Dinner with your parents was going according to plan until they asked about your new roommate. If the way you choked on the food in your mouth wasn't a dead giveaway, the crimson flush that crept up your cheeks definitely was.

"His name is Shawn," you spoke, sitting up a little straighter in the hard wooden chair.

"His?" your dad questioned, knitting his eyebrows together. Shit.

"Mhm," you nodded, reaching for what must have been your fourth roll in the last half hour. You were a stress eater, and it was showing.

"Isn't that, um," your mother piped up, resting her chin on her fist over the table, "isn't that a little weird, sweetie?"

"S'been fine," you mumbled, painfully swallowing a gigantic bite of bread. "If we're just friends, what's it matter?"

"Hm," your parents nodded in unison. God, they were square. This was why you moved out in the first place.

Your mind drifted to Shawn as they pondered their new discovery, a bit of an uncomfortable silence filling the room and washing over the three of you. You pushed your thoughts to the back of your mind, but it was a little troublesome when you could feel the lace of the thong he bought you digging into your ass. He made you promise to wear your new set tonight. To dinner. With your parents.

"Isn't that a little, I dunno, icky?" you had asked him as you procrastinated getting ready earlier in the day. He was sitting on a chair in a hotel somewhere in New York, and you could practically hear the devilish smirk plastered on his face over the phone.

"Doesn't have to be," he had spoken, "they're just under your clothes. It's not like they know."

"But I know," you sighed, wandering into his bedroom. You'd been sleeping there a lot. "And I'll be with my parents."

"Gotta keep you thinkin' of me somehow," he had quipped, causing your stomach to twirl and your heart to beat a little harder. "Come on. For me."

"I don't know, Shawn," you said nervously with a hint of a grin, collapsing on his bed. "Seems pretty freaking weird."

"I think you should do it," he spoke conclusively, "it'll get you feeling all bad and stuff, and then you'll get home all sexually frustrated, and then you can ca-," he cut himself off with a seemingly better idea, "no, you can FaceTime me. That's it. That's the plan."

"Maybe," you bit your lip, "I'll let you know."

You came back to reality, realizing your mom had been speaking to you the entire time.

"What?" you asked with a shake of your head, uncomfortably shifting yet again. This sucked.

"I asked if he's nice," she widened her eyes, clearly wondering what on earth was going on with you. It's the good-dick-glow, ma, you thought to yourself. Christ.

"Of course he's nice," you smiled, slipping your shaky hands under your thighs. "I wouldn't agree to live with someone who isn't nice. You know that," you reassured, praying they would just fucking drop it. They didn't.

"When can we meet him?" your dad asked, squaring his shoulders. God.

"Never," you grinned, standing from your seat, "If my roommate were a girl, you wouldn't be asking these questions!" you teased, even though you meant every word you were saying. This presented the perfect opportunity to slip away to the washroom.

Shutting the door and leaning against it, you took a deep breath. Alone-time was much needed right now, but of course, that didn't mean you weren't reaching for your phone to text Shawn. Because you totally were.

They're grilling me

You awaited his response, giving yourself a one-over in the wide bathroom mirror. There was some sort of glow about you, indeed. You hoped your mom couldn't tell. She probably could.

His reply was almost instant.

Shawn: Gotta love helicopter parents. You good?

Yeah, bathroom break. You?

Shawn: Yeah, just wrapped up an interview. You know. New album, growing up, living "alone"

Ah, how's that working out for you?

Shawn: It's not very lonely LOL

Glad I can be of service. These underwear really dig in

Shawn: Omg. You're actually wearing it? To dinner with your parents?

You blinked in confusion. He had to know he had you wrapped. It was obvious.

Yeah, you told me to. Remember?

Shawn: Jesus. Can I call you?

You giggled softly.

No, they'll hear me

Shawn: Can YOU call ME then??

You giggled again.

Same thing, goofball

Shawn: Okaaaaaay

Shawn: Call when you get home

I will. Gonna go back out there now

You responded, but didn't fail to pull your shirt up and snap a quick image of your lace-clad breasts. You received a string of crying emojis. Then an even longer string of heart-eyed emojis. And then more crying ones.

Thankfully, you were able to wrap up your visit with your folks without them mentioning Shawn again.

You pushed through the front door, navigating your way to Shawn's contact information on your screen as you flicked some lights on. Hitting the FaceTime button, you were a little surprised when he answered on the first ring.

"Hey!" he spoke cheerfully, sitting against a headboard. He reached for a television remote beside him and turned off whatever program he was watching.

"Hi," you grinned, collapsing on the couch once the lamps were illuminated to suit your liking.

