Chapter Text
Eli set his phone next to his bed and took a deep, steadying breath. "You can do this, Pepperjack. You are a hero, a warrior, a Creepslayer. Your exploits are things of legend. Nothing scares you."
This last part was a lie to make Eli feel better. A lot of things scared him. Creepers - their default name for weird creatures before they could get ahold of Blinky or…Dictatious (Steve's suggestion of a nickname for Blinky's brother had been roundly shot down, so Dictatious it was), the as-of-yet unseen threat of extraterrestrials, the fear he'd one day wake up and find everything that had happened to him over the past year was a dream.
But Eli pushed through all of these fears every day.
This was nothing.
He poked his head into the living room. "Um, Mom? Can I talk to you for a second?"
His mother didn't glance up from her crossword. "I told you I don't want to hear about your 'troll hunting'. My constitution can't take hearing what you get up to with those hooligans."
Eli nodded; his mother's resigned acceptance of the Creepslaying had been about the best outcome Eli could have hoped for. And between Dr. Lake and Strickler, Eli had plenty of human(ish) support. "It's, um, not. About that. It's about something else."
"Well, sit down. Carefully; I just vacuumed in here."
Eli gingerly set himself down on the couch next to his mother, trying not to hyperventilate. He could do this.
"Um, you know Steve? Palchuk?"
Eli's mother huffed. "Yes."
"Well, I...we…"
"He's pressuring you, isn't he?"
"Wha-"
"I knew I should have said something when you took up with that boy, but I thought, 'Elijah's got a good head on his shoulders, he knows a good egg from a bad one'. Well, I wanted to wait for this talk, but it is apparently happening now."
Eli's mom set her paper aside and went to The Bookcase. She drew her hand across the spines of several binders, some Eli was familiar with, lectures and lessons that made frequent appearances in his life, and paused at one Eli had seen only once, when he'd turned 13.
She settled next to Eli and flipped the binder open; when she looked up at him, her face was uncharacteristically soft. "Obviously we've been through the basics, but it's time to revisit...certain topics. Thirteen is much too young to be having sex, sixteen…less so. But that is a very serious thing to decide, and not because some boy is saying you have to."
"Some - what? I'm-" Eli cut himself off before he could continue the automatic denial, because it would defeat the purpose of this conversation. "Me and...Steve...aren't h - having - sex." (This wasn't a lie, exactly, but definitely a grey area, given the spectrum of what constituted 'sex', and not a debate he was eager to have with his mom) "I've only been - dating him a couple of months." (The exact timing of that decision was a subject of some debate, but 'a couple' probably encompassed all reasonable interpretations.) "And he isn't…making me do anything I'm - I don't want to do." Oh God, Eli's cheeks were heated, and his whole face was probably red. "He's really nice to me, Mom."
"Well." Eli's mom shifted a little closer. "Good. You shouldn't ever date someone who isn't nice to you." There was a quiet moment before she spoke again. "Now what was it you wanted to talk about?"
"I wanted to tell you - we were dating?"
"Oh." His mom put a hand over her mouth. "Was that all?"
"Yeah, I-" Eli paused, halfway through rising from the couch. "How did you know? We were trying to be discreet."
"Well, a mother always knows."
***
Rachel Pepperjack muted the television, turning her attention from her coloring, at the sound of an engine idling in her driveway. So. Elijah was home. She rose, crossing to the front window, tugging aside the curtains for a better view of her front yard. Elijah was standing next to Steven's Vespa, one hand running through his hair, matted from the helmet held loosely in his other hand, she noted approvingly.
Steven was straddling the bike, clearly not intent on staying, but neither boy seemed in a hurry to leave the driveway. Steven said something, to which Elijah laughed, his cheeks flushing.
Rachel felt a twist of worry in her chest. Worrying about her son running around with the Palchuk boy had seemed pointless in comparison to the chasing boogums in the middle of the night. But this was another thing altogether; she knew Steven had been something of a bully, and while Elijah had apparently proven himself capable of taking care of himself, heartbreak wasn't something a sensitive boy like Elijah could inure himself to, especially the sort of thing that ended a friendship.
And then Steven glanced toward the street, grabbed Elijah's arm and tugged him closer, leaning in to press his lips gently against Elijah's.
Ah. Rachel stepped back hurriedly; it was clear that was not something either boy intended her to see. Sitting back down on the couch, she found her eyes a little moist, and grabbed a tissue to dab at them. She'd worried about her son never getting out of the house, never making friends, dating, all of the things normal teenagers did. And now he was doing all of them - none of them quite the way she'd ever imagined.
He was growing up, and doing so well - always a bittersweet moment, but one to celebrate.
The front door clicked open to admit Elijah, stepping hesitantly into the house. "Hi, mom!"
"Your curfew's in fifteen minutes, Elijah. You and your friend-" (boyfriend) "could talk a little more before he goes home."
"It's alright, mom." Elijah still looked a little flushed; he had probably already made his goodbyes, and if Rachel knew anything about kids these days, he'd be texting that boy even after he'd gone to bed. "I'm going to finish my homework and get to bed, okay?"
"Did you eat?"
"Yeah, Jim fed us after patrol; you know how he is."
"Good. Well, have a good night, Elijah. I love you."
"Love you too, mom!"