Samantha B

     “Twenty bucks and I’ll stand on that table and sing Rasputin,” Angela announced loudly, looking around at the rest of the Smosh cast.

     “No, don’t pay her for that, she’d do it for free,” Chanse responded, shaking his head. “She does this every time she gets drunk.”

      Everyone laughed as Angela protested in outrage. A large group of the crew had decided to go to a bar for drinks after a long shoot week to celebrate and relax. 

     “Ok, forty bucks, final offer,” Angela said.  

     “Honey, no one is paying you,” Amanda patted her on the shoulder. 

     “And why did the number go up?” Shayne laughed. 

     “Because I accidentally spilled tequila on Chanse’s shirt and when he notices he’s going to be mad and I’m going to have to pay for it,” Angela stage whispered. 

     Chanse looked down at his shirt, just now noticing the stain. “Bitch, this cost more than your whole outfit!”

     “Ok never mind, new plan. Run!” Angela said, pretending to sprint away.

     Ian looked on as everyone argued and joked. This wasn’t usually his scene but he enjoyed having out with his friends and coworkers. His eyes wandered over the crowd of people, dancing and drinking and shouting to each other.     

     And that’s when he saw her. You.

     You caught Ian’s eye immediately. You didn’t even see him—you were just walking back from the bar, drink in hand, laughing at something your friend had said.

     But to Ian you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. You were a few yards away from him, but even from afar he couldn’t help but admire the way your smile lit up your eyes, the way your hair framed your face, the way your dress hugged your figure. 

     He watched as you walked back to your group of friends, setting your drinks down on the table in front of you. 

     Ian was still transfixed by you as Angela’s words finally brought him out of his thoughts. 

     “Ian? Are you even listening to me?” 

     Ian turned back to his friends who were all watching him curiously now. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

     “I asked if you could spot me a hundred,” Angela said, “Apparently Chanse’s shirt is Gucci.”

     “What does Ian know about Gucci, Angela?” Chanse said. “Exhibit A, that vest.”

     But Ian was hardly paying attention as he looked back to where you’d been standing to make sure you were still there. You took a sip of your drink. 

     “What is he looking at?” Amanda asked.

     “Bro is on a different planet right now,” Spencer agreed. 

     “Alright, where’s the breast milk,” Shayne laughed.

     “Huh?” Ian asked, turning back to his friends. 

     “And he’s back,” Angela said. “Of course it’s the milk that makes him pay attention.”

     “No, sorry I just—just spaced out I guess,” he shrugged but his eyes flicked back to where you were standing.

     Amanda’s gaze followed his. When she realized where he was looking and saw you she said knowingly. “Ohh, I get it. Ian’s got a crush.”

     “Dude no I do not,” Ian protested, putting his hands up. 

     “Ok so then you don’t care that she’s walking over here,” Amanda commented.

     Ian quickly started fixing his hair and everyone laughed. 

    “Ok fine, but it’s not my fault she’s gorgeous bro,” Ian said. 

     “Wait where is she, I wanna see!” Angela shouted, straining to find where Ian was looking.

     “Three tables over, in the blue dress,” Ian told her.

     The rest of the group followed his gaze and found the woman he was talking about.

     “Wait Ian, she’s stunning,” Chanse said, sounding surprised. “I always assumed you’d have bad taste.”

     “Ok ouch,” Ian clutched his chest in mock offense. “And yeah, she’s way out of my league.”

     “Hey, I mean I pulled Courtney,” Shayne added. “You never know.”

     “You have to go talk to her,” Angela exclaimed. 

     “This could be your meet cute!” Amanda said.

     “No, I couldn’t,” Ian said, glancing back over at you again. “What would I even say?”

     “As long as you stay away from World War II you should be fine,” Spencer told him.

     “But that’s like my whole arsenal!” Ian protested.

     “Yeah and we need to talk about that,” Chanse muttered. 

     “But seriously man, I say go for it,” Shayne said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

     “She could hit me with a frying pan.” He said that like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

     “Well this isn’t Tangled and she’s walking away so you better shoot your shot now,” Amanda announced. 

     Ian spun around and found that you were in fact walking farther away from their group. 

     “Fuck it, should I?” Ian asked, a smile forming on his face. “I mean they do say shooters shoot.”

     A chorus of yeses and encouragement echoed from his friends.

     “Alright,” Ian decided, straightening his vest. “I’m going in. I already got a great first line—”

     He opened his mouth to say it but Chanse cut him off.

     “No Challenger’s jokes.”

     “Aaaand never mind, I’ll think of something on the way over,” Ian said.

     Everyone wished him good luck and he started in your direction. Your back was turned and he paused behind you, taking a deep breath before tapping you on the shoulder. 

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     You were just laughing at something your friend had said when you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. You tuned around to find a guy smiling at you nervously. 

     He was cute, you thought, as you took in his appearance.

    “Hey,” he said awkwardly, “I don’t mean to be cliche, but I saw you from across the bar and…”

     You smiled back at him. “Isn’t the meme we saw you from across the bar?” 

     He seemed to relax as he laughed at your comment. “Hey I can go get one of my friends if you want.”

     You chuckled. He was funny. “No, not what I meant. I like your vest.”

     He pumped his fist. “Finally, someone with a sense of fashion, Chanse!”

     The man leaned back and yelled the last part back to seemingly no one. 

     “Who’s Chanse?” You asked.

     “A guy who isn’t going to get to borrow this,” he said. 

     “His loss,” you said conspiratorially

     “His loss indeed. Or I could just force him to wear if for a video—I’m kind of his boss.”

     “Where do you work?”

     “I work for a comedy channel on YouTube—it’s called Smosh. I’m sort of the president, but it’s no big deal.” He flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve.

     You giggled. “That’s so cool. So you’re like, Mr. Beast.”

     “I mean, I’m a little more famous than him, but close,” he joked. “I’m Ian, by the way.”

     He reached out a hand for you to shake. 

     Usually you wouldn’t be so comfortable talking to a random guy who approached you at a bar, but for some reason you felt safe with him. He was so easy to talk to.  

     You took it. “(Y/n). It’s nice to meet you.”

     “Yeah, you too.” Ian put his hands in his pockets. “I usually don’t do this, y’know? But you were so cute that I uh—I couldn’t not come talk to you.”

     You felt your cheeks warm. “I’m flattered.”

     “Flattered as in you’re saying that to be nice and I should leave or flattered as in you’ll let me buy you a drink?” 

     What the hell, you thought. He was attractive and sweet and he made you laugh—and you could definitely see yourself going home with him. 

     “Definitely the second one,” you assured him. 

     He beamed, holding out his arm for you dramatically. “M’lady.”

“M’lady?”

“My best friend made me watch Bridgerton,” he shrugged.

     “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you told your friends. 

    You played along, taking Ian’s arm as he lead you to the bar. 

     He paused in front of a group of people who must’ve been his friends. 

     “Guys, this is (Y/n). (Y/n), these are my friends and coworkers. That one’s Chanse,” he added, pointing to him.

     Chanse looked around in confusion at having been a previous topic of conversation.  “What do you mean ‘that one’s Chanse’?” He asked. “You may be wearing a purple puffer vest in the next video you’re in,” you told him.

“Ian!” Chanse whined.

     You just smiled at them all. “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

     As they all greeted you, one woman said, “You’re so pretty. Ian was so distracted by you earlier, he didn’t even want breast milk.” 

     “That one’s gonna take a minute to explain, thanks Angela,” Ian said through his teeth. 

     “All in a days work, bud,” Angela said, patting him on the shoulder.

      Ian looked like he was regretting introducing you to his friends but after a moment he just shrugged. You thought the whole interaction was entertaining and endearing. His friends were funny and you could tell they really cared a lot him. 

      It made him more attractive to you that he didn’t take himself too seriously. 

