Chapter Text
Ryan's barely in the door when his cell buzzes with an incoming call. He fishes it out of his pocket and presses the screen to his ear without checking the caller ID, already knowing who it is. "Hey, big guy."
"Spill it, Bergara," Shane says, wasting no time on pleasantries and going straight for the jugular, as per usual. "How'd it go?"
"She was... nice."
Shane sucks in air through his teeth, letting it out in a hiss. "Ouch."
"What? She was! There just… there wasn't any chemistry. No spark."
A snort echoes through the line. "Methinks you're just too damn picky, Ryan."
Ryan laughs, tossing his keys on the coffee table and plopping down on his couch. "I'm too picky? What about you, Mr. I Didn’t Like the Way She Ate?”
“I’m not picky, Ryan,” Shane huffs. “I just have… discerning tastes. And it had nothing to do with the way she ate. It was the way she talked while she ate. With her mouth full. Bleugh.”
Ryan grins. "What about the one before that?"
"He believed in ghosts, Ryan. I only need one of those in my life, thank you."
Ryan wheezes, "You dick," and toes off his boots, twin thumps echoing through the apartment as they hit the floor. He sighs, sinking further into the couch and allowing the stress of the last couple of hours to bleed from his shoulders. "We've got to do something about our coworkers, Shane."
Shane hums in the affirmative. "Murder is an option," he muses.
"Jesus Christ," Ryan laughs, reaching for one of the throw pillows disturbed by his dive onto the couch and stuffing it beneath his head. "Something a little less morally reprehensible, please. Also, impractical much? Think someone's gonna notice if half of the office turns up dead."
"It's Buzzfeed," Shane argues, as if that explains anything. "You got a better idea, Mr. Morals?"
Ryan hmms. "Could always ask them to stop?"
"Is that not what we've been doing? Since the beginning?"
Ryan makes a face. Shane's right, of course. He loves his coworkers and considers most of them his close friends, but fuck if they're not the most stubborn group of people he's ever known.
"We could lie? Say we're both dating someone."
"Oh?" There's some rustling on the other end of the line. Considering it’s a little after ten p.m., Ryan would bet money on it being the rasp of bedsheets getting tugged over gangly limbs. Old man, he thinks with a fond grin. "And you think they’d just take our word for it without proof, after spending this long trying to set us up? You might not have realized this yet, Ryan, but our coworkers are a bunch of nosy fuckers. If we say we’re both dating someone, they’re gonna want to meet them."
Ryan sighs, deflating more with every word. Leave it to Shane to be logical. "You're right," he says, "much as I hate to admit it. We've gotta do something though, dude. One more awkward dinner and I'm just gonna say fuck it and go live in the woods."
"Oh shit," Shane breathes. "There room for two in your hobbit hole? You're not leaving me to deal with the Blind Date Brigade on my own, Bergara."
Ryan squints at the ceiling. "I... don't know what part of that I should address first. I really don't.” So he doesn’t even try. “You got any better ideas?"
Shane scoffs. “Have some sense, man. Of course I have a better idea.” Before Ryan can take offense to that – which he does, because it’s blatant slander and he refuses to stand for it – Shane continues with, “We say we're dating someone – "
"How is that any different from what I just said?"
"Do you talk over all of your dates, too?" Shane grumps. "I'm beginning to think there's nothing wrong with them at all. Think it's all you, bud."
Ryan's eyes narrow. He has the sudden urge to throw something, preferably at Shane's big dumb head. "Shut up and get to the point, Long Legs."
"As I was saying, we say we're dating someone. If they ask who it is - and, let's face it, they will, because they're like a fucking dog with a bone about this shit - we'll just say it's each other."
Ryan stares blankly at his ceiling, attempting to run those words back and forth through his head until they make sense and failing completely. "You want us to say we're dating... each other? As in, you and me?"
"Yes, Ryan," Shane says slowly, the duh unsaid but implied all the same. Dick.
"How would that help? Like, at all?"
"It'd keep them off our backs for a while," Shane says simply. "No more well-meaning but still painfully annoying prying into our love lives. No more plotting behind our backs. No more blind dates."
Ryan draws in breath to speak, fully intending to shoot down the idea as ridiculous, because it is, but he's stopped short by those last words. No more blind dates. No more awkward small talk over dinner, no more first date jitters, no more disappointed pouts from their coworkers when there isn't an immediate love match.
The more he thinks about it, the more appealing the idea becomes.
It's still ridiculous, and Ryan will tease Shane mercilessly for coming up with it later, but for now –
"Okay, big guy. How exactly would we pull this off?"