Chapter Text
The last day of August finds Troy sorting clothes on the floor of his bedroom.
“Oh, honey, don’t give those away,” his mom says when he places a stack of old t-shirts in the box labeled charity. She reaches in and pulls them back out, smoothing them in her lap. “All your old football shirts. We have to keep these for posterity.”
“Mama, those haven’t fit me for years,” he points out, just as - as if to emphasize his point - she holds up a shirt printed with Riverside PeeWee Football: MVP 1996. She frowns a little as she carefully folds it back up.
“You were so excited when you won MVP your first year,” she tells him, fond nostalgia lacing her voice. “Used to sleep with your trophies like they were teddy bears.”
He watches her set it down in the keep bin, along with the rest of them.
“I guess I do miss when football was fun,” he shrugs. He feels it in his chest, even just hearing his mother talk about it. A longing, an ache. When football was just something he was good at, the best at, when it was a real part of him. He almost doesn’t even remember what that’s like. Once it turned into part of the straight-guy front, the magic kind of faded.
She gives him a contemplative look.
“Maybe you could join the Greendale team,” she says in a very deliberately light, casual tone of voice. “You know, if you miss playing.”
He does miss playing, he wouldn’t be feeling this way if he didn’t. Still, he sighs a little and stares down into his lap.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “That feels like the old me now.”
She tilts her head a little as she gets back to work, fishing things out from under his bed. “What exactly do you mean, the old you?”
“...You know,” he says, feeling a little ashamed even before he starts talking. “The one who was always the most popular kid in school, and kind of an arrogant jerk, and broke a bunch of girls’ hearts because he led them on even though he knew he’d never love them the way he was supposed to, and cared way too much about what everyone else thought of him, was always a little miserable on the inside, and failed out of college, and—”
“Okay,” she stops him before he can go any further, taking a break from her sorting again and shifting closer to him on the floor. “Okay, yes. I see where you’re going.”
She gives him a reassuring pat on the knee. “But that’s just how life goes. Things change, people change. And we hope it’s for the better, but there are never absolutes. Not everything in your past was bad, and not everything in your future will be good. Trying to see life all black-and-white like that just makes it harder.”
She reaches out, grasping one of his hands in both of hers. He feels very small, not in a bad sense, just in the sense that he knows with almost complete certainty that he’ll never be as smart as his mom. She knows everything, always has the right thing to say. He wonders if he’d be any better off now, if only he’d realized that sooner.
“What I’m saying,” she continues, “Is that if you don’t want to play football anymore, then don’t. But if you think you’re not supposed to just because you’ve changed in other ways… Well, you’re allowed to be complex, honey. You can like boys and football. And dancing. And that… odd little British space show. And whatever else you want. Whatever makes you happy. That’s all that matters.”
Whatever makes you happy, that’s all that matters.
It’s simple, really. It shouldn’t wrinkle his brain as much as it does.
“You’re right,” he says quietly. “Thanks.”
She pats his leg again before turning her attention back to under the bed. “My god, you’ve really made a mess under here. Oh, look, your little Spiderman toys!”
“Figurines, Mama,” Troy corrects her emphatically, but he smiles a little anyway as he bends forward to investigate. “They’re figurines.”
***
“Spiderman is pretty cool. I mean, for a Marvel character.” Abed turns one of the little figurines over in his hands, then reaches into the shoebox for another. “Actually, these are really nice. I can’t believe you have so many. You were a closet nerd way before you met me.”
Troy watches him fondly - Abed splayed out on his stomach, propped up on his forearms as he rifles through Troy’s small army of Spidermen. Something about it makes him so happy. Just when he thought he couldn’t get any cuter, too.
“My Uncle Carl used to give them to me every Christmas,” Troy explains. “When I was a kid, my friends would be all excited around the holidays, talking about what they were gonna ask Santa for. But my family were Jehovah’s witnesses, so we didn’t do any of that stuff, and I’d get all bummed out. And my dad was really strict about that stuff. But then, Christmas eve when I was six, I found one of these little Spiderman dudes under my pillow. I didn’t wanna ask my parents about it, but I kept finding them under my pillow every year… I didn’t find out it was Uncle Carl until I was like, twelve. I caught him sneaking into my room when he was over for dinner. But Spiderman’s kinda… been a thing for me, since then.”
