Chapter Text
When Ryan glances over at his buzzing phone and sees his mom’s face on the caller ID, he groans.
Don’t get him wrong – Ryan loves his mom a lot. She’s strong, smart and sassy, and raised Ryan to be the person he is now. Nothing compares to her incredible cooking or her warm, tight hugs; to Ryan, his mom is symbolic with home and love, and always will be.
But since he and Helen split, almost a year ago now, things have been different.
The thing is, Ryan’s okay. He truly is. There were a couple months there where he really wasn’t okay and he felt like he had no purpose and was going to die – but those feelings didn’t remain for long. He’s long passed that now, and while there is a part of him that will always love her, he doesn’t feel like his heart has been ripped into two anymore.
The real problem is that he hasn’t dated anyone since Helen, and that has his mom tiptoeing around him like she’s walking on eggshells, wary that one wrong remark will send him spiralling back into a pit of despair. And quite frankly? Ryan is getting sick of it.
“Hi, Mom,” he picks up the phone.
“Ryan!” she exclaims happily, and Ryan can’t resist the smile that spreads across his face. Damn, he should really call her more often than once a week, because he will never not miss her.
“How has your week been?” he asks, and then settles in as she launches into a recap of everything that’s happened since the previous Friday: she went shopping with some of her old work friends, she went to her salsa dancing class three times this week instead of two, and she’s volunteering at the local community centre this coming weekend to help cook food for the less fortunate. His mom has more of a social life than he does, and it’s ridiculous.
“Your father has hurt his elbow again for the third time this month,” she says disapprovingly.
“Has he been to the doctor?” Ryan asks, already knowing the answer; his stubborn dad is nothing if not predictable.
“No, he has not,” she says crossly. “Would you talk to him?”
“Me?” Ryan says, incredulous. “How am I going to convince him to go when you can’t?”
“He listens to you more than me,” she sniffs.
“Yeah, somehow I don’t think so,” Ryan laughs.
His mom clears her throat, and this is where Ryan braces himself.
“What have you been up to?” she asks, a bit softer.
“You know, the usual.” Ryan shrugs his shoulders before remembering that she can’t see him. “I’ve been researching, working on scripts, filming stuff.”
“And have you gone anywhere exciting?” she asks, a bit tentatively. “Perhaps with… someone?”
Ryan can read through the lines. “No, I haven’t met anyone, Mom,” he says, amused.
“Well, I just thought I’d ask,” she says loftily. “I want to know what’s going on with my son.”
That is Mom-code for being a busybody, and Ryan shakes his head fondly. “Well, not a lot really. I’ve mostly been at the office or at home. Oh, and on Monday we went up to Sacramento to film a haunted house for Unsolved. That was only for a night though.”
“Did you and Shane stay there overnight?” his mom asks.
“No, not this time, the owners wouldn’t let us.”
“Good,” she says approvingly. “You two are stupid to do things like that.”
“Yes, Mom,” Ryan rolls his eyes. He’s heard this lecture before.
There’s a pause in the conversation. Ryan gets the feeling that his mom is thinking about saying something, so he waits; and sure enough, after a few seconds:
“You know,” she says cautiously, “I always liked that Shane boy.”
Ryan blinks. “…Yes?”
“Jake shows me videos of you two messing around. He’s always been very polite when I’ve met him.” She clears her throat. “He’s a very lovely boy, Ryan.”
And this moment, right here, is where Ryan goes wrong.
He doesn’t do anything. He doesn’t say anything. And that’s exactly the point. Ryan is too busy doing a double-take; too busy being wrapped up in wondering is my mom really hinting at me to get with my friend? to notice that he’s stopped speaking for far too long, and then – it’s too late.
His mom gasps, jarring him out of his thoughts. “Ryan!” she says breathlessly. “You don’t mean - you and Shane - ?”
“What?” Ryan says, bewildered, and then his mind connects the dots with punishing clarity. “No, Mom, no, hang on, it’s not like that – ”
“It’s not?” she says, and she sounds so crestfallen, and Ryan stops.
Obviously, the logical thing to do here is say no. Ryan knows his mom wants him to be happy, and lying to her about who he’s dating is not going to help anything in the long run. But there’s always been a part of Ryan that is inherently illogical – and when he thinks about how happy his mom will be to hear that he’s dating again, that he’s with someone who she approves of no less, it would certainly ease her worrying about him. He’s already been stupid enough to make her think they’re together; he may as well go the full mile and just say it.
