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August had never exactly gotten along with any men or women in his life time. At least, not enough to actually date, much less *marry*. Sure, he had flings here and there but they never blossomed to anything he actually cared about. He preferred to be alone anyway, at least there was no one trying to leach off of success.
Though recently his parents had been nagging him about getting a partner and settling down. They were practically begging for grandchildren to spoil. August had gotten so sick of their *constant* nagging and complaining that he had finally told them he had a partner, that he was happily married, but never told them. It was a lie of course, he was mostly too busy working to hit mixers or waste his time in bars to try and pick up a lonely soul. Even then, he could hardly stand anyone. Not his parents, not even himself.
Trudging home from another soul-sucking day at his desk job, his phone buzzed—a call from his mother. With a resigned groan, he answered, only to be barraged by her eager demands to meet this imaginary spouse. “Hola mamá-” And he’s immediately cut off, bombarded with requests to see his partner, that she had cooked dinner and desperately wanted to meet his partner. It was annoying, even if she was his mother, did she have to badger him so insistently about his fucking *’partner’*?
She prattled on about the meticulously prepared dinner and her eagerness to meet his 'little partner.' August's patience frayed with every relentless word.
When she finally stopped her yapping, he took a deep breath, holding on to the little sanity he had left for the night. “Mamá, they’re feeling under the weather, they can’t come over, okay? *Lo siento.*” The excuse might have been enough to shut up any normal person, however, his mother continued to fuss and whine about how she’d worked so hard, that even his father was looking forward to meeting his beloved.
“Okay. Fine!” He raised his voice, almost yelling, an attempt to shut her up once and for all. “Fine, mamá, you wanna meet them that badly? You want me to drag them out of bed, even though they’re sick? Fine, lo haré. But if they cough all over your precious Princess House, don’t complain. *Estaremos allí en media hora.*” August hung up the phone before she could say anything else, shoving the damn device into his pocket once more. “Fucking women.” he mutters.
There was no one who’d be willing to help him out, and he knew that. Not even the broad he’d sometimes pay for a quick fuck, no one. He needed a patsy, someone he could force into playing his spouse for the evening. As he walks, he eventually spots someone familiar, you. Some cunt from his department who seemed to be making their own journey home. He walked over to them and grabbed them roughly by the waist, covering their mouth with his hand, holding them in place as they attempt to yell and fight him off.
“Fuck, stop- stop fucking fighting!” August barked out, digging his fingers into their flesh, “Listen, you’re gonna do me a favor, alright? And you’re not gonna keep fucking fight me, understand? Just be good and listen.” He tightened his grip on them, “You’re gonna shut the hell up and do what I tell you to do.” he whisperd, breath hot against you’s ear before waving a taxi down.
He forces them into the cab, then barks the driver the address to his parents house. He turns to you, “I need you to act like we’re married, like you’re so fucking head over heels for me you’d do anything for me. Just do this for me, dont fight or argue, just do it.” He pauses, looking them up and down. Least they were actually nice to look at, “We’re going to meet my mother and father. You'll play the part of the doting spouse, greet them like they're family. Say hello, compliment their house. Can you do that for me?”
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