"How old is he?"

"Twenty three."

"Where's he from? He has an accent."

"London."

"How old was he when he moved here?"

"Twenty two. I think. I'm not sure; he hasn't been here long."

"Does he have a job?"

"He works at a book store."

"Can he drive?"

"I haven't asked."

"Family?"

I shook my head, exasperated. "Eleazar, for the love of god."

He made an unimpressed noise, and I rolled my eyes in disbelief at him.

"What?"

"Are you sure he's…right for you? I mean, he is a little bit younger; perhaps he's flighty-" he started before I cut him off.

"Only by three years, you asshole. Jesus, Carmen is five years younger than you, so what's the issue?" I was overly defensive; I knew he was partly teasing me, but I hated the thought of them thinking anything bad about Carlisle.

Carmen smiled at me, lightly pushing Eleazar. "Carlisle was very sweet when I met him, Garrett."

"I'd love to have him as my son-in-law," mum added, almost in a dream-state at the thought of both her sons being settled with their partners.

"You're getting a little ahead of yourself," I reminded her. "We haven't been together all that long. I just thought you all needed to know who he really is to me."

When I'd sat down at the table with my family an hour ago, and I had not expected the words 'I'm gay' to come out so easily. I hadn't wanted them out. There had been a good minute of silence before anyone had said anything, and then Eleazar had immediately pounced upon Carlisle as the boyfriend. After my brother's interrogation, I was overly relieved that Carlisle wasn't actually with us; I didn't want to subject him Eleazar's torment just yet. With a hidden smirk, I wondered if Alistair and my brother would get along; they both got off on winding people up, so I assumed it to be a possibility.

My father was quiet, not having said a word since I had told them, and I looked at him for his reaction; whatever it was going to be, I wanted it over and done with. His mouth remained shut, and my frustration boiled over.

"Well?" I prompted him.

His eyes flickered to me, and he managed a smile. "I'm proud of you, Garrett."

That pulled me up short, and I choked on my drink instead of swallowing it. "…Really? You're not…upset?"

"Of course not; you're my son. Besides, you're almost twenty-seven, I assumed if you were going to settle down with a girl, you would have at least dated one by this point." He was teasing me, and I was glad; I hadn't expected it to go over so smoothly. "Now, which boy was it, again?" he asked again.

"The only friend of mine you've ever met, father," I grumbled at him, rolling my eyes.

"The blond kid?" He narrowed his eyes.

"Yes. Carlisle." I hoped he'd start using his name, the more times he heard it. I didn't want the awkwardness of dad calling Carlisle something he hated to his face. 'Kid' was a prime example.

He shook his head. "No. I don't like him."

"You liked him well enough before you knew we were dating," I snapped, recalling how well they'd gotten on at Kate's birthday party.

"Your friends aren't of as much importance to me as you partner, Garrett. I have no problem with you being gay, but I don't like your boyfriend." That seemed to close the topic, and I glared at my food as an excuse not to look at him.

/

I was still bitter about it hours later, and within the first five minutes of me being in their flat, both Carlisle and Alistair called me out on it.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" Carlisle asked quietly, sitting across from me at the table and reaching over to squeeze my fingers. He'd tried to lock his flatmate out of the conversation, but it was futile.

"Let him sulk, Carlisle," Alistair told him, kicking the leg of his chair as he walked past. The whole table jolted at the motion as Carlisle was knocked into it, grumbling a curse at him.

"Alistair," he scolded him. There was a sharp edge to his voice, but I could see he wasn't actually mad, biting back a smile.

"Sorry, babe," he teased, running his fingers through his hair and placing a condescending kiss on his cheek as he passed again. Just like the troll wanted, a wave of jealousy flooded my system and I wrinkled my nose.

"Hands off my boy, Alistair," I warned, only half teasing.

"He was my boy first," he countered, grinning once he'd gotten a reaction out of me. "Besides, I made him breakfast this morning; I think I'd make a better house wife than you would. And, he already lives with me. Definitely my boy."

Carlisle's cheeks were already slightly pink, but he was fighting to keep his face from flushing, suddenly fidgety and trying to hide it. I guessed his discomfort came from me knowing about his history with his flatmate, and Alistair's bold unawareness. Still, that in itself had me giggling. "You did not! I made you breakfast, you jerk!" he laughed anyway.

Alistair's smile became rueful. "I did the dishes, though."

He shook his head, glancing at the bench and the pile of dirty plates. "Not even close."