      You turned to Ian. “Well I can’t wait to hear you explain it then.”

      “Yeah, let’s go,” Ian said.

      He put his hand on your back as he started to guide you through the crowd. You didn’t miss how he turned around to give a thumbs up to his party. 

      This was turning out to be a pretty good night. And it was just getting started—you were excited to see where this thing with Ian went. 

      You were almost out of earshot when you heard. “Hey, guys, wait!”

      When you and Ian turned around, Angela was standing on a table and waving at you. 

     “(Y/n), do you know Rasputin?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “(Y/n), there are two customers waiting but we’re all full. What should I tell them?” A voice said from behind you.

     You turned around, seeing your hostess looking at you. “Tell them there’s a thirty minute wait.”

      “I tried. Multiple times—but they said they wanted to speak to the owner so…”

     You sighed. “Ok, let’s go.”

     You followed the hostess out to the front where an angry looking woman and what must have been her husband stood.

     “Finally,” the woman threw her arms up. “Someone with some real power here. Are you aware your employee is refusing to seat me and my husband?”

     You steeled yourself for this conversation. “Señora, as you can see we are all full. If you’d like to wait another half and hour or so—”

     “I don’t think you’re understanding me,” the woman said. “I’d like to be seated now.”

     You plastered a smile on your face. You heard the bell on the front door jingle behind the woman. Great, another customer, just what you needed. 

     “I understand that,” you said. “But unfortunately, our tables are all—” 

     “Excuse me, but do you know who I am?” The woman jabbed a finger at you. 

     Your eyebrows shot up. “I’m sorry?”

     “Let me enlighten you then,” the woman sneered. “I am—”

     “A massive Karen?” a voice behind her interrupted. 

     The Karen in question turned around slowly and you were given a view of the man who had spoken. He put his hands in his pockets as the woman glared at him. 

     “What did you say?”

     “Oh sorry, you probably can’t hear me under all that hairspray,” he said, almost smiling. “I said you’re a Karen.”

     Her husband let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. 

     “I’ll have you know—” she started, but the man interrupted.

     “Look, they said there’s a wait so either wait or go somewhere else,” he shrugged.

     The woman huffed, grabbing her husbands arm. “Let’s go, Howard. Don’t think my lawyer won’t be hearing about this.”

     With that, she was gone, shooting daggers at you as she let the door shut behind her. 

     The man who had challenged her rolled his eyes, calling after her. “Whatever, Draco Malfoy.”

     He smiled at you conspiratorially, stepping towards you and shrugging. “Rich people.”

     You smiled back. “I could’ve handled that, you know.”

     “Oh I have no doubt you’re a total badass, but I’ve kinda had that Malfoy joke just waiting in the chamber so…”

     You chuckled. “Well, gracias. I’d offer you a table, but as you know, we’re packed.”

     “I don’t mind waiting. This place looks dope—send the owner my regards, or whatever people say.”

     You smiled. “You’re speaking to them—I’m actually the owner.”

     “Dude, no way. That’s so awesome that you own this place. So you’re like, your own boss.”

    You finally let yourself look over him as he spoke. Your gaze traveling from his curls to the glasses that sat atop his face to the jean jacket and cargo pants he wore. He put his hands back in his pockets, one leg crossing over the other. 

     You caught yourself checking him out and quickly looked up. 

     “Um, yeah I guess I am,” you recovered. “This has been my dream since I was young. Dealing with people like that ‘Karen’, as you called her? Less of the dream.”

     He chuckled, gasping dramatically. “No! But seriously, you should get a sign or something. Y’know, like the pool ones. ‘We don’t come to your wine bunko night so you don’t come to our upstanding establishments’ or something. We could workshop it.”

     You laughed. “You’re funny.”

     “Somehow I’ve made a career out of it,” he shrugged. When you raised an eyebrow he continued. “I work for a comedy company—Smosh. We do stuff on YouTube. ”

      “Wow, that’s so cool,” you told him. “So you’re famous then?”

     “I mean, I am ranked 8,267th on famous birthdays so you tell me.”

     “You keep track?” You joked.

     “For the sake of my aura let’s just say that was a random guess,” Spencer said, scratching the back of his neck. 

     “One which I will now be fact checking later,” you said. 

     He shrugged. “Go ahead. I already lost enough aura making a Harry Potter reference in the year of our lord 2025. I’m Spencer, by the way, Spencer Agnew. Y’know, for when you google me later.”

     “(Y/n). It’s nice to meet you,” you reached out your hand.

     Only after you did it did you internally smack yourself—what was this, a corporate meeting? But his mouth just quirked up into a smile as he took your hand. Your hand lingered in his a moment before you pulled back, straightening your top. 

     “Right back at you,” Spencer answered. “It’s not every day I get to come face to face with an entrepreneur.” 

     “It’s not every day I get to meet a famous  comedian,” you said. 

     The hostess cleared her throat. You were immediately brought back to reality. Up until now, you’d almost forgotten she was here. That anyone was here for that matter. You’d gotten so caught up in talking to Spencer that you’d momentarily forgot about your responsibilities. 

     “Right well, I’d better get back,” you said. “An entrepreneur’s work is never done.”

     “I don’t doubt it,” he nodded.

     “But feel free to wait,” you added. “Unless you’re a Karen in disguise.

     “You got me,” Spencer played along. “There’s a blonde bob under this.”

     He pretended to pull his hair off his head like it was a wig. 

     “This is why I need a sign,” you said.

     “I’ll start working on it right now.” Spencer smiled, going to sit in one of the chairs by the door, crossing his legs.

     “So this means I do get your business?”

     He nodded, looking up at you. “I’m not going anywhere.”

₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     A week later, you saw him again. You were making your rounds, checking to make sure everything was running smoothly when he walked up to the reception desk. He came in with a few other people this time but you recognized him immediately. You felt your heart flutter in your chest as you remembered your last encounter.

     It hadn’t been long but you’d been thinking about him ever since. He was so easy to talk to. And he was funny and charming and it didn’t hurt that he was cute as hell.

     He looked around the restaurant, saying something to his friends and your eyes raked over him. You quickly shook off your momentary distraction and you were just about to look away when he caught your eye. His eyes lit up and he waved. It was as if your feet moved of their own accord and  were drawn to him. You had no choice but to walk over. 

     “Hola señor,” you greeted him. 

     “We meet again,” Spencer said. 

     “That’s not really an act of fate, you did come back into my restaurant.”

     “Ok you got me,” he held up his hands. “But your specials were so good I had to bring these guys.”

     He gestured to three of his friends. 

     “Hola,” you greeted them, smiling at Spencer’s party. “Do you all work together?”

     “Yeah,” he said. 

     “So you’re all comedians too,” you observed.

     “Most of us,” Spencer whispered dramatically, gesturing to the woman next to him and shaking his head. 

     “Hey!” She exclaimed in outrage, smacking his arm. 

     The man on Spencer’s other side laughed loudly.

     “(Y/n), this is Angela, Chanse, and Shayne,” Spencer introduced them. “Guys, this is (Y/n).”

     You exchanged hellos with Spencer’s group. You were about to grab the menus and tell them you’d lead them to their table but Spencer broke the momentary lull in conversation. 

     “Hey, I see you still haven’t got that anti-Karen sign up,” he commented.

     “You said you were making it,” you told him. “And I’ve been busy.”

     “Yeah dude, this place is almost as packed as last time,” Spencer noticed, glancing around the room. “You must be swamped. Do you always personally greet your customers or should I be honored that its happened to me twice?” 

     You fought the warmth creeping up to your cheeks. You shrugged. “We’re short-staffed.”

     “Short-staffed?” The woman behind Spencer—Angela—repeated, chuckling. “Things in Spencer’s Tinder bio.”

     “Angela!” The man next to her—Chanse—scolded. “This is why we can’t take you anywhere.”

