smooth operator
reptilianraven

Summary:
See, just a few hours ago in the hallway, Jeremy may have told a little tiny lie to Jake. Just a casual, offhand comment in reply to Jake's casual, offhand, "Yo, just curious, but have you ever had sex?"

It's a question so out of the left field that Jeremy practically has no choice but to answer, "Pfft, yeah, of course."

It's all downhill from there.

The rumor-filled totally false account of how Jeremy Heere allegedly slept with basically everybody.


Literally just ten minutes after Jeremy gets home, two seconds before he crawls into bed, dead set on curling up into a blanket cocoon and perhaps dying in it, leaving future archaeologists to wonder just what kind of sad, pathetic life Jeremy Heere had led, his phone blares the Final Fantasy Victory Fanfare, signalling that his best friend is calling.

Jeremy swipes his phone to answer and is greeted by the sound of Michael trying but ultimately failing to hold in laughter. Jeremy is an embarrassing person, so it's a common sound he can easily recognize.

"Hiya, Jer, uh," Michael says and Jeremy can tell he's trying so hard. "Is there, uh, anything you wanna tell me?"

"No," he grumbles, throwing himself onto his bed. He really hopes Michael isn't talking about what he thinks he's talking about. It's been less than a day. "Why?"

"Well, you've been pretty popular on the local grapevine of gossip today." Michael says, grin oh so evident in his words. "Like, you are the big buzz—"

"Michael."

"—the main cheese—

"Michael."

"—the bangin' blues—"

"That one doesn't even make sense anymore. Please just say it and put me out of my misery." Jeremy buries his face in his pillow.

It doesn't do much to muffle Michael voice, tinny and loud and laughing his ass off through Jeremy's phone, saying "APPARENTLY MY BOY ISN'T A VIRGIN ANYMORE!"

Jeremy mashes his face into his pillow and hopes that if the universe had any mercy, any mercy at all, his pillow would magically turn into a bear trap and snap his head off. Evidently, this doesn't happen, but after what Jeremy's just done, he figures he should be allowed to hope.

(See, just a few hours ago in the hallway, Jeremy may have told a little tiny lie to Jake. Just a casual, offhand comment in reply to Jake's casual, offhand, "Yo, just curious, but have you ever had sex?"

It's a question so out of the left field that Jeremy practically has no choice but to answer, "Pfft, yeah, of course."

Jake brightens up like a labrador retriever being told he's going for a walk, "What, really? Congrats!" He slaps Jeremy's shoulder chummily. Jeremy's pretty sure he's got a bruise. "Anyway, I've got class. See you later, smooth operator."

"Haha, yeah," Jeremy mumbles to Jake's retreating form, a churning in his gut very helpfully telling him that this was far from over.)

"Shut up, oh my god, c'mon, you know it's bullshit." Jeremy groans. On the line, Michael is still snickering, but it's thankfully starting to die down.

"Of course I know it's bullshit, man. If you ever actually had sex with something that wasn't your hand, I'd be the first guy you'd tell," Michael says, finally composed again. "No offense to Jake, of course. He's rad, but I'm higher in terms friend hierarchy, y'know? I'm the highest."

"Are you high right now?"

"No, no. God, if I was I'd just be cackling the entire time, holy shit." Michael sort of assures him. "But hilarity aside, how did this happen?"

"Jake just asked and I couldn't help but lie," Jeremy sighs. "Like even though we're friends now I'm still kind of intimidated by him because he works out and has perfect teeth? I couldn't say 'oh, no, I haven't because I'm a loser and nobody will ever love me let alone have sex with me.'"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, back up. We just spiralled down into self-deprecation-ville at startlingly high speeds. I think I might have to ticket you," Jeremy snorts. Michael says, voice soft and sincere, "Dude, you aren't a loser and you are loved as fuck. So loved. Pretty sure the only person who doesn't love you is, well, you. But that's okay! It's difficult, so take your time, man. In the meantime, I'll love you for you.

Jeremy thinks he hears something that sounds like a facepalm followed by a screech on the line, but he can't be too sure. He's too busy feeling warm and happy from Michael's words.

"Thanks. You're a really great friend." Jeremy hugs his pillow to his chest. "How'd, uh, how'd you hear about this anyway?"

"Jer, the real question is who hasn't heard about this," Michael tells him. Goodbye warm fuzzy feeling, hello buzzing anxiety hellscape. "I think Jake told Rich and Rich told Christine who told Brooke who told Chloe who told Jenna—"

"Who probably told the entire school."

"Pretty much. Everybody's just in such a tizz because they think you're cool, y'know? You're hot news, right now."

"But I don't wanna be hot news," he says petulantly. "Can I die? Michael, can I do that? I'll donate my skull to the school as a prop. I'd make a great Yorick."

"Absolutely not," Michael huffs, "I'm pretty sure everybody will get tired of it soon, alright?"

"God, I hope so. If people keep talking about it, they'll figure out it's bullshit and that'll be pathetic because then everybody will know I lied and—"

"Hey, shhhhh, dude." Michael says. It's a product of years upon years of Michael calming him down that it's almost a Pavlovian reaction for Jeremy to take a deep, calming breath. "Everything's gonna be fine, and if it isn't, I've got your back, okay?"

"Okay," Jeremy says. "Okay, yeah, you're right. You've got me."

"I sure do, buddy."

"And everybody will forget about all this and it'll all be fine."

"Right on," Michael says, and Jeremy believes him. Everything is going to be fine.

Everything is not fine.

When Jeremy gets to school the next day, he's followed by not-so-subtle glances that people do a shit job of averting. It's almost as if they don't know humans have peripheral vision. Jeremy can see every raised hand to whisper to a friend, every doubtful once over. In his classes, he tries his best to concentrate past the murmurs of holy shit, really, congrats to him, right, wonder who it was, what if he's just lying. What if he's just lying.

