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Tommy had warned Mike three separate times on the walk up to the house. One in the hotel after they arrived from Germany, one in Toby's house and the other in his family's front porch.
Micheal Wichtiger had been begging Thomas Watson that he should meet his parents. Tommy, however, was reluctant about it. He didn't know what excuse to make anymore since he's been doing for two years and a half now. He once asked Toby for advice, only to never mind it since the man was drunk when he called, and it was already 11PM. And Tommy once told him that they would if he wins MCC.
And here are they now, in the middle of Brighton (and almost got lost on their way to his parents house where two of his older brothers were there for the dinner), in his parents' front porch.
“They’re normal,” Tommy insisted, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets as if that made the statement more convincing. Mike could already see the unnerving posture of Tommy. “Like- well... mostly. Wilbur talks too much about geography, Alex stares too much, and—"
“Aber was ist, wenn deine eltern mich nicht mögen?” (But what if your parents doesn't like me?) Mike asks again as he adjusts his sleeves for the millionth time since they got here.
Tommy smiled faintly, his shoulders dropping in an instant as he looked at the taller man in front of him, though his fingers tightened around Mike's sleeve. “They wouldn't I'm sure of that. Dad's been asking me much about y—”
“I know, Tom, I know,” Mike cuts off.
“I’m just reinforcing it.”
“You are nervous,” Mike observed, amused now.
The blonde scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I’m not nervous.”
“You are walking in circles.”
Tommy stopped mid-step, blinked down at his own feet, then muttered, “Shut up,” before finally marching up to the front door and knocking. The door swung open almost immediately.
“None of those ugly sweaters Wilbur— Tommy! Oh, here's my young boy!” Kristin beamed, pulling him into a tight hug before her attention shifted seeing the boy behind her youngest, softening instantly towards Mike. “And you must be Micheal! Oh, you’re lovely.”
Mike straightened slightly, polite and warm. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Wat—”
“Oh, none of that. Call me Kristin, please.”
Behind her, a voice called out, “Is that him or did Tommy bring home another stray?”
Wilbur appeared first, tall, expressive, already grinning, followed closely by Alex who looked nearly as identical but with a light pink strand falling freely from his face and far quieter, his gaze more assessing than teasing.
“Wow,” Wilbur said, looking Mike up and down with theatrical awe. “You’re real. I thought Tommy made you up for sympathy points.”
Mike blinked once, then smiled. “I’ve been told I’m quite convincing.” The man with the rectangular glasses let out a small, approving hum. “That’s a good answer.”
Tommy groaned. “Can we please not interrogate him at the door?”
“Too late,” Wilbur said cheerfully, stepping aside. “Come in, come in! We’re already invested.”
Phil’s voice drifted from the dining room. “Are they here, or are you all just blocking the hallway for fun?”
“We’re here!” Tommy called back, grabbing Mike’s hand—quick, grounding—giving it a small squeeze before leading him inside.
⋆⋆⋆
Dinner was… surprisingly easy.
Mike had expected a sort of formal tension, the kind that comes with first impressions and careful words. But instead, there was laughter. Constant, overlapping, and loud. It was unlike than the dinner he had with his parents when they first met Tom (and spoiler alert: he wouldn't ever do it again, it was an absolute mess).
Wilbur had dominated most conversations, jumping between topics at breakneck speed about Europe's most northern point (or whatever it was since Tommy didn't pay any attention and kept on groaning and complaining) or just something about geography, while Alex occasionally dropped in with dry remarks that landed perfectly. Phil asked thoughtful questions, about Germany, about Mike’s studies, about how the two of them met, while Kristin made sure Mike’s plate was never empty for more than a few seconds.
“And you’re sure you’re eating enough?” She asked for the third time, already reaching for another serving spoon.
“I promise I am,” Mike said, laughing softly.
Tommy leaned over, “You can say no, by the way. She won’t actually let you starve.” Kristin shot him a look. “I absolutely would not.”
“See?” Tommy muttered, a smile on his face.
Across the table, Wilbur smirked. “So, Mike. Important question.”
“No, Will, please—”
“How did you manage to tolerate him long enough to fall in love?”
Mike didn’t even hesitate. “He is very charming.”
Tommy blinked. “I am?”
“Occasionally,” Mike added, just to watch Tommy splutter. Alex snorted into his drink. Wilbur giggled, trying so hard not to laugh but fails either way. Phil smiled into his glass, clearly amused. Kristin just looked pleased.
“See?” Wilbur said. “We like him. He’s funny.”
“I liked him before he was funny,” Kristin added.
Tommy pointed accusingly at all of them. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“We are,” Alex said calmly. “This is us being on your side.”
⋆⋆⋆
By the time dessert had came around, the earlier nerves had melted into something warm and steady. Mike found himself leaning slightly into Tommy’s shoulder without thinking, their knees brushing under the table. Tommy didn’t comment on it, just shifted closer in return.
“So,” Phil said, setting his fork down. “You’ll be staying a few days here with Tom, Mike?”
“If tha’s alright,” Mike replied.
“Of course it is,” Kristin said immediately. “You’re welcome here anytime.”
Wilbur cleared his throat and raised his champagne glass. “To Tommy’s very real, very lovely boyfriend.” Alex lifted his as well. “Cheers.” Phil and Kristin had done the same. The conversation went on, Wilbur and Alex doing their own thing talking about something from Talisman as both Phil and Kristin laughed at each other's jokes.
Tommy huffed, but he was smiling, soft, a little disbelieving. Mike glanced at him, something gentle in his expression. “Die sind nett. Sehr nett.” (They’re nice. Very nice) He murmured quietly.
Tommy smiled again and bumped his shoulder. “Told you.”
Mike nodded, “You did.”
And as the conversation picked back up around them. Easy, familiar, full. Tommy’s hand found Mike’s under the table again, steady and sure.
This time, neither of them let go.