     “Well excuse me for being well-versed in observational comedy,” Angela replied.

     “I don’t think that’s what that—” Another man—Shayne—started, but Spencer turned around to speak to them.

     “Dude, don’t make me go all dad and make you guys wait in the car,” he whisper- yelled. He turned back to you. “Sorry, there’s a gas leak where we work so…”

     You just laughed. “Don’t be.”

     Then you leaned toward Angela. “I thought it was funny.”

     “Yes!” Angela pumped her fist, sticking her tongue out Chanse and then flipping of Spencer. “See bitches, I am a comedian!”

     Spencer feigned offense, looking at you like he was betrayed. “Damn ok, I thought we were friends.”

     “That depends on how well you tip,” you said.

     “Shayne how well do I tip?” Spencer said out of the side of his mouth.

      Shayne sighed and pulled out his wallet. “I don’t know, twenty-five percent?” 

     “Twenty-five percent,” Spencer repeated to you.

      You rolled your eyes at him, but you wouldn’t help the grin on your face. “Amigos it is then.”

     “Does that get me some sort of discount?” Spencer asked.

     “Nice try. I don’t think my boss would be too happy about that.”

     “Aren’t you—” 

     “Yes and I don’t think I would be too happy about it,” you retorted.

     “Well your boss is no fun,” Spencer played along. “But, on an unrelated note, they are working those pants.”

     You giggled. “I’ll make sure to pass along the message. But I’m sure they’d say thank you and that they think your jacket is bonito.”

     “Bro knows what I’m wearing? Sounds like a creep.”

      “Oh they definitely are,” you teased. “Can I take you to your table.”

     “Lead the way,” Spencer said.

     You turned around and began walking them to a table towards the back. You thought you heard whispering behind you but when you turned around all of them were just smiling at you.

     “This one ok?” You asked, stopping.

     Spencer adjusted his glasses. “Actually no and my husband’s on the city council so I—”

     “Legally I can kick you out,” you threatened.

     Spencer put his hands up in surrender. “Kidding, kidding. This is great.”

     “Perfect. Your server will be with you shortly, but if you need anything ask for me. You know, since we’re short staffed and apparently we’re friends.”

     Spencer grinned. “Apparently.”

     As they sat down and you walked away you thought you heard Spencer say to his group. “See? Told you me and the owner were tight.”

    You rolled your eyes but you were smiling as you walked farther towards the back of the restaurant, pausing to take one last glance back at Spencer. 

     There was no denying it now—you were completely down bad for Spencer Agnew.

     Lord, give you strength. 

     ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     Before long, not a week went by that you didn’t see Spencer. Sometimes multiple days in a row. Sometimes with friends, sometimes alone. 

     It was nearing a month since you’d first met him, and you tried to convince yourself that this had to mean something—you really hoped, at least. He was by far your most frequent customer. But other than have casual conversations with you and make eye contact with you across the room, he’d never exactly made a move. 

     He could have just enjoyed the food or liked supporting small businesses and the attraction was entirely one-sided on your part. 

     Right now, he was sitting at a table towards the front with the people you’d come to know as Amanda, Shayne, Courtney, and Kiana. 

     You passed by their table, which definitely had everything to do with the fact that you wanted to see how everything was tasting and nothing to do with the fact that you just wanted an excuse to talk to him.

     “How’s my favorite customer doing?” You asked brightly.

     “I am doing fantastic!” Amanda answered.

     “Dude, she meant me,” Spencer scoffed. “Please tell me you meant me otherwise this is really embarrassing.”

     You chuckled. “I meant all of you. But I guess no one else has come in 8,267 times—I should really put your picture on the wall.”

     “I see what you did there. And I’d be honored,” Spencer said, taking a sip of his drink. “As long as you get my good side.”

     “Which is every side,” Kiana added.

     “I mean I was gonna be all nonchalant and humble but you heard the woman,” Spencer shrugged. “But hey, I guess I’m a regular Barney Stinson.”

     “Hey, can we get some more chips when you get a chance,” Courtney asked you. “Shayne ate the whole basket.”

     Shayne tried to defend himself but his mouth was full of said chips and everyone laughed.

     “I’ll get right on it,” you told her, starting to walk away.

      “Uh, wait!” Spencer called you.

     “If this is about the picture—”

     “No,” he told you. “No, I just—I wondered if—I mean, I think—Is there any chance—”

     He looked like he wanted to say something else but he settled on, “—that you could bring some salsa out with the chips.”

     “Sure,” you said, nodding as you turned and went to go relay the information to the kitchen. 

     “Duuuude,” you heard Shayne say.

     “I know, I know.” Spencer sighed.

     “You were so close!” Kiana’s voice added.

     You wondered what that was about. You put it out of your mind as you walked to the back of the house, making a quick stop in the kitchen before you made your way to your office.

     Well, the closet with a desk in it that you made into your office. 

     Shutting the door and sitting down, you pondered your relationship with Spencer as you sat and tried to get some work done. 

     It definitely seemed like he liked you—you were friends at least. But maybe that’s all it was. Maybe this was just how he acted with all of his friends. You didn’t know him that well. He could have just been nice.

     But that didn’t stop you from wanting it to be more. 

     The minutes passed by as you were lost in thought, the only sound the ticking of a clock on the wall.

     Until the sound of the door opening snapped you out of your thoughts and you looked up to find none other than Spencer standing in the doorway. 

     Speak of the devil. You had to blink a couple times to make sure it was actually him and not just a figment of your imagination, your previous thoughts about him somehow summoning him 

     He backed up awkwardly, apologizing. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I thought this was the bathroom I swear,” Spencer said, putting his hands up. “I promise I’m not a creep just lurking around and shit.”

     “No worries, my boss is a creep remember? I’m used to it,” you teased. “The bathroom’s one more door down on the left, by the way.”

     “Thanks,” he said but he made no move to leave. You stood up from your desk and took a step towards him. 

     “I can show you, if you want,” you prompted.

     He looked like he had been snapped out of a trance. “No its—I’ll be fine. Sorry again for accidentally barging into your office.”

     You smiled, deciding to tease him. “And here I was thinking you just wanted to see me.”

     “God forbid a guy has no sense of direction,” Spencer joked but then he looked down, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say his cheeks looked slightly pink. “Seeing you is just an added bonus.”

     He took a step towards you. He looked like he was debating saying something and then he finally spoke. 

     “I mean, I think it’s not really a secret how I feel about you,” he mumbled.

     Your heart rate picked up as your gaze snapped to his. He looked up at you. 

    “What?” You asked breathlessly. 

     “I mean, I’ve come to your restaurant like 12 times in the past month,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I figured I was pretty obvious. Don’t get me wrong, the food’s great, but that’s not why I keep coming back.”

      “So it’s for the charming atmosphere then?” You joked weakly.

     “(Y/n),” he stopped you, taking a step in your direction. “I really like you. I think you’re cool and funny and super successful and you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever seen and—”

     But he didn’t get to finish the rest because you closed the distance between you, kissing him. 

     It only took a moment, and then he kissed you back, his hand coming up to cup your face as your hands tangled in his hair. 

     After what felt like seconds or maybe an eternity, he pulled back. “Damn, I’m glad this is the way this turned out because my bank account’s taken a serious hit.”

     You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, running a finger down his chest. “You mean Shayne’s bank account.”

     Spencer laughed and then shook his head. “You have no idea, I’ve been trying to ask you out for weeks but all I came up with were a bunch of food-themed pick up lines that were cheesy as hell—pun intended.” 

     “Well I’d love to hear them sometime,” you said. 

     “Yeah?” 

     “Not really, I just want an excuse to see you again—off the clock this time,” you answered.

     “Yeah, I’d—I’d like that a lot.” 

     He paused. 

     “Well, I guess I should get back before my friends think I’m violently sick or something,” Spencer said, making no move to leave. 