"You look like ass," Michael greets him with a smile later at lunch. "What's up?"

"What do you think is up?" Jeremy stabs at his carton of chocolate milk with a straw. Before he can whine his woes out to his best friend, they're interrupted by Rich.

"Yo, dudes!" Rich slides onto the bench in front of them, smooth as you can. "How's it hanging? Jeremy I heard you had sex. Congratulations!"

Jeremy wants to put his face into his hands and scream, but Rich is holding his hand out for a high five. Michael nudges him. Bros don't leave bros hanging. Jeremy puts his Everything Is Okay face on and high fives Rich.

"What the hell is going on with your face, man?" Rich asks, appeased by the high five.

"This is how my face normally looks like," Jeremy says.

"Like you swallowed a sewer rat?"

"So, Rich!" Michael says because Michael is Jeremy's best friend. "How's your life? How's your hamster? How's that paper crane I gave you last Tuesday?"

"Life? Awesome. Hamster? Pudgy as ever. Crane? On my desk in my room next to the feather Jake gave me," Rich counts off on his fingers, returning his gaze to Jeremy, damn it. "Jeremy, we're bros, right?"

"Yeah," Jeremy croaks.

"And bros tell bros stuff, right?"

"Of course," Jeremy squeezes Michael's wrist under the table, so not looking forward to where this is going. Michael must agree because he makes a tiny, pained noise.

"So I gotta ask," Rich leans in, shifty and secretive. He whispers, "Who was it?"

"Who was what?" Jeremy plays dumb.

"Who did you do the do with, man?" Rich laughs. "It'll just be between us three bros and I'm just super curious. Mega curious."

"Oh, well, haaaaaa," Jeremy is going to die. He's going to die here at a lunch table in a suburban high school in New Jersey because the answer is nobody, and his two choices are to either own up to it or figure out another lie to tell.

Rich, oblivious to the mental armageddon raging through Jeremy's mind says, "Michael, aren't you curious?"

"Haaaaaa, well," Michael draws out, smiling. Jeremy can see the abort abort abort mission flashing in his eyes though. Michael is such a good friend who does not deserve to be pulled into this, but is diving right in anyway. "You see—"

"No way," Rich groans, slumping over the table. "He already told you? What about me? Bro triumvirate, c'mon."

"Triumvirates usually ended up killing each other," Jeremy says.

"Yeah, and you're killing me here, Heere," and Rich pouts. God, he's pouting. Pouting. Jeremy and Michael share a pained glance. Rich had told them once that he's always afraid of being left out and forgotten, and right now he looks like the saddest thing on two short legs in the world.

"It's not that I don't want to tell you, okay, it's just—" Jeremy sends oh god please help me looks to Michael.

It's at that moment something in Michael's eyes steel with determination. Michael takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and says heroically. "It was me."

What.

"What," Jeremy says.

"What," Rich says, lifting his head from the table.

What, Jeremy tries to convey with his face to Michael, hoping to get the message past just how much he must be blushing right now.

"We had sex!" Michael says again, confident, loud, and at the exact moment everybody the cafeteria is overcome with the inexplicable urge to simultaneously shut the hell up. It's dead quiet save for the faint echo of sex, sex, sex probably reverberating through the hallways, because Jeremy is sure the school decided to have incredible acoustics right now just so that this mortifying moment can be broadcasted to everybody with working ears.

"What the hell, nice one, guys!" Rich grins, breaking what felt like eons of silence. "Congratulations on finally getting together!"

"WE ARE NOT TOGETHER," Jeremy blurts out, releasing Michael's wrist. Jeremy can barely keep up with one lie, there's no way he can keep up with living two, especially not one that would tie Michael to him against Michael's will. Michael, for some reason, looks hurt, but it flickers away in a second, replaced instead by an easy smile.

"We are not together," Michael nods sagely. Jeremy, who has no idea what to do in this situation, nods along, drinking his chocolate milk in an effort to calm himself down. "We are not together but we had sex."

"So," Rich looks at them, eyes darting from Michael to Jeremy to Michael to Jeremy. He looks like he's trying to solve a Rubik's cube with his eyes. "So you guys are, what, best friends with benefits?"

Jeremy coughs, violently wheezing on artificially flavored dairy as Michael pats him on the back like the champ he is.

"Nope," Michael says, face impressively unperturbed. "Jeremy just has a lot of sex with lots of people."

Jeremy is about to launch himself into the sun.

"Uh," Rich says.

"So much sex. With people. So many people. Like, uh," Michael says because he's a great friend who's just created the ultimate clusterfuck of a lie to save Jeremy's ass. It just so happens that it's kind of making everything eight thousand times worse. "People like—" Michael darts his eyes to Jenna Rolan who just sat at the table across them. "Jenna!"

"Jenna?" Rich says.

"Jenna?" Jeremy squawks.

"Jenna?" Jenna says, looking at all three of them, an eyebrow expertly raised like it's about to cut up a bitch. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Apparently you had sex with Jeremy?" Rich asks cautiously.

Jenna's eyes narrow upon the sight in front of her; Jeremy Heere who looks like he's two seconds away from the sweet embrace of death, Michael Mell who looks like he's going to pull Jeremy kicking and screaming out of the river Styx with his own bare hands, and Richard Goranski who looks like that that one meme of the confused lady with the equations. Whatever she sees, Jeremy has no idea, but it doesn't really matter because she shrugs and says, "Yeah, okay."

"Oh-kay, then!" Michael yells, probably as shocked as Jeremy is. "He's fantastic, right?"

