#i have very poor time management hashtag yikes

[enchantedwolfoon]

Wild Kratts style Studies

[scabopolis]

Omg congrats on 600 followers! Honestly any fake dating with Jonah x Amy would be amazing, although I love number 44 and/or 48 on your Google Docs <333

This is my first Jonah x Amy fic and I offer two caveats: 1) I’m still not sure if there is a particular vibe people who read for this pairing preferring, so...here we are, and 2) I have only made it through 4x12 of Superstore but am pretty familiar w/ what happens the rest of the series. 

Prompt: “You know we’re not actually dating, so why did you propose to me in front of my family?” / “I’m sorry, I panicked.” --- Title: the scene of the complication Fandom: Superstore Pairing: Jonah/Amy Other Characters: My crippling insecurity writing for a new fandom, sleep soft mornings, dumbs being dumb (but, like in a cute way) Additional Tags: friends to lovers (or idiots to friends to lovers??), fake dating shenanigans, alternative universe where Amy’s HS pregnancy test was negative and she and Jonah met in college Word Count: ~2,100 ---

It started with a chance meeting ten years ago, and somehow it’s brought Amy Sosa here: awake in her childhood room with Jonah Simms beside her, sleeping off upwards of half a dozen tequila shots. Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. She knew that day they met in the lecture hall that Jonah was a person who would make her life exceedingly more complicated. 

And ten years later, here they are, practically leaving complicated behind in the rear view mirror. 

(“What are two hopes and one fear you have for your first lecture on your first day of college?” the guy sitting to her right asks. 

Amy doesn’t answer at first but this stranger just waits for her, all blinking, bright eyes and freshman eagerness. It’s barely morning. Is this her life now? 

“Hope one,” she says, holding up a finger, “that I’d sit next to someone quiet. Hope two,” she holds up another, “that no one would talk to me before I managed to find coffee.” She holds up a third finger. “And this moment right here is what I feared.” 

For some reason, her shortness delights him. His smile is open and affectionate, and he nods in appreciation. 

“Noted.” 

And Amy fully intends to never speak to this wide-eyed panda boy ever again, but then their General Psychology professor informs the class that the person they’re sitting next to will be their assignment partner for the semester. 

The next lecture her partner – his name is Jonah, she learns – brings her a cup of coffee and doesn’t speak a word until she takes a long sip. 

Complicated.)

Jonah snuffles in his sleep, his eyelids fluttering slightly. His hair is doing that thing it does when he’s hot or drunk or has run a hand through it too many times, where a single lock of hair hangs in the middle of his forehead. Amy resists the very real urge to brush it away. Because, yeah, she has those kinds of thoughts a lot and they also make things complicated. They’re friends. Maybe even best-friends, but definitely not ‘tenderly brush a lock of your hair away’ friends. 

Do those kinds of friends even exist? 

Jonah stirs again, and now that it’s clear he’s actually waking up, Amy reaches for her phone and opens Candy Crush. The last thing she needs is to get caught staring at him like some weird stalker.

“Oh, god,” he groans, his voice scratchy. He stretches out with another groan, his foot bumping against Amy’s as he does. Rather than move away, he kind of just rests it there on top of hers. And this is something she is all too familiar with. Drunk and/or hungover Jonah is yet another complication. More accurately, his propensity to cuddle indiscriminately is a very real complication. 

“I need—” Amy reaches for the glass of water on her night stand and hands it to Jonah, stopping him mid-thought. “Do you have—?” She hands him two ibuprofen. “Thank you,” he says. 

“You’re welcome.” She looks back at her phone. 

Jonah swallows the two pills and drinks the entire glass of water, and then lays back down, curling slightly into Amy’s side.  

“I made so many mistakes last night,” he says.

“I’m aware. As are your 80 Instagram followers.” 

“I liveblogged it?” 

“And tagged everything with the hashtag ‘best noche ever.’” He groans again and turns his face into Amy’s side. She sets her phone back on the nightstand. “What got into you?” 

