34. meet the family

THIRTY FOUR

meet the family

Sunday, May 25th

Isaiah was freaking out.

Sure, August had met his mom and sister once or twice, and they loved him. But he hadn't met his dad or his little brother, and now he was freaking out. Because Dylan would take every chance he could get to embarrass Isaiah on purpose, and Dad would do it on accident. Which was so much worse.

It was six thirty, and August said he'd be there around seven. Isaiah kept glancing toward the clock, sighing loudly, which Jordan kept glaring at him for. "Dude, stop worrying," Jordan had eventually told him, shaking her head. "They'll love him."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Isaiah muttered, rubbing at his cheeks. "Dad and Dylan are going to tell humiliating stories, and then August will never let them go and he'll make fun of me forever."

Jordan snorted. "I doubt it, but okay. You worry too much." She sat up in the armchair and leaned forward, observing her nervous brother. "Seriously. It'll be okay. I'm pretty sure it's going to be hard to scare him off; he seems weird like that."

Isaiah groaned, falling back against the sofa cushions. "Dylan will ask invasive questions!" he exclaimed, placing his palms over his eyes. "I already know it. He'll probably ask if he's a fucking robot, or a technological hero like Tony Stark."

"Hey," Jordan said, snapping her fingers. "Shut up. Everything will be fine, I promise."

Isaiah sulked. He could only hope she was right.

To keep his nerves in check, Isaiah entered the kitchen where his parents were both finishing up dinner. Isaiah leaned back against the countertop and watched his father lightly smack his mother's hand when she was about to do something wrong. The woman would pout and let his dad take over, as always when they felt food needed to be perfected for certain occasions. This happened to be one, in their opinion.

Isaiah worried at his bottom lip, hands holding onto the edge of the counter. "What are you guys making?" he asked, leaning forward to try and catch a glimpse. He smelled his father's homemade sauce.

"We're playing it safe," his mom said, clasping her hands together. "So we decided on pasta. And salad, too, if August wanted something healthier."

"I doubt he will," Isaiah admitted. "I'm pretty sure he's like, seventy five percent carbs."

"Oh," his dad said, pausing. He glanced over to the oven that had fifteen minutes left on it. "I made garlic bread, too. Is there such a thing as too many carbs?"

Isaiah shrugged, smiling a little. "He'll be fine," he reassured them. "At this point, it's like he's immune to anything bad happening."

"Oh no," his mom said, placing her hand against her cheek. "We're feeding an addiction. I could always order takeout. Does he like Mexican food, by any chance? Or Chinese?"

"Mom," Isaiah laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "It's fine. You've done this much already. He'll like it, so don't worry."

She blew out a breath. "Okay, if you say so."

Isaiah went to respond, but the sound of the doorbell cut him off, and he exchanged a wide-eyed look with his father. They both immediately glanced at his mom, who had visibly brightened, and Isaiah took off, getting to the front door before she could. Is he seriously here already?

He opened the door just enough so that August could see him, and he stared at him as if he was crazy. "Why are you here so early?" he whispered, and August raised an eyebrow.

"It's like, ten to seven. Chill," he mused, then tried to glance over Isaiah's head. "Can I come in? By the way, Morgan dropped me off. But she left right away because she had to go babysit."

"Um, I—"

"Isaiah!" his mom hissed, and August's gaze drifted to the top of her head behind her son's broad shoulders. "Move. Quiero verlo."

"¡Para!" Isaiah complained, very rarely ever using his limited Spanish vocabulary, but he was getting desperate. "He's my boyfriend, deme un segundo, Mama." He turned his head toward her and whispered something else, and when he finally glanced back over at August, the blond looked surprised (and slightly amused).

Isaiah stepped outside and shut the door, releasing a soft sigh. "Sorry," he mumbled. "I wanted to talk to you before you met the rest of my family."

August grinned. "I don't think I've ever heard you say something in Spanish," he commented, sliding his hands inside the pockets of his black dress pants. The same floral button-up he'd worn on their first date was tucked into it, a belt that looked like a chain slipped through the belt loops of the pants. He looked good. Really good.

Isaiah looked down at the ground, scuffing the soles of his shoes against the cement. "That's because I'm not completely fluent and I only use my limited knowledge with my mom. Mostly when I'm desperately in need of something."