"Sure is," she says dead serious.

Slowly, Jeremy looks at Michael thinking what in the fuck so loudly that he's sure Michael can hear it. Michael does this weird smile wince thing which means that he has no idea what he's doing either.

"Huh," Rich sits back, reassessing reality and how one understands and experiences it. "Wow. I didn't peg you for the type, Jer. Which! I'm totally not shaming you, or whatever! Go get it, son! I just really didn't expect this. Wow. Wow."

"Wow," Jeremy says.

"Wow," Michael says.

The bell rings before the heavy awkwardness can become tangible and sentient enough to stab all three of them between the ribs with a shiv. Jeremy's never been happier for lunch to end in his entire life.

"I am so sorry—"

"Michael, it's okay, you were just—"

"—I just complicated everything so much—"

"—backing me up in, uh, the only way you knew how and—"

"-and Jenna! I have to apologize to Jenna too and—"

"Michael," Jeremy grabs him by the shoulders, stopping Michael's pacing. If he paced for a second longer, he might've started wearing down the floor of Jeremy's room. "It's okay. You didn't do anything wrong, alright? And if you did, I forgive you."

"Okay," Michael deflates. "But Jenna—"

"About that," Jeremy sits down on one of the beanbags. "She actually uh, talked to me after class?"

(Jeremy tries his best to scuttle out of his classes to the parking lot without anybody else seeing him and his lying ass, but Jenna quite literally grabs him by the back of his bag and drags him into a weird deserted portion of the school because Middleborough High is littered with wormholes, or something.

"Please don't kill me," Jeremy says. "Or Michael. Or Rich. Michael and I are really sorry for bringing you into this and—"

"Why are you apologizing?" Jenna interrupts. "That's what I was going to do."

"I—you. What?" he says, officially lost. "What?"

"I mean, I figure I owe you one," she shrugs. Jenna still looks like she could kill Jeremy, but there's also this vulnerability there, too. A bitterness. "I lied to up my image, so, yeah. Sorry."

"Image?" Jeremy says, still lost.

"Jeremy, I know you're a bit slow on the uptake, but people think you're awesome," Jenna rolls her eyes. "I agreed to whatever the hell was going on at lunch because honestly? It's actually gonna get people to see me as a person and not just some glorified gossip dispenser."

"Whoa, wait, you're a person whether you have sex or not. Dumb shit like this doesn't define you," Jeremy says, stamping down on the urge to hug Jenna and validate her. He's pretty sure she'd kick him in the gut if he tried.

"I know that," she tucks her hair behind her ear. "But this helps. So, yeah. I'm sorry for using you."

"I—uh. Apology accepted. But just for the record, thank you."

"What? Why?"

"Because I didn't actually have sex with anybody," Jeremy confesses, concentrating on his shoelaces. They're suddenly very fascinating. "I, uh, lied. And it blew up. So, if your lie is beneficial to you, would it be okay if—"

"If I kept it up so that nobody will figure out that you're lying?" Jenna smirks.

"Yeah. That," he scratches the back of his head nervously.

"You know what? Deal. I'll even spice it up some more," Jenna holds her hand out for a shake. "To liars."

"Uh," Jeremy shakes her hand. "To liars.")

"Oh, well," Michael blinks, taking in what Jeremy just told him. "I'm kind of surprised at how well that worked out."

"Tell me about it," Jeremy sinks into the beanbag, exhausted at everything that happened today. He rubs his palms into his eyes. "Can we just, I dunno, do whatever and forget about everything outside this room for a few hours?"

"Now that I can do," Michael tosses Jeremy a controller and ruffles Jeremy's hair. "Who needs sex when you've got video games, right?"

"Who needs sex when I've got you?" Jeremy smiles, glad that he's got somebody like Michael who's always by his side.

"Yeah," Michael croaks, looking away. "Absolutely. Now come on. Zombie killing time."

Since Jenna is how everybody gets to know everything, the news that Jeremy is some suave bisexual bicycle that tons of people have taken a ride on spreads faster than most news outlets could only dream of doing. Once Michael stops beating himself up over the lunch conundrum, he's back to his usual teasing self, more than happy to regale just how (hypothetically) great Jeremy is in bed to anybody who has enough misfortune to ask. Jeremy, for one, is still mortified by the entire ordeal, worried beyond belief that it'll all come crashing down as one big lie, but it never does.

So in the usual pattern of high school gossip; life goes on. All Jeremy has to do is keep his head down until it all blows over and this'll just be one of those things Michael and Jeremy will laugh at years in the future.

Honestly, Jeremy shouldn't have even entertained the idea of being that lucky.

Jeremy gets ambushed by Brooke and Chloe on the way to play rehearsal. It's all a blur. All he can remember is Brooke happily greeting him and looping her arm with Jeremy's before Chloe comes up from behind in a way that wouldn't look too out of place with the Jaws theme playing in the background, her hand a tight grip on his shoulder like a vulture ready to fly off with his carcass.

"Jeremy," Brooke says, voice sugar sweet. "Chloe and I have to talk to you."

"Yeah, Jeremy," Chloe says, voice sweet in the way poisons probably taste like. "We've gotta talk to you."

"Oh my god," Jeremy says, wondering just how many near death experiences a seventeen year old can have before he spontaneously combusts out of stress.

Brooke and Chloe subtly steer him through the hallways into a janitor's closet. Vaguely, he realizes that they could murder him here. It's not a productive thought, instead sending him into a subdued panic when the door clicks closed.

"Jeremy Heere, I want to have sex with you," Chloe says. Behind her, Brooke smiles.

"Uh," he says intelligently.

"Hypothetically, of course," Chloe amends. "Jenna told me about this whole sex thing being a sham, and I want in."

