#jeff and britta r the worst at dating and would give the worst advice to abed

[discotechque]

but would you tell me if you want me?

pairing: abed nadir/m! reader word count: 1.3k rating: T requested: yes

im really sorry this took so long but i had no idea what to write and idk bc i love abed so much but here it is

Abed is aware of the natural progressions in a relationship ( he’s seen cookie cutter romances blasted through a projector ). It’s always meeting with witty banter or shy smiles which doesn’t correlate with anything he’s experienced. Anxious hands inching towards each other underneath a gingham table cloth and when he attempted it, it only resulted with scraping past wet gum. And casual kisses that appear to be monoliths within relationships.

Films make it seem so easy but those are characters who have people be paid to bring humanity to them. Lacking a certain complexity about the human psyche and varying reactions to unprompted actions. How do you kiss someone without needing to ask? Does asking enhance the experience? When is the right time to kiss someone? It’s a series of questions with no real answer and he’s uncertain if he’s willing to hear the truth.

He thinks that now is better than never but he would never purposely cross boundaries that have not been set. ( He didn’t meet you in a scripted manner, he would not want that. ) Yet, Jeff and Britta have already given him tips; Pierce has starting saying nonsensical things he tunes out; and Troy, Annie, and Shirley are the only ones who seem to understand the natural progression of dating.

Now is better than never. He’s never certain as to when now is.

He sits on the floor of his apartment, slowly watching you shift through his DVD collection. Pondering what you might pick before jumping into his arms again. It’s a domestic scene, one he might’ve missed if he waited. Now is better than never but a kiss is different than a date. It’s different wanting to see what his lips feel like pressed against yours.

“Are you fine with Corpse Bride again?” he doesn’t answer, instead watching as you sit back on the couch and adjust to fit in his arms. He was made to mold around your form. “Abed?”

He blinks. Once then twice.

Nodding even though the question has fallen deaf against his ears. “Totally,”

“Awesome, cause I was worried you were gonna get bored watching this movie again and I was thinking of Kauffman but that just gets you tired. So maybe comfort was a nice go to, y’know?”

Abed doesn’t know, he just watches you ramble about things and enjoys the haven he finds within the action. Knowing what makes him tick and reminding him of it. A saccharine feeling settling within the scene. He loves it, he loves what you do, he loves you.

He rushes in as he catches your wide eyed stare. A yelp leaving you as his forehead bumps against yours and his nose pokes your cheek. “Ack!” The sound leaves you both as you nurse surface level wounds that will wear off within minutes. He’s quick to cover his face, find solace in the darkness so he does not have to spare another thought to this onslaught of embarrassment.

“Abed?” you softly ask but he does not move his shield of fingers until your gently pull them down.

He watched you, he could watch you forever and never be bored by the prospect. Yet, it is not the time for romantic idles that will only keep him stalling from the truth. He tried his hand at unprompted gestures that only failed. Abed Nadir is swearing off from impulsivity ( an unlikely promise ).

“Did you want to kiss me?” you inquire and the soft grin that tugs on your lips only furthers the small pot of humiliation harboring at his stomach. You are a complex being, one he did not imagine and plays along with his endless ideas ( so many that are questionable but you still stay ).

“You could’ve just asked.”

You say as if its the most obvious thing in the world. It is, but he does not want to accept it.

“I—” Abed wants to protest but his lips fail to form any retort that could be reasonable. “I thought this would be more romantic like Pretty Woman.”

He thought romance was chronological. That there’s a right timing as to when moves can be brought out and what would make his boyfriend less upset. However, divine timing seems fictional at the moment.

“Wasn’t Julia Roberts a prostitute in that?” you question, smile only seeming to grow by the second. Ignoring his plight, instead trying a joke to help seal his hurt. You know him like the stars do the moon.

He retorts, “Do prostitutes not deserve romance?”

Your lips purse in thought, only pretending. A small huff leaving him as you do. He wouldn’t trade moments like these for some so formulaic and scripted. ( You’re real and all he’s ever wanted. ) The smile soon returns your lips with a firm nod.

“Very astute observation, Mister Nadir. I think that deserves a real kiss.”

Slowly, you lean in. Unleashing any prior tension as your fingers brush past his face and your mouth finds his. He doesn’t know what you taste like, a bit like toothpaste and chocolate that sit right upon his tongue as it glides along your bottom lip. Everything about this is new and untimed.

It’s the best kiss he’s ever had, he realizes after you lean back. His fingers loosely pressing into your waist as you still caress his face. ( His whole life in his hands. )

“We should do that again sometime,” he adds after and presses another peck to the corner of your mouth.