#still can't promise I'll finish or even continue this fic because I'm usually swamped these days

[veinsandknuckles]

Reflect what you are, pt 2

Abed Nadir/Autistic f!Reader. In love and at a loss, Abed turns to self professed woman-expert Jeff Winger for advice with mixed results. Part 1 Rated: pg Warnings: casual ableism, casual sexism, autistic stereotypes, reference to the The Big Bang Theory. If I’ve missed anything, let me know. This fic hasn’t been BETA’d. As a disclaimer, I’ll say upfront that the reader insert’s experiences with and outward signs of autism are based on my own. It’s always impossible to write a reader insert neutrally enough to be projected onto by everyone and I think that’s especially true when portraying a disability that is at once so specific and so varied.  ——–

“...I think I’m in love.”

“Really.” Jeff didn’t look up from his phone.

Abed wasn’t sure why he’d picked Jeff as the right person to talk to. Perhaps it was just because Jeff had lingered in the study room after their last session, leaving them alone in the room, and if Abed didn’t tell someone, anyone, he might literally explode. “Yes. Definitely. I show all the classic signs.”

Jeff didn’t respond. Had his sarcastic, disinterested tone been more pointed than usual? It was hard to tell.

“Did you already know I’m in love?”

“With what’s-her-name, your new study buddy?” Jeff gave Abed a look. “Uh, yeah. I’m pretty sure everyone knows.”

“Oh.” Abed tapped his pen against the table and thought this over. “Do I talk about her a lot?”

“Not really, but we know you. It’s pretty suspicious if you take an interest in anyone who isn’t a fictional character.” Jeff put his phone down and leaned his elbows on the table. “Does this mean you’ve finally come to me for dating advice? It’s about time.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t need advice...”

Jeff’s eyes narrowed. “Because women throw themselves at you, for some reason.” He sounded resentful. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And usually I don’t really care either way.” Perhaps this wasn’t the best approach if he wanted Jeff’s help, but it was the truth. “I mean, the attention is nice, but it’s not important.”

“Well, if you’re ‘in love’” (here, Jeff made so many air quotes he threatened to sprain a finger) “that’s a whole different story.”

“Yeah. I’d be pretty upset if she didn’t like me back.”

“I’m sure. So what have you tried so far?”

“Hm.” What had he tried? Shockingly little, now that he came to think about it. “I’ve talked to her a little. We’re working on a project together for class. Oh, and yesterday I threatened to beat a guy up for disrespecting her.”

There was a long pause. “See, this is why you should come to me for inspiration instead of turning to the movies.”

“Yeah, but it was warranted. He’s a bully.”

“Yeah, but still. I never figured you’d go for the caveman approach.”

Abed shrugged. “I don’t really have an approach.”

“Yeah, we established that. So what’s this girl like?”

“I think she’s autistic.”

Jeff’s eyes widened and his mouth seemed to twitch. He didn’t make a face, but it seemed to take him some effort not to make a face. What was he trying to hide? Surprise? A lack of surprise? Amusement? Ridicule? Probably not envy, but what did Jeff know?

“Abed, that’s not a very nice way to sum up a person. We taught you better than that.”

Abed had it on pretty good authority that Jeff had pointed him out to strangers as ‘the robot’ and ‘just don’t call him Sheldon’ several times just this month, but for some reason, people tended to get uncomfortable if the spade joined in and also started calling itself a spade.

“Okay, this is clearly a sensitive issue for you. If I tell you she’s also beautiful and funny and attentive and kind and clever and beautiful, does that make you feel better?”

“That’s a pretty long list.” Jeff smiled. “Beautiful made it in twice, huh?”

It was a fair summary as far as Abed was concerned, repetition included, but Jeff needed to be brought down a peg or two.“I thought that would reassure you.”

Jeff stopped smiling. “Whatever. So if you care so much about her supposed personality, what do you guys actually have in common? Apart from, you know. The A word.”

“I’m not sure. We both pay attention in class, so we already have some similar interests.”

“Okay, so get her talking about those. Women love it when you pretend to care about their dumb opinions.”