The more he thinks about it, the more it seems like a solid plan in his mind. He can always tell her that they’ve broken up in a month or two - nothing serious, they’re still friends, just a small fling. So instead of doing what he should do and telling his mom no, sorry, Shane and I aren’t dating, he takes a deep breath and says, “actually, Mom, it is exactly like that. Shane and I are… like that.”
“Ryan!” she exclaims, and he sighs, suddenly relieved, because he’ll take a shout of happiness over a solemn and tentative “how are you doing?” any day.
“That’s wonderful,” his mom continues, and Ryan smiles. And then she says, “You must bring him to the family Christmas dinner.”
“What?” Ryan starts, smile wiped off his face. “No, Mom, no he can’t -"
When Ryan hangs up the phone two minutes later, his mom has somehow made him promise to not only bring Shane to the family dinner in three weeks’ time, but also to arrive two hours early to help with the cooking.
He stares at his phone and mutters, “oh, fuck.”
It’s the beginning of December, and winter is making itself known in Los Angeles, and Ryan is not happy about it.
Sure, it’s picture perfect. The trees are leaf-less and spindly, stretching up to the sky in all their naked glory, some clothed in twinkling fairy lights that serve as a thrilling reminder of the upcoming Christmas celebrations. Shorts and singlets are replaced by jeans and coats, and everyone walks around with a spring in their step, because December in LA is cold enough to be classed as winter, but not cold enough for anyone to want to wrap themselves in heated blankets and pray for death.
That is, unless you’re Ryan Bergara, who fucking hates winter. Winter for Ryan means freezing your ass off, no matter how thick your jeans are; it means five minutes after you buy your coffee, it’s already close to lukewarm; it means that he’s shivering and wishing that he were anywhere else when he huddles in a corner of the Buzzfeed office carpark and tells Shane that he made his mom think they were dating and then actively confirmed it.
“What the fuck?” Shane says loudly, his eyebrows scrunched together in bewilderment.
“Shh, shh,” Ryan hushes him, furtively glancing around to make sure they haven’t caught the attention of anyone nearby. He’s keeping on guard - anyone could be down here and overhear them, and Ryan really doesn’t want this news spreading around.
Because it’s not news, so much as it’s Ryan’s fumbling idiocy. And anyone in that office would jump at the chance to laugh at Ryan (or anyone, really), like the caring motherfuckers that they are.
“Just go over it again,” Shane is saying, his hands on his hips and the toes of one foot tapping incessantly against the ground. He’s only wearing a light jumper and Ryan is mystified, because seriously, it must be less than 50 degrees down here. “What did you tell your mom?”
Ryan winces. “That we’re dating?”
“And why would you tell her that?” Shane asks, looking like he has no idea of what’s going on. “Is it a joke? Are you going to pull a prank on her?”
“No…” Ryan says hesitantly.
Shane keeps looking at him with that muddled expression. “Well then what? I’m a bit confused, here,” and isn’t that the understatement of the century.
Ryan shuts his eyes and, resigned, takes in a deep breath.
“I didn’t mean to,” he starts, flicking his eyes open to look at Shane. “But my mom and I were talking and – somehow – she got the idea that we were together. And I was an absolute idiot and said the wrong stuff and now she fully believes it.”
“How easy is it to say ‘no’?” Shane throws his arms up accusingly. “The word is two letters long, Ryan, even you could get it – say this with me: ‘No, Mom, Shane and I are not together, where would you get that idea’ – ”
“Look, can we not talk about it?” Ryan asks a bit desperately. To his chagrin, he feels his cheeks heating up. Apparently, no amount of cold weather can keep Ryan’s face from turning the colour of a tomato when he’s embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal - I can just tell her that we’ve broken up after Christmas, or something, but we’re still good friends and everything’s fine, etcetera.”
Shane eyes him quizzically. “Why after Christmas? Why not right now?”
This is what Ryan was afraid of. He bites his lip, braces himself, and then blurts out, “Because I told her we’d both go to the family Christmas dinner.”
“What?” Shane bursts out, even louder than before.
“I know, I’m stupid, I get it!” Ryan exclaims.
“I’m going home for Christmas, Ryan!” Shane says, waving his arms around in a gesture that would surely convey his anger and annoyance if he didn’t look so much like one of those blow-up tube men that stand in front of car dealerships being blown around by the wind.
“It’s not on Christmas Day,” Ryan explains. “It’s a few nights before. It’s so that some of my family can get together, because we all won’t be together on Christmas Day, because of visiting other family or partner’s families or whatever.”
Shane looks very hesitant.