     You knew he was right. He needed to rejoin his table and you had work to get back to. And yet you didn’t want him to leave. 

     “Or—” You said. 

     “Or?”

     You didn’t know what possessed you to do it but you looked to your side at your desk and slid all of the items to the floor in one dramatic sweep.

     Spencer raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

     “I mean, mostly I’ve just always wanted to do that,” you told him, a mischievous glint in your eye. “But I wouldn’t be opposed to it.”

     Spencer nodded, kicking the door shut  behind him, his eyes never leaving you. Traveling from your eyes to your lips to your  body. 

     “Well then, who am I to argue,” he shrugged, closing the distance between you and pushing you up against the desk.

     “You are the boss.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You shifted on the couch, your head in Spencer’s lap as you turned the pages of the book you were fully engrossed in. The only noise was the clicking of his controller and the occasional sound effects coming from the TV.

As he felt you move one of his hands came down to absentmindedly play with a strand of your hair, the one still working the controller.

“How’s the book?” He asked.

You smiled as you answered, looking up at him. “Amazing.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it?”

“So basically this mortal girl gets transported to fae and she goes to school there but there’s this prince who has a tail and—”

He laughed. “Bro’s a furry.”

“No shut up, he’s a hot fae prince who just so happens to have a tail.”

“Dude sounds like a jerk,” Spencer said.

“He is,” you nodded.

“Right I forgot, you like grumpy sunshine or whatever.”

“Ok not the right trope, but so close,” you laughed. “You’re getting better.”

“Having a bookworm girlfriend is really enhancing my vocabulary,” Spencer agreed, his hand now moving to your arm, his fingers trialing over your skin lightly. He cleared his throat. “Watch this: that prince guy is not endgame.”

You clapped dramatically. “Not bad. And you’re just jealous because I’d leave you for him any day,” you joked.

“Ouch,” Spencer clutched his chest in mock offense.

“He’s a fictional man, you never stood a chance,” you teased.

“Kiana said I’m written by a woman, but whatever,” Spencer mumbled, looking at the screen now as his game restarted.

“I’m kidding, Spence,” you say, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek before laying back down. He laid his arm over your waist. “But I am making you read this when I’m done with it.”

“Bro not again, I already read that other one about the crows you like.”

“Yeah, and you loved it.”

“Ok yeah, it was pretty banger,” Spencer agreed, “Dude can pick a lock.”

You giggled at his description. It made you smile to remember that he had gladly read one of your favorite books for you and enjoyed it.

You looked up at the screen and watched his avatar make his way through the abandoned house in the game he was playing. He had tried to teach you for hours once but it had ended in you just watching him and providing commentary as he navigated the map.

“So you will read it?” You asked finally.

“Anything for you, babe,” he answered, stopping the game for a second to lean down and kiss you softly.

And then you were both silent for a while as you focused your attention on your book and he focused his on his game.

You enjoyed this. Just being together as you both did things you loved. Spencer rubbing circles on your hip gently as you turned page after page.

It was nice knowing that you felt so comfortable with him that you could share your interests like this. You didn’t have to talk, just be with each other as you both got lost in other worlds. You could do this for hours, you thought.

And you did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Hooligans, my daughter. Daughter, hooligans.”

     Your dad gestured between you and the group of people standing in front of you. You waved at them.

     “Hey, I’m (Y/n), it’s nice to meet all of you,” you said politely. 

     Your dad had finally decided to give you a tour of the Smosh studios where he did his job and you had been more than eager to meet his coworkers and see how things worked. 

     “(Y/n), this is Damien, Angela, Chanse, Arasha, and Tommy,” Ian told you, pointing at everyone. “Oh, and that’s Trevor I guess.”

     The guy who must’ve been Trevor threw up his arms in surrender. You giggled. 

     “So, you’re the famous (Y/n) Hecox that Ian never shuts up about,” Tommy said. 

     “My dad’s told me so many things about all of you,” you said. “Which one of you jumped over a car?”

     “Oh I like her,” Chanse said, turning to Ian. “You’ve taught her well.”

     “Well I had to,” your dad spoke to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder playfully. “Since she doesn’t watch our videos.”

     “Don’t feel bad, I don’t either,” Angela said conspiratorially out of the side of her mouth.

     “Dad, I watched that one, remember?” You said. 

     “Beef ‘n Go doesn’t count,” Ian corrected. 

     “What’s Beef ‘n Go?” Arasha asked. 

     “Tell you later,” Damien answered her. 

     “It’s so cool seeing where you guys film,” you said, looking around. “I’ve never been in a real studio before.”

     “Hear that? She thinks I’m cool,” Ian mock whispered to his friends.

     “Ok, that’s not what I said,” you corrected.

     “Well that’s how I heard it.” Ian shrugged.

     “Your hearing’s also probably not what it used to be, am I right?” Trevor said, the mischievous grin on his face melting as Ian raised an eyebrow at him. “I-I mean, you’re in your prime, Ian. Sir. Boss.”

     “Suck up,” Tommy coughed into her shoulder, earning a laugh from Damien and Arasha.

     “Suck up? Title of yo—” Angela started. 

     “Angela,” Chanse chided, glancing at you, stopping her from saying whatever she was about to say. 

     “Yeah dude, not in front of my daughter,” Ian said to Angela. 

     It was fun, seeing your dad and his friends all talk and banter like this. You had only known them outside of Ian’s stories for a few minutes but you could already tell how close they all were. You could see why Ian loved his job so much. 

     “And, hey, getting sucked up to is just one of the perks of being the president of the company,” Ian crossed his arms, taking on a cocky look. “I’m kind of a big deal.”

     “Is he always this annoying at work?” You asked them. 

     “(Y/n),” Ian scolded, as his coworkers laughed. “I could ground you for that.”

     The room was silent a moment, everyone sharing glances of disbelief.

     “Yeah that didn’t sound right to me either,” Ian finally broke the silence. “I’m too cool of a dad for that.”

     “Again with this?” You groaned.

     “It’s an undeniable fact. Oh—I should tell them about the time I danced to Baby Got Back at your birthday party,” Ian elbowed you.

     “I still have nightmares about it,” you shivered dramatically.

     “Hey! Your old man’s still got some moves.”

     Ian demonstrated this by dancing awkwardly as you rolled your eyes at him. He eventually stopped, clutching his side, muttering about pulling something. 

      You covered your mouth to hide your laughter. Ian put his hands on his hips.

     “Ok, do you want me to give you the tour or not?” Ian asked. “Because I’ll take you home if—”

     “Yes, yes I definitely do,” you said, making your face serious now.

     “Let’s go,” Ian said, leading you away from the rest of the group. “First stop: my office. I wanna show you how big my desk is. Did I tell you that I run this whole company? ”

     “This is why no one sits with him at lunch,” you heard Arasha tell the others as you walked away. 

     You waved at them, saying goodbye as Ian lead you deeper into the building. 

     “They all seem really nice,” you said when you and your dad were out of earshot.

     “Yeah, wait until you work with them for years,” Ian joked, putting on an exaggerated British accent. “They’re terrible, really. Absolutely dreadful.”

     “Ok, Simon Cowell,” you teased. “I can tell you love them.”

     “Not as much as I love my daughter,” Ian said, placing a hand around your shoulder.

     “Love you too dad,” you responded.

     “No need to sound too enthusiastic,” Ian clutched his chest in mock offense. 

     “Too enthusiastic. Ways to describe your Sir Mix A Lot choreography.”

     “Anthony said I could throw it back!” Ian protested. 

     You giggled. “Uncle Anthony’s your best friend so he has to say that. But I can be honest.”

    Ian shook his head at you lovingly, ruffling your hair. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

     You beamed up at him. 

     “Because I’m your daughter.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     You pulled your key out of your bag, putting it into the lock and twisting, opening the door to Spencer’s apartment.