Abed’s eyes soften. “That’s sweet.”
It is sweet. Troy has no problem admitting that. He’s not afraid of being sweet now.
“So was it weird?” Abed asks. He sets the figurine back in the shoebox to join the rest of its companions. “Going through all your stuff, saying goodbye to your childhood?”
Troy snorts a little as he closes the shoebox and sets it down on the floor before splaying out on his stomach next to Abed. To be fair, it’s not a weird question, but he’d been surprisingly content when his mom had broken the news that she was planning to sell the house. She’d been more emotional than him, actually, all teary-eyed as she rushed to explain that Phil’s house was just a few blocks away, and of course he’d have his own room there, and it was going to be his home too, and so on. But really, he feels fine.
“A little bit, I guess,” Troy says as he nudges in as close as he can get, because he’s not a robot - he has some nostalgia. “But, I don’t know, not too much. It seems like this is supposed to feel like some big, dramatic ending, but after everything else that’s happened… it just feels like another baby step.”
“That’s good,” one of Abed’s hands smooths over his back, then cups the back of his neck and pulls him into a kiss. “I’m glad you feel okay. Change can be scary.”
“It is,” Troy clutches at the front of Abed’s shirt before he can move away, pulling him back in and locking their lips together. “My life changed so much this summer and honestly, I was scared the whole time. But I also learned that the fear’s worth it, if you’re changing for the right reasons.”
Pretty grown-up lesson learned, if he does say so himself. He owes a lot of that to Abed, just for being himself. Just for making Troy fall so absurdly in love that he’d had to change for the better. He’d hardly even had a choice. He wants to say thank you, but he just channels that energy into their next kiss instead. It must get across, because Abed moans a little into his mouth and rolls over on top of him, and that’s when it’s clear that they’re both past the point of talking.
Troy parts his lips and pulls him closer.
The sex that night is slow and hot and languid and sweet, lazily intertwined in a tangle of limbs and sheets. Abed keeps his hands and mouth busy at all times - so attentive, so good. Troy, of course, has no complaints.
His eyes roll back in his head, jaw dropping with his usual desperate moan as Abed pushes into his ass. Sometimes Abed muffles him, either kissing him or covering his mouth, but tonight he doesn’t, and Troy’s cheeks heat up when he realizes how loud he actually is. But Abed likes it; he sighs and nips at Troy’s neck as he rolls his hips forward.
“Oh my god,” Troy whispers. “Abed…”
Abed hums a little in response. “Yeah?” He plants a trail of kisses up the side of Troy’s neck, over his jaw and finally onto his lips. The hand he’s not using to keep himself stable on the bed hooks behind Troy’s knee to draw his leg up and around his waist. “What do you want?”
“I…” he breathes. He doesn’t remember. With Abed all over him like this, hips still rocking into him at a torturously slow pace, all he can think is more. “I don’t know,” he whines a little. He digs his nails into Abed’s back, which earns him a soft gasp and a stutter in Abed’s rhythm. Abed likes that. He does it again, harder, and Abed shudders as he tucks his face into Troy’s neck.
“Just fuck me, please,” Troy whispers. “Please, please baby.”
So, he does. With no real urgency or demand, all deep kisses and sweet sighs that leave him warm and buzzing right under the surface. The build-up is drawn-out but easy nonetheless, and when he finishes, it’s with a full-body shudder of satisfaction. He’s still in a bit of a daze when Abed follows shortly after, but that doesn’t stop him from relishing it.
It still gets better, every time.
“Are you nervous about tomorrow?” Abed asks later when they’re falling asleep, Inspector Spacetime credits playing on Abed’s laptop screen on the nightstand. Troy’s eyelids are heavy as Abed reaches around him to close out of the video player and shut the laptop.
“A little bit,” he whispers. He lets his eyes slip closed as Abed settles back down behind him, spooning him close. “But not that much. Promise you’ll hold my hand, right?”
