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Ike watches Soren tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, frown, then bring it back to have it frame his face again. He straightens his shirt—which was already perfectly straight—and fiddles with the hem. Ike feels like he should be exasperated, but all he feels is a wave of fondness and an familiar urge to protect Soren from everything and more.
“You’re more nervous than I am,” he observes, smiling faintly. Soren twitches and glares at the door, refusing to look up at him.
“It’s just… We can turn back, Ike, you don’t have to force yourself to do this.”
“I’m not,” he reassures. “I want to.”
“But they’re so—”
“Incredibly overbearing,” he cuts in, his smile broadening. “You’ve warned me a thousand times, Soren. I still want to do it.”
Soren sighs heavily and presses his palms against his eyes. Ike knows this gesture to be his boyfriend’s way of collecting himself, so he says nothing and waits.
Truth be told, he definitely is nervous as well. He’s about to meet Soren’s family for the first time, which as far as he can tell is a huge step in a relationship. Soren already knew Mist and Greil by the time they started dating, but Ike hadn’t even heard the other boy do as much as mention them back then, so this feels huge, somehow. All Soren has said about his family are warnings, but they’re not cruel and there’s a tinge of softness mixed with insecurity when he does talk about them. Ike knows he doesn’t truly dislike them, but that he doesn’t know how to deal with them and that he’s sort of embarrassed by them.
Ike also knows that it’s complicated, because Soren was separated from his family for a good chunk of his childhood. He has no idea what happened for things to turn out like that, the only information Soren granted being that it had to do with his father, who, in Soren’s words, is rotting in hell now.
This hostility for his late father isn’t something he bears for his living family, so Ike is able to quench the nerves as he waits for Soren to calm himself down. He sees him pressing way too hard on his eyes, so he reaches out to tug at a thin wrist.
“Don’t hurt yourself,” he murmurs, and Soren sighs again before looking up at him. His eyelids are red from the pressure.
“I’m fine.” He sighs yet again, less dramatically time. “Gods above,” he says before ringing the doorbell.
“Turning religious on me?” Ike asks jokingly, quirking an eyebrow.
“I always need a prayer or two if I am to survive an entire evening with my mother,” Soren replies wryly.
Ike chuckles at that, but he straightens his back and gets his expression in check when the door clicks open. His eyes widen when he sees a tiny young man poke his head out. Skin tone aside, his resemblance with Soren is almost uncanny, though his hair is much shorter and his expression is… well. Not grumpy at all.
“Soren!” The man says, stepping forward to hug him. Soren stiffens, his hands hung up in the air as if he’s debating whether or not to return the hug.
“...Uncle Kurth,” Soren says curtly, lowering his hands, and Ike can feel his own eyes widen like saucers.
“Uncle?” He can’t help but asking, surprised. “This young?”
The uncle in question turns around to look at Ike, and he smiles at him.
“You must be Ike,” he says, extending his hand. Ike shakes it, still a bit shocked. “I’m Kurthnaga, Soren’s mother is my big sister.”
“There must be quite an age difference, then,” he murmurs, incredulous. This man must be, what? Three, four years older than them?
“Don’t let his babyface fool you, Ike,” Soren says, visibly glad to be free from the hug. “He’s thirty-four.”
“What. ”
Kurthnaga shrugs. “Runs in the family. I mean, Soren is on his twenties but he still looks fourteen.”
Soren glares at his uncle in a way that screams ‘I will kill you where you stand’, and Kurthnaga shrugs again. He steps aside to let them in, informing that everyone’s waiting in the living room, and Ike finds himself relieved. Kurthnaga seems chill, and Soren does have a tendency to exaggerate sometimes, so if every family member is like this particular uncle he really has nothing to worry about. Maybe he’ll feel out of place in a family of tiny people when he himself is so big, but that’s more than bearable.
He changes his mind as soon as he steps into the living room. It seems Soren and Kurthnaga are the only exception, because the three people sitting in the living room are huge and intimidating as hell. A tall woman that Ike assume is Soren’s mother gets up, regarding him coldly. He shivers a little, but then she shifts her gaze to Soren and her expression softens considerably, a small smile splaying her lips—and the smile is so similar to the one Soren gives to Ike and Ike alone that he garners instant sympathy for the woman whose smile towards her child is affectionate and insecure in equal measure.
“Hello, Mother,” Soren greets quietly, and the woman opens her arms.
“It’s been a while, Soren. Come give your mother a hug.”
