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Steve never thought he’d lose a competition.
Especially not to someone who still needed help putting on socks.
Eric was in that dangerous stage where he understood too much… but didn’t have enough words to explain any of it.
That afternoon, Jonathan was sitting on the couch with Eric in his lap, helping him stack colorful blocks. Eric’s tongue peeked out slightly in intense concentration.
Steve watched from the kitchen.
His heart did weird things.
—You two are disgustingly cute, he muttered.
Jonathan looked up, smiling softly.
—Come here.
That was the mistake.
Steve walked over, leaned down, and wrapped his arms around Jonathan from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. He kissed his cheek.
Normal.
Legal.
Allowed.
Eric froze.
He looked at Steve’s hand.
Then at Jonathan’s face.
Then back at the hand.
And he let out a low little growl.
Not crying.
Not whining.
A growl.
Jonathan blinked.
—Eric?
The blocks fell forgotten. Eric shifted fully in Jonathan’s lap… and pushed Steve’s hand away.
With intention.
Steve leaned back slightly.
—…Did he just shove me?
Eric stared at him.
Steve tried again, brushing Jonathan’s shoulder.
Eric pushed harder this time.
And said, very clearly:
—Mine.
Silence.
Jonathan pressed a hand to his mouth to hide his smile.
Steve widened his eyes like he’d just been betrayed by his closest ally.
—Your son is challenging me.
Jonathan looked at him.
His smile softened.
Deepened.
—Our son.
The world paused.
Steve stopped pretending to be offended.
Blinking.
Jonathan didn’t say things like that lightly.
Our.
Eric, completely unaware of the emotional earthquake he’d just triggered, snuggled closer into Jonathan’s chest… and eyed Steve like a tiny security guard assessing a threat.
Steve crouched down to his level.
—Listen, you tiny territorial gremlin, he whispered dramatically. I was here first.
Eric frowned.
Jonathan murmured:
—It’s not a competition.
Eric repeated:
—Mine.
And wrapped both arms around Jonathan’s neck.
Steve clutched his chest.
—This hurts. Physically.
Jonathan laughed quietly — that small, rare laugh he only gave when he felt completely safe.
Eric watched him.
And then did something worse.
He leaned in… and pressed a clumsy kiss to Jonathan’s cheek.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then he looked at Steve.
Defiant.
Steve went silent.
Jonathan couldn’t hold back his laughter anymore.
—He’s learning from you.
—I am not like that.
Eric pushed Steve’s hand again when he tried to touch Jonathan’s hair.
Soft growl.
Jonathan finally understood.
It wasn’t anger.
It was pure territorial instinct.
That stage where the world is small and love feels like possession.
Jonathan brushed Eric’s hair back gently.
—Jealous?
Eric shook his head… but clung tighter.
Steve sighed dramatically.
—Great. I’m in a relationship with two people and one of them hates me.
Eric studied him.
Then, very slowly… extended one tiny hand.
Steve blinked.
—Truce?
Eric touched one finger.
Just one.
Then immediately grabbed Jonathan again.
Jonathan looked at both of them.
His chest felt… full.
Too full.
—He doesn’t hate you, Jonathan whispered. He just needs to make sure.
—Make sure of what?
Jonathan looked down at Eric.
—That I’m still here.
That killed the joke instantly.
Steve knelt properly this time.
Careful.
Gentle.
—Hey, he said softly. I’m not taking anything away from you.
Eric watched him.
—And I’m not going anywhere.
Small silence.
Eric hesitated.
Then he let go with one arm.
Leaned forward.
And pressed his forehead lightly against Steve’s.
Not a full hug.
Not surrender.
But enough.
Steve closed his eyes for a second.
Jonathan felt something inside him unravel in the best way.
—We’re a team, Steve murmured.
Eric echoed clumsily:
—’Team.
Jonathan laughed, eyes suddenly bright with unshed tears.
Steve stood again.
Carefully wrapped an arm around Jonathan.
Eric observed.
No growl.
But he shifted himself between them.
Literally wedged his small body in the middle.
Back against Jonathan’s chest.
Legs stretched across Steve’s lap.
Emotional referee.
Jonathan exhaled, happy.
Steve smiled, defeated.
—Fine. We share.
Eric glanced at Steve.
Considered.
Then, as a final concession…
Rested his little head against Steve’s arm.
Without letting go of Jonathan’s shirt.
Jonathan whispered:
—See? He just needed to confirm.
Steve kissed the top of Eric’s head.
Then, slower, kissed Jonathan’s temple.
This time Eric didn’t push.
He just watched.
And stayed.
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward.
It was home.
Jonathan rested his cheek against Eric’s hair.
Our son.
Steve, still half-melted, muttered:
—I’m going to win his affection eventually. You’ll see.
Half asleep already, Eric cracked one eye open.
—No.
Jonathan laughed softly.
Steve pretended to be offended again.
But this time it wasn’t competition.
It was belonging.
And in Eric’s tiny universe, something important had already been decided:
He could share.
But Jonathan…
Would always be his safe place.
And Steve…
Was his team.