August laughed. "And you were desperately in need of something just now?" He lifted his brows when Isaiah looked up, and Isaiah sighed loudly.

"In need of talking to you, yes. Don't be weird," he muttered.

"I was kidding," August teased, but Isaiah knew he wasn't. "Now what's up?"

Isaiah pursed his lips. "Dylan is going to ask stupid questions and there's literally nothing I can do to stop him," he explained, pausing to see August's reaction. He just nodded for him to continue. "So I'm sorry. And he and my dad are also going to try their best to embarrass me. Please don't make fun of me later."

August's smile only became softer rather than teasing. He reached out and took Isaiah's face in his hands, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "You're so cute," he murmured, and Isaiah felt his heart swell. "I can't wait to hear your humiliating childhood stories."

Isaiah groaned and shoved at his chest, causing August to laugh loudly. "You ruined it," he complained, smacking his shoulder. "Every time you're going to be all cute and soft with me, you either make it sexual or make a joke."

"Hey! Not true," August said defensively, jutting his bottom lip out into a pout.

Isaiah narrowed his eyes. "It's very true."

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." He moved forward and kissed him properly this time, wrapping his arms around Isaiah's waist. The latter smiled happily against his lips, eyes fluttering shut as he pulled him closer so that they were nearly chest to chest.

Isaiah could've stood there forever, just holding August and kissing him until he ran out of air to breathe. But, as expected, someone had to ruin it by drumming their hands against the window, making Isaiah flinch away. He spun around and glared at his mom and Jordan, their grinning faces being seen from outside.

"I hate them," Isaiah mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm up, flustered with the fact that his own mom had seen him kissing his boyfriend. It was so weird.

August chuckled and followed Isaiah inside, the blond immediately being greeted by the taller boy's mom, who gathered him into a bear hug. August beamed, hugging her back, already going on to compliment the perfume she was wearing - probably different from last time. Isaiah couldn't help but smile.

"You look so handsome," Mom gushed, holding August at arm's length. "That shirt looks so good on you! Has Isaiah complimeted you yet? He should."

August snickered, sending Isaiah an amused look. "No, he hasn't. I'm hurt, in all honesty."

Isaiah rolled his eyes. "Don't feed his ego, Mom. It's why his forehead is so big."

August frowned. "That was so mean."

Isaiah huffed. "Deal with it."

August looked as if he was about to make a retort, but stopped when he saw Isaiah's father walk into the hallway, Dylan in tow, eyes trained on whatever was happening on his phone screen. August immediately straightened up and held out his hand for the man to shake.

"Hi, I'm August," he greeted politely. "I think this is the first time we've met."

Dad nodded, shaking his hand roughly. "Nice to meet you," he replied, and Isaiah had to hold back a sigh. He was going to try and play the intimidating card even though he was a softie, and a huge jokester.

August blinked at the tight grip. "Um," he began, clearing his throat. "Isaiah said that you have stories about him?"

Isaiah froze. "August."

Dad's stoic facade dropped instantly. He laughed and pulled August into a side hug, patting his shoulder. "I like him," he said, grinning from ear to ear. Isaiah wanted to hide and never come out.

He reluctantly followed his family and August into the kitchen, dropping into a seat, feeling defeated. August took the chair beside him, gently nudging his shoulder against his. "Sorry," he whispered. "My uncle is like that, so I knew what to say." When Isaiah just kept staring forward, August reached for his hand under the table, squeezing. "I love you."

"Go away, you gremlin."

"Rude," August laughed, pressing the tip of his nose against Isaiah's cheek. "Don't do that. Love me."

Isaiah felt his face warm up at August's shameless displays of affection. He knew his parents were watching from where they stood, grabbing plates and utensils, Dylan lazily snatching a huge stack of napkins. The kid hadn't looked up from his phone once; it was beginning to become a problem. But not in this case.

It would feel weird for awhile, having his family know that he had a boyfriend. And it felt even weirder because said boyfriend had no shame in being so affectionate and teasing right in front of them. It was cute, sure, but also a little overwhelming. Then again, that was what August was: cute and overwhelming.

August pulled away moments later and settled on simply holding his hand. Rubbing his thumb across the back of Isaiah's hand, tracing the veins that traveled along it and his arm. It was an action that had Isaiah relaxing and thinking, I love this idiot way too much.

