Steve sits on his bed as his heart threatens to beat out of his chest. He just sent Eddie home with the promise he'll call after everything is calmed down.
If he doesn't get kicked out first.
Half an hour ago they were getting ready for bed and kissing each other goodnight when a surprised "oh!" from his doorway makes them jump apart, Steve's mother standing there wide-eyed and a hand covering her mouth.
Now Eddie's gone and Steve's left alone to listen to the muffled argument coming from downstairs.
"—another boy, Linda! If this gets out—"
"Give the boy some credit, John. He's smart. By the looks of it this wasn't just a one time fling." His mother pauses and then says something that has Steve straining his ears to try and hear over the blood rushing.
There's a knock on his door a moment later and Steve wants to cry. If only she'd done that earlier. She steps in and closes the door behind her. Gingerly sits beside him. He keeps his eyes locked on his hands in his lap.
Her voice is gentle but it still makes him flinch. She sighs.
Steve lifts his head. "What—"
"I won't say it's something we saw coming," she continued. "It's a shock to us both."
His eyes are wide, darting around her face. "But— I— What about dad?"
Linda looks almost thoughtful. "Your father... He'll come around, give him time." She puts a hand on his knee. It's a comforting weight and it grounds Steve a little. He leans into his mother's side a little.
She tuts at him, "Oh, Steven," and wraps her arms around him and he buries his face in her shoulder, taking deep, steadying breaths. They sit like that for a few moments before Linda pulls away. Both of their eyes are a little red rimmed.
"Your father does want to talk to you before bed, though."
He stands outside of his parents' bedroom and knocks, his hands shaking.
Steve opens the door. His father is unpacking his suitcase and putting clothes back on their hangers. Before he can even get a word out, his father speaks.
"Have you been seeing that boy long?"
"Almost a year. About eight months."
John pauses, but continues to unpack. He doesn't speak any further but Steve knows its not the end of their conversation. He stands by the door and tries not to fidget, feeling much like the little boy who stood in the same exact spot as he was scolded for breaking an expensive vase on accident.
Then, his father asks a question that completely floors him.
"That boy," John clarifies, "do you love him?"
Steve’s answer is immediate: "So much it scares me sometimes."
The expression on his father's face is a complicated one. He sighs and moves to sit on the bed.
"What’s his name?" he asks, patting the spot beside him.
"Eddie," Steve answers, slowly moving forward to sit beside his father. "Eddie Munson."
"Munson," John says thoughtfully, trying to place the name.
"His uncle said he went to school with you and mom," Steve says helpfully. "Wayne Munson."
John hums, his brow furrowed. "Hm, I don't remember much of him, but I do remember his brother making quite a ruckus." He looks at Steve. "Does he treat you well?"
"Like I'm made of glass," Steve says quietly, cheeks flushing, phantom caresses of Eddie's fingers tickling across his skin.
John studies him for a moment before sighing. "I just want you to be happy, son," he says, surprising Steve. "And if this boy— Eddie— is the person that does that, then... That's good enough for me."
It takes a minute for Steve’s mind to catch up with his father's words. He gape, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, and John laughs and pats his knee before standing.
"Close your mouth and go call your boy, I'm sure he's pacing by the phone worried out of his mind. Invite him over for dinner tomorrow night so we can meet him officially."
Steve practically runs downstairs. His mother gives him a look as he quickly dials the number he knows by heart.
Eddie picks up on the second ring.
"Stevie?" He sounds frantic, just like his father suspected. "Are you okay? Do I need to come get you?"
Steve laughs, feeling lighter than he has in years. "I'm okay, you don't need to do that. Um..."
John comes into the kitchen and stands behind his mother, the two of them giving him encouraging smiles.
'Ask him,' his mother mouths. Steve flushes and turns slightly away from them to have some privacy. He has a feeling this will be happening a lot more in the near future.
"So, listen, um. Don't make any plans for tomorrow night..."