Chapter Text
Troy Barnes started out as a social media influencer. First gaining internet popularity for his travel vlogs documenting the around-the-world sailing trip he took on after college, he’s recently gained mainstream attention for music he began producing under the name Disco Spider after docking his boat for good in LA. Even more recently, he’s become a powerful advocate for the gay community after his coming out video on Youtube garnered over 10 million views. His birthday is December 4th, his favorite color is royal purple, his celebrity idol is Levar Burton, and he has a younger half-sister from his dad’s second marriage, his parents having been divorced since he was seventeen.
These are all things Abed learns overnight - not because anyone tells him to, but because his own curiosity gets the better of him. He’s trying to act like he doesn’t know as much as he does as he tucks himself into the corner of Frankie’s couch for the second time in as many days.
Life in Hollywood moves fast, but Frankie Dart moves faster. Today is the day he meets his boyfriend for the next three months.
“Can’t believe you agreed to do this,” Jeff mutters. “You realize you’re making me do actual work, right?”
“Oh no,” Frankie looks away from her phone just long enough to give Jeff her well-practiced death stare. “Not the thing we pay you to do. I don’t know how I’m supposed to sleep tonight with that on my conscience.”
Jeff snaps his briefcase closed. “Whatever. I finished writing up the contract last night. I’m sure you want to be the first to read it, so here.” He thrusts a stack of papers in Frankie’s direction, but she keeps typing on her phone, unfazed.
“Annie will look it over,” she says, clearly distracted by whatever she’s working on at the moment. “I just got a text from Troy’s PA, they’re running late, so we’re a little bit ahead of schedule for now, anyway. Annie?”
“I’ll take that, Jeff, thank you,” Annie plucks the contract out of his hands and walks off, perching herself on a stool at Frankie’s kitchen island to begin reading. Jeff looks over at him, mildly stunned, but Abed just shrugs. If Frankie’s finally found an employee she deems competent of doing literally anything, he doesn’t want to risk questioning it.
Anyway, Troy’s team running late means Abed has more time to get into character, or so he thinks. He’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror, fixing his hair and getting into the acting headspace when Annie appears seemingly out of nowhere, startling him with her reflection in the mirror behind him.
“Frankie sent me to make sure you’re not putting on a character, whatever that means,” Annie says when he turns to face her, before he even has a chance to ask.
Abed frowns. He’s going to be in character for this, he’s already decided. It’s non-negotiable.
“I have to be in character for this,” Abed informs her, and turns back around. “Frankie doesn’t get it, but trust me, I know what I’m doing.”
“Frankie gets everything,” Annie steps up behind him again, her arms crossed defiantly this time. “And she said no characters.”
Abed makes eye contact with her in the mirror, just briefly. “It’s the only way this is gonna work,” he explains, as diplomatically as he can.
When Annie doesn’t say anything for a second, he assumes he’s won, though he can’t fully concentrate on getting back into character when she’s still right behind him. And then he really can’t concentrate on getting back into character when she turns abruptly on her heel, calling out as she hurries down the hallway:
“Frankie! Abed won’t stop getting into character even though you told him not to!”
“You’re kidding me,” Abed mutters, and turns around to rush after her. He finds Frankie and Annie both in the kitchen.
“Frankie,” he cuts her off when he sees that she’s about to speak, “I stayed up all night working on this boyfriend character. It’s the only way I’ll be able to pull off this PR stunt, okay? I’ve made up my mind.”
Frankie just looks at him for a bit before responding, but Abed’s been working with her long enough to know this tactic. She’s waiting to see if he’ll psych himself out of his own idea, but he’s holding his ground on this one. Frankie knows him pretty well, but he still knows himself better. He knows how he works.
“You understand this ‘stunt’ is a 3-month commitment,” she says - a question phrased as a statement. “Minimum?”
Abed nods.
“And you know Sleepless on Saturn starts shooting again in less than a week.”
He nods again.
Frankie looks at him some more, like she’s waiting for him to piece something together himself, but he doesn’t. Eventually, she sighs and leans against the refrigerator.
“That’s going to be a lot of long workdays in character,” she says, “And this relationship is gonna take up a lot of your free time.”
“Noted,” Abed says, still unbudging - even though he has some idea now of where she’s going with this whole spiel. He’s still on his own side.
“Okay,” Frankie’s voice is softer now, and gentler. There’s a hint of concern, Abed thinks, in the way her forehead crinkles. “So, in between all that acting, when did you plan on being yourself?”
He shrugs. “I’ll find time.”
He doesn’t sound convincing, even to his own ears.