“Come on, man,” Ryan pleads. “I really don’t want to disappoint her. Please? It’s one night of talking to my mom and eating good food. We don’t really need to do anything different.”
There’s a moment where everything hangs in the balance – where Shane pauses, staring at Ryan’s face as though he’s finally lost the plot, and Ryan stares back beseechingly. Shane could say no. Then Ryan would be really fucked.
He could say no – but he doesn’t.
“Fine,” Shane rolls his eyes, and Ryan breathes out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. “One holiday dinner, I guess I can manage that. For the record, though, you’re an idiot.”
“I know,” Ryan says, laughing at himself in part-amusement and part-relief. Shane picks up his bag from where it’s been sitting on the bonnet of his car and they both make their way towards the elevator.
“You owe me for this, big time,” Shane warns him, pressing the button.
“Yeah, whatever,” Ryan scoffs, and Shane elbows him in the ribs.
When Ryan walks into work the next morning, he’s feeling pretty good. Nothing bad has happened. No one else in the office found out about his blunder. He and Shane don’t have to worry about a thing until that Christmas dinner – and even then, that won’t be a big deal. They’re golden.
Or so he believes, until he sees Steven standing next to his desk, staring at him accusingly.
“Dude, what the hell?” Steven says, his arms outstretched. “You didn’t tell me you and Shane were together!”
“We’re – what?” Ryan shakes his head confusedly. “What the fuck, we’re not – where did you hear that?”
Steven crosses his arms over his chest. “Dude, don’t lie to me, okay, your mom told me.”
“What?” Ryan says again, and then, “oh, shit,” because he completely forgot that since that one dinner last year when Steven and Ryan’s mom huddled in the corner of a booth for two hours talking about the meaning of life and shit, Steven’s been pretty much adopted into the Bergara family and spends an hour a week talking to Ryan’s mom on the phone.
(Whenever Ryan mentions to his mom that this is sort of, y’know, weird, his mom just stares at him imploringly and says, “His parents live on the other side of the country,” which doesn’t exactly explain anything but makes Ryan pause for long enough for his mom to change the topic. Moms are sneaky like that.)
“It’s not like that,” Ryan says, a bit desperately. “You weren’t supposed to know – ”
“Oh fuck,” Steven’s eyes widen, “is it supposed to be a secret?”
“Uh…” Ryan trails off. He has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to say, here.
“Fuck, I’m sorry dude,” Steven starts, before being cut off by Eugene, who rounds the corner of the desk aisle, spots Ryan and shouts, “Ryan Bergara, I better see you and your beau Shane at the holiday party!”
“We’re not - it’s not – ” Ryan glances helplessly between a grinning Eugene and Steven. Steven just looks at him apologetically, and Ryan sighs, runs a hand over his face, and for the second time in as many days mutters, “fuck.”
Because he’s a weird freak of nature, Shane eats what he calls a ‘second breakfast’ around ten a.m. every morning.
“You’re like a hobbit,” Ryan had told him, way back when he was first getting to know Shane and did not understand the sheer amounts of food required to keep the Sasquatch running.
“Yes, exactly,” Shane had said, and Ryan could have teased him about it for longer, but at the last moment thought better of it and instead made Shane give him some of his food. Hobbits may be small humans with big hairy feet and they probably smelled a bit, but they knew what they were talking about when it came to mealtimes.
So Ryan knows exactly where to find him that morning; and when he walks into the office kitchen and sees Shane’s eyes shooting daggers at him, he knows he’s well and truly fucked.
“Ryan!” Shane says loudly, beckoning him over with an accusing glint in his eyes. “You’re just the person I want to see. Jen here has just told me something truly fascinating – ”
“I was so excited when I found out,” Jen grins up at Ryan, her genuine smile a stark contrast to Shane’s deliberate and over-the-top calmness.
“Jen has invited us to the Christmas party, Ryan,” Shane tells him. “Us. Together. Because we are dating. Did you know – ”
“Yeah, look, we need to talk about that,” Ryan says quickly. He fists a hand in Shane’s shirt and yanks, dragging him out of the kitchen and towards the entry corridor.
“Ryan – ” Shane sounds affronted, stumbling as Ryan pulls him along. “What – ”
“Shut up for a minute,” Ryan says. He leads him out of the Buzzfeed office space and down the outside walkway, away from the elevators, ignoring Shane’s subdued grumbling. It’s only when he reaches the end of the walkway, out of earshot of anyone else, that he finally relinquishes his hold on Shane and speaks.