"You're exhausted," he nodded, holding his phone a little closer to his face. You didn't mind.

"Actually, I've been quite energetic all week," you quipped, pressing the back of your head against the couch. Shawn could see Toronto behind you. "Haven't had you here to tire me out."

"Ha," he spoke flatly, shifting in place. "So? Tell me about dinner."

And you did. He asked and you answered, and the questions went from tonight in particular to the rest of your life. He wanted to know everything. Every response opened up a new line of wonder for him, and he was dying to peel back your layers. The emotional kind.

"You?!" he asked surprisedly, "Elementary school Valedictorian?"

You nodded bashfully, smiling back at him. That fucking smile. It was contagious. "Don't seem too surprised."

"No, I'm not surprised at all," he giggled, "you're really fucking smart. It's just, that's, that's adorable."

"Thirteen-year-old me had half the audience in tears with my speech," you spoke bluntly, enjoying watching him melt a little more.

You wondered where this call was headed, considering the reason you'd called him in the first place was on the basis of your sex life. But it didn't seem to be going that way. And that was oddly okay.

You considered that maybe you even preferred it. This. Watching him cooped up in a hotel room in his pyjamas, raiding the mini fridge every ten minutes as if something had changed since the last time he opened it. You hoped you were making him feel better about staying in while everyone else was able to go out like normal people.

He answered your question without you having to ask.

"Thanks for calling me," he spoke, his smile faltering as he shifted the seriousness of the conversation. You recognized this voice. It was one he used when he wanted you to really believe what he was saying, because he meant it. "I'm actually having a lot more fun now."

"Than you were before?" you furrowed your brows at him.

"No, than I would be having had I gone out."

"Oh," you nodded, unable to wipe the stupid grin from your dumb fucking face. Damn it. "Glad I can help."

"Would you wanna maybe," he paused, eyes flickering away from the camera for a few seconds. He pulled his lip between his teeth, "watch a movie, or something?"

"On this?" you asked with a smile, shaking your head a little. He seemed homesick. You didn't considered that maybe he was just you-sick.

"Yeah!" he grinned, sliding down in his spot a bit. His head rested on the pillows, and he looked fluffier than ever. "We could, like, pick something and then just press play at the same time?"

"Oh my god," you giggled, "okay."

You decided on Set It Up, a Netflix original you'd been itching to watch since Shawn's appearance on Corden. He made you prop your phone up on the coffee table so he could see you, and you had him rest his up against his laptop. Almost ready, you hopped up to grab a box of Shreddies from the kitchen, giggling as Shawn rolled his eyes at you upon return.

"That's so fucking weird," he laughed, "they way you just eat them like that. Dry."

"S'a good study snack," you defended yourself, mouth full of shredded wheat. "It's because I like to eat as I work but junk food just makes me feel like shit."

"So why don't you eat, like, fruit or something?" he asked with confusion adorning his face, borderline disgusted by the way you could just shovel the dry cereal into your mouth.

"Too much work," you waved him off, resting the box between your crossed legs.

"Whatever, man," he shook his head. You caught a glimpse of his swallow tattoo as his hand reached for the keyboard, about to press 'play.' "Ready?"

"Yep," you nodded, Apple TV remote in your right hand. You counted down from three together, starting the movie at the same time.

Of course he was a few seconds behind.

You spent the rest of the introduction alternating who would pause for half a second, trying your best to get the timing exact. Shawn let out a cheerful yelp as they seemed to sync up pretty well, reducing you to a giggling mess. The whole situation was ridiculous.

"Okay, see those two? See them?" he asked excitedly, like a little puppy.

"Yes, I see them," you snapped jokingly, "we're watching the same movie, Shawn." You shook your head with a chuckle.

"Okay, yeah. Here's my prediction," he mumbled, chowing down on a spinach salad. Who the fuck just, like, snacks on a spinach salad? Apparently Shawn. "So, like, it's a romcom. But it's not gonna be about them. They're gonna either continue to dislike each other or become friends, but at the end they're gonna realize they're in love."

It was a bold prediction, considering the movie hadn't foreshadowed that at all.

"What makes you say that?" you asked, bitting your lip as you watched the characters interact. It was possible, you guessed.

"Because," he grinned, eyes fixed on his laptop screen, "people who aren't supposed to fall in love always fall in love. In this shit, at least."

"Always," you muttered under your breath with a slow nod, wondering how many romantic comedies he'd watched in his spare time. His eyes then flickered to yours through your iPhone, and for a split second, you wondered if you were living one.

He insisted you both pause it so he could go pee, and of course, that led to another pressing-play-at-the-same-time conundrum. It was worth, it, though.