Ike expects him to tense and stay still, but although discomfort still laces his features, he steps forward into his mother’s embrace. She hugs him tight, and Ike feels like he’s witnessing something intimate that he shouldn’t be watching. Soren breaks the hug quickly, however, and he retreats to Ike’s side to sort of hide behind his arm. It feels weird, shielding him from his mother like that, and the woman seems to think the same, her gaze hardening once more. She opens her mouth, but Soren beats her to the bush.
“Ike, this is my mother, Almedha,” he introduces. Then he gestures towards a big armchair where a sturdy-looking man is sitting, not bothering to get up for the guest. “That’s my grandfather, Dheginsea, and that—” He gestures towards a man that, while manlier and older in features, resembles Soren in look and poise much more than Kurthnaga does. “—is Uncle Rajaion and his fiancé, Ena.”
Ike blinks, surprised to notice a small short-haired woman standing next to Rajaion. He was so focused on the giants in the room that he hadn’t even seen her. He feels a bit overwhelmed all the people staring at him, and he raises a hand to scratch his nape, embarrassed.
“Nice to meet you all,” he says stiffly, not knowing if he should bow his head or extend his hand or hug someone because seemingly this family is full of huggers, if they’ve managed to get someone as opposed to physical contact as Soren to do it twice in less than two minutes. “I’m Ike, Soren’s, um, partner.”
“Yes, we’ve heard,” Almedha says curtly in a tone that resembles Soren’s snappy remarks so much that Ike blinks in surprise.
Soren sighs heavily. “Alright, Mother, tone it down a notch.”
“You shouldn’t scare the boy, sister,” Rajaion says, pulling Ena along with him. “Well met, Ike,” he says, and Ike decides he’s his favorite.
The grandfather, Dheginsea, doesn’t say a word, but he nods at Ike. Ike nods back, a little confused. Each person in this family seems to behave in such radically different ways, he doesn’t know how he should act to be approved by this family.
But then he remembers Soren’s words to him while they were making their way to the family house. “Be yourself, Ike,” he’d said, trying to reassure them both. “If they don’t like you when you’re being yourself, then they don’t deserve the time of day.”
“Should we get to dinner, then?” Kurthnaga chimes in.
Ike breathes in, mentally preparing himself. He feels a small pinky looping around his own, and he looks down at Soren. The other boy is looking up at him with wide eyes, his expression blank but the message clear in his eyes.
Let’s get through this together.
Ike smiles softly and twists his wrist to envelop Soren’s hand in his own.
“Uncle Kurth,” Soren hisses, lightly slamming a hand on the table.
Ike is sitting very stiffly, looking at his half-empty plate and sweating profusely. He really did want to make an effort to be polite and answer whatever Soren’s family asked him, he really had thought he was prepared and fully mentalized for an evening with incredibly meddlesome people.
He hadn’t been prepared to answer the question of “hey, Ike, how far have you and Soren gone?” in front of Soren’s mother, who was now glaring daggers at him. He has always been grateful to never be on the receiving end of Soren’s deadly stares, but now he’s quite certain Almedha’s are way worse.
“I was joking, calm down,” Kurthnaga says, smiling brightly, and Soren looks about ready to stab him with his fork.
“Then joke about something else,” Soren mutters, clenching his hands into fists.
“Um,” Rajaion cuts in, clearly trying to salvage the situation. He’s definitely Ike’s favorite. “Then, how about you tell us how you two met? Soren never talks about these things, so…”
“Neither do you, Uncle Raj,” Soren points out, which makes Rajaion smile.
“Well, Ena does it for me, so it’s fine if I ask, right?” He looks at Ike. “Well?”
Ike hesitates for a moment, wondering if it would be appropriate to say that they met because his best friend Ranulf’s childhood friend Skrimir had gotten a terribly unrequited crush on the smartest kid on campus and Skrimir, probably being the stupidest kid on campus, had failed so horribly at interacting with said crush that he’d asked Ranulf for some help. Then Ranulf had failed at interacting with the crush as well, and he’d asked Ike for some help because everyone but Shinon liked Ike, and as expected Soren had liked Ike too. But maybe he’d liked him a little more than intended, because suddenly they were attached at the hip and soon after each other’s first relationship.
(Ike still feels a little bad about contributing to Skrimir’s heartbreak, but he has never connected with anyone as much as he has with Soren, so he doesn’t regret a thing.)
“We had mutual friends,” he decides to say instead, because bringing up Skrimir is guaranteed to worsen Soren’s mood anyway.
“Oh, that’s it?” Kurthnaga says, seemingly disappointed. Ike shrugs and nods, and Kurthnaga asks, “then how did you get together?”