     You let yourself in, setting your stuff down by the door and heading towards the living room.

     You knew Spencer’s place almost better than your own, you were here so much. You’d been dating your boyfriend for nearly a year and you practically lived at his place.

     Now, you crossed the apartment, wanting to see Spencer. He had text you this morning, saying he was sick and staying home from work. 

     You’d gotten off early from your own job as soon as you could so you could come take care of him. 

     You turned the corner, finding Spencer laying on the couch. He looked up when you entered, smiling weakly despite probably feeling like crap. 

     “Privet,” you greeted him. “Hi baby.”

     Spencer propped his head up on his arm as you walked over to him. “Hey (Y/n). I didn’t know you were coming. You shouldn’t have.”

     “Of course I should have,” you said. “Kak dela? How are you feeling?” 

     “Better now that you’re here,” he said, “but in general, like shit. Did you get off work just to check on me?”

     “Da. I wanted to make sure you were ok.”

     “You didn’t have to do that for me,” he said. “But now that you’re here, I can’t pretend I want you to leave. Stay?”

     You smiled, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “Of course. Can I get you anything?”

     “Just you being here’s enough,” he said. “But now that you mention it, it is kind of freezing in here. And I’m pretty thirsty. And a pillow would be great.”

     You chuckled. “Takoy nuzhdayushchiysya! You’re so needy.”

     But you smiled as you walked around the apartment, grabbing a blanket and pillow from Spencer’s room and then walking to the kitchen to fill a glass with water.

     You returned to Spencer and handed him the water. 

     “Lift your head up, love,” you told him and he did as you said. You placed the pillow behind him, stepping back to lay a blanket over him.

     “Better?”

     “Yes,” he said, taking a sip of water. “Much better.”

     “Hopefully you’ll feel even better zavtra.”

     “I know I will if you’re here,” he said, smiling.”

     “What’re your symptoms?” You asked him.

     “I’m tired, massive headache, and my throat is killing me,” Spencer told you, rubbing his eyes. 

     You placed a hand on Spencer’s arm, kneeling down next to him. “I’m sorry. Are you hungry? Want me to make you something to eat?”

     Spencer’s eyes lit up. “Can you make that soup you made when you came over for the first time last year? The one from Russia.”

     “Borscht?”

     “Bless you.”

     You let out a soft laugh. “Do you want me to cook for you or not?”

      “No, no I do,” Spencer hurried out. “Please?”

     “Anything for you, Spence.”

     You headed towards the kitchen, calling back to Spencer. “Do you have aromatics?”

     “Doubt it, I’m pretty sure it’s just a cold.”

     “No, it’s for flavor. Like carrots and onions,” you informed him, trying not to laugh. 

     “This is why you’re then chef,” Spencer called back. “Gordon Ramsey would’ve chopped me up a while ago. Or whatever happens—I’ve never seen that show. Check the fridge.”

     You grinned, at least knowing Spencer was feeling good enough to make jokes put your mind at ease. You got to work, chopping and cutting and mixing everything together. 

     It was a familiar recipe and you could make borscht with your eyes closed. Well, maybe slicing with your eyes closed wasn’t the best idea. 

     You worked like this for a while, rhythmically adding ingredients and stirring. Finally, a couple of hours and a pound of beets later, you gently carried a bowl out to Spencer. 

     You found him asleep on the couch and he was so peaceful you didn’t want to wake him.

     You sat down on the edge of the couch again, watching Spencer sleep. After a few moments, his eyelids fluttered open and he smiled at you. 

     “Morning,” you teased, holding out the bowl of borscht to him. “Here.”

     “Na zdorovye,” Spencer said, taking the soup from you, followed by. “Was that right?”

     You nodded, amused. “Not bad.”

     You were in the process of teaching Spencer Russian and he was getting better. It was cute how hard he was trying and you were touched that he wanted to know every part of you. 

     You fiddled with the edge of the blanket as Spencer took bite after bite of soup.

     “This is so good babe,” he said. “I’d get sick every day if it meant I could have your borscht.”

     “It’s not to hot or anything?”

     “It’s perfect. Just like you.”

     “Prekrati eto. Stop it!” you teased. 

     When Spencer was finished, you took the dishes to the sink, resolving to do them later as you came back to sit with Spencer. 

     He did look better than when you’d first arrived. He had more color in his face, more life in his eyes.  

     “What?” Spencer asked, noticing you looking at him.

     “Nothing. I just don’t know how you manage to look so sexy even when you’re sick,” you declared.

     You watched as Spencer fought a blush and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah?”

     “Yeah.” You leaned over and kissed him gently. 

     He pulled back, “Baby, there’s nothing I want to do more than kiss you right now, but aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

     “That’s the last thing I’m thinking about right now,” you told him, leaning in to kiss him again.

     Spencer sat up, bringing his lips to yours. You moved closer, straddling him now as you deepened the kiss. 

     “Thank you,” Spencer whispered in between kisses. “For being here. For making me feel better. 

     “Spencer?” You mumbled against his lips, your fingers finding the waistband of his sweats, tugging lightly.

     “Yeah?” His voice came out slightly breathless and rough, in a way that you knew had nothing to do with being sick. 

     “Want me to make you feel even better?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Hey guys, today (Y/n) and I are going to be getting married!”

     There was a chorus of laughter from the crew as Ian went off-script. 

     “That is not what’s happening,” you said, in your best news anchor voice. 

     “She said no, cut the video,” Ian joked, spiking the camera.

     You laughed, rolling your eyes at him as he continued the intro.

     “But seriously, it is Valentine’s Day and to show you all how much we love and appreciate you, we’re going to be reacting to some fan compilations. Specifically compilations of us, because apparently, and Erin would be so proud of me for using this phrase, you ship it.”

     Ian gestured between the two of you. It was true. You’d started out at Smosh as an editor but after appearing in a TNTL Crew episode, the audience loved you and you kept making more and more appearances on camera.

     You were almost a regular cast member at this point. The new Tommy, people called you. And ever since you had begun appearing more regularly, fans had started shipping you with Ian immediately.

     It helped that you two were good friends and that most of the videos you were in, he was in as well. You and Ian had been close for a while now, ever since you’d started at Smosh a few years back.  

     You’d never thought of you guys as anything more than that though. Friends. But it was fun imagining the fans analyzing your interactions and making more of them. You couldn’t wait to watch the compilations.

     “We have compiled some edits and videos that you guys have made that are apparently about me and Ian,” you said. “I guess now that Shayne and Courtney are married and there aren’t enough clips of Angela and Mater, we’re ‘the ship’.”

     Ian nodded, laughing. “We haven’t watched these yet but I can’t wait to get started so let’s jump right in, shall we?”

     “We shall. This first one is called ‘ian and (y/n) being endgame for 17 minutes straight’ by rogertheredditor. Do we need to give a definition of endgame for Daddy Ian?”

     “Hey!” Ian protested. “I watched avengers.”

     That got a laugh from the crew and you put a hand on Ian’s shoulder.

     “Ok,” you said. “Let’s dive in.”

     You pressed play on the video and watched as clips of you and Ian came on the screen. Most of them were from videos you were in together, Reddit stories and TNTLs and challenge pit. You leaned your elbow on the table, giving the laptop all of your attention. 

 ───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     “Oh my gosh, Ian you can’t say that on camera!” You exclaimed as Shayne laughed, the iPad almost falling out of his hands. 

     “Well if James Charles didn’t want me talking about it, then he shouldn’t have done it,” Ian defended. 

     You smacked Ian on the shoulder as you laughed and he shoved your hand away yelling ‘cooties!’

     This only made you giggle more and you threw a pillow at him. He caught it, pretending to repeatedly hit you with it.

 ───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     You pressed pause. “I don’t even remember what you said. I just know we had to bleep it out.”