"Jenna told you?" Jeremy shrinks. At this rate, everybody's going to know soon enough. But right now, the pressing matter is a bit more puzzling. "Wait, uh. Why?"

"Because of this, idiot," Chloe rolls her eyes and holds Brooke's hand delicately, fingers intertwining, fitting together as if they were always meant to. Chloe glances at Brooke, and for the first time in Jeremy's life, Chloe doesn't look terrifying. She just looks in love; face slack, soft, and painfully honest. It kind of makes Jeremy's chest feel like it's going to explode.

"Chloe and I are dating," Brooke says, raising their laced fingers to her lips, giving Chloe's hand a soft kiss. It's such a tender moment, Jeremy feels like he's intruding. "But I'm not out to my parents. And it's kind of better that way."

"Brooke's parents are dicks," Chloe says viciously. There's the terror again. Oddly enough, Jeremy is relieved. "And I'm worried that they'll catch on to how we're dating, seeing as how neither of us are dating anybody else. What we need is a little distraction to affirm how we're totally not girlfriends. With my reputation, it's a bit more in character for me to just suddenly have sex with a dude. With you."

"Okay, I think I'm catching on now," Jeremy says slowly.

"Good," Chloe nods. "You don't even really have to do much. All you have to do is go along with it. I'll tell Jenna and Jenna will tell everybody else and—"

"Problem solved," Brooke grins, but it falters. She bites her lip nervously and says, "Of course, I know this is a lot to ask of you, Jeremy. Lying all the time can be hard and it wears you down so we totally understand if you don't want to do this."

"I'll probably be pissed at you for weeks," Chloe admits, but grimaces when Brooke elbows her in the side. "But yeah, I'll understand, or whatever."

"No, I'll—I'll do it," Jeremy finds himself saying. "If it will really help you guys out, I'll do it."

"Jeremy!" Brooke tackle hugs him. Alarmed, Jeremy glances to Chloe who thankfully just looks fond. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"It's no problem, really," Jeremy awkwardly pats Brooke's head. "Just, uh, don't tell anybody else that this is all one big lie?"

"Of course," Chloe scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder. "That wouldn't benefit anybody."

And it would also cause the downfall of Jeremy's entire life, but he figures that that's a more apt way to say it anyway.

By this point, Jeremy's frankly in awe with Jenna Rolan's disseminative powers. During rehearsal, there's a wave of message dings and text buzzes. A bunch of students blink at their phones before glancing at Jeremy, murmuring softly.

Christine, who is sitting next to him reading over her lines checks her phone, looks at Jeremy, checks her phone again, turns back to him and says, "Huh."

"Yeeaaahhhh," Jeremy drawls. His shoelaces are so great. So interesting. Positively captivating.

Christine blinks owlishly at him, "You're being safe, right?"

"Oh my god," Jeremy squeaks.

Christine continues, headstrong like the cutest battering ram in a denim jacket. "Because I've heard the news and I'm really proud that you're getting confident with your sexuality and exploring and having sex and stuff, even though I don't really see the appeal, but you are using protection, right? Right? STDs are no laughing matter, Jeremy—"

"I am not laughing at STDs! I am using so much safety," Jeremy says, wincing internally. Using so much safety, what the fuck? "Condoms? Love that." His hand is shaking. It wants desperately to smack his forehead. "So protected. One hundred percent."

"Okay, okay, good, I'm glad you're having fun." Christine smiles, but she's always been one of Jeremy's more perceptive friends. "You—Jeremy, is there something wrong?"

"No. Yes. It's," he takes a deep breath. "It's nothing. Just usual stress."

"Okay," she nods. "But if ever you need to talk about anything, I'm right here okay? And if you don't want to talk to me, you can talk to somebody else. We're your friends. You can tell us anything."

Jeremy feels a stab of guilt pierce his soul. "Thanks."

"Alright, people!" Mr. Reyes walks in, clapping his hands to grab everybody's attention. "Let's stop talking about the local heartthrob and start practicing."

Jesus Christ.

Later, he goes over to Michael's place because Michael always makes him feel better. Michael stuffs him in a soft blanket and shoves a tub of ice cream into his hands. Together, they sit on Michael's kitchen counter and shovel cold sugary cookies and cream heaven into their respective mouths as Jeremy tells him all about today's unmitigated disasters.

"Dude, you're kind of awesome for agreeing to that," Michael says around the spoon in his mouth. "Not all heroes wear capes. Some heroes wear stripes and thumbhole cardigans."

"Thanks, I guess," Jeremy says, idly excavating a cookie bit. "I'm just—worried."

"When are you ever not?"

"Fair point," he says. Jeremy's spoon gets stuck in the ice cream, a mocking Excalibur. "Ugh."

"Oh, you poor thing," Michael snickers as Jeremy tries to extricate the utensil from the ice cream's cruel cold grasp. "Jer, stop, it's hopeless. Your noodle arms won't be able to handle it."

"Fuck off," Jeremy huffs, but gives up.

"Don't worry, I'll get it, dude," Michael says, using his own spoon to scoop up the very specific bit of ice cream Jeremy wanted. With no preamble, he pushes the spoon into Jeremy's mouth. "You're welcome."

"You're the best," Jeremy lays his head on Michael's shoulder, puzzled at Michael's sharp inhale, but not enough to ask about it. "Thank you."

"It's just ice cream, man."

"No, I meant—Thanks for always having my back," he tells Michael. "This whole thing is kind of stressful and you're the only one I can really talk to about it. You're the one who knows I'm a lame-o who lied in the first place, but you're still here."

"I'll always be here for you," Michael says sincerely.