"Hey!" he called through the phone, appearing to be plugging his into its charger. "Wake up!"

"M'not sleeping," you whined, cozying up to the blanket wrapped around you. It was getting late and you were tired and happy, only making rest seem more appealing.

He only squinted his eyes at you teasingly, both of you knowing that you were, in fact, drifting off to sleep.

"What a scumbag," he muttered as he motioned to his screen, catching your attention again. He had his hood up, now, and the strings of his sweater were tied into a little bow. You were positive his sweatpants were tucked into his socks.

Your attention averted back to the movie as one of the main characters hooked up with his ex-wife, ultimately cheating on his new fiancé. You were less amused with the plot and more interested in the details of Shawn's face.

That is, until you fell asleep. Out cold on the white couch, movie coming to a close, you nuzzled further into the blanket and that was it. There was no regaining consciousness.

"Told you!" Shawn spoke excitedly as the two original characters did, in fact, fall in love. His victorious eyes peered at you through his phone, letting out a sigh as he discovered you were fast asleep and had missed the entire ending.

He shut his laptop and placed it on his nightstand, peering around the small hotel room. He missed home. Missed you.

Shawn bit his lip, debating trying to wake you up so you could get in bed but he knew how heavily you slept and decided to leave you be. Eventually ending the call, he was left staring at his own reflection in the screen. It was then that he noticed the toothy grin plastered on his face.

He reached down to peel his socks from his feet, untucking his sweatpants from them. Stretching to pull the lamp string, he did a quick one-over of his surroundings, eyes landing on his packed luggage in the corner of the room. He felt lucky to be going home a few days early.

Slipping his shirt off and hugging a pillow to his chest, he replayed the events of the evening in his head all over again. It never occurred to him that he hadn't even asked to see you in the lingerie set.

You didn't hear from Shawn at all the following day, for the most part. He was busy with radio stations and you with homework, and the hours kind of slipped away from you as the sun dipped below the horizon. Another uneventful day without him. Slowly, you were beginning to realize how much you enjoyed having his goofy self around. His goofy, gorgeous self.

And that's why you curled up in his bed that night without a second thought, enjoying what was left of his scent on his sheets. You told yourself his was comfier, knowing full-well the mattresses were identical in each of the rooms. Closing your eyes, you tried not to get too excited over only having to wait three days for him to come back home.

Shawn tapped his foot anxiously in the back of his Uber, praying pictures of him arriving at Toronto Pearson hadn't surfaced yet. He loved his fans, but this was supposed to be a surprise. You'd always insisted that you didn't look at that stuff, but he knew you did. He had noticed a few updates accounts in your recent searches a few weeks back, but decided against mentioning it in fear of embarrassing you. Also, he thought it was cute.

He tried to keep quiet walking through the front door, only stumbling over his own feet in the dark once. He couldn't keep the idea of you from driving his mind wild as he placed his bags down gently and headed for your bedroom first, excitement and nervousness flooding his veins at the thought of surprising his roommate.

When he pushed your door open to reveal a perfectly-made, empty bed, his heart sank and a pit formed in his stomach. He never considered what would happen if you started seeing someone. Someone else.

Worriedly, he checked the living room, finding no trace of you there, either. Feeling defeated and discouraged, he pushed into his bedroom, heart shifting back into place at the sight of a peaceful lump right in the middle of his bed. The grin creeping up his cheeks was inevitable.

A flush coated his skin as he silently slipped out of his jeans and briefs and into a pair of looser boxers. He ran his fingers through his hair, haphazardly combing the tangles as he peeled back a corner of his duvet and wrapped himself around your small frame.

And god, he missed the feeling of your cold toes. And the smell of your shampoo. And the sound of your breathing. And your everything else.

His heart lurched as you stirred, finally feeling the firm body holding you in a tight embrace. Confusion and fear flooded your veins, but quickly you realized who it was. His musky scent gave him away.

"Shawn!" you snapped awake and pushed up on your elbow, "Y-you're home?"

"Mhm," he grinned, happy to finally be able to make out your features in the dim light. "We cut it a bit short."

"Oh my god," you spoke, looking away as you realized you were both in his room, "I'm in your bed. I'm sorry. Oh my god. This is so embarrassing."

You buried your face in his chest, hiding your crimson flush. You were positive he could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks through the thin cotton of this t-shirt.

"S'okay, don't worry about it," he giggled, his palm finding a home on your jaw. You looked up at him. "You're just keepin' it warm for me," he grinned, placing a kiss on your forehead before you both drifted off to sleep.