He'd never loved someone like this before. It was foreign, new, and he absolutely adored the feeling. Especially since he knew the feeling was mutual, if the other night's conversation wasn't enough proof. He liked having him in the same room as his family, all smiles and excitement, because it felt right. So right.

Dad had just brought the bowl of salad, Mom bringing the one of pasta, to the table just as Jordan finally waltzed in, sweatpants droopy on her legs and an oversized t-shirt drowning her. Their mom gasped in horror.

"Jordan," she scolded. "Go get dressed into something nicer. We have a guest."

She jerked her thumb toward August. "He doesn't care," she said, shrugging, taking a seat across from Isaiah. "Besides, this is my house. I can wear whatever I want." She snatched a breadstick from one of the plates and ripped a piece off with her teeth, looking comfortable.

"It's okay," August said quickly before Mom could start (probably) scolding her daughter in her native tongue. "You should see my house. One time, my friend Morgan was over and having dinner with us, and my stepdad was eating with some tanktop and old shorts on."

Isaiah's dad snorted. "I wish I could do that." His wife smacked his arm in response, shaking her head in disbelief.

Isaiah's mom didn't push the subject after that and instead asked August questions as she served everyone. Such as "what do your parents do" or "how was your senior year". Even questions about his first impression of Isaiah and his friends. It was all very smooth and normal until Dylan just had to blurt out the question Isaiah had been dreading the most.

"So what happened to your leg?" he asked around a mouthful of noodles. "Are you like, half-robot or something?"

"Dude," Jordan groaned, grimacing. "You are such a little sh—idiot."

August cracked a tiny smile. "It's fine," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "I'm not half-robot, unfortunately. I just got my leg amputated a few years ago is all."

Dylan frowned. "Why?"

"I had an accident," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "It got infected and they had to amputate it before it could spread further."

"Dang," Dylan said, slumping. "That sucks."

"Nah, it's not so bad," August admitted. Isaiah glanced at him, able to hear the silent at least I'm not dead, that was probably circling around in his brain. Isaiah squeezed his hand, and August squeezed back.

The next hour was spent with Isaiah only pitching in his own two cents every now and then, most of the talking being done by his parents and August. He'd finished eating a while ago, and he just wanted to go upstairs with August and hang out. Away from his family. He didn't get to see him yesterday like he'd hoped, so now he was waiting for the chance to be alone with him.

"Mom," Jordan said suddenly, already going in for thirds. "Don't you have a work function to go to?"

The woman's eyes widened, and she looked over at the clock. "Mierda," she cursed, which had everyone laughing, except for August. Because he had no idea how rare it was to hear her cuss.

"Dejen de reírse," she hissed. "Everett, get up. I said you were coming with me."

Her husband groaned in frustration. "But my stomach is full," he complained, reluctantly getting to his feet. "It's nap time, love. Not go talk to strangers time."

She huffed. "Too bad. I don't want to go either." She hurried over to August and gave him a hug. "It was good seeing you again, August."

August smiled warmly. "You too."

Isaiah's dad was next, squeezing his shoulder. "Good to meet you," he told the blond before hurrying after his wife. Jordan started chuckling as they frantically searched for their things.

Once they were gone, she pointed at Isaiah and August. "I reminded them just for you," she stated. "Dylan and I will clean up. This is the only time you're getting out of this, though. Now go be sappy and shit, it's obvious that's what you've been waiting for."

Isaiah beamed, taking August's hand and tugging him toward the stairs. "Thanks!" he called out to his sister, then made his way to his bedroom, August still holding onto his hand to keep up.

"What are you in such a hurry for?" August questioned, watching Isaiah shut and lock his door. "Oh."

Isaiah moved forward and kissed him hard, holding onto his waist and guiding him to his bed. August chuckled against his mouth, happily holding Isaiah to his chest as he laid down, lips moving together slowly. Isaiah was at complete and utter peace like that.

"Do what you said you would," Isaiah whispered, biting his lip to hold back a smile. August's searched his, gaze soft, before he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.

"I wanna hold you. Is that okay?"

Isaiah nodded. "It's more than okay."

August smiled, leaned down to kiss his neck, cool hand sliding underneath his shirt and running across his chest. "I'm glad," he murmured.

Isaiah felt breathless. Everything you do is more than okay. It's perfect.

___

Q: how have you guys liked this so far?

A: I'm still shook about how many of you enjoy this. it's crazy to see 🥺