"Hey, Abed? What is Rain Man?"
Abed is taken aback by the question. Seconds ago, he and Troy were entombed in the safety of a television broadcast of Conair, but the commercial break has suddenly turned into a minefield. He turns to look at Troy, quirks his head to the side, and questions, "Why?"
"I dunno, Pierce calls you Rain Man sometimes. I was just wondering." Troy says guilelessly. Abed's response is the equivalent of a "Loading: Please Wait" banner. He looks as though his face is still deciding on the appropriate expression. Maybe it is.
"Do you want to watch it?" He questions, blinking back at his friend with innocence that, like all his other expressions, feels practiced.
"Dude, I don't even know what it is," Troy presses, his brow furrowing. He glances back at the television, where a beer commercial is still interrupting the film. Abed is unnerving him, and not in the way Abed normally unnerves people.
"It's a movie," Abed concedes finally, also studiously watching the beer commercial. "Dustin Hoffman and Tom Cruise. Released December 16, 1988. Nominated for eight Oscars, won four. Best Film, Best Screenplay, Best Director, and Best Actor in a Leading Role-Hoffman, not Cruise," his long fingers drum nervously on his knee as he speaks. "Do you want to watch it?" He repeats, not sounding over-enthusiastic at the idea.
The announcer says that Conair will be returning momentarily.
"Is it like The Wicker Man?" Troy questions. The night spent imitating Nicolas Cage's performance is one of his favorite memories.
Abed's lips curl into a twitch of a smile. "Not really," he admits, before releasing a sigh which is more of a huff, and saying, with a little too much gravity, "I knew this day would come."
Troy hesitates, unsure if Abed is doing a bit. To be safe, he says "It is our destiny," before adding, "wait, what are we talking about?"
"Tom Cruise's character, Charlie, finds out he has a brother he never knew," Abed continues tonelessly. The movie has come back on now, and he is staring at the screen with conviction. "Dysfunctional family trope, long lost relative trope."
"Kind of like Pierce," Troy suggests, still trying to piece together the connection.
"Kind of," Abed agrees, although he doesn't sound particularly invested in the conversation. "But Raymond isn't black. He's just autistic."
If real life had sound cues, this one would have been the sound of a combination lock being successfully picked.
"Do you want to watch it or not?" Abed's tone is turning antsy. The Bunny Scene is playing on television, and getting ignored. Troy looks momentarily torn. He has a lot of questions, and he's half afraid that Abed won't answer them, and half afraid that he will.
"Do you want to watch it?" He usually relies on Abed's taste in movies, which varies from exceptionally good to exceptionally bad. Troy doesn't mind either extreme. However, he's not sure he's going to get a satisfactory response those time. Abed is floundering stoically, while Nicolas Cage drawls in the background. Abed rarely flounders when it comes to an opinion.
"No," he says finally. He nods to himself as if he needs reassurance that this decision is the correct one.
"Okay," Troy says, and that's that. He turns back to the television.
The companionable silence has been broken in a way even Nicolas Cage at his most southern cannot fix. Troy hesitates. "But-you're autistic, right?"
Abed finally turns away from the screen. His head tweaks to the side and his brow furrows experimentally. "I didn't say that," he says, as if he needs Troy to confirm this theory.
"Nah, Jeff did, the day we all met. Remember?" The irony being, of course, that Abed remembers everything. He nods. Suddenly it's Troy that can't make eye contact. "I looked it up," he admits.
Abed seems to recognize the significance almost before Troy does.
"I don't look anything up, man. But I looked that up. I spelled it just the way it sounds."
"Ass-burgers," Abed supplies helpfully. He has grabbed the television remote and is running a short fingernail around the buttons in order to have something to do.
"Yeah. I watched the South Park episode first. And then I read the Wikipedia article."
The confession almost makes Abed smile.
"My cousin's son doesn't talk. He beats his head against the wall."
Abed's face falls, but he does look at Troy. His head cocks to the side again, and he stares his friend down with an unnerving serenity, while his fingers twitch erratically and he taps his foot nervously. "Do you think I'm like that?" He questions. His voice betrays nothing about what he wants the answer to be.
"No, Buddy," Troy says in what he hopes is a reassuring tone.
Abed isn't quite sure how he feels about that. He tucks it away to examine later, when Nicolas Cage isn't southern. "Good, then we don't have to watch Rain Man. Frankly, I think Tom Hanks was robbed of the best actor award that year."
"What was Tom Hanks in?"
"Big."
"The one with the-"
"Giant piano."
"Sweet! You know, I always wanted to play on one of those things. Can we watch that next?"
Abed nods, glances at Troy, and actually smiles. "Cool. Cool cool cool."