Annie is screaming. Again.
And not in the way he, admittedly, would like her to be screaming.
No, his poor Annie (he doesn't know when he started doing that, thinking of her- just thinking, not addressing- her as his Annie, a singular possessive pronoun riddled with subtext that he would only understand if this were a television show) is up having a nightmare for the fourth night in a row.
He wants to go comfort her, to hold her or whatever it is that people do when they comfort people, but for him, it isn't that simple. He knows that there are infinite monsters that could be chasing her in her sleep, causing infinite insecurities and emotions he can't even begin to comprehend. He's afraid, too, that she'll push him away. Which would make sense. She is so far out of his league, and despite his disconnection from any general social cues at all, even he's aware of that.
But it's killing him to hear her so distraught. And since he's not used to experiencing feelings that aren't prompted by things like Cougar Town being moved to midseason, he's doubly confused as to proceed. Thirty seconds later, she's still shrieking and he's still in pain. He tiptoes out of bed, careful not to wake Troy, and slips into Annie's room.
She is, understandably, shocked and a little frightened to see him. He tries to act as fluidly as possible, pretend this is a movie so he has some clue as to how to behave and he doesn't wind up awkwardly hovering in her door and freaking her out even more. Which is why he crossed the room to her bed, sat on the edge of it, and wrapped his arms around her. She relaxed instantly, sunk into him as if he were the anchor that drowned all her demons.
They stayed like that for a long time, her clinging to him and him trying to process it. Finally, when she'd decided his presence had slain all the dragons that'd been spitting fire in her subconscious, she sat up and kissed him. Hard. It may have meant any number of things- could have been a thank you, could have been a test, could have been something she'd been meaning to do, could have just been spur of the moment. Dwelling on motives would have been to Abed as people in horror movies stocking up on weapons, though, so he did the only thing he knew how to do: kissed her back and climbed on top of her.
Annie wasn't surprised by this progression, not at all. In fact, she leaned into it pretty heavily, tangled her hands in his hair and moaned into his mouth. He countered her, bit her bottom lip and hitched up her lace nightgown. His hands teased, danced across pressure points and dipped into her. She arched her back, leaned into him fully.
They came collectively undone to the tune of creaking bedsprings, crashing into one another with the desperation of children trying to drive away ghostly dreams.
Afterwards, when Annie is sleeping (peacefully, finally) with her pale chest rising and falling and her head in the crook of his arm, Abed realizes he's never felt this way before.
They would make one hell of a love story.