"I think he hates me," Sherlock whispers as low as he can. "I think he genuinely hates me."
John peers into the sitting room where the wild beast of their teenage son is sitting on the sofa. His perfect face resembles his husband's so much that John can't help but grin widely.
"Oh Sherlock," John finally says. "He does not."
"Then why does he snap at everything I say? We haven't even spoken today, he's just buried himself with books and his iPad. I asked him if he wanted lunch and he almost bit my head off."
John can't help but laugh. "He's a teenager, love. Teenagers have bad days. Didn't you hate your parents and the entire world when you were his age?"
Sherlock grows a hurt expression. "So he does hate me?"
"No, no!" John cries. "And I'm sure he doesn't want to talk to me either. Here, watch."
John pokes his head through the doorway from the kitchen to the living room.
"Hey, Ian?"
Ian takes a headphone out of his ears. "Yes, Dad?"
John shoots Sherlock a glance that says 'look, he's fine!'. "You hungry?"
Ian nods. "I could eat. Thanks Dad."
John gives him a smile and Ian places his earbud in again.
"He's fine."
"He hates me!"
John sighs. "Okay, you try. I'm sure he's just needed space all day, I'm sure he's over it now."
"I'm scared!"
"Be a man and talk to your son."
Sherlock frowns.
John pushes him towards the doorway.
Sherlock takes a deep breath and tries. "Hey, Ian?"
Ian lowers am earbud. "What?" he snaps.
Sherlock nervously licks his lips. "Uhm...we're having that...that chicken thing you like for dinner."
Ian sighs an exasperated sigh. "I know, I saw you unload the groceries."
Sherlock just frowns.
John steps in. "You still like that stuff, right son?"
Ian smiles at John. "Yes Dad, I love it."
"Well, it was Dad's idea."
Ian drops the smile. "Thanks," he mumbles, putting his headphones in again.
Sherlock and John dip behind the door again and Sherlock throws his arms in the air.
John lets out a chuckle. "Sherlock, relax. He's fourteen. Tomorrow he'll adore you and he'll be repulsed by me."
Sherlock frowns deeply, so John takes him in a hug.
"Why does he have to be a terrible teen?" Sherlock asks against the top of John's head.
"Kids grow up, love. Soon he'll be your best friend again."
"Mmm," Sherlock sighs, unconvinced.
"At least we have each other," John says, tilting his head up for a kiss.
Sherlock obliges, giving John a quick peck that turns into almost an entire snog.
"Ugh!" they hear behind them a second later, causing them to break apart in a flash.
Ian storms out of the kitchen, stomping upstairs to his bedroom.
John laughs. "Dinner will be ready in ten!"
Ian's bedroom door slams and Sherlock can't help it, he breaks into a fit of giggles.
"Dinner is going to be a blast," John says between laughs.