     “Oh I do,” Ian said, laughing. “It was—”

     “Next clip!” You interrupted him, pressing play.

 ───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     “Watch this” you told the camera, glancing at Ian in the stool. “This is about to be the fastest bit in TNTL history.”

     Ian looked at you with confusion in his eyes as you walked towards him, leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

     He immediately spit his water and you clapped, feeling triumphant. Ian choked on water as he lost it. 

     “Wait, now we have to know what you said!” Courtney exclaimed, coming out from behind the divider.

     “Inside joke,” you informed her. 

     “Wait, (Y/n),” Ian said, gesturing to you to come closer, a mischievous smile on his face. “Remember…”

     He leaned in and whispered something in your ear and you both started laughing again.

    “Get a room!” Angela called from off camera. 

───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     “Dude, I remember that,” Ian said, stopping the video. 

     “And we did get a room after that,” you joked. You remembered that moment too, you and Ian laughing over something no one else would’ve understood. You didn’t realize there were so many of these kinds of clips of you and Ian. 

     “(Y/n) stop! They’re gonna believe you and then this clip is going to be put in edits.”

     “You’re welcome Ian and (Y/n) shippers,” you winked at the camera.

     “Wait, we need a ship name,” Ian announced.

     “Put our ship name on the comments,” you said, starting the video again.

───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     “Oh my gosh, I’m gonna puke.”

     You waved your hand in front of your face as you tried to swallow—whatever was in your mouth.

     “What you are eating—or, drinking—is called ‘The Birthday Smoothie’,” Courtney read from the card. “Anchovies, birthday sprinkles, spice drops, and cream of wheat.”

     You gagged and Ian put a hand on your back, laughing. 

     “Can we fly in the puke bucket for (Y/n)?” He asked, looking at you in amusement as you grabbed on to the table, covering your mouth. 

     Courtney handed it to you and you turned, emptying the contents of your mouth into the bucket. Ian rubbed your back as everyone reacted. 

     “You’re ok,” he chuckled.

     You came up a moment later, wiping under your eyes and fixing your hair.

     “That was disgusting.”

     “You’re so dramatic,” Ian rolled his eyes. “It couldn’t have been that bad.”

     “Oh yeah, tough guy? Care to try it then.” You gestured to the smoothie still sitting on the table.

     “I would but—I’m on a diet so…”

     You giggled, rolling your eyes. 

    “Oh, you have a—” Ian trailed off, reaching to carefully pull a strand of hair off of your mic, tucking it behind your ear. “There.”

───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     And that was the end of the video. You sat there for a moment. You of course remembered that Eat it or Yeet it—in fact it was only filmed a couple weeks ago.

But you hadn’t realized how sweet Ian had been.

     You couldn’t get the image of him rubbing your back out of your head. Of him tucking your hair behind your ears.

     You turned to Ian now, only to find he was already looking at you. 

     “Um—well that was the first compilation. What did you think Ian?”

     “I think I looked good in all those clips so I’m not complaining.” Ian shrugged.

     “Ok Buddy,” you teased. “On to the next one. This one’s called ‘more ian and (y/n) clips that make anthony jealous’ by amangelalover9. Let’s jump in.”

     This video had some of the same clips from the first one but others were ones you hadn’t seen yet. A lot were times you and Ian shared the screen but others were simply moments where one of you mentioned or talked about the other one. 

───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

    “I was with Ian the other day…”

     “You know who would think this was so funny? (Y/n).”

     “Wait let me text Ian and settle this.”

     “Bro, (Y/n) said the most wild shit last night…”

───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     You watched with Ian, laughing and remembering each part that came on.

     A clip appeared that was older than many of the others—one of your earlier videos, judging by your hairstyle.

───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     “Hey guys, welcome back to challenge pit!” Keith announced. “Today we’re going to be competing to see who can win at doing household chores—but with a twist. I’m talking swords and shit.”

     “Swords and shit? Title of your sex tape.” Ian leaned over and mumbled to you.

     You busted up laughing and everyone else turned to see what was so funny.

     “Sorry Keith,” you wheezed. “Keep going with the intro. Please finish.”

     “Also the title of your sex tape.”

───────↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺───────

     Ian reached forward pausing the video on the laptop. “I remember that day.”

     “It was at the end of a shoot week, right?” You asked.

     Ian nodded, looking wistful. “Yeah. I remember it was the first time I made you laugh.”

     “Must have been the very end of a shoot week and I was delirious,” you teased, but your mind was on his words.

     Ian clutched his chest in mock offense. You giggled, nudging his shoulder as you pressed play again.

     As you watched more of the video and laughed with Ian, you couldn’t get his words out of your head. 

     I remember it was the first time I made you laugh

     He kept track of that?

     Eventually, the video ended and you moved on to the final one. 

     “That was so good,” Ian chuckled. “We are so Shourtney coded. Like I feel like if we announced that we were secretly married, no one would be shocked.”

     “Again with the marriage? Is this whole video a secret proposal or something?”

     “Only if you’d say yes,” Ian countered. 

     You knew he was joking, but something about his eyes—about the way he was looking at you—made your heart beat faster. It was probably just the effects of being in a video about you and Ian being in a ‘relationship’, but you found yourself imagining what it would be like if it was real.

     You had a sudden image of leaning across the table and bringing your lips to his. 

     You shook it off. “The jury’s out on that one. Meanwhile, our final video is titled ‘ian and (y/n) putting kelce and taylor to shame and giving us more feels than that one scene from marley and me’ and this one was posted by pandalover717.”

     The crew laughed at the long title and you kept talking. 

     “This is a shorter one—”

     “Shayne,” Ian coughed. A loud ‘hey!’ came from off-camera. You ignored them.

     “—so we’ll see what it entails. Let’s go.”

     You started the video and a Taylor Swift song started playing, dramatizing shots of you and Ian talking or hugging or falling on each other as you laughed.

     I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings

    Darling, you’re the one I want 

     Was this how everyone saw you and Ian? You had always been close but—had you been missing something.

    I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this 

    Darling you’re the one I want 

     How did you see you and Ian? How did he? You tried to think of your relationship from the perspective of these edits and fan videos.

     I want to drive away with you 

     I want your complications too.

     You tried to stop your heart from racing. You were starting to see Ian in a whole new light. 

     I want to drive away with you. 

     I want your complications too.

     Seeing all of these moments that you’d had with Ian—you were beginning to form a clearer picture that you hadn’t been able to see before. 

     I want your dreary Mondays 

     Wrap your arms around me, baby boy 

     Maybe one you hadn’t let yourself see before.

     Because you and Ian were friends. Best friends. 

     But what if you could be more than that. 

     You were lost in your thoughts as the video ended and Ian tapped a button on the laptop.

     “That song slaps every time,” Ian announced, turning to you. “What’d you think of that one?”

     You shook yourself out of it, answering Ian. “I love a good edit. These were all so good and it’s so much fun to see how you guys interpret interactions and find little hidden meanings in things.”

     “Or not-so-hidden meanings,” Ian said. He sounded so sincere that it threw you off.

     “What?”

     “Nothing. What—what was your favorite moment from all of those clips? Personally mine is when you lost your lunch after that smoothie.”

     You smacked his arm and he ducked away from you, holding up his arms in surrender. 

     “Not funny Ian, my stomach wasn’t right for a week. And I don’t know if I have a favorite, there were a lot of good ones. By some crazy coincidence basically all of the videos I’ve been in have been with this guy.”

      Ian was silent a moment.

     “And—and what if it wasn’t?” He finally said. “A coincidence, I mean.”

     “What?”

     “It was at the beginning but then I, um, might’ve asked to be put in every video you were going to be in,” Ian admitted, running a hand along the back of his neck nervously. 

     “Why?” Your voice came out breathless. “Why would you—”

      “Well,” Ian started, crossing his arms over his chest. “For starters, how else would people have enough content to make edits about us?”