Abed was very much convinced that this was not an uniquely female trait and he knew that if he chose to make a rebuttal, Jeff himself would make for an excellent exhibit A. But Jeff depended on his 90’s stand up comedian understanding of gender roles and it would be unfair to take that comfort away from him. Instead, he chose diplomacy. “If she has dumb opinions, I’ll lose interest. Even if she’s beautiful twice.”

“Yeah, you’re weird like that.”

“But I get shy around her, and I’m not used to being shy. I try to plan our conversations in advance, but then when I talk to her I forget everything I was going to say... And I don’t want to pretend to be someone else.”

“You’re overthinking this. Just go up to her and talk, ask more questions than you give answers and if she smiles and laughs at your jokes...” Jeff thought about it, then shook his head. “Huh. Yeah, I see the problem. You still can’t really read anyone. Even I can’t read you and I’m a master manipulator who’s known you for years. If she’s like you...” He seemed at a loss for words. “Don’t you have, like, a secret language or something? Bleep, bloop, Star Trek good?”

How should Abed know? It wasn’t like he’d been ushered into a secret society or subscribed to the local autism mailing list. Maybe there actually was a club and he just hadn’t been invited - that would be a fun, ironic twist. “Not one I know of.” The trekkie accusation he filed away for a later argument.

“Alright. So, when she’s happy or annoyed or on the rag, can you even tell?”

“I think so.”

Abed worried that Jeff misinterpreted the reason for his interest. He couldn’t tell if Jeff wanted to over or under emphasise the autism part, but he could tell Jeff didn’t get it. Sure, it was exciting to meet someone who functioned the way he did, but not because he expected or even wanted you to be a copy of himself. He wasn’t looking for the comedy staple where the weirdo, slash robot, slash dog’s love interest was played by the same actor, slash costume, slash dog in a wig or a pink bow. He was just as desperate to explore all your differences as your possible similarities, and the disability thing was just a small part of that. And he’d underplayed the “beautiful” part, but your mind really was not the only thing he wanted to explore. After all, you’d already turned his head months before he’d realised what you shared.

It dawned on Abed that he really would be just as excited to talk to you if the topics you chose made no sense to him - whatever you said would interest him, simply because you were the one talking. And if he ever accidentally tuned you out, he’d be happy just to watch your lips move.

How could he even begin to explain all of this? Or any of it? If Jeff had ever felt the same way, he would never admit to it.

“She emotes a lot.” By Abed’s standards, anyway. “I don’t think most people can really tell she’s autistic.”

“Why are you so fixated on this?”

“Well, in this case, I mean I think she’s more of a people person than I am. She blends in better than I do and that would take a lot of practice.” He paused. “I never really made friends before I got to Greendale, but...”

“You’re worried you might have some competition?”

Abed shook his head. If anything, competition would be reassuring. But why? “I don’t want her to like me because she has no other option. I want her to choose me.” If that was true, why did admitting it make his stomach feel so cold? Abed swallowed and voiced a fear he hadn’t even been conscious of before. “I’m worried I might be too weird for her.”

Now Jeff made a face even Abed could recognise, if only because he’d seen it so often over the years. It was a face of pained, awkward pity.

Abed was seriously starting to regret being so honest, especially with someone who clearly still expected him to be more ashamed of himself than he really was.  

But Jeff surprised him and his expression changed gradually into a less familiar smile. “Yeah... I think we all feel like that sometimes. I mean, not me, obviously.” Abed nodded and Jeff continued. “I hate to be a cliché, but if you absolutely have to be in love, I really think you should just try to be yourself. If she doesn’t like you, it’s better you rip the band-aid off quickly.” He reached out as if to give Abed a pat on the shoulder but seemed to think better of it and let his hand fall. “Who knows, she might like you better for being a bit weird - I know I get sick of hanging out with normal people all the time. Whatever that means.”

Abed nodded. Especially the band-aid argument appealed to him. Right now he felt that if he didn’t either get to touch you or let go of this obsession within the week, he’d just wither up and die. Wow. He might actually have to resort to a weekend of 80’s rom coms, either to look for inspiration for some big dramatic gesture of his own, or to do what most people probably did when they watched rom coms - daydream about his own crush and imagine you and him up there on the screen instead, kissing and holding on to each other for dear life while the music swelled and the rain pored.  This was so much worse than he’d thought.