Matt took another brief moment to shake away the memory before offering Asher’s mom a soft smile. (An almost apologetic smile.) “Meatloaf sounds-” He shot Asher a look, thankful that his first instinct to elbow the other was shut down before he could actually do it. “-delicious. It sounds delicious.” He rocked back onto his feet, his eyes moving to the array of photos that lined the walls. 

It wasn’t there anymore, but there used to hang a photo of the two of them. Even back then Matt had looked sheepish, but he could remember the grin on Asher’s face as he held up a pair of fingers behind Matt’s head. It was a ridiculous photo, one that probably had been thrown away ages ago.

Feeling a small pang in his chest, Matt looked to the three, grateful to see his parents had turned away for a moment. It was long enough for him to grab Asher’s sleeve and whisper. “Should I mention it? Like, just clear the air? Or do you think that’s a terrible idea and that I should just not talk for the rest of the night?” He wasn’t sure why he went from one extreme to the other, but his nerves were driving him crazy.

“No it doesn’t.” Asher responded on instinct, his natural tendency to be belligerent and difficult when it came to Matt winning out over his instinct to be polite to his mom. “I mean--sorry. Yeah, it sounds fine.” He rolled his eyes and stuck his tongue out at Matt.

The house around them was worn and lived in, but clean. It showed the signs of wear-and-tear from housing a rambunctious teenage alien with enhanced strength for years. Asher eyed the poorly patched hole on the staircase and cringed as he remembered the time he and Matt had decided to try sledding down the stairs. The resulting crash had been pretty bad, and they were both lucky to have walked away without any broken bones. Brushing aside thoughts of the past, he responded to Matt’s tug on his sleeve with a sharp turn of his head, somehow still on edge despite everything. “Should you--Fuck. Should you? I don’t know. Is that a good idea? Would it make things worse?” No, he needed to get a grip, because they couldn’t both panic here. That wouldn’t help anything.

“Okay. How ‘bout this? You very causally bring it up like no big deal, and they’ll probably act like it’s all chill. But I don’t really see things getting less awkward if we keep ignoring it.” Either way, he needed Matt to talk for the rest of the night so he didn’t have to talk to his parents. And, for some reason, he really wanted his parents to forgive Matt. But he wasn’t ready to try examining the reasons for that.

Asher’s parents were shorter than Matt had remembered, though maybe that was just because he sprouted and they had already reached their full height. This was supposed to make them less intimidating, but obviously that wouldn’t be the case. Especially when the first words out of their mouths was… Shit, did they want him dead? This was a bad idea. Was it too late to run away? They’d probably be faster, but maybe the shock of him actually running away from the situation would be enough to catch them off guard. “No, no allergies,” he said quickly, throwing another glance at Asher. Turns out, Asher didn’t need to do anything. Just Matt being there would be enough to deflect whatever it was he was trying to avoid.

He took a deep breath and stepped inside, making a passive note about how it was never too late to run away. “Or we don’t.. um… have to talk about me at all. We can, uh, we can talk about–” Whatever it was Matt was going to suggest left his mind in the blink of the moment as he looked around the hall, into the living room.

“Aungaurd!!” He remembered it like it was yesterday, a smaller version of himself jumping on the couch with a foam sword in his hand. “Kneel before your captain, you– you Navy Scurr!!” He didn’t remember how they had ever decided he would be captain, but what he did remember was Asher pretending to kneel before– in a hilarious turn of events– throwing Matt off the couch and declaring a mutiny.

“Uh… The food. The food.” He finished lamely, after an excruciating pause. “What are we eating? Um… Tonight.”

‘I’m sorry.’ Asher mouthed when Matt caught his gaze, but he couldn’t help feeling like the words were far too little, far too late. He’d signed up for this, and he’d dragged Matt along with him, and he’d just have to suffer whatever consequences were about to follow. “You know he doesn’t have allergies, he didn’t have allergies before.” He said to his parents, trying to keep the level of annoyance out of his voice. Antagonizing his parents was the least helpful thing right now.

“The weather! Let’s talk about the weather. It might snow. I’ve heard. Or saw. On the news.” Asher interjected awkwardly when Matt trailed off. He shot his roommate a confused look, asking for backup and receiving none. ‘You watch the news now?’ Asher’s dad asked, looking somewhat bemused. Asher decided to ignore him.

But Matt came back to his senses and responded before Asher had a chance to send the situation spiraling further. ‘We’re having meatloaf, Matt, I hope that’s okay.’ Asher’s mom said, and Asher made a face. His mother was a lot of things, but her cooking was just okay. And meatloaf? For company? He had a feeling he’d be ordering the two of them a pizza as soon as he got back to the dorm. “Gross, mom. I thought we’d be having actual food for dinner tonight?”

