Written for Hogwarts' Meet Cute Marathon: A's parents have been hassling them with the same old thing for years: "why haven't you found someone yet?" Not wanting to spend another aggravating Christmas dinner with the family alone, A calls up a friend and tells the friend that they need a date to take to dinner. As a result, the friend sends an acquaintance, B, to pretend to be a loving partner of six months.

Also for the Writing Club - Count Your Buttons: Toothbrush, Lyric Alley: I'm just a believer, Television Show of the Month: Dr. Temperance "Bones" Brennan: (AU) Author, (item) book, (character), Marlene McKinnon, Liza's Love: Old Pal - Write about old friends, Jenny's Jovial Quotations: "This writing business. Pencils and whatnot. Overrated, if you ask me." - Winnie the Pooh, Serpent Day: Pit viper- (word) tidy, the Insane House challenge: Trope - Fake Dating, the 365 Prompts challenge: Job - Writer, the Gobstone Club: Pink Stone - Deception, Accuracy: (trope) Fake Relationship, Power: (food) Bacon, Technique: (color) Gold, Library Lovers: The Fault in Our Stars - John Green, (plot point) Meeting someone famous, (word) Metaphor, (word) Infinity.

Word count: 3749

follow me home

"So we'll see you on Christmas, right?"

Absently, Fabian nodded, before he realized that his mother couldn't hear him over the phone. Blushing, he stuttered, "Yes, of course. You know me — I'd never miss it."

His mother laughed. "That's true. In any case, please make sure that twin of yours gets there on time for once, alright? You know how Aunt Muriel hates that."

"Yes, Mum," Fabian replied faithfully. "We wouldn't want to disappoint Aunt Muriel," he said dryly.

"Hush you," he mother replied, though Fabian could hear the smile in her voice. Clearly, she still was as fond of the old woman as her children were. "Have some respect for your elders."

They chatted for a little while after that before she bid him goodbye.

"Oh, and before I forget — bring that boyfriend of yours, okay? We're all dying to meet him." And she hung up, leaving Fabian to stare at his phone in a panic.

"Oh, shit," he whispered, quickly wondering if maybe he couldn't fake some kind of grievous injury to get out of this dinner after all.

It wasn't like he had meant to invent a fake boyfriend. It had just sort of happened.

After years of having to endure overly concerned comments about the state of his love life — not that Gideon's was any better, since his brother seemed unable to maintain a relationship for more than a couple of months (though apparently even having a relationship in the first place was enough to reassure the family that he was happy) — he'd cracked one day, and told them he was seeing someone.

"It's all very new," he'd said as a way to get out of any further questioning. "We're taking it slow."

Somehow, he had even managed to get out of giving out a name.

Unfortunately, it seemed that this charade was about to end. Fabian moaned loudly and let his hand drop on the table. It hurt, but for a few blissful seconds, it distracted him from his idiocy.

"I'm screwed," he said. His mother's words — bring that boyfriend of yours, okay? — echoed in his mind ceaselessly.

She had sounded so happy about it too, Fabian couldn't bear to disappoint her. Which she would be if he didn't find someone to bring to their Christmas dinner.

It only left him with one option, really: find someone to play as his date for the holidays.

Sighing, he picked up his phone again and scrolled through his contacts. Among of all them all, there had to be someone who could help him out with this.

His eyes stopped on McKinnon, Marlene, and he slowly let out a sigh of relief. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of her earlier.

Despite being younger than him by several years, Marlene had befriended him and the rest of the Prewett clan, as she called them, easily — to the point that for a time, he'd had to field questions about when he'd just man up and ask her out.

He hadn't spoken to her in a couple of weeks, but they were old friends, and Marlene was perfect for this. She was a bit of a gossip — which you would never guess unless you knew her very well — and she knew virtually everyone.

If she couldn't find him someone to date for his family's Christmas dinner, no one could.

.

Marlene was very amused by Fabian's predicament, but she agreed to help him once she was done laughing.