They’d gotten together while they took a break from studying. They were both on a really low budget and couldn’t really afford paying for anything but instant coffee, but nothing cheered up Soren more than one of those giant take-out espressos, so Ike had insisted they go out. Aimee, the annoying barista that always flirted with Ike and wrote ‘Ikey-poo’ surrounded by hearts on his cups, was on the counter, and Soren suddenly slipped intro a business-like attitude. Right then and there, on rush hour and in front of Ike himself, he had made a transaction: Ike’s favorite dish for their orders on the house. Aimee had hesitated, but Soren was convincing and managed to get them the free coffee. Ike had complained, of course, but when they were outside, Soren, the little shit, had taken a sip of his free espresso while making direct eye-contact with Ike, smirked, and then said “worth it, don’t you think, Ikey-poo?”
“I think I’m in love with you,” Ike had blurted out then.
Soren had dropped his cup and his hard-earned free coffee had spilled on the ground. Neither of them had cared.
“Over a cup of coffee,” he answers simply, and when he looks at Soren from the corner of his eye he sees a small, playful smile on his boyfriend’s lips. He nudges him with his foot under the table, and Soren nudges back.
“That sounds like you, Soren” Dheginsea comments, the first thing he says all dinner after asking Ike the standard what-do-you-major-in and what-do-your-parents-do-for-a-living type of questions. He’s stoic, a little conservative, Soren had said, but he clearly loves his kids and his grandson, so Ike doesn’t feel that intimidated by him.
Almedha, on the other hand…
“Then, may I ask a question?” The woman says, fixing Ike with a calculating stare.
“Mother,” Soren warns, already wary. Ike grabs his hand under the table to silence him and squeezes it to reassure him that he’s fine with whatever comes.
“Of course, go ahead,” he says firmly.
“Why do you love my son?” She asks.
“Mother!” Soren gets up, scandalized, but Ike squeezes his hand again and gently tugs him down.
“I don’t mind,” he says out loud before turning to meet Almedha’s gaze. “I love him because he’s brilliant and loyal and has a great sense of humor even if he doesn’t look it. He’s gruff and introverted so we match each other well, and I just like spending time with him.”
Almedha raises an eyebrow.
“That’s all?” She asks, skeptical.
“No, but I’m no good with words and I don’t really see why I should have to share it all.” He squeezes Soren’s hand one more time, his gaze still locked with Almedha’s. “I love him because he is how he is. Isn’t that enough?”
Almedha opens her mouth to say something, but her words are cut short by her own son.
“It is enough,” Soren says, sitting back down and burying his face on his free hand. His ears are a little red. It’s cute. “Thank you, Ike.”
“No need,” Ike says. He doesn’t let go of Soren’s hand for the rest of dinner.
Ike looks at the clear door that leads to the balcony, staring at Soren and Almedha as they have a conversation. Although he can’t hear a thing and wouldn’t really eavesdrop in if that were the case, he can tell it’s a quiet and tense exchange. However, as much as Soren said how they could leave at any moment, how they owed none of their time to this family, he’s still there, making an effort to talk to his mother.
Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Ike feels an intense rush of pride for his boyfriend. He’s trying so hard, doing so well. Ike is so, so proud.
“Hey, Ike,” Rajaion calls his attention, and he turns to see the man sit down next to him. Ena follows. “How are you doing?”
“Dinner was great,” he says, because it was. There had been meat.
“Glad to hear that,” Rajaion says, smiling softly. “I hope we didn’t scare you too much. Ena was terrified the first time I brought her.”
“It wasn’t as bad with me, though,” she says, smiling apologetically at Ike. “They all get a bit… particular when it comes to Soren.”
“Why?” Ike asks, twisting on his seat so he can face them. “Not that I don’t understand being protective about him, but it seems a bit excessive.”
Both adults seem a bit shocked by his bluntness, but Rajaion is quick to answer.
“Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
“Almedha got Soren taken away from her when she separated with his father,” Rajaion explains, frowning. “The custody was taken away from her because the jury deemed her metal instability dangerous for her kid. That was when he was a toddler, and we didn’t see him again until he was thirteen.”
“Well,” Ike frowns as well. “I knew that he didn’t grow up with you. I guess so many years apart would make you—”
“No, that’s not quite it,” Rajaion shakes his head. “Of course, all those years apart were difficult, especially on Almedha, but that’s not the actual reason why it’s all like this.” He pauses and looks at Ena, who’s staring at her lap with a somber expression on her face. He looks back at Ike, serious. “When we found him again, he was near dead, fatally wounded and incredibly malnourished. Apparently his father had tried to beat him to death, but a neighbor had called the police and they had come just in time.”