     “Ian.”

     “Fine. At first it was just to hang out with you more,” Ian said, “We were such good friends and—and then it was more than that. Y’know, once I, kind of, fell in love with you.”

     You could’ve sworn your heart stopped. The room was silent. As far as you were concerned it was just you and Ian.  

     “Is this some bit for the video or—”

     “It’s not a bit,” Ian confessed, smiling ruefully. “I wish it was, because that I’d be good at. I’m not good at this. At emotions and feelings and—”

     But he never got to finish that sentence because you leaned over and kissed him. He kissed you back, his lips crashing into yours with an intensity you’d never seen from him. 

     When you broke apart, the entire room erupted into applause and shouts of ‘oh my god’ and ‘guys!’ and ‘pay up shayne, where’s my 30 bucks?’. That last one was Chanse.

     But you hardly heard any of it. You could only smile at Ian as he smiled back at you. 

     “Wow,” you said. “That was not how I imagined this video ending.”

     “Me neither,” Ian said. “But a guy can dream.”

     You smiled, thinking about how Ian had felt about you all this time. How you felt about him now. It would be a miracle if you could stop smiling.

      You looked away from Ian and towards the camera as Spencer spoke from behind it. “I think I speak for all the fans when I say we are going to have a field day with this video in our next edits. This is straight out of a Lynn Painter book”

     “We?” You asked, intertwining your fingers with Ian’s at the same time as Ian said,

“You read Lynn Painter books? 

     “Yeah,” Spencer shrugged “They’re dope as hell.”

     You giggled as he continued, a small smirk on his face. “And as for the edits…

Who do you think pandalover717 is?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Up next is (Y/n)!”

     People clapped as Emily called out from behind the camera.

     You walked out from behind the divider, a smile on your face as you approach the six people on the stools. 

     You had been working at Smosh for nearly a year now, but you had yet to appear on camera. When you had been asked to appear on one of the TNTL Gauntlet episodes with the rest of the crew, you were hesitant but had ultimately agreed.

     You looked at your friends waiting for you to begin your bit. Your eyes lingered longer on Ian, your boyfriend of nearly four months. He gave you an encouraging smile and thumbs up. 

     “Hey guys,” you waved awkwardly, “Wow this is so exciting, I’ve never been on camera before!”

     Shayne turned to face the camera from his stool. “(Y/n) is one of our writers and producers, for those of you that don’t know.”

     You nodded as Ian said, “And my girlfriend!”

     Everyone clapped and you felt yourself blush. “That’s news to me,” you teased.

     “(Y/n), you’re making me look bad on camera,” Ian stage whispered.

     “Doing that all on your own buddy,” Angela said, patting his shoulder.

     Shayne, who had already started to take a sip of water, spit it out, laughing at her comment.

     This made Courtney and Damien spit their water out and soon everyone was laughing.

     “Ok guys, shut up, let (Y/n) do her bit,” Ian said, nodding at you.

     “Ok, dad,” Angela rolled her eyes.

     Once everyone had water in their mouth you answered him. 

     “Funny you should say that Ian,” you said, smiling sweetly as you looked at him. 

     He raised an eyebrow. You shot him a wink. Now that everyone’s attention was on you, waiting to see what you would do, you were suddenly nervous. You focused on Ian as you continued, 

     “So, um, as Ian told you, we’ve been dating for a little while now. And so I wanted to make this bit especially for him.”

     “Oh my god I can’t wait for this,” Amanda said, around the water in her mouth. 

     “Since I wasn’t a part Smosh yet when Ian had his funeral,” you continued, still smiling brightly. “I thought I’d take this opportunity to give him my roast.”

     Shayne clapped loudly and you looked at everyone’s widened eyes. Ian shook his head at you, eyes smiling.

     “Ian don’t worry,” you turned to him. “I’m going to keep it light. I’m not going to say anything offensive or inappropriate—which I know is something you’re not familiar with so let me explain it in terms you’ll understand: 9/11, Columbine, that’s what she said, and something about Luigi Mangione?”

     Shayne spit out his water, looking shocked. Ian played along, shrugging. You tucked your hair behind your ears—you were just getting started.

     “But Ian isn’t all dark humor and Challenger’s references. As I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve really gotten to see who he really is. Which is some combination of the kid from Toy Story and Jared Bailey if he was depressed and looked like Matt Walsh.”

      Everyone else spit their water out now, except for Ian who crossed his arms at you, feigning offense. 

     “This is so good!” Angela yelled. You continued.  

      “No, but Ian is amazing. And he’s a really great boyfriend. He’ll tell you that you look gorgeous and give you lots of affection and he’ll make you feel so loved and desired—

     You paused for effect. 

     “—or so Anthony’s told me.”

     Ian spit now, laughing with everyone else. “No need to out me like that.”

     “This is insane,” Shayne wheezed, wiping his eyes.

      “But all jokes aside,” you started. “Ian is really special and he’s contributed a lot to society…and to science. I mean, as the only person to breastfeed until the age of 13, he’s  been so useful to so many studies.”

      “This,” Amanda said through her laughter, “is actually so crazy.”

      “You’re getting owned,” Courtney shoved Ian’s shoulder playfully. 

      You smiled, feeling encouraged by their laughter and not feeling nearly as nervous as you had at the beginning.

     You glanced at Ian. He was shaking his head at you, a proud look on his face. 

     You cleared your throat.  

     “And I know everyone likes to give Ian crap for his fashion sense—probably because of the gum-ball machine chic chains and the ‘piña colada threw up on me’ vibes—”

     “Hey, that shirt is fire,” Shayne defended.

     “Thank you!” Ian exclaimed.

     “—but I think Ian does have a good fashion sense. I’m sure all the bi girls are so happy that you stole their style and somehow made it so much more white trash.”

     “It’s too real,” Angela said through tears of laughter as Damien blew out an astonished breath. 

     “What I’m trying to say, Ian,” you said, turning to him. “is that I’m so glad we’re together and I know you would never cheat on me—or at least I think. Last time I asked you about it you just shot yourself with a water gun so I’m not really sure what…”

     You trailed off as Ian threw up his hands. 

    “Anyway,” you said, smiling brightly at Ian as he grinned back at you. “I love you Ian and I can’t imagine my life without you in it and I’ll always want you around—even if Angry Birds 2 didn’t.”

     As you finished, the cast on camera and the crew off camera burst into applause and you felt your cheeks warm as you did a little bow.

     “Damn,” Shayne cursed once the room had quieted, looking shocked and impressed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard 

(Y/n) say anything bad about someone ever.”

     “Ian how do you feel?” Damien asked. 

     “Yeah my guy, you were just annihilated,” Courtney giggled.

     Ian looked at you as he answered them. “I’ve never felt better.”

     “Awww,” Amanda cooed, nudging Angela. “They’re weird and in love!”

     “Ew,” Angela joked. “That’s mom and dad you’re talking about.”

     You laughed, catching Ian’s eye as you walked backwards off the set and back behind the divider. 

     “Seriously though, that shirt slaps, dude,” you hear Shayne saying as you walk away. 

     You beamed to yourself. All in all, you’d say your first TNTL was a success. 

     ₊˚ ✧ ‿︵‿୨୧‿︵‿ ✧ ₊˚

     You found Ian immediately after the episode was finished filming. As you passed people, you were showered with praise and comments about your roast. 

     It felt good, having your first time on camera go so well. For so long everyone had known you as the shy, quiet type. Always having something kind to say to someone, an encouraging word to offer. It was nice knowing they all now knew this side of you too. 

     You walked up to Ian, grabbing his hand. “How’d I do?” You asked him. 

     He leaned in and kissed you. “Mmm, you were perfect. I’m questioning my whole identity.”

    “Yeah? I didn’t go to hard on you,” you mumbled against his lips.

