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Tony flops onto the couch next to Stephen and hands him a carton of Chinese food. “One beef and broccoli for the inestimable Shelly,” he says, and Stephen flinches. Tony looks sheepish. “Sorry, Doc, I know you hate it when people shorten your name.”
Stephen swallows a sigh. The nickname is not the problem. “Thank you,” he says anyway, taking the carton.
“You know,” Tony says. “If you wanted me to call you something else, I would.” Stephen pauses in the act of spearing a piece of broccoli with his fork. When he looks back at Tony, the man is watching him steadily. “No matter what it was.”
Stephen’s heart starts pounding. He could say, Michelle is fine, and Tony would let it go. But… it seems like he has some idea of what’s going on with Stephen, and fuck, it would be nice to be able to talk about the terrifying pro/con list Stephen has been grappling with. On the other hand, if Tony’s not hinting at what it seems like he’s hinting at and it goes poorly… Stephen really doesn’t want to lose his best friend.
While Stephen debates, Tony has turned his attention to his own food, apparently taking his silence for an answer. There’s no sense of pressure or expectation or disappointment or anything else, and maybe that’s why Stephen blurts outs: “Stephen. I want you to call me Stephen. With a ph.”
Tony looks back at him and grins. “Not Steve?”
Stephen lifts his carton of steaming hot food, “I will throw this at you.”
Tony laughs. “Keep it! A growing boy needs the fuel.”
Maybe it’s stupid, but suddenly the whole world seems brighter. Stephen isn’t growing in the traditional sense, but Tony’s not wrong, either: there are a lot of changes coming.