"Say that again," Brendon says. "The part about how I think you want me to be your pretend gay boyfriend to your elementary school teacher's retirement party. I think you're kind of crazy. Did you call Ryan?"

Pretend marriage (for a job maybe?) becomes real.

Eliot always ends up playing the broken guys when they grift

Wally is totally not gay. Neither is Dick. So it's totally not gay if they practice being good boyfriends with each other, right?

Barry says, “Maybe we should have gotten the lovebirds their own table,” and that’s the point where Dick can’t take it anymore. In which there are fake relationships, bro codes, schemes and surprisingly supportive mentors. Oh, and some cupcakes.

Parker and Hardison pretend to be married for a job.

"I'm sure we'll make a lovely couple," Clint said, and forced a smile. "Honey."

“It's a contingency plan in case of accidental teenagering,” says Stark.

"Be cool, Dad, we've decided to con Grandma." (Or, the one where the Stilinski men drag Derek to Thanksgiving dinner at Grandma's and she gets the right wrong idea.)

In which the gay bar is Stalberg's idea and Kaner doesn't notice Jon pretending to be his boyfriend.

Written for a prompt on the kinkmeme. TFLN: My dad just asked me if my booty call guy that comes over at 3am and leaves at 6 would like to stay for Sunday brunch next week. You in?

Even though he’s making fun of it, Stiles thinks the whole thing sounds awesome and, like most stuff these days, the experience is going to be totally wasted on Scott.

BUT WHAT IF INVESTIGATION FOR MARRIAGE FRAUD:

“Ah, yeah, Desiree, I told you I was meeting someone. Well, that someone is Derek. My boyfriend. We’re totally in love.” His heart was racing and Derek was holding him so tight it was difficult to turn enough to face the young woman. What he did see of her had his breath catching on fishhooks in his throat. She was normally a relatively pretty girl, with cute round cheeks and large dark eyes, but in that moment she looked…terrifying. Her cheeks seemed gaunt, her eyes glowing like they were little windows peeking into a deep pit of raging flame. (Or: Five or so years after the show. Stiles is in college, and finds himself getting stalked by a succubus. Derek's determined that the best way to thwart her is to prove that he and Stiles are madly in love. It's not really as much of an act as either seems to think.)

"I bet you a hundred bucks," Sharpy says, gesturing with his drink to punctuate how very serious he is about this suggestion, "that I can pick up the next person who walks in that door before you can." Duncan Keith probably shouldn't have taken that bet.

Shawn goes undercover at a BDSM club and runs into Lassiter. He assumes Lassiter is undercover as well. He's wrong.

Derek can handle this. He can. “You can do this,” he says, to his pale and pinched-looking reflection, to the faint bags under his eyes and the tension creases at the corners of his mouth. If he says it enough times it’ll stick sooner or later.

It's not until after he's pulled the whole thing off that Jason realizes what a stupid move it was.

"Is it too early to go and lock myself in my room and scream?"

"It's a match made in high society heaven." Tim drawls. "Also, it's your turn to make dinner tonight, you should get on that."

"Oh bloody fucking DAMN!" Sherlock shouted, apropos of nothing. John nearly dropped his tea. John turned and found Sherlock shaking his passport. "Mycroft made me French!"

“Shit, man, you’ve got your eye on someone? Who is it? Do I know her? What’s the hold up?” Shitty asks. Jack furrows his brow, confused. “Uh, what? Shitty, no, there’s no girl-” “A guy?” Shitty interrupts, clearly having entirely missed the point. Jack opens his mouth to point his out, but Shitty beats him to it. “Oh, shit. Bitty?”

This is not exactly what Jensen was expecting when he came into work this morning.

Bull is on the worst blind date with Trevor Trevelyan, and Dorian swoops in, pretending to be his ex that wants to get back together.

Three years is a long time to fake-date your friend as a favor. Flower, Véro, and Sid maybe need this pointed out for them.

Jason has small, meaningless interactions with his family. The media outlets of Gotham disagree.

There's a man hiding in the eaves of his porch. Sakumo blinks, tips his head, but the image doesn’t change. A shinobi in a Konoha uniform has somehow managed to stuff himself into the corner of the roof, entirely out of sight from practically everywhere except the spot Sakumo is currently standing. "Can I help you?" he asks bemusedly.

All of this, Kakashi would like it noted, is because he has terrible friends.

Kurenai looks thoughtful. “So you want help picking someone who will annoy him?” “I want help picking someone who will give him an aneurism,” Asuma corrects, because he’s always been a fan of go big or go home. “Pissing off the mayor seems like a bad idea,” Raidō ventures after a moment, but he’s already looking around the lunchroom, scanning for targets. Asuma snorts. “I'm not pissing off the mayor, I'm pissing off my father,” he says. “Despite what he wants to think, there is a difference.”