     “Nah, everything you said was probably true,” he joked in between kisses. “And I love you even more because not only is my girlfriend sweet and caring and incredibly sexy, she’s also insanely funny and one of the most talented people I’ve ever met.”

     You smiled against him. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

     He pulled back, his hand trailing down your arm. “Really? I thought I was immature and unstylish.”

     “And I love you even more because of it,” you teased.

     “Hey, (Y/n)?”

     You turned to find Amanda standing behind you. You grabbed Ian’s arm, pulling him close to you as you focused your attention on her.

     “Don’t mean to interrupt but—can you write my roast for Angela’s funeral? You’re so good at it and I can’t think of anything that rhymes with ‘drank paint’.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “Sorry!”

     You were bumped hard from behind and you turned around to find a very apologetic-looking woman pushing a large cart. 

     “It’s alright, love,” you assured her.

     As she continued past you, you took a moment to look around you. It was a lot to take in. People bustling about, equipment being moved, other people just arriving.

     They had already begun to set up for the event taking place the next day. You had just gotten here yourself. You took a deep breath, feeling the lanyard around your neck between your fingers. 

     Every year, London held a huge comedy event and you were lucky enough to be invited this year. You were staying in a hotel room above the place but you hadn’t seen it yet. 

     The man at the window had told you to come straight backstage of venue so you could be given a tour before you settled in. Truthfully you just wanted to rest after the day or travel you’d had—you didn’t live to far from the city, but still. You felt for the performers who were coming from out of the country. 

      “When do you think they’ll start this bloody tour?” You mumbled to yourself “I’m starving.”

     You looked around you. It looked like many of the performers were already here. It was quite crowded. You saw many people standing together—group acts—and a couple of solo ones—like yourself.

     You were a pretty big local actor—The Times’ words, not yours—and you had dabbled in comedy for the past few years. You were excited to finally show off that side of your skill set here. 

     Finally, a woman a few yards away from you called out, “Alright, if I could get all of the performers in tomorrow’s show over here. We’re going to go ahead and get started.”

     You walked to where she had pointed and joined the rest of the people waiting. 

     “If everyone could follow me—” The woman started, but she was interrupted by the double doors at the back of the room bursting open.

     A large group of people came rushing in to a chorus of “Were here! We’re not late! Don’t start without us! I told Ian we shouldn’t have taken the Underground!”

     You covered your mouth to suppress a laugh. The woman in charge, however, didn’t look as pleased. She walked over to meet them slowly, fixing them with a glare. 

     “I’m assuming you’re Smosh?” She asked the group.

     A few murmurs went trough the room. Smosh? You heard people mutter. 

     “What’s Smosh?” You asked a woman next to you. She couldn’t have been younger than 75. 

     “Oh they’re a hoot, darling, you’ll see,” was all she said. 

     From listening to the people around you, you gathered that they were an American YouTube comedy group that was also participating in this event.

     You watched as they got checked in and as you scanned over them, your eye caught on a man standing towards the back. He was leaning towards the person next to him, hands in his pockets, presumably making a joke based off of the reaction by the other. 

     Then all of a sudden he looked your way and your eyes snapped back to your hands in front of you. You felt your cheeks warm at getting caught staring. But blimey he was bloody gorgeous! 

      Eventually Smosh made their way over to where you were standing and the woman, looking more stressed and disgruntled than ever, addressed the group. 

    “Right,” she’d said, looking pointedly at the late-arrivers. “Now that we’re all here, let’s get this done with, alright?”

     She began leading you on her tour. You were glad to finally get started. 

     “How about all these British people?” A voice to your left said.

     You turned to find the man you’d been watching earlier, leaning towards you conspiratorially. When you didn’t say anything, he continued.

     “They’ve all got their knickers in a twist, eh?” He said in a mock-English accent.

     You raised an eyebrow at him.

     “Oh god, you’re one of the British people aren’t you?” He said, eyes wide.

     You smiled, amused. “I’m afraid so. Although my knickers are perfectly fine, thank you.”

     His eyes widened even more when he heard your accent. “Well then, I think I must’ve set some record because I’ve only been in your country for two hours and I’ve already insulted three locals.”

     “Three?” You questioned.

     “Tried this same bit at airport security,” he confessed. “They were less pleased. Remind me never to show them our Gentleman’s videos. Called me a wanker, which I’m assuming is not good.”

     You giggled. “Not quite. So I hear you’re a comedian?”

     “Can you write my next resume?” He joked. “But yeah, I do comedy stuff. And other stuff. We’re on YouTube—all of us at Smosh.”

     He gestured to the dozen or so other people with him. None of them looked your way though. 

     “And I'm assuming you’re not just here to cater?” He asked you.

     “No, I’m one of the performers,” you answered. “But a pastry does sound lovely right about now.”

     A moment of silence passed and you listened to the woman at the front talk about the history of the building. 

     “I’m Spencer, by the way,” the man said. “Spencer Agnew.”

     You shook his hand. “(Y/n). (Y/n) (Y/l/n).”

     “That’s so normal,” Spencer acknowledged. “I was expecting something more British.”

     “More British?” You repeated.

     “Yeah, I don’t know, like something from Downton Abbey. Dowager Countess Maryanne whatever.”

     “I don’t think you’ve ever seen that show,” you teased. “And you are aware that it’s the 21st century?”

     “Already? How long have I been in this building?”

     You laughed again. He was charming, Spencer. You were so engrossed in talking to him that you were hardly paying attention to the tour. 

     “Hey, what are you doing after this?” Spencer whispered, glancing at the woman giving the tour, probably hoping she didn’t notice him not paying attention.

     Going back to my hotel room, getting some rest and ordering room service, was what you meant to say. What came out was—

     “Nothing. I’m not doing anything.”

     You didn’t know what made you say it. You just knew you wanted to spend more time with Spencer.

     “Me neither,” Spencer said flippantly and you felt your cheeks flame at assuming he wanted to do something with you. Then he cracked a smile. “I’m just kidding. You wanna grab a bite to eat? I’d go myself but I don’t know any of the good spots.”

     “That sounds brilliant, I’m starving.” You nodded.

     “Great. And maybe afterwards you can show me around the city, make sure I don’t offend anyone else.”

     “It’s a date,” you said. “Anything to stop you ruffling more feathers.”

     Spencer smiled brightly at you and you couldn’t help but beam back. You couldn’t wait for your date with Spencer. Even though you had just met him, you were already more excited about an afternoon with him than the actual comedy event. 

     “Hey, I can’t be doing that bad,” Spencer joked. “I did convince the most attractive person in here to go out with me.”

     “Stop it,” you teased, batting his arm. He looked down at where you had touched him.

      “It’s true,” he said, looking shy all of a sudden. “If this is what all British people look like, I’m staying in this country forever.”

     “You’re not half bad yourself,” you told him, hoping he didn’t see your cheeks flush.

     “Very encouraging,” Spencer said. “But I better join my people before they think they lost me. Again. I’ll tell you that story tonight. At eight?”  

     You nodded. “Perfect. I’m looking forward to it.”

     Spencer winked, kissing you lightly on the cheek before backing up. “Later Countess Cute Accent.”

     You giggled, watching him turn around and head back to his friends and coworkers. 

     “Dude,” you heard him say to one of his friends. “I just had a real life, reverse London Boy moment. Taylor said ‘God I love the English’ and I felt that.”

     You smiled. You were only thinking of Spencer as you turned back towards the front of the still-moving group. You still felt the ghost of his kiss on your face, and your heart still pounded inside your chest. You couldn’t wait to get to know him better.

     “And if you look to your left you’ll see the flying buttresses deigned by the late…”

     The guide kept speaking but you weren’t paying attention. 

     Reverse London Boy huh? You thought. Well then, boy I fancy you. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~°~❦~°~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~