“Your dad is intimidating.” 

“My dad?” 

“Yes. Your dad. And then he and your brother kept pouring me shots—” 

“I knew this had Eric’s fingerprints all over it.” 

“Well, it was kind of my fault, too.” 

She frowns. “What do you mean?” Jonah doesn’t answer and Amy kicks him under the covers. He looks up at her. His eyes are red-rimmed but also so sleepy and soft. Complicated. “Jonah.” 

“They kept asking me questions. About you and me. And I was so worried I’d say something wrong, I kept taking shots to avoid answering.”

“You could have found me.” 

“I know, but—” he trails off. 

“But what?”

“I want them to like me.” 

“Oh, Jonah.” She gives in and brushes the lock of hair off his forehead, and he looks up at her. “They’ve known you for 10 years. They’re never going to like you.” 

“Thanks, I feel so much better.” 

“I do have one more question.” 

“Okay.”

“You know we’re not actually dating. Right?” 

He closes his eyes and nods. “No. Yeah. I know.” 

“So why did you propose to me in front of my family?” 

“I panicked.”

“Panicked?” 

“Your dad asked what my intentions were, and there were just so many shots. 

“And that’s why you shouted ‘I intend to marry her!’?” 

Jonah flips the comforter over his head. “I just got wrapped up in it all.” His words are muffled from under the comforter.

She’s glad for the moment of respite, with Jonah unable to see her. If Amy didn’t want things to careen so off track, she probably shouldn’t have agreed to let him come to her dad’s retirement party as her fake boyfriend. 

(“I don’t see what the problem is,” Jonah says, spooning more cashew chicken onto his plate. “You don’t still have feelings for Adam, do you?” 

“No. No. God no,” she says. “Absolutely not.” 

“Alright. I’m clear on the no.” 

“It’s just the last time I saw him— Well, you know.” 

“I recall, yes.” 

And he does. Jonah knows all about Amy’s high school boyfriend. The one she liked but never quite loved. The one she broke up with when the pregnancy test came back negative. The one she slept with again the summer after their senior year of college. 

(An event that occurred in no small part because Jonah was dating Mindy and the two of them were talking about moving in together. Maybe moving to the west coast together and Amy realized there was a very real possibility she was going to be left behind. 

Jonah doesn’t know that part of the story.) 

Adam is also the guy who thought having sex in her childhood bedroom meant Amy wanted to get back together. He’s the guy bringing his very beautiful fiancée to her dad’s retirement party. Because he’s also somehow the guy who still helps her dad with home improvement projects. And Amy is just Amy – the one who doesn’t visit St. Louis enough, and is using her very expensive liberal arts degree to work as a survey researcher for Cloud9, meaning she’s basically paid to manipulate shoppers. 

And, not that it should matter, but she’s also very single. Has been for a while now. 

She mostly blames the man stealing chow mein from her plate for that. She blocks Jonah’s chopsticks with hers, and a piece of cabbage goes flying. 

“Stop that,” she says. 

“You’re not eating it.” 

“I’m too annoyed to eat.” 

“If you only ate when you weren’t annoyed you’d starve.” 

“I hate you.” 

She pushes the chow mein around her plate. God, when she thinks about it, this really is Jonah’s fault. If she could just find a way to get over this stupid, dumb, little crush that has creeped up – without her permission, mind you! – then maybe she could actually—

“I could do it,” Jonah says, interrupting her thought spiral. 

“Do what?” 

“Go with you to your dad’s retirement party. Be your fake boyfriend.” 

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea. Besides, I am very close to getting your dad to like me.” 

“He’ll never like you.” 

“It’s not that I didn’t like the painting—” 

“—How would this even work?” she asks, cutting him off. 

“I don’t know,” he says. “I think we act like we normally do, but maybe you can hold my hand and be nice to me.” 

“Eww.” 

Jonah smiles around a large bite of cashew chicken. She really needs to stop hanging out with him so much – he’s become immune to her insults. It’s rude. 