He feels Abed nod behind him, lips pressing to his neck. He’s clearly sleepy, speaking around a yawn as he lays his head back down.
“Yeah. I promise.”
***
And Abed does make good on that promise.
Troy’s been to Greendale twice in his life. Once, to track down Abed when he was desperately horny. A second time on the 4th of July, the night Abed had said I love you back to him.
The third time feels like a new beginning.
It’s the first first day of school since junior high that doesn’t set foot on campus in a letterman jacket, with his walls all the way up and a fake swagger that makes him cringe now when he looks back on it.
“That’s the pool building,” Abed tells him as they walk past the natatorium. “People mostly use it for free swim, but the intramural water polo team practices on Wednesdays and Saturdays. It’s also where the dean holds all disciplinary hearings.”
Troy doesn’t really absorb the information, just lets it flow over him while he keeps his head on Abed’s shoulder, their fingers laced together as they explore the campus in the early morning light.
“And you already know the library,” Abed says as they approach the familiar building. Their joined hands swing lightly in between them. It’s getting busier now as the time for morning classes approaches, a steady stream of students meandering their way around campus in all directions. Troy follows a couple of them with his eyes until Abed squeezes his hand, the gentle pressure bringing his attention back.
“Ready?” Abed asks. His head is tilted a little to the side, the perfect angle for Troy to take a step closer and kiss his cheek, which is exactly what he does.
He bites back a smile as he pulls away. “Ready,” he nods, and lets Abed lead the way.
“…About the future. I wanna run something by you.”
Abed nods and shifts closer to him. His eyes are so full of adoring attention that he forgets, for a second, what he wanted to talk about. But then Abed blinks.
“Okay,” he says. “What is it?”
Oh, right. He takes another moment to try and phrase what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t really know where to begin, even now.
How his whole life, he’s only done what people told him to do. What was expected of him. How he’s spent most of his life on autopilot, just ticking everyone else’s boxes. How he’d found a twisted comfort in that for the longest time.
But he’s a real person now. Fully developed? Maybe not, but… getting there.
He knows some things about himself: He’s Troy Barnes. He’s gay. He’s awesome at football and dancing and fixing anything he can get his hands on. He loves his mom and his boyfriend and his new study group. He’s made a lot of mistakes. He’s felt bad about them. But ultimately it’s all led him to right here and now, where he doesn’t feel bad anymore. Unsure, definitely. But he doesn’t feel bad.
Ready to find himself, that’s what he feels. Ready to make more mistakes. He’s not really sure how to put all of that into words for Abed, how to translate it into what he wants.
So he just comes right out with it, instead.
“After graduation,” he says thoughtfully, “Wanna sail around the world with me?”
And this is why he loves Abed so much - he doesn’t ask why, or how, or any of those other logical questions that Troy doesn’t know the answer to. Not with words, anyway.
He does know with feelings, and Abed does too. Because all he does is crack a smile, pull him in, and kiss him.
“Yeah,” he whispers against his lips. “Yeah, totally.”
The rest of the group is waiting in Study Room F - Annie and Shirley, Jeff and Britta, and two catty-corner chairs at the end of the table. Abed goes automatically toward the empty chair next to Britta, like their seats are assigned or something. Troy hesitantly sits in the other empty seat next to Abed. The group pauses their animated debate about the correct pronunciation of GIF when he does, turning to look at him with curious expressions. He feels self conscious for a moment, until Britta speaks up.
“Weird,” she says. “No one’s ever sat in that chair before. The table feels… different, now.”
“More complete,” Annie nods in agreement.
“Oh,” Shirley coos in her usual sweet tone, “It’s like you’ve had a place here all along.”
Britta and Annie barely get a chance to aww over it before Jeff fake-gags in response. The girls turn on him and their argument picks right back up, like they never stopped in the first place. Abed casts their friends an amused look before turning his gaze back to him. Troy feels himself soften when he does. There’s a content look in Abed’s eyes as he nudges his foot underneath the table. Troy nudges him back. The way it makes Abed smile melts his heart.
“Welcome to Greendale, Troy.”