“Thank you,” he says, and the words feel like they don’t fit right in his mouth. What are you supposed to say, really, when someone gives you a piece of their spirit-form? Especially under these circumstances. Shisui wishes treason came with some kind of manual. Maybe a book full of helpful hints. When plotting to overturn decades of hatred and stop a war by lying to the whole world, be careful not to offend the man giving you his teeth to wear as earrings.

Mikoto does not want her elderly relatives trying to pick out her future husband. Kushina has a brilliant idea. (Oh no... she's hot.)

“Just to be clear,” Andrew says. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to spite your high school bully and your high school girlfriend and possibly the entire state of Ohio?” Steven giggles. “Spite’s such a harsh word. Shock and impress, maybe.” “For a man of faith you’re being awfully morally flexible about this,” Andrew says.

“There’s too much to be done,” Padmé says, and looks back to meet the holo’s flickering gaze. “Our base on Ithor was compromised, and I can't take the time to vet a bodyguard—” “Then it’s a good thing,” Obi-Wan says with careful cheer, “that I found one for you.”

In which there’s a jewellery thief on the loose, Tang Fan plays dress up, gets a mild concussion and also a boyfriend.

Sui Zhou just wants a drink to take the edge off after a shit day.

“Are you really sure this is necessary?” Jon asks, faintly hunted.

[“Okay, but listen,” Zuko says. “I’m listening.” “Did you forget about the capitalist scam happening tomorrow?” He asks. “You know, patron saint of shitty teddy bears and pretending that a few flowers makes up for being emotionally constipated the rest of the year?” Zuko shrugs. “Not like I lied.” “Sounds kind of like you lied.” “He said couple,” Zuko points out, “We are a couple. A couple of people who want a discount.”] Or, Zuko and Sokka work the system.

“He will know we are faking.” Mobei-jun says. “We’re sharing a room, how will he know?” “He has the room on the other side of the wall. We will have to share the bed.”

In which Zuko’s advisors won’t stop harassing him about suitable candidates for Fire Lady, and Zuko’s friends hatch an ingenious plan: pretend courtships.

Jango's eyes flicker up, down, up again, and it’s meant to be dismissive, but Shaak knows wariness when she sees it, and it makes her smile just a little. “Lady, I just tried to put a slug through that fancy headdress of yours.” With a chuckle, Shaak takes a step closer. “Fett, I've been a Jedi for decades. If I held a grudge against everyone who had tried to kill me, I would have more enemies than you.”

Forbes family reunions are an Event, capitalised and all. Sidney’s dying, and it’s mostly because his great aunt Patricia won’t stop asking when he’s going to bring a nice girl to meet them, while everyone within earshot sniggers into their drinks. She’s somehow the only one who doesn’t know Sidney’s bisexual, and that it could very well be a not-so-nice boy he brings home one day. So he’s looking around frantically for an excuse to A) assert his sexuality to his slightly homophobic great aunt and B) escape, when he spots it in the form of a tall, dark and handsome stranger walking into the backyard with his second cousin Keith.

“You can’t be picked if you’re married," Nicky says, like it's obvious. “I’m not married,” Alex replies. “You’re marrying me,” Nicky says, his jaw set. “You haven’t proposed."

“I need a favor,” Connor interrupts. That does not make Dylan feel any better. If Connor has to drive them halfway to Guelph to even ask, it must be big. “Of course,” says Dylan at once. Connor frowns at him, sidelong. “Don’t say that before I tell you what it is.” Well, that’s not ominous at all. “What did you do, murder someone and need help hiding the body?” Dylan tries to chirp. Connor’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

Jack has tried deflection, dismissal, and flat-out denial, but nothing seems to be able to dissuade the media from the McDavid-Eichel rivalry narrative, which is why he agrees when Connor suggests trying a new tactic: pretending to be friends.

Connor McDavid and Dylan Strome are going to the Toronto Maple Leafs together. Even if they have to get married about it.

"Yeah, I think it's better that way than in front of a bunch of cameras. I mean, it's better to be a little bit low key about it."

He doesn’t want a boyfriend, but he told Connor he’d find one, and he isn’t about to let Worries McHeadache have satisfaction at the hands of Dylan’s failure to find a significant other on Tinder.

Padmé hears the sharp, ragged gasp, and she’s already turning when Fives jerks up off the bed, on his feet in an instant. A fist lashes out, almost too quick to see, but Padmé catches it, twists, pulls, and when Fives staggers, he falls right into her with a cry. “Easy,” Padmé says, and catches him, holds him up as he gets his bearings. “You’re all right, I swear. You’re safe, Fives.”

"You want to get boba," Dabi asks flatly, not really a question. His arms cross over his chest. The 'with me,' remains unsaid, but Hawks hears it loud and clear. Hawks rolls his eyes. "Yes! Oh my god, stop making such a big deal over it. Do you want me to buy you a drink or not?" Hawks and Dabi go on a series of "dates".

There are plenty of fabricated stories about Dirtyhands and the Wraith. Kaz and Inej don't mind making up a few more. Five times Kaz and Inej lie about how they met, and one time they don't.