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"Stop fidgeting." I give Tyler a look. The look. We're heading over to his parents' house for dinner. We talked about it some more on Tuesday, if he wanted to go or not. I was completely on his side no matter what he chose. In the end, he decided to go.

I know the nerves are getting to him as well because he's been extra bratty this week in his Little space.

Wednesday, after he got home, he went straight into an attitude.

He wouldn't let me help him get dressed, then he refused to clean up his toys.

I ended up sitting him at the table for thirty minutes in silence.

No TV, no books, no coloring. On Thursday, he had another test for one of his classes.

I don't know how he did, but he definitely wasn't in a good mood afterward.

He fought over what I made for dinner, wanted to watch TV instead of getting ready for bed.

That time, I had him go lay down in his room.

When I went to check on him after almost an hour, he was playing with his toys and apologized to me immediately.

"I shouldn't be nervous about this," he says. We're only a few blocks away from his family's house. "I mean, I know you haven't met them yet, but it isn't like this is a big reveal of me dating a guy or anything."

"That's not why you're nervous," I say. "The last time you were here was less than ideal for you and you're worried it's going to happen again.

Which it won't, because I won't allow that.

We'll eat dinner, make polite conversation, and then we can head home and you can get some Little time in. Maybe without the timeouts this time?"

"I'm sorry about that," he says. "I know I haven't been ideal this week."

"It's okay," I say. I reach over and lay my hand on his leg. "You know I don't mind it, but you're pushing the bedtime rule and I'm not okay with that. Not when you work the next morning."

"Can I push it tonight?" he asks. Tomorrow is Saturday and we're set to hang out at Garrett's again, but that won't be until lunch time.

"Are you okay with me being a bit more forceful with your punishment if you do?" I glance over at him and see his smile widen. His eyes are light. "I'll take that as a yes."

"A very big yes," he says.

"What's my rule, though?"

"No pushback on my medicine." He says it quickly and with a tone that says he's repeated this rule a hundred times. I'll make him repeat it a hundred more if needed.

"That's my Boy," I say with a matching smile. "And your safe word?"

"Traffic light system. Red light to stop, yellow to slow down and talk about it."

I pull into his parents' driveway and give him one last smile before I turn the car off and we get out. It's the first week of September, still hot, but I'm ready for my Fall festivities starting soon. It might be cliche, but I want my Pumpkin Spice and flannel.

Tyler knocks on the front door and we wait for someone to answer. It's only a minute, but I squeeze his hand and give him a slight nod before the door opens.

"You didn't have to knock," the woman says. I'm assuming this is his mom. I realize then that I don't know her name. Tyler has only ever referred to her as 'mom'. Slight panic hits me, but I smile and hide it. "Come on in."

"Thanks," Tyler says. "Mom, this is Brandt, my boyfriend. Brandt, this is my mom, Miranda."

"It's nice to meet you," I say, relieved that he gave her name. "Your house is nice."

I look around. We're standing in the kitchen.

It's wider than it is long. The kitchen area, with the counters and appliances are to the left, the table is on the right.

There's a staircase straight ahead, with options to go around it or down a hall.

We're led to the living room, where Tyler's dad is sitting watching a sports game. He stands when we enter.

"Tyler, how's life treating you?"

"Not bad," he says. He hugs his dad and turns to me. "This is Brandt. Brandt, this is my dad, Walter."

"It's nice to meet you." I hold out my hand and shake his. He has a firm grip and smiles.

"I hear good things about you," Walter says. "As long as you're treating my son right, we won't have problems."

"Of course," I say with full sincerity.

"Right, well, how about dinner then?" Miranda says. "We can eat here or at the table. Tyler?"

"The table is fine," Tyler says. We head back through the house to the kitchen. Tyler and I sit on one side, his dad sits at the head of the table. His mom brings out the main dish, a baked salmon. It looks delicious.

"I read online that this was good for you," Miranda says. Tyler looks at me and smiles. I've made him salmon a few times. "I also have some roasted veggies and water or juice to drink."

"Water is fine, Mom. Thanks."