"You're in luck," she said. "I know just the guy. I'll give him your number, he'll contact you. You can sort out the rest between the two of you."

"Thank you," Fabian breathed out. "You're a lifesaver. I owe you one."

"And don't you forget it." Marlene laughed, but then someone called out her name and she bid him goodbye.

It was only later, much later, as he waited for Marlene's mystery man to contact him, that he realized he had no idea what he was getting into.

What kind of person just agreed to be some stranger's date?

The same kind who begs strangers to be their date in the first place, Fabian's mind supplied him with, which… point.

In the end, he decided to trust Marlene. She wouldn't send him some crazy person, after all.

Still, by the time his phone finally vibrated with a new message, Fabian's hands were shaking so bad he almost didn't manage to open the text.

Hi, it said. You're Fabian, right? Marlene gave me your number.

I'm Edgar.

Edgar Bones.

She said you needed someone to go with you to a dinner for Christmas?

Fabian stared at the texts for a long time, heart hammering in his chest.

This was real. God, this was real. He was about to show up to his parents' house with some guy he hadn't even met yet.

His fingers still shook so badly typing was a nightmare, but Fabian forced himself to write an answer anyway.

Hi.

He hesitated about the next message for a long time, before merely sending:

Thanks for doing this. What did Marlene tell you?

The answer was almost instantaneous.

Just that she had found a way to get me out of my family's Christmas dinner. And that you needed someone to go with you to some dinner.

Fabian cursed low beneath his breath.

He felt terribly awkward typing his next answer.

My mother wants me to bring my boyfriend. Only I don't have a boyfriend. And that's where you're supposed to come in.

And then, worried that it sounded too presumptuous, he quickly sent another message.

I'd totally understand if you don't want to do this.

This time, Edgar took much longer to reply, and Fabian stared at the three little dots on his screen until he felt like he was going mad.

So you need a fake boyfriend.

Yeah. Is that weird? It's weird, isn't it?

God, he was rambling — he'd never rambled over text before.

It's a little bit weird, Edgar texted back. I didn't think people actually did that in real life.

Well now you know that they do, Fabian replied, adding a laughing emoji.

Edgar stayed silent for what felt like forever, before finally texting back, Fine. I'll do it.

Wait, for real?

Yes, Edgar replied, 'for real'.

Omg, thank you so much!

Fabian also added a hug emoji, which he also multiplied by an infinity symbol for good measure, grinning as Edgar then sent two texts that arrived almost simultaneously.

You're welcome.

So, how do you want to do this?

They kept texting for a while, during which they eventually decided that Edgar would pick Fabian up an hour before they had to arrive at his parents' house.

Shouldn't we meet earlier? Fabian asked tentatively.

We should, Edgar admitted, but I'm swamped at work. Deadlines, you know?

I feel you. What do you do for a living?

I'm a writer, Edgar replied.

Wow really?

Wait, of course, really. I just… Wow, I've never met a writer before.

Did you write anything I'd know?

When Edgar only stayed silent, Fabian added:

You don't have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.

No, it's fine. I'm just not used to speaking about my work with people who don't already know of it.

And I don't know… Have you heard of The Dark Mark? That's my most recent work.

It's a thriller.

I write thrillers.

Fabian smiled at his screen. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who rambled over text. He searched his mind for a book by that title but found nothing.

Making a mental note to look into it, he sent another message.

No, sorry.

In my defense, I don't read a lot.

It's fine. I didn't really expect you to know about it.

But yeah, anyway, the deadline for my next manuscript is coming up so I'm going to be very busy over the next couple of weeks.

Sorry.

Fabian tried not to feel too disappointed as he texted back.

Sure.

Good luck with your writing then, I guess?

Thanks.

They ended their conversation shortly after that — Edgar had to go back to his writing and Fabian unfortunately had some files he had meant to file over the weekend, and he had procrastinated long enough.