And him as her fake boyfriend is a terrible idea. Truly awful. If Amy is looking to get over her crush and make things between her and Jonah less complicated, there are better ways to do it. 

Except. 

Except she kind of wants to. 

“Okay. Let’s do it,” she says. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes,” she says decisively. “But if you try and kiss me, I’ll cut your lips off.” 

“That seems like a proportionate response.”)

“So, to be clear, I told you kissing wasn’t allowed, and you thought that left proposals on the table?” 

He groans again from under the comforter. It’s a little sad and a lot pathetic. Poor guy. 

She pats the comforter in the area of what she hopes is his shoulder. As annoyed as she is at having to untangle these threads, it’s not his fault. Not really. She knows her family is relentless. Amy slides down and flips the comforter over her head as well. 

Jonah rolls over onto his side to face her. Amy does the same. 

“It was better than Adam’s proposal.”

“Adam proposed?” 

Amy nods. “Ish. If I remember correctly he said, ‘I’ll marry you if I have to.’”

“Yikes.” 

“Right?” It’s cozy under this blanket. Intimate even. “You did say some nice things. Even if they came out kind of slurred.” 

“Amy—”

“Sexy, huh?” 

“I really didn’t mean to shout that to all of your dad���s—”

“Because it’s not true?” 

“No!” Jonah winces and Amy isn’t sure if it’s ‘I have a hangover’ induced or ‘I am revealing too much’ induced. “It’s true. Of course it’s true. You are very, you know.” 

“Sexy on a completely objective level? Or, are you saying that you, yourself, Jonah Simms, think I’m sexy?” Jonah goes completely still. Amy isn’t even sure he’s breathing. It’s entirely uncharacteristic and a little unnerving. She pokes his cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Big time, yeah.” 

That does enough to break the tension under their blanket enclave, both of them laughing, at first awkwardly and then more genuine. Once they stop to catch their breath, Amy notices they’ve shifted closer together. 

This would be the perfect moment to flee from the scene of the complication. But the complications don’t seem so terrible at this specific moment. She blames that lock of hair of his.

“How long have you held this opinion?” Jonah frowns at Amy’s question. “Regarding my sexiness?” she clarifies. 

“Amy—”

“What?” 

“What are you doing?” 

“I just want to—”

“Really? You really want to have this conversation?” 

Jonah stresses the ‘you’ and Amy knows why he does. There isn’t a topic or feeling that is off-limits to Jonah – he’d happily discuss every feeling he’s ever had. It’s her. It’s always her. 

Their faces are so close they’re practically sharing the same pillow. It takes no effort at all for Amy to close the distance between them, lightly brushing her lips against his. As quick as it began it’s over, and even in the dim light under the comforter, Amy can see Jonah’s eyes blown wide. She’s sure she looks just as shocked and she’s the one who did it.  

“You said if I kissed you you’d cut off my lips.”

“Which is why I kissed you.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Makes sense.” Jonah taps out a slow but erratic rhythm against the side of his leg. She just knows he’s trying to stop himself from verbalizing every single thought in his head. “To be clear, was that a friendship kiss, or—” 

So Amy kisses him again. This time Jonah recovers quickly from his shock, winding a hand into her hair, his palm cupping the back of her head. It’s just unbelievably good. 

“Okay,” Jonah says, his voice unsteady as he pulls away. “That answers that.” He traces her jaw with his thumb. “Any chance we could do it some more?” 

Amy rolls onto her back, putting some distance between them. “I don’t think so.” 

“Wait. What?” 

“Your breath is awful.” 

Jonah breathes into his hand and sniffs it to confirm. “What if I brush my teeth?” 

Amy sighs, long and exasperated. “I suppose that would be—”

Jonah is out of the bed in seconds, scrambling for his overnight bag, and Amy presses her lips together to hide her smile. From the way Jonah smiles, soft and delighted as he backs out of the room, she isn’t fooling anyone. 

So far past the point of complicated, she thinks, her heart still racing. But then again, maybe complications that make her feel like this are okay.