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

“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.

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

[“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.

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

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.

“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.

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.