He sent Edgar is address and put a reminder in his phone for two weeks later, when Edgar was supposed to come pick him up. He didn't think he was likely to forget, but he'd rather be too vigilant in this than not enough. The last thing he needed was for Edgar to arrive while Fabian was still getting ready. This way, he could tidy up everything before Edgar showed up.

.

It wasn't until Tuesday, two days after Edgar had agreed to go to his parents' Christmas party with him, that Fabian finally found the time to buy his book.

He found it easily, the glossy cover proclaiming in gold lettering Winner of the Man Booker Prize.

Fabian whistled. "Damn."

He bought the book and started reading it that very night, and quickly enough Fabian became engrossed in the adventures of Detective Moody as he hunted a killer who liked to leave his mark painted over his victims' front door.

The intrigue was chilling, but also so enthralling that Fabian couldn't put it down. He read the book in one night, blinking blearily at his phone as his alarm rang just as he was finishing the last chapter, where Moody finally caught up to the culprit — or so he thought.

Fabian quickly shut down his alarm, and after only a quick moment of hesitation, he texted Edgar, not even caring for proper syntax or grammar in his excitement.

Omg, pls tell me ur doing a sequel 4 The Dark Mark.

I need it.

How could you end it like this?

Sorry if this bothers you, but I just finished, and damn man, that was amazing.

When Edgar didn't immediately reply, Fabian put down his phone and reluctantly started to get ready for his day.

He was in such a daze, mind still on Moody and his quest for the truth, that he almost put his toothbrush in his right eye instead of his mouth.

He forced himself to pay more attention to things after that, though he could tell this was going to be a difficult day when he wandered into his kitchen and started to fry some bacon — only to realize that he'd brushed his teeth before eating breakfast.

Luckily, half a pot of coffee later, he felt almost awake enough to function.

He was still so relieved to get told he was on desk duty for the day when he arrived at the precinct that his boss, Barty Crouch, asked him if he was sick.

"Just tired, sir," Fabian replied with his best shit-eating grin, and Crouch huffed before walking away and leaving Fabian to his work.

He spent the rest of the day filing reports and checking his phone obsessively for Edgar's answer.

He caught himself doodling his name on his table more than once — luckily it was nothing an eraser couldn't fix — and every time his phone vibrated from a text, Fabian jumped in his seat and hurried to check it, only to let out a disappointed sigh when he saw that Edgar wasn't the sender.

Edgar finally replied while Fabian was on his way home and struggling to keep his eyes open.

Hey, sorry for taking so long to answer, my phone was off.

Fabian was already typing before he'd finished reading Edgar's message.

No worries, I get it.

I should have turned off mine too, I probably would have gotten more done that way.

And yes, I am working on a sequel, you can rest easy.

I'm really flattered to hear that you liked it though.

Liked it? R u kidding?

I loved it.

It was amazing. I wasn't able to put it down!

Fabian's fingers hovered over the keys, hesitant, before he typed:

Glad to hear about that sequel!

Wait, did you buy my book after we talked?

Yesterday, actually.

I read it last night.

Omg, did you even sleep?

Fabian chuckled, grinning delightedly as Edgar broke his usually perfect grammar.

Nope.

But luckily for me, coffee exists.

Pretty sure that's what most of my blood is rn.

I'd say I'm sorry but I'm not. I'm glad you liked my story — though please don't make it a habit to neglect your sleep like this.

I swear.

Once was enough for me.

It really was, too. Fabian wasn't a teenager anymore, able to just stay up all night whenever he wanted to.

He was so focused on his texting that he almost missed his bus finally pulling in at his station, and he had to hurriedly push his way past the crowd until he finally managed to stumble outside, the fresh air a welcome change from the saturated heat he'd endured inside the bus.

He only managed to get back to checking his phone once he was back inside his own home, only to find that Edgar had sent him another text warning him he'd be offline from now on.

Fabian would have been disappointed, except that this meant he could just collapse on his bed and sleep, catching up with the night he'd spent up reading.