His hand goes for Jeremy's face slowly, and suddenly Jeremy isn't breathing anymore. Despite the cool feeling of ice cream on his tongue, everything is very, very warm. He has no idea what's going on. Michael's hand lands on Jeremy's cheek, thumb swiping at the corner of Jeremy's mouth.

"Uh," Michael recoils his hand back. "You just had a little something."

"Oh," Jeremy blinks, dazed, warm. His stomach churns with something that feels like anxiety but is...fluttery-er. "Thanks."

"Wanna get high and watch Back to the Future?" Michael says.

Jeremy knows an opportunity when he sees it. "Absolutely," he says, pushing back whatever weird feeling his gut was doing.

The anxiety of the lie doesn't go away, but it's dulled down a bit for two reasons in particular. The first is the fact those who are part of the lie seem happier. Jenna smiles a bit more often and she talks to people more. When she sees Jeremy in the hallway she nods respectfully, as if he's done her an incredible favor. Brooke and Chloe go through their classes in a worry-free fashion, hands held, easy grins, and soft laughs. Sure, the looming possibility of everybody finding out he's a good for nothing liar makes him feel like thirty seven hornets live in his ribcage, but those hornets calm down when he sees Jenna, Brooke, and Chloe. If this is helping them, he'll deal. He's got another matter on his hands, anyway.

Which leads Jeremy to the other reason; Michael.

Something has changed for Jeremy. He has no idea what it is, but it's a buzz in his bones that he can't seem to ignore whenever Michael is around. It's a buzzing that gets louder whenever Michael does, well, anything. When he smiles, when he puts his headphones on Jeremy to let him listen to a new song he's found, when tries to balance a pencil on his nose, when he looks at Jeremy, best friend of twelve years, and grins.

He can't possibly tell Michael about it since Jeremy doesn't even really know what it is anyway, so he tucks the buzzing away and hopes it doesn't get loud enough for Michael to hear. On the bright side, the buzzing drowns out the stress Jeremy feels about the lie.

Well, at least until,

"Jeremy," Rich says when Jeremy gets out of play rehearsal. The hallways are empty. "I've gotta, uh, tell you something. Two somethings. One is a something and the other is a favor that might help the something."

"Oh, sure," Jeremy says, pocketing his phone after sending a string of emojis to Michael. The fluttering buzzing is pretty strong right now, what with Michael sending him eight awful puns in a row. What does the largest bird do when it wants to be longer? It os-stretches.

"I know." Rich says.

"Know what?" he asks, still thinking about the puns. What do you call a deer that can write with both left and right hooves? Bambidextrous.

"About the whole sex thing," Rich clarifies. Slowly, Jeremy feels the horror trickle into his bloodstream. "About how it's uh—Well. Y'know."

What do you call somebody who's fucked? Jeremy Goddamn Heere.

"Oh," Jeremy says, taking a wheezing breath. He doesn't know why this time it's more stressful than it was with Jenna, Brooke, or Chloe. Maybe it's the buildup. Jeremy takes another breath, sounding a whole lot like somebody who's got a kazoo stuck somewhere in his throat.

"It's just—Jeremy? Oh my god, Jer? Jeremy are you okay, holy shit?" Rich flails his hands around. "Is this a panic attack? Oh my god, did you make you have a panic attack? Jeremy, I'm so sorry, oh my god, what do I do?"

"Not a panic attack," Jeremy breathes. Pretty damn close to one, but not. He figures he should be thankful, or something. "I'm okay. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, oh my god, I should've never said anything," Rich says, face a perfect picture of alarm. "It's just, these assholes in my chem class we're talking about you and how all the stories weren't adding up, or whatever, then they started ragging on you. Then I was like, 'hey fucknuts I'm not afraid of creating a flamethrower right here and setting this place on fire if you don't shut u—

"Rich, that's arson."

"It's called being bros," Rich tells him. "Anyway, because of that I kind of just, figured it out? Because they were kind of right, with how nothing added up and how everything was just hearsay. I'm not mad at you for lying! I know you've got that anxiety shit, so it must've just happened somehow, but uh. Uh. God, I had a point here."

"Wait," Jeremy says, backtracking through everything Rich has just told him. "People are starting to figure it out."

"Yeah," Rich winces. "I am so up for threatening anybody who tries to drag your name through the mud, but, yeah."

"Oh god," Jeremy leans against a locker. In his pocket, his phone vibrates, another pun from Michael. "Oh god."

"Jeremy? Are you okay?"

"For a given definition of okay," Jeremy runs a hand down his face. "What was the second something? You said you were gonna ask a favor?"

"I don't think it's a good idea anymore, considering how freaked you already are," he says.

"Please just tell me. Best to get it all out now while I'm already freaked."

"Okay, well. I just got to thinking that, well, if you needed to keep up this story by, say, having hypothetical sex with somebody else—"

Jeremy's had this conversation two times already so he knows where this is going. "You want to say you had sex with me? Why?"

"Having sex with Middleborough's hot news?" Rich grins, "Best bi coming out ever."

"Oh, yo, congrats," Jeremy high fives rich. High school is so, so surreal. "I'm up for it. Just tell Jenna and she'll tell everybody else."

"Yeah, but that's the thing, Jer. Telling isn't working anymore," Rich says and he's right. If what Rich said about those guys in his chemistry class are true, this will just make everything look even more obvious. "So, I had a bit more of a plan?"

"Plan?" Jeremy says nervously. Most of Rich's plans involve either vast amounts of regret or pyromania. Both, if they're lucky.

"Jakey D is having a party this weekend, right?" Jeremy nods. "Well, my plan is we show up, make a scene, lock ourselves into a room and—"

"Oh my god, I'm not actually going to have sex with you, Rich!" He screeches. "No offense."

