Work Text:
“they’re nice, babe. I swear.”
your boyfriend bites his nails anxiously as the two of you walk towards the entrance of the studio. no matter how much you've tried to put him at ease, he's justifiably intimidated by your friends and has been nervous to meet them for months.
you can't blame him, really. the friends in question are actually your former employers: the sidemen. you'd interned with them three years ago, and despite being fully 25 years old by now, they still treated you like their kid sister. they were... protective, to say the least.
"don't let them get to you, please. I am sure they'll try to interrogate you but they're really not scary guys. they just care about me, that's all."
"that's what scares me!" he retorts. "I'm half-expecting jj or ethan to threaten my life if I were ever to hurt you."
"as they damn well should!" you laugh, and he groans. "it's a good incentive to never try any bullshit with me," you grin, kissing him on the cheek. "come on."
—
you lead your boyfriend through the halls of the studio, following the sound of the seven raucous voices you knew all too well, the laughs of your chosen brothers echoing through the space. reaching the end of the corridor, you see them through an open door, lounging on the big comfy couch often used for their second channel videos.
rapping your knuckle on the doorframe, you alert them of your presence. "hellooo," you sing with a wave.
"hey!"
"oh my god, hi!"
"yo fam!"
"ay, there she is!"
"y'alright?"
"what's up, mate?"
"finally!"
you hug each of them tightly, a beaming smile stretching across your face from all the love. "s'great to see you guys."
stepping back from their embraces, you snake an arm around your partner's waist. "lads, this is my boyfriend!" you gesture to the slightly panic-frozen man at your side. "babe, this is josh, harry, simon, jj, tobi, vik, and ethan."
"hi," your boyfriend says a bit quietly, raising a hand to wave at your friends. "y'alright, mate?" asks josh, taking the initiative to greet him first and shake his hand. the rest follow suit, and the nine of you make your way back to the couch. you squeeze your boyfriend's arm reassuringly as he seemingly starts to let go of the breath he'd been holding in all day.
"so," simon starts. "what are your intentions with our daughter?" the whole room laughs, and you roll your eyes. "oh god, not this shit. such a wind-up."
"oy, we need to know if you've got a good bloke!" ethan defends. "you do have historically bad taste, mate," tobi adds with a pat on your shoulder, and your jaw drops dramatically. "well that's rude."
"it's true," harry chimes in. "I didn't go looking for a reason to punch that last donny just for the hell of it, did I?"
sighing, you concede. "okay, okay. fine. you win. christ, you're like my parents, the lot of you. I swear this one's a good egg," you say lovingly, running your fingers through your boyfriend's hair.
"well, I try to be," he laughs awkwardly, his shoulders relaxing a fraction more.
"so what do you do for work?" vik inquires, at least having the decency to masquerade his interrogation as small talk.
the conversation starts to flow more smoothly — your boyfriend getting more confident with every answer that appears to satisfy your friends. none of the questions are too invasive or confrontational, bar jj trying to dig into your sex life and getting instantly shut down by everyone.
your boyfriend manages to make them laugh a few times, seeming to win them over bit by bit as they learn more about him. your heart warms at the realization that you hadn't even needed to speak in several minutes, just listening to your favorite people all getting along effortlessly without your arbitration.
after a while, he excuses himself to use the bathroom, leaving you to debrief with your friends. "alright, hit me," you exhale, surprisingly nervous to hear what they have to say. "what's the verdict?"
they're silent for a moment, like they're letting the suspense eat at you, before they finally put you out of your misery with a few smiles and nods of approval.
"nice fella."
"he's sound, mate."
"you got a good one."
"seems like a lovely bloke."
"I like him."
"good lad."
"happy for you, mate."
you beam happily in response, feeling a weight off your shoulders so heavy it was as if you'd been seeking approval from your actual parents.
"but if he hurts you, on god I'll—" "oh my fucking god, I KNOW."