“Dude, I know, you’re mad,” Ryan begins. “I’m sorry. I really did not expect anyone here to find out – ”
“Find out what? That we’re dating?” Shane scoffs. “Newsflash, Ryan: we’re not. But everyone here suddenly thinks we are, one day after you – for some reason that I will never be able to fathom – told your mom that we are thing. Together. An item.”
“I know!” Ryan exclaims. “Look, I know it was dumb. It was just supposed to be this little thing. But I forgot that Steven talks to my mom a lot – ”
“Steven talks to your mom?” Shane asks, momentarily puzzled.
“It’s a long story. But Steven must have talked to my mom after I told her, and she told him, and now he’s gone and told everyone, because nothing can ever stay a fucking secret in this office.” Bitterness laces itself through his last words, though Ryan knows that he can’t really blame office gossip for getting him into this godforsaken mess. He got himself into this shitstorm, and now he has to deal with it.
“So, okay, you’re an idiot,” Shane says, as though he’s settling a known matter. “Fine. We can just tell everyone that it’s not true.”
“I…” Ryan trails off, and Shane groans, tilts his head up to the sky and says, “Fuck, Ryan, no.”
“Just hear me out!” Ryan jumps in quickly. “It won’t be difficult – ”
“I am not pretending to be your long-term boyfriend!” Shane exclaims.
“That’s what you already agreed to do!” Ryan protests.
“To your family!” Shane huffs. “For one day. Not to the entire world, for three weeks.”
He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. The gesture makes his brown wisps stretch up from his scalp at odd angles, and Ryan has to remind himself that laughing at him in the middle of an argument is probably not the best way to get Shane to do what Ryan wants.
Instead of giggling at Shane's stupid hair, Ryan says, “Well, we can’t exactly go back in there and say ‘sorry guys, just a prank, we’re actually not together’.”
“Uh, yes we can,” Shane says, as though it’s obvious. “We can go back there and say exactly that.”
“No we can’t, Shane, Steven is there,” Ryan shakes his head. “And if Steven finds out that we’re not dating, he’ll tell my mom, and I’ll get a call this afternoon from my outraged mother, demanding to know why I told her I’m dating someone when I’m not.”
“And remind me, Ryan, why did you tell your mother that you were dating me?”
“I don’t fucking know!” Ryan bursts out, frustrated. “Listen, can you just do this for me? I can’t have her find out. She’ll get mad and then revert back to how she has been for the past year, all quiet and careful and worried about me. I don’t want her worrying about me. I’m fine.”
“Telling her that you’re dating me will make her stop worrying about you?” Shane asks, brow furrowing in confusion.
“Telling her that I’ve started dating again, no matter who it is, will make her stop worrying about me.”
“Wait,” Shane says slowly. “Does that mean you haven’t dated anyone since you and Helen split? At all?”
“No,” Ryan says, and then shakes his head. “Look, what does it matter? I just need her to relax about me a bit, and not find out that we aren’t together.”
“Three weeks, Ryan,” Shane says, hesitant. “Everyone here will expect us to be all, I don’t know, lovey-dovey. They’re expecting us to go to the holiday party. There will be joint costumes involved.”
“This is a workplace, they’re not gonna expect us to be all over each other at all,” Ryan says quickly. “We don’t have to pretend we live with each other, and we don’t even have to talk to each other, except for all the normal stuff we already do. The only place where we have to be couple-y is the holiday party, and that’s one evening.”
He looks at Shane beseechingly, and Shane studies him for a moment. There’s a moment of silence as Shane’s eyes roam over Ryan’s face, before he sighs wearily.
“Fine,” he says. “Fine. I’ll do it.”
Ryan breaths out a sigh of his own, in relief. “Thank you,” he says breathlessly. “I know this is stupid, and I promise I’ll never do something as dumb as this again – ”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Shane rolls his eyes. “As if. You’re Ryan Bergara, you’re constantly doing and thinking stupid shit. It’s in your nature.”
“Fuck you,” Ryan says, but the familiar banter calms him as he and Shane start walking back down the hallway towards the office door.
Of course, that calmness lasts all of two seconds before Shane tilts his head over to Ryan and says, “You do realise you dragging me out here by my shirt made us look even more suspicious, right?”
“What? I was barely touching you,” Ryan argues, his cheeks heating up.
“Nope, you had quite a firm grip on shirt,” Shane muses. “I wonder what they think we’re doing out here?”
They both look at each other for a moment, eyebrows raised.
Then Ryan rolls his eyes and says “Shut up, Shane,” and Shane throws his head back in laughter, and Ryan braces himself for a month of pretending to be Shane Madej’s boyfriend.