As he fell asleep, it occurred to him that this might have been Edgar's intention all along, and his heart fluttered oddly in his chest.

.

The days seemed to fly by and before Fabian really knew it, it was Christmas and time to get ready for the party.

Time for him to meet Edgar face to face too. They had texted on and off over the past two weeks, and every passing day had Fabian actually more eager to meet Edgar in person.

Not that anything could have really prepared him for the moment he opened his door and found him on the other side.

"Hi," was all Fabian managed before his brain shut down and he gaped.

Edgar was hot — no, worse than that, he was cute.

He was maybe half an inch taller than Fabian himself, and he was wearing a suit that made Fabian's knees go weak.

He was a redhead too, Fabian noted absently — though luckily for him his hair wasn't anywhere near as vivid of a red as Fabian's — with eyes a brown so light they almost looked gold.

"You're Fabian, right?" Edgar was starting to fidget on the doorstep when Fabian stayed silent. "I am at the right place, aren't I?"

Fabian blinked and shook his head, pasting on a smile. "Ah, yes, of course. Just give me a second to grab the gifts and we can be on our way."

Edgar relaxed. "Of course. Take your time."

As he went to collect his things, Fabian shot his twin a quick text.

I hope you're on your way already. Mum'll kill you if you're late.

He could almost see the eyeroll in Gideon's answer.

How's the date?

Very hot, if you must know.

Very, very hot.

Gideon didn't reply to that, but Fabian didn't expect him to.

Edgar was still standing in the entrance when Fabian returned barely five minutes later, looking as delicious now as he had before.

"Do you want me to…?" Edgar asked, nodding at the bags Fabian was holding.

"It's fine," Fabian replied, shaking his head. "They're not as heavy as they look."

Edgar shot him a dubious look but he nodded, and together they went down the stairs and walked to Edgar's car.

"We can say they're from the two of us," Fabian said as Edgar opened the trunk, the gesture allowing him to see the muscles in Edgar's arms flex pleasingly underneath the lines of his suit.

"Oh," Edgar said.

Fabian turned to face him, biting back a smile when he saw the red flush in Edgar's cheeks.

"What is it?"

"Just… I bought something from your parents too."

Fabian's heart skipped a beat. "Shit, my parents are gonna love you," he said.

Edgar smiled back awkwardly. "Isn't that good?"

"It's fantastic," Fabian replied, lips pulling into a painful smile. "It means this will be easy — but then they'll kill me when I tell them it didn't work out."

Edgar stayed silent while Fabian put the gifts away. He didn't speak again until they were pulling away from the parking spot.

"What if you didn't? Tell them that it 'didn't work out', I mean," Edgar said, fingers drumming awkwardly on the steering wheel.

Fabian stared at him, mouth dry. "What?" he asked, voice choked up.

Edgar's shoulders squared defensively and he kept his eyes trained to the road before them. "You're not seeing anyone else, are you? Well, me neither — and I like you. So why don't we just… see where this goes?"

"This isn't exactly normal first date material," Fabian replied. He found it hard to focus over the sound of his heart hammering in his chest.

Edgar shrugged. "I say normal is what we make of it. So, what do you say?

The word "Yes," fell from his mouth before he even had the time to think it.

Edgar smiled back, and the rest of the ride was filled with idle chatter and so many smiles Fabian's cheeks started to hurt.

It went by too quickly, and suddenly, from what seemed out of nowhere, they were pulling up in front of his parents' house.

.

"And you must be Fabian's boyfriend," Fabian's mother, Aileen, said. She greeted Edgar with a bright smile, patting him on the arm. "It's a pleasure. We've all been dying to meet you — and that's not a metaphor."

"A euphemism, you mean," Edgar corrected.

Aileen looked startled, eyes widening. "Why, I do believe you're right." She turned to Fabian. "You picked a smart one for once!"

Fabian flushed pink. "Mum!"

