?"
Troy nodded emphatically, "Every single time. Which was like twice a week, almost. I bought another one in Japan, but that was because it looked super pretty. It was like a snow globe, all glittery, and it lit up in a rainbow light show. But I don't know how that's supposed to go inside you. Seems like a burn hazard more than anything."
Abed kissed him again, condoms and lube in his hands, "I might cum just from hearing about your dildo collection."
Troy laughed, "Can't have that now, can we?"
He laid back while Abed uncapped the bottle and coated his fingers.
"Please, tell me if and, or when it hurts, or uncomfortable, or if you want to stop for any reason."
Troy picked up his head and nodded sweetly. As if that could ever happen; Abed could probably cut his arm off right now and Troy would be perfectly fine with it.
Abed started slow, his forefinger entering with some resistance. He moved, slowly, sweetly, and meticiously for a moment before adding a second finger with a bit more thrust. He, then, grabbed Troy's cock which was rapidly hardening again. Troy's breath hitched and his head lolled back. It felt so different, and so much better, than rocking on his fingers in the dead middle of the night on a boat in the middle of some sea who's name he'd forgotten. He let out small, embarrassingly high-pitched moans and rocked his hips back on Abed's fingers in time with his thrusts.
"Baby, another. Please," Troy begged.
Abed added a third finger and began to hit Troy's prostate with precision. He keened.
"Yes, Abed. Fuck me, pleasepleasepleaseplease." he whined.
Abed removed his fingers slowly and Troy whined softly. He lifted his head and saw Abed rip the condom wrapper with his mouth.
"Hot," Troy said, subconsciously.
Abed rolled it over his dick, which was longer than Troy's but had slightly less girth.
"I always wanted to do that," Abed finished and looked back toward him, "You still okay?"
"Yes," Troy kissed Abed, "Yes, yes, yes, please."
Abed finally, finally pushed in and Troy's eyes rolled back. It was everything he'd ever dreamt it would be. Abed bottomed out and held, staring down at Troy expectantly. He babbled out something, but his brain was too broken and overwhelmed with raw pleasure to process it. He hoped, at least, that it was something sexy.
Abed laughed and kissed him once more, chaste and sweet. Troy was so goddamn whipped for his man. Abed began to move, slowly at first, before building a steady rhythm. Troy fucked back onto his cock, whining incoherently.
"I love how loud you are. Tell me how much you like it, Troy."
"Fuck, fuck, fuck. It's so much better than I could've ever imagined."
"So good. Holy shit, Abed, I'm gonna cum. Fuck, harder. Please, please, please, please."
Abed obliged. Troy devolved back into borderline pornography moans and cries as he neared his second orgasm. Abed stroked Troy's cock twice and he came all over his stomach and upper thighs. Abed came a second later — inside the condom — inside Troy. He stalled for a long while before slowly pulling out. He threw the condom away inside the trash can beside the bed. He lied down beside Troy.
"That was the best sex I've ever had, like, ever. In my entire life."
"I was surprised. Your refractory period is pretty short. I bet, with practice, I could get you to four orgasms in a half an hour."
"You really think so? That would be so fucking awesome!" he paused, "Wait, but what about you?"
"I get off on getting my partners off. A service top, if you will."
"I don't know what that means but that's cool as fuck."
Troy stared up at the ceiling and laughed.
"We did this all wrong."
"What? Why? Do you regret it? We can pretend this didn't hap—"
He stared at Abed, sternly, "No, no, no. No. Never. I would never do that. Ever. I just, I wanted to do this whole thing where we went out to dinner, and the waiter would bring you a ring in like a salmon croquette or something and I would ask you to be my boyfriend."
"Troy, I would never eat a salmon croquette, the texture's weird." Abed pointed, "But for the sappy, sentimental part, you know that I don't need anything like that. I think I've been your boyfriend since we remade that Kickpuncher sex scene."
Troy nodded thoughtfully, "Well, it was the first time that you've had my dick in your mouth."
"See?"
"I know, but I want to do that. Because I love you. And you deserve everything. The entire world. I'm going to invest in your film studio, and be by your side as you make your masterpiece, and everything, Abed."
Abed kissed Troy once more with everything he couldn't express through words or facial expressions. "You're not going to try to claim ownership over one of my films and start a years long legal battle between financier and artist, right?"
"I don't know what that word means, but I wouldn't even dream about it. You can do whatever you want."
Abed nodded, "Great sex, a proposal, and an investment pitch all on the same day. I don't think that's a trope yet."
"It is kinda convoluted, now that you say it out loud."
"We can workshop it."
"Wanna shower? We are kinda gross. And I was on a six hour direct flight from Greendale to Queens, so I'm extra grody."
"Sure. Shower sex?"
"Get out of my brain."
They rose from the bed and make their way to the shower, tongues deep in each other's mouths. They spend fourty-five minutes in the shower, emerging wet, but only half-clean. They dressed and Abed checked his phone.
"Jeff texted me twenty minutes ago that he and the rest of the group are heading to Central Park. And that the walls are thin as shit."
Troy nearly passed out in embarassment.
* *
Troy and Abed caught up to the rest of the group by noon. Jeff and Shirley looked annoyed and embarassed, respectively. Britta punched Troy on the shoulder softly and Annie smiled smugly. Troy hid behind Abed out of shame.
"How the hell can you be so loud? I don't care if Abed has the best dick in the entire world."
"We're sorry and we won't do it again." Abed pointed, "While you guys are around."
Troy covered his face with his hands.
"Oh, lay off Jeff. He was loud because they are in love," Britta defended.
"Yeah, Jeff. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?" Annie added.
"As much of a sin as it is, you're very cute together." Shirley threw dagger eyes at Troy, "But damn, boy, control yourself. You had me up early as all-get-out."
"Sorry," Troy mumbled through his hands.
"Oh, whatever. You're together now and that's all that counts," Annie said proudly.
Everyone leaned in and Jeff spoke, "So when did you guys get together because we had a bet. Shirley and I didn't think you could do long-distance."
"Depends," Troy and Abed said in unison.
"If you count the "Sickeningly Sweethearts" trope, then we've been together since our sophomore year at Greendale," Abed started.
"But, if you're going by official confessions, then that would be today." Troy finished.
"What?" Jeff said, exasperatedly.
"Jeff! Don't force them to choose!" Britta chided.
"Nuh-uh. There's four hundred bucks riding on this," Shirley said, sternly.
Troy and Abed looked at each other, "Today."
"Hell yeah!" Jeff yelled, high-fiving Shirley. "Pay up suckers."
"Good luck getting it, we're all broke except for Troy," Britta said, smiling smugly.
"Yeah!" Annie said in solidarity.
"I missed you guys so much," Troy said, no longer hiding behind Abed.
"We missed you too, Troy," everyone said, coming in for a hug.
"You guys wanna get lunch?" Britta asked, "When I lived in Greenwich, there's this vegan—"
"Let's let Troy decide, right? He is the reason we're here." Jeff said dismissively. Britta stuck her tongue out at him.
"How about pizza? I mean we are in New York."
"Pizza it is," Jeff said, starting the group down the sidewalk.
Troy and Abed stole a glance at each other and interlaced their fingers.