"None taken," Rich waves a hand dismissively. "And I was gonna say have fake sex."

"Fake," Jeremy says, cogs turning in his head. "Sex. Fake sex."

"Fake sex," Rich nods. "Fex, if you will. Sake? Saxe? Nevermind. It's a stupid idea, I know—"

"No," he says. If the school finds out Jeremy was lying, it isn't just him who's going down. Jenna, Brooke, and Chloe will get flack too. Michael will go down with him. Jeremy is pretty sure he's done dumber things in his life, so what's one more to add to the pile?

"No," Jeremy says. "Let's do it."

Jeremy and Rich arrive when Jake's party is already in full swing. They're both acting wasted as shit despite the fact that Rich literally just drank a bottle of soy milk and the hardest drink Jeremy's ever had in his life was a Crystal Pepsi. The only reason why they don't look sober and decent is because they ran the plan through Michael who did a good job of making sure the both of them looked like the utter catastrophes they're trying to be.

("Rich, mess up your hair. No—you're fixing it. Ugh, let me," Michael ruffles Rich's hair into what can be kind of described as sex hair. "There you go."

"How about me?" Jeremy asks awkwardly, shivering under Michael's calculating eyes looking him up and down.

"For an anxious wreck, you dress like you've always got it together, man," Michael steps towards him. "A button up to a high school party? You're my mom's dream come true."

"I can change—"

"No, don't," Michael holds him by his shoulders. His hands travel to Jeremy's collar, fingers deftly unbuttoning the first, then the second, then the third button. "The whole contrast between proper and disheveled adds some more scandal."

"O—Oh, okay," Jeremy's breath hitches when Michael fingers turn one bit of his collar inwards, brushing against the skin of his neck. Jeremy almost dies when Michael's hands reach his hips, quickly tucking one of his shirt tails into his jeans.

"Ahem," Rich says loudly, grinning, one eyebrow raised like a Dreamworks promotional poster. "You fellas done?"

"Yeah," Michael steps back, turning away, finally letting Jeremy breathe.)

"Jeremy! Rich! You guys look wrecked!" Jake greets when they're through the door, red solo cups in each hand.

"Wassup Jakey D," Rich slurs convincingly, arm around Jeremy's waist because he can't really reach Jeremy shoulders without tiptoeing. "We maybe did some pre-drinking before coming here."

"Tons of pre-drinking," Jeremy smiles, hoping it comes off as drunk and ready get down and dirty instead of screaming with fear like what is actually happening in his head. He pitches his voice louder, loud enough to hear past the thrum of music in the air and says, "Do you maybe have, like, a room, or something."

"I was just telling Jer this rad story," Rich sidles up to Jake, or at least tries his best to. Jake is very tall. "And I was hoping, you know, to finish telling him, if you know what I mean."

It sounds ridiculous, but it must work because Jake steps back, mouth a thin line, and says, "There's a guest room just down the hallway."

"You are the man, Jakey," Rich grins, pulling Jeremy along through throngs of people who had stopped to watch the exchange.

"Thanks!" Jeremy calls out to Jake, but oddly enough, Jake's eyes are dark. His face upset.

Jeremy can't dwell on it for too long though because Rich pushes him into the guest bedroom and locks the door.

"Okay, Operation Fake Sex is now in action," Rich whispers like some sort of spy. "Eagle 2, get the blinds."

Jeremy rolls his eyes, tamping down on the urge to laugh. He shuts the blinds while Rich honest to god duct tapes the keyhole of the door, as if people still actually look through keyholes. When the room is adequately sealed off, they both fall back first on the bed.

"So, uh," Jeremy looks at the ceiling. "How do we do this?"

"Start, like, grunting," Rich says.

"Mmmmrr?" Jeremy tries. It's met with silence, so he sits up to look at Rich who's wheezing silently, hand over his mouth, muffling laughter. "Shut up!"

"Jeremy, dude, oh my god, that sounded like you weren't sure if the milk was bad or not." Rich wipes a tear from his eye. "You've watched porn, right?"

"Of course I've watched porn!"

"Then just do that."

"Oh, fine, if it's so easy you do it," Jeremy huffs. Rich, the kind of person who takes everything as a challenge, grins and does just that. Loudly. Shamelessly. Dramatically. Over and over again.

"Oh god," Rich groans out. Objectively, it sounds incredibly sexual, but the context just make Jeremy want to laugh hysterically. "Oh god, yeah, Jeremyyyyy."

Jeremy, worried that this sex scene is sounding awfully one sided, decides to at least try, "Aw yeah," he covers his eyes with his hands. "God, yes, Rich, just like that."

"Now we're talking, buddy," Rich whispers before moaning loudly. "Fuck yeah."

"So good," Jeremy moans, hiding his face in a pillow. What the fuck is his life right now.

"Yo, dude," Rich nudges him. Jeremy turns his face to see Rich standing on the bed. "Let's give these weirdos something to really talk about, yeah?"

"Fine. Let's fucking do this," Jeremy says, finally understanding that whatever the hell his life has become, it's still his and his alone. He stands up on the bed.

Rich beams and starts jumping on the bed. It creaks and the headboard bangs against the wall. For the lack of anything else to do, Jeremy bangs on the walls too.

"Aw yeah, god Jeremy!" Rich yells.

"God don't stop," Jeremy groans before he even realizes what he just said. He pitches his voice softer, "Yo, in this hypothetical scenario, who's doing who?"

"Does it matter?"

"Well, I dunno, I figure it's gotta add something to the auditory experience of it."

"Auditory ex—Jeremy you are thinking too much. Just let go. Jump on the bed. Moan like you're in a porno. Have fun," Rich says before letting out a long, drawn out whimper. "Jer! I'm so close!"