Aileen's smile widened. "That'll teach you not to tell us anything about him before bringing him home!" she said, sending her son an admonishing look before turning back to Edgar.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to everyone."

Edgar sent him an alarmed look as they followed.

"Sorry," Fabian whispered. "I forgot to warn you: my mother's a bit of a force of nature. Best to just go along with whatever she says."

"I'm starting to get that," Edgar whispered back. His breath tickled against Fabian's ear and Fabian shivered. "Anything else I should know?" he asked in the same tone of voice.

"Stay away from my Aunt Muriel — she's an old hag who loves to remind us about 'the good old days' (not that anyone knows what those are anymore) — and try to avoid my cousin Bilius. He's nice, but he'll talk your head off about finances and all the things you don't want to know about. My sister Molly is spending the night with her husband's family, but she said she'd call us later on, say hi to everyone."

"Got it," Edgar replied, head snapping to attention as they entered the living-room and Aileen started to introduce everyone.

"I think your mother's stolen your man," an amused voice said in his ear.

Fabian turned around, grinning. "Dad! It's good to see you."

"It's good to see you too, son," Reginald Prewett said, his own grin revealing wrinkles around his eyes and mouth that had been mostly absent in his wife. He nodded toward Edgar, whose eyes kept coming back to Fabian, barely concealed panic shining through them.

"Ah, Dad…"

Reginald chuckled. "Go on, son. Go rescue him before the wolves have him."

Fabian huffed a laugh of his own before rejoining Edgar and his mother. He fell at Edgar's side like he belonged there, lacing their fingers together.

Edgar squeezed his hand tight but his shoulders unwound almost instantly, causing pride to pool low in Fabian's stomach.

Soon after that, they were done meeting the relatives, and they sat down on a sofa, their bodies pressed so close Edgar was almost on Fabian's lap.

Gideon, who had pushed them toward those seats, wiggled his eyebrows at him. Fabian glared back, which only caused his twin's grin to widen.

"So, Edgar," Gideon said, "why don't you tell us more about you? Since my brother didn't seem it fit to do that himself." Fabian glared at him harder, but Gideon continued, unbothered. "What do you do in life?"

"I'm a writer," Edgar said. This time, Fabian was close enough to catch the slight stutter in his tone, and the way his cheeks darkened, just a little.

"Oh, really?" Aileen asked, eyes blown wide with curiosity. "Anything we might have heard of?"

Just as Edgar was about to answer, Aunt Muriel interrupted with a loud scoff. "This writing business. Pencils and whatnot. Overrated, if you ask me."

Aileen's smile turned fixed and her eyes grew cold. "Now, Muriel, you can't just say that." She turned to Edgar. "I'm sorry. Please do go on," she said pointedly.

"He wrote The Dark Mark," Fabian replied before Edgar could. "It won the Man Booker Prize," he added proudly.

It was only because he was watching her closely that Fabian caught the way Muriel's lips pursed thinly even as she leaned back in her chair. Obviously, even though she still didn't recognize writing as a worthwhile endeavor — Fabian had heard her talk about what she considered 'worthwhile' often enough to recognize when she was readying herself for a lecture — she recognized that winning such a prize was a distinction she couldn't take away from Edgar.

It made Fabian viciously glad.

"Wow, congratulations," his mother was saying to a blushing Edgar.

"Wait," Gideon interjected. Fabian rolled his eyes, steeling himself for whatever idiocy his brother would spout this time. "Fabian, you read his book? You hate reading," he stated disbelievingly.

"I don't hate reading," Fabian spluttered. "I just… don't do it often."

"Try never," Gideon replied, nodding knowingly in Edgar's direction. "You must be something special if my brother's actually reading for you."

Fabian's cheeks burned and he buried his head in Edgar's shoulder with a loud groan.

Fabian didn't catch Edgar's answer, but he did hear the way his mother cooed at it.

He raised his head, smile turning soft at the edges as his eyes caught Edgar's. "He is," he said, answering Gideon's earlier claim. "He is something special."