“That’s… that’s awful,” Ike says, blinking and looking down. He feels a weight on his chest, and his throat is constricted. He knew Soren had had a harsh childhood, but this… This is beyond anything he ever expected. “That’s the most terrible thing I’ve ever heard, I…”
“I know,” Rajaion says, putting a hand on Ike’s shoulder. He doesn’t look up. “Soren’s father resisted the police and was caught in the crossfire, so Almedha got him back instantly. But, well… He still hasn’t said a single word about what happened during the years he spent with his father. I suppose he will never stop distrusting, and we will never stop worrying.” Rajaion sighs, and Ike looks up at him again. The man is smiling and holding Ena’s hand with the one he doesn’t have on Ike’s shoulder. “I’m glad he has found someone he loves and who loves him back, really. He’s a really good kid, but easily misunderstood, so we were really worried…”
“You don’t have to be,” Ike blurts, taking Rajaion’s wrist and lowering his hand from his shoulder. “I understand where you’re coming from, but Soren, he’s… He’s doing great and he— we didn’t meet because we had mutual friends, Rajaion, we met because this really good guy I know had this huge crush on him and— gods, I don’t know how this matters, but he’s loved, not just by me. My sister adores him, and he’s learning to be more sociable lately. He has his own group of friends too, even if he pretends he doesn’t care for Stefan and Micaiah as much as he does.” He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, cursing his own inability with words for the incoherent babbling. “My point is, Soren is strong. Very, very strong. Even if emotions aren’t his forte he’s reliable and loved, and can handle things much better than you’d think. So you don’t have to be worried.”
Rajaion and Ena look at him, shock visible in their features, and Ike suddenly feels incredibly awkward, so he averts his gaze. His eyes catch Soren, and he remembers all the times his boyfriend has flinched away from sudden contact. He remembers his near paranoid attitude towards food, and how he keeps a secret stash of it in his bedroom even though he lives alone.
Ike gets a very sudden feeling of anger and regret. He wishes Soren’s father was still alive, so he could kill him himself.
“He’s very strong,” he repeats, but this time to himself.
“I understand,” Rajaion says. “You seem to know him very well.”
“That’s just because he lets me,” Ike says, finally looking back at the other man.
“I suppose. Would you mind telling me something, then?” Ike nods, and Rajaion smiles once more. Sadly, this time. “How can we get closer to him? How can we get him to trust us a little more?”
“Give him his space and don’t be so overbearing,” he says, because it really is that simple. “Offer him company if he wants it, but don’t press it if he doesn’t. There’s not much to it.”
“I understand,” Rajaion says. “I will tell my siblings.”
“My mother likes you,” Soren comments as he undoes his braid. Ike blinks up at him from bed.
“She does? She didn’t seem it.”
“I didn’t seem it when I first met you either, did I?” Soren says, running a hand through his freed locks and turning to look at Ike. “You thought I hated you.”
“Huh,” he says, recalling their first meeting. “I guess I did.”
Soren regards him for a second, his expression carefully blank.
“Uncle Raj said something to you, didn’t he?” He asks, squinting. “I saw you talking with him, and you haven’t said anything since we left the house.”
“I’m sorry,” Ike says immediately. “Those are things I should’ve heard from your lips.”
Soren sighs heavily and shakes his head.
“It’s fine, I expected this.” He shrugs non-committaly, but the tension in his brow betrays his real mood. “I figured it was better this way, since if you walk away now I can pretend it’s because my family’s annoying and not because you’re disgusted by me.”
“What are you saying?” Ike says, frowning. He opens his arms. “C’mere.”
Soren obliges, crossing the distance between them and sitting on the edge of the bed. Ike wraps his arms around his back and pulls him towards his chest, stroking his hair with one hand and settling another on the small of his back.
“Ike…” Soren whispers against Ike’s chest, pressing his forehead to his chest.
Ike squeezes the other’s body. He never wants to let go.
“I could never be disgusted by you, and I like your family,” he says. “If you ever want to share it, I’ll be here to listen to more about your past.”
“Alright,” Soren agrees after a small pause, and then he makes a small noise, something between a sniff and a laugh. Ike doesn’t comment on the tears wetting his shirt. “I can’t believe you like my family.”
He smiles at that, nuzzling Soren’s temple with his nose.
“They resemble you, of course I like them,” he says. “Let’s visit them often.”
“Oh gods, no.” Soren shudders. “I need a couple of months minimum so I can recover from Uncle Kurth’s questions about our sex life.”
Ìke laughs, and when he feels a little smile pressed against his chest, right above his heart, he hugs Soren a little tighter.