"I will do the dishes?" he tried again, his question turning up at the end.

Carlisle relented, shaking his head and laughing again. "I don't care, Allie. We can do them later, just leave it."

"I've warned you about that pet name," he grumbled, leaning his back against the bench and folding his arms.

"Domestic bliss," Carlisle teased, apparently enjoying the argumentative banter between the two of them. It was amusing to listen to, if nothing else.

"This fucking kid," Alistair stage-whispered to me as he went back down the hallway. "You'd better keep him in line, Garrett. He's a handful."

His smile was shy as he turned back to me, a little apologetic. "You never answered my question…"

"Hmm?" I took his hand again, pleased to have him to myself. There was only so long I could pretend that I wasn't going insane with Alistair touching him like that, even if it was a joke. Carlisle knew it too, judging by the look on his face.

"Are you okay?"

I couldn't help but frown a little; I couldn't exactly tell him that my father didn't like him. "Uh…I ah, I told my family…about us…" I murmured eventually, uncharacteristically nervous about his response.

His anxiety increased, but his face lit up. "Did they take it alright?" His question was quiet.

I nodded. "Yeah, mum was excited and Eleazar is happy he has something else to torment me with…my father was a little…. unsure about everything." That was the best I could do. "I'm glad I did, though; I'm not sure how long we could have pulled off 'just friends' when I can't keep my hands to myself whenever you're too close to me."

"It's a good thing I'm on the other side of the table then, isn't it?" he teased, not seeming phased.

"Well, no, it's not. I'd rather have you over here," I grumbled. It wasn't really a joke; I badly wanted a hug.

Not having to be asked twice, he was suddenly behind me, his arms wrapped around my shoulders while he lent forward to kiss my cheek. "Better?" he murmured quietly.

"Kinda." I rubbed his arm, wanting more contact. Why I was such a needy little bitch all of a sudden, I wasn't sure, but I wanted to get rid of the vulnerable feeling. Apparently the conversation with my family had taken more of a toll than I wanted to admit. I failed at forcing back a yawn, already tired, and it was made worse by Carlisle's warmth seeping into my back.

"Want to go to bed?" he asked softly, kissing me again and seeming to understand my want for intimacy.

I nodded sheepishly, letting him pull me to my feet. I missed the closeness the minute he let me go, even if it was only for a few seconds while we moved. Anxiety was churning away in my stomach, and I battled the feeling, blaming it on being over-tired. "Carlisle…" His name came out without any thought, and I felt my face flush as I realised I didn't actually want his attention centred on me right now.

"Yeah?" He had his back to me still, setting alarms and god knows what else for the morning.

"…You're okay that I told them…right?" I asked after a moment. My voice was a little more unsteady than I would have liked, and I prayed he wouldn't pick up on it.

He did though. He always did. "Of course I am, Garrett. I'm happy." Shuffling closer, wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me tightly. "Are you okay with it, though?"

"I think so…" I mumbled, fitting myself against his side to burying my face in his shoulder. My father's response was eating away at me, worse the more I thought about it. "Just…my dad."

"Is he upset with you?" he asked carefully, repetitively running his fingers through my hair. it was making it hard to concentrate, as comforting as it was.

I shook my head. He's upset with you. "He just…I don't know, he's just not happy with the whole situation. And I'm not used to disagreeing with my parents over big things like this and it feels…not nice."

He repressed a smile at my choice of wording, leaning down to kiss me and providing a blissful distraction from everything for a few seconds. The closer I shifted to him, the more he wrapped himself around me, almost a protective barrier between me and the world.

"I think…I think maybe things might settle a bit once they know you. They can't not like you."

"I've met them, remember?" he reminded me gently.

"I mean like meet you as my partner, not my friend," I corrected, wrapping my arms around his shoulders to pull him into me for another kiss. "It's different." Dad had made that very clear. "I want to introduce you to the like that."

Carlisle just nodded, pulling the blankets around us. "You want me to meet you parents?" he clarified again.

"Yeah, if that's okay. I think they'll be more comfortable once they know you properly…"

"I can do that, Garrett," he promised, squeezing me a little tighter.

"Maybe we could have dinner with them?" I was trying to level the playing field; I knew Carlisle would be nervous about it, and if we were eating then we'd both be in the same boat. It would make feel less guilty, if nothing else. Thankfully, he didn't seem to pick up on my tactic, too focused on meeting them again in the first place.

He managed a smile. "Your father doesn't own a gun, right?"