Frankie sighs and takes a small step closer. “You know, I’m not just saying this as your manager, but as someone who cares about you. You need to spend enough time with the mask off if you want to stay healthy. Remember what happened the last time you took on too much.”
He does. As much as he’d rather not.
Before he can answer, the sharp trill of the doorbell cuts through the house. Frankie glances quickly down at her phone.
“That’s them,” she says. She steps out of the kitchen to answer the door, but not before tossing a final “Be yourself!” over her shoulder.
He’s left alone with Annie, who looks confused.
“What happened the last time you took on too much?” She asks.
“Nothing,” Abed answers automatically. “Doesn’t matter.”
Her eyes narrow a bit. “Well, which is it? Nothing, or it doesn’t matter?”
Abed turns and walks away.
***
Having a manager as good as Frankie is a good thing. She’s smart, level-headed, and she’s never steered him in the wrong direction career-wise. But it also has its downsides - well, really just one downside, which is that he trusts her perhaps too much, and in turn, often finds himself mentally checking out of important conversations about his life, career, and future.
Turns out that’s even easier to do when he’s seated across from his absolute smokeshow of a PR boyfriend, who’s somehow even more gorgeous in person than he is online. Abed can feel his heart legitimately racing as he takes in his dark, pretty eyes, adorably goofy smile, and toned physique. It’s a relief that Frankie’s doing all the talking at the moment, because he’s not sure he could remember how to speak if he had to. Troy is that hot.
“I have to say, Francesca, Troy was a little bit beside himself when your assistant reached out to us. He’s been a fan of Abed’s work for years. Getting to work with him, even just for a little PR, was really a dream come—”
“Shirley…” Troy’s tone borders on whiny as cuts his own manager off, shifting bashfully in the center of the couch where he’s seated next to her. He seems not unlike a teenager being embarrassed by his mother as he rubs the back of his neck, then glances up at Abed. They make eye contact for the first time, but Troy quickly glances away again. “Um, it’s true, though. I’ve been addicted to Sleepless on Saturn since the beginning, I used to binge-watch it every time I docked and could get a stable connection. And Lily of the Valley, was… I mean, that was…”
He trails off, looking like he’s afraid he’s said too much. You haven’t, Abed wants to tell him. Troy’s voice is so melodic and nice, he could listen to it for hours.
“LGBT representation is so important in the media,” the blonde girl sitting on Troy’s other side picks up for him - based on context, Abed guesses that she’s Troy’s personal assistant. “When I lived in New York—”
“Britta,” Shirley chirps from her end of the couch. “Not the time, sweetie.”
And so the meeting goes. Abed says a total of maybe ten words, signs his name and initials where he’s told, and a couple pen strokes later, he and Troy are legally-bound boyfriends for the next three months.
It’s all business, he reminds himself as he hands the pen back over to Jeff. No reason to be nervous, best to treat it like it’s just another acting gig - even though, thanks to Frankie, it’s not. He can’t help but curse a little internally as he looks at Troy and feels a hot flush beginning to crawl up his neck and onto his cheeks.
Now, that, he thinks as Troy meets his gaze for the second time that evening - but this time he holds it briefly and flashes him a shy smile before he looks away again - and Abed feels that stupid bundle of nerves flare up in the center of his chest.
…That’s exactly why I needed a character.
***
Their first date is at a small, upscale Italian bistro just outside the city. By Frankie and Shirley’s account, it’s a popular dinner spot for the rich and famous - and Abed’s never heard of it, so that checks out. He may be on TV now, but he’s still not exactly the fancy type, and he prefers it that way. Just looking at this place is making him start to itch under the collar.
“We’re not tipping off the paparazzi tonight,” Annie tells them from the front seat of the car, where she sits as their makeshift chauffeur for the evening. “Frankie thinks that’ll be too obvious, and the public will call bullshit on your relationship from a mile away. Rumors about you two being together need to circulate organically, and once we’ve stirred up enough intrigue, that’s when we kick it up a notch. So tonight, just act normal. Normal couple on a normal first date, ‘kay?”
Abed is quite certain that he’s never been on what Annie would consider a ‘normal’ first date, but he knows what one is supposed to look like, which will have to do. He mumbles his agreement along with Troy and steps out of the car.
Inside the restaurant, the lights are low, music’s soft. He keeps his gaze down as he gives his name to the hostess at the front, and for the entire walk to their table, because it’s just easier. No one can claim he snubbed them in public if there’s no eye contact to start with.
Troy is a lot nicer. He gives the hostess a warm thanks as they’re seated, then lets out a low whistle. Abed takes that as a cue to look up.