The ridiculousness of the entire situation finally hits Jeremy, so he gets over whatever semblance of dignity he's still pretending to have and starts jumping on the bed, moaning his heart out. "Yeah, yeah, keep going, Rich!" Jeremy muffles any laughter he has into his hands.

"God, I'm so bisexual," Rich groans loudly.

"So good!" Jeremy yells just to stop himself from doubling over in laughter.

"Damn right I am," Rich says to which Jeremy can't help but laugh softly at. "Time for the grand finale, man."

"How does that go?" he asks, breathless, a little giddy.

"Really loud groan. Almost pained. I can push you off the bed so it sounds natural."

"Okay sure," Jeremy shrugs. "On three?"

"Alright," Rich nods, "One," he counts, then he pushes Jeremy off the bed.

Colliding with the floor does actually make for a loud, pained groan, which Rich punctuates with his own high moan. When this is all over, Jeremy needs to remember to ask Rich if he's interested in acting.

"You okay, dude?" Rich hops down and helps Jeremy up. "Sorry for pushing you early. It wouldn't have been as loud if you expected it."

"It's fine," Jeremy lies back on the bed, panting. "How long do we stay here?"

"Maybe like five? Ten minutes? We're trying to make it seem like this was incredible, earth shatteringly fantastic sex, so the afterglow us gonna last for a bit," Rich tells him. "Thanks for this, Jeremy."

"No problem, Rich," Jeremy offers him a fistbump. "It's called being bros."

Rich looks like he's about to cry. He solemnly taps his fist to Jeremy's, with goofy, sincere smile.

Jeremy grabs his phone to pass the time and is bombarded by messages from everybody on his contact list. Brooke sent him a long string of "omg"s, Jenna sent him one hundred forty winking emojis, and Chloe sent him a vaguely ominous message that just says "I'd avoid Jake for a while, if I were you."

He's just about to ask her what she means when he gets a message from Michael.

From marshMELLow

somebody just livetweeted your SCANDALOUS TRYST with the incredible bisexual richard goranski

fhhkdsjfhs wait this thread is hilarious im sending it to you

To marshMELLow

Please don't, oh my god.

I kind of don't wanna read whatever they're saying about me.

From marshMELLow

ok

are u alright?

To marshMELLow

Omg, dude I just jumped on a bed and moaned. It wasn't surgery.

I'm fine.

From marshMELLow

haha ok just checking

do you want me to send u pics of cute animals?

To marshMELLow

You are my favorite person.

From marshMELLow

AND DONT U EVER 4GET IT!

From there, Michael starts sending him pictures upon pictures of kittens and ducklings and puppies. The fluttering buzz starts up, getting louder with each picture as he smiles at his phone like a dweeb. Michael is incredible. Michael is a great friend. Michael has a folder full of animal pictures to send just to send to Jeremy because he can tell when Jeremy is nervous. Michael is—

Michael—

"Oh my god," Jeremy says. Or he thinks he says it. The buzzing is so, so loud.

"Hm?" Rich faces him. "What's up?"

"I like Michael."

The rest of the night passes in a blur caused by Jeremy's Holy Shit I Like Michael epiphany. He gets home, phone still buzzing with cute animal pictures. Michael is sending him armadillos now. Armadillos. He muffles a screech into his bed and goes to sleep, vowing to figure out how to deal with the fluttery buzz tomorrow.

The next day, he thankfully doesn't see Michael in the hallways in the morning, buying Jeremy some more time to think of a game plan. He walks through crowds of students, a bunch of them high fiving him for last night. Jenna shoots him a finger gun. Christine gives him a thumbs up. When he passes by Brooke and Chloe, Brooke smiles, bright as sunshine, but Chloe's face is unreadable. Vaguely, Jeremy feels as if he's forgotten something.

He can't figure out what it is until it's lunch and he's nervously walking to the cafeteria, anxious to see Michael, the guy he likes, when suddenly somebody grabs him his jacket and drags him into the bathroom.

"Aaaahhh?" Jeremy says, head reeling from the whiplash. He looks up slowly, not eager to find out whoever is about to beat his ass, when he sees, "Jake?"

"Jeremy!" Jake snarls, slamming Jeremy into the wall. For all that this is very aggressive, Jake still reminds him of a labrador retriever. "Fuck you!"

"What?" Jeremy squeaks. "What did I do?"

"You slept with Rich in the guest bedroom of my house at my own goddamn party," Jake yells. Jeremy is sure that everything he said was an intelligible word, but all together, they don't make any sense.

"I still don't get why you're doing, uh, whatever it is you're doing?" Jeremy hazards. "Jake, why are you holding me up against the wall like you're about to punch me."

"I don't know!" Jake says, letting Jeremy down enough that his feet can touch the floor again. "I...don't know."

"It's, uh, okay," Jeremy pats Jake in a manner he hopes is soothing. "Wanna talk about it?"

"I guess," Jake lays his head on Jeremy's shoulder. "I just, I dunno. I'm angry? For no reason?"

"You said this had something to do with Rich," he hazards. "Maybe he's the reason?"

"I think so," Jake grumbles. "I just got really angry when I heard you and Rich had sex? Like, I'm not biphobic, I swear, I'm so proud of him for coming out and having fun and I'm okay with you but when it's you and Rich. Or, or the concept of anybody with Rich. It just makes me angry? But not angry? Not at him, just at, the—the other—"

It's confirmed. New Jersey is filled with emotionally stunted teenagers.

"Jake, I think you might be jealous," Jeremy says very, very slowly.

"Oh," Jeremy swears he can see the lightbulb go off in Jake's head. "Oh! I am! Why though?"