She busies herself, telling all three of us to just sit while she dishes everything up. It's only a few minutes later we all have full plates. The food does look good and I take my first bite. I hear Tyler let out an appreciative hum as he chews. "This is great. Thank you."

"You're welcome," she says. I can see that she's still tense.

She watches him eat in the way a mom who worries watches.

It doesn't come across as creepy or overbearing. The sound of forks against plates is the only noise for several minutes while we eat. She’s the one that breaks the silence. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm good, Mom. I promise. I'm taking my meds, work is good, classes are pretty easy this semester so I'm not stressed over that."

"Are you going to the college for classes?" she asks. I can see she's making an effort. I remember Tyler saying that they didn't agree with his choice of degree. I know it upset him more than he let on.

"I'm taking everything online. This semester, at least. I'll see about next semester. The good thing with this degree is all the jobs are online anyway, so I'm sure I could get away with a virtual degree."

"What are you going for, again?" Walter asks. "It was something with marketing or, uh, what was that thing? Something with jingles and stuff."

"That about sums it up," Tyler says. "I want to go for marketing as my first choice, but journalism is also a backup plan."

"And there's a good market for those?" Walter asks again.

"If you know where to look or have connections, yes. My professor for one of the classes does a lot of networking and if we maintain a certain grade percentage in his class, we can get invited to one of those events with CEOs and other businesses looking to hire."

"You didn't tell me about that," I speak up. "That's amazing."

"Thank you," Tyler says. He gives me a soft smile. "Garrett and Remington said that once I get my degree, they would also hire me to do some things for them."

"Those are the two men that were here, right?" His mom speaks up. "To help you move."

"Yeah." Tyler's whole demeanor changes. I heard all about that day and I was so mad at his mom. This woman sitting across the table from us. "They're great guys."

The conversation dwindles down and I don't know what to say to bring it back. I finish my plate and stand to take it to the sink. I grab Tyler's as well.

"Oh, please, Brandt, let me take those." His mom stands up. She grabs hers and Walter's.

"It's okay," I say. "I can manage a few steps to the sink."

She follows me across the room. Out of habit, I start rinsing the plates. She keeps her voice down when she speaks. "You must have a lot of thoughts about me," she starts. "Some are probably warranted. I didn't know how serious this was. His disease and relationship with you. I'm sorry."

I look over at her, then over my shoulder at Tyler.

It looks like he and his dad are talking about something.

I want to ask what research she did that day after he was released from the hospital, when Tyler called me to confirm he’d be okay, but I stop myself.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to. "

"I know." She sighs. "I want what's best for him. I can see that the friends he has, the boyfriend he has, is doing wonders for him. He's happy and looks so healthy. I know a great deal of that is because of you. So, thank you."

"It's all my pleasure," I say. "I love him, Miranda. I'll do whatever it takes to make him happy and also protect him."

She touches my arm but doesn't say anything else about it. "Leave the rest of those. I have dessert as well. Go sit and I'll bring it out."

Tyler is sitting on the floor, coloring at the coffee table.

He's been at it for almost an hour now. I'm a bit confused, honestly, because he's been nothing but good for me tonight.

It makes me suspicious, but another part of me is wondering if he changed his mind.

Hanging out with his parents wasn't bad, they both seemed interested in mending things between them.

I think it might take more than an apology, but Tyler was smiling when we left.

I sit on the couch next to him and run my fingers through his hair.

I look at his picture. He's using markers tonight, which isn't a big deal.

He doesn't regress as young as Orion so I don't have to worry about him coloring on anything but the pages.

I do, however, have to worry about him forgetting to put the lids back on said markers.

"Baby, what's the rule with using markers? "

"No coloring on furniture or walls," he says without looking up from his paper. That's technically true.

"And the other rule?"

He shrugs. There is no answer. I move my hand to cup under his chin and tilt his head back to look up at me. "What is the other rule with using markers?"

I feel his Adam's apple bob when he swallows. "Put the caps back on," he says diligently.

"And are the caps on all the markers?" I see him look from his drawing to the markers scattered across the table. I count at least three that don't have caps.

"No."

"Can you put the caps back on?"

"I'm not finished yet," he says. He doesn't miss a beat. "I'll do it when I clean up."