“Wow,” Troy glances around the room, wide eyes looking warmer than usual in the candlelight. “This place is fancy.” He looks at Abed and tilts his head a little. “I guess you’re used to that, though, huh?”
Be yourself, he hears Frankie’s voice in his head.
Act normal, Annie’s voice follows right after.
Those two sentiments don’t go hand-in-hand. Eventually, after a little too much thinking, he settles on a shrug and a small shake of his head for a response.
“Not really,” he says, because that’s the honest answer. “I don’t go out a lot unless I have to. Especially upscale places like this.”
"Oh,” Troy seems a little underwhelmed by that answer. “Okay. That’s… cool, I guess. Staying humble and all.”
Frankie's voice again: Be yourself.
“Actually,” Abed admits, “It’s more about unpredictability. Sometimes the lights hurt my eyes, or there’s too many different smells, or it’s too loud with all the glasses clinking and silverware scraping on plates. Plus, I don’t like not knowing the menu. These exclusive places never have their menus posted online.”
“…Oh,” Troy’s tone is different this time, but Abed can’t quite read it. “I… sorry, if you don’t like this place. Shirley just said that we should—”
Annie's voice again: Act normal.
“No, it’s okay,” Abed stops him before he can finish apologizing. He can already tell he’s shared too much. “Frankie told me what to order. A bottle of Sassicaia and a margherita flatbread. So. All good.”
Troy nods slowly, then looks down at the table and opens his menu. His eyes immediately widen.
“Uh, Abed?” He asks nervously. “This place is kinda… really super outrageously expensive.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Abed says. “It’s on me. You know, since this is kinda the equivalent of me asking you out on a first date.”
“Oh,” Troy squirms a little in his seat, a smile playing on his lips. It’s… actually adorable of him, objectively. Not that Abed is supposed to care. “Well, thanks. I can’t really return the favor, though. I’m not mega-rich and famous.”
“You will be,” Abed says without really thinking. He doodles a couple little swirls in the condensation on his glass of ice water, just to keep busy. “I listened to a few of your songs. You’re really good.”
Troy doesn’t say anything to that, still keeping his eyes trained on the menu. He does, however, smile wider.
Abed counts that as a win.
He takes exactly three sips of his glass of wine when the bottle arrives, to keep up appearances. It’s enough to make it look like he’s drinking, nowhere near enough to actually affect him. He needs his inhibitions tonight.
Troy doesn’t seem to have quite the same concern. He downs his first glass like it’s water in a desert. He’s a little over halfway through his second when he speaks up.
“Hey, so,” he drums his fingers on the table a couple times, maybe a release of nervous energy. “I didn’t get to finish telling you the other day, but… I really am a huge fan. I’m sorry if I act weird around you, I just can’t really believe we’re doing this.”
Something about Troy’s demeanor makes Abed feel a little more at ease. He sounds genuine in everything he says, which isn’t something Abed encounters nearly as much as he’d like. If only Troy weren’t so ludicrously attractive, he might actually feel calm with him.
“You’re a bigger deal than you think, Troy. A lot of people really look up to you.” He pauses for a moment before taking a fourth sip of wine. Maybe dropping just a couple inhibitions tonight is okay, if it’ll allow him to hold an actual conversation. “Annie and Frankie really don’t half-ass anything. They thought of you for this project, or whatever you wanna call it, because you’re well-loved.”
Troy smiles, sweet and a little lopsided. “Sounds like you guys all did your homework,” he laughs, but he looks apprehensive.
“You look apprehensive,” Abed says, social skills be damned.
Troy looks a little surprised by his bluntness, but not offended, which is good.
“I guess I am a little,” he shrugs. “Kinda feels like I’ve been playing tee ball my whole life, and now all of a sudden I’m in the Major League. I haven’t really adjusted.”
“I get that,” Abed nods. “Well, in my experience, the public wants you to be constantly surprised by your own achievements. Eventually, you’ll be allowed to act like you earned it, but if you jump the gun on that, they’ll call you conceited and out of touch. When in doubt, it’s best to just play the ingenue.”
Troy sits back in his seat a little. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem for me,” he laughs. It might be a little forced. Abed watches him tip his head back, downing the remainder of his second glass of wine. It’s hard to look away from him, actually - the way his Adam’s apple bobs slowly as he swallows, the soft little huff of breath as he sets his glass down.
It’s a good thing their food arrives when it does, so he can focus his attention on something else.
He still does glance at Troy, though, occasionally. And on the occasions that their eyes actually meet, he does get that strange little nervous flutter in his stomach.
He can’t help but think, as he takes a long sip of his ice water to cool down, that he’s in for a pretty long three months.