Jeremy decides to not say anything, hoping that Jake can put two and two together just like Jeremy did last night.

"Ohhhhhh my god," Jake says. It's like the enlightenment flashes through his eyes, except instead of the truths of the universe, it's probably just a bunch of scenes of Rich. "Oh my god, I like Rich."

"Congratulations," Jeremy laughs.

"But you slept with Rich," Jake frowns, and Jeremy scrambles to get himself out of this mess.

"I actually didn't." Jeremy winces. The things he does for love. "Uh, god, just. Just ask Rich and tell him I'm fine with him telling you. But I swear, I didn't actually sleep with Rich. And I'm not planning to."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Oh my god, I like Rich and you didn't sleep with him," Jake says, hands coming up to cup Jeremy's face. "You rock, man. You—"

"Oh, wow, okay, totally interrupting something, sorry, uh Jake—" somebody walks into the bathroom, somebody who is Michael. Jake turns to greet him and Michael's expression falls when his eyes land on Jeremy. Immediately, Jeremy is aware of how this must look like. Jeremy up against the wall, Jake with his hands on his face, the both of them very close. "Jake and—and Jeremy. Jeremy and Jake. Jake and Jeremy together. Okay, I'm out."

"Michael!" Jeremy calls out frantically, but Michael's already bolted out of the bathroom. "Oh, no, no, no."

"Dude," Jake takes him by the shoulders, pushing him towards the exit of the bathroom. "Go get your boy."

Jeremy spares Jake a thankful nod and takes off, sneakers skidding against the floors to do just that.

It's all a hunch, but he follows it anyway, running past the cafeteria and out to the back of the school that overlooks the field where they play sports, or something. There, Michael is leaning against a wall, trying to light a cigarette.

"Michael," Jeremy pants, out of breath. "I can explain."

"You don't have to, it's chill man. I'm glad you're with somebody for realsies, now," Michael says, shoulders hunched, clicking hopelessly at his lighter. "Fuckin' stupid—"

"I wasn't making out with Jake," he says. "I swear. You have to believe me. He was actually going to punch me for fake-sleeping with Rich."

"What? Why?"

"Because he likes Rich," Jeremy explains.

"Huh," Michael blinks, popping the cigarette out of his mouth. "Well, good for him. You didn't have to get so panicked, though. I just felt super awkward because I thought I walked in on you guys."

"You didn't. There was nothing going on."

"Okay, I believe you, it's okay." Michael pockets his lighter and cigarette. "Are you okay? Do I have to kick Jake in the shins for scaring you."

"No, no, you don't, I just," Jeremy says. It's a little windy out, so he can blame the loud buzzing he feels on that. "I just wanted to make sure you knew. That nothing was going on."

"Why," Michael steps forward. "Why was that so important to you?"

"Because," Jeremy says. It's so loud, right now, but his words feel louder. "Because I—"

"Jeremy?" Michael asks, concerned.

Jeremy takes a deep breath and steels himself, stepping closer to Michael. Fuck lies. Fuck it all. He says, "Can I show you? Just, uh, tell me to stop if ever you don't want—"

"I really doubt I'm going to do that, Jer." They're so close now Jeremy can feel his words against his face. "Jeremy," Michael says.

"I'm going to kiss you," he says.

"Oh god, please," Michael says, and that's all the invitation Jeremy needs.

It's clumsy and Jeremy has no idea what he's doing and Michael's glasses clunk against Jeremy's face, but the simple press of his lips against Michael's is enough to make all that go away. It all seems so trivial now that he's got his arms around Michael's neck, Michael's hands holding Jeremy's face as if it's something precious. The buzzing gets louder and louder until finally, the pin drops, and there's only silence. No more hornets or flutters, just silence. Silence and Michael.

Jeremy pulls away and he's downright blessed with the picture of Michael fluttering his eyes open, gorgeous and grinning and perfect.

"I like you," Jeremy says. "I really, really, really like you."

"I get it, you listen to Carly Rae," Michael laughs, looking too happy to be real. "I like you too, if you haven't noticed."

"I mean, I noticed now," Jeremy says, and it slowly dawns on him that maybe he's been a bit of an idiot. "How long have you liked me? I'm pretty sure I liked you for a long time but I only figured it out last night."

"I am not telling you how long I've known, Jeremy. It's embarrassing," Michael buries his face into Jeremy's neck.

"Why didn't you—ah," Michael is kissing his neck. Jeremy is going to die, and for the first time ever, he's perfectly fine with how it's happening. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"You seemed really offended at the idea of us being together," Michael pulls back to look at Jeremy. "That one time at lunch? I was so sure you knew I liked you and that was your way of turning me down."

"Oh my god, no, I just thought you wouldn't want to get tied up with me and my lie then feel obligated to act like you liked me!"

"This is definitely not acting," Michael kisses Jeremy, just a short peck at the corner of his mouth. It's the most endearing thing since the fucking armadillos. He does it again. And again.

"Does this mean we're dating? Can we be dating?" Jeremy smiles at each tiny kiss.

"Never in my wildest fuckin' dreams have I ever thought you'd be asking me that," Michael says. "Yes, we are dating. Yes, yes, yes."

"Yes," Jeremy says, not an ounce of it a lie. This is as true as it gets.

(To everybody at Middleborough who wasn't in on the lie, the story they knew was something like this: Jeremy had sex with Michael, but wasn't ready for a steady relationship, so with Michael's consent, he goes off and sexes half the student body. Everybody who Jeremy sleeps with ends up miraculously happier than they were before. Eventually, this gets old and Jeremy returns to Michael, and they start dating in the earnest.

Everybody who was in on the lie knew the infinitely more complicated story that really happened, but it all worked out in the end. It all worked out pretty okay.)