Christian, in light of his inflating disappointment and general frustration, maintained a barrier between Matt and Asher. Not only for Matt’s sake but for Asher’s safety. In the months they’ve spent together, he had never seen Matt make a misstep on such a grandiose way. Restraint and situational leadership fueled the young man’s every action; almost to an eerie extent. There had to be something bigger to this to make his pupil to lash out. Christian exhaled deeply to remind himself of what department he was representing. 

Nothing was damaged and no one was harmed. Criminal charges can be avoided, right? 

“Don’t,” he hummed. Matt’s apologies only made Christian’s blood boil. He made a mistake but that didn’t mean he had to crumble into the self doubting young man once more. “You’re the roommate..” everything became painfully clear. Matt’s feelings for the young man came with a swelling bite of confusion and frustration. Sexuality and outside pressures always seemed to make such a violent cocktail. “Alright, someone’s gonna have to fill in the gaps completely before I think of a way to get you both out of this. You need the job and you look like you’re about to shit yourself.” Christian felt the familiar sense of paternal need to protect burning in his chest. No matter what information they decide to divulge, he was going to ensure safe passage for both idiots. 

@crestfallenmurtaugh​ @ashersteele​

Was it too late for Matt to go back into Jitters and run through the back? He was seriously considering it after realizing that Christian had already heard about Asher. And not exactly good things, either. Could Matt be blamed for venting to a guy he looked up to about his frustrations? Probably. But it was too late now. “I-” How exactly did he explain this situation in a way that didn’t sound completely stupid?

Hey, so, I kissed him and then he kissed me, and then I punched him. It just didn’t make any sense unless you threw in the complicated shit with it and Christian still wasn’t privvy to everything. He didn’t know that Matt’s dad was training him to kill aliens or that Asher was an alien and that was kind of important information. “I kissed him a couple days ago,” he started, finally looking at Asher– which was a total mistake. Quickly he turned his attention back to Christian. “And then ran away and avoided him. Crashed at your place, mostly. And then,” he gestured to Asher, like that would explain the rest. It didn’t, and wouldn’t, but he was sure Asher would fill in the rest.

@ashersteele​ @detectivechristiansingh​

“No, I’m not the roommate. I’m just the roommate! No inflection. No hidden meaning in your words.” Asher argued pointlessly. Because whether he liked it or not, he HAD just kissed Matt in the middle of a coffee shop, which moved them pretty solidly from just ‘normal roommates’ territory. And, with Matt being the upright and forthcoming guy he’d apparently decided to be today...that story was quickly disproven.

“And then he hit me.” Asher groused, but that wasn’t fair to anybody. “Okay, maybe I kissed him at work, and that was kind of a dick move, because his coworkers were all there and stuff, but whatever. Sorry, and stuff. Don’t hit me again or I’ll hit you back.” It sounded petulant, a far cry from the intimidating threat he wanted it to be, so he doubled down. “And you might be better trained than I am, but I’m definitely stronger than you are.” Asher turned to Christian and frowned. “You can’t arrest me for saying that, right? I’m not like, threatening to beat him up or anything. It’s just a warning.”

Matt was going to kill Asher. He was given exactly zero explanation, only the hastily given demand to shower and wear something nice. Which he had done, because by then he had already agreed and– God, he wished he hadn’t. He thought they were going out to eat somewhere. Like. A restaurant. But instead he found himself, pale-faced, standing in front of Asher’s house. A house they used to have sleepovers at. “You didn’t tell me this was happening at your house,” he whispered furiously, his hands clenching into fists if only to stop his usual nervous tick. This was his nice jacket, he couldn’t pick at it and risk letting it get ruined. “I can’t do this. I can’t. We should just-” But before he could say anything further, the door was opening and he was forcing what he hoped was a natural looking smile. “Hi, uh– Mr and Mrs. Steele. We-” He swallowed his words down, looking to Asher for some help.

“I didn’t think it would matter.” Asher hissed back, shoulders shrugging up and down for what felt like the eighteenth time since he’d burst into their dorm room. “You’ve been here before, that’s way less stressful than a new place, right?” He knew as soon as the question left his lips that the answer would be a decided no. But, before he could say anything else (or allow the conversation to erupt into petty bickering), the door was swinging open and Asher was forced to play nice. For his parents sake. Or maybe for Matt’s sake. He couldn’t really tell who was the victim in this situation. “Hi mom, hi dad. You remember Matt?”

It was a testiment to just how much they trusted him DESPITE everything that neither of them overreacted in the slightest. Asher’s mom looked like she’d just been told he was on drugs, and his dad looked like he wanted to slam the door shut again, but they welcomed the two boys inside anyways. ‘So you....brought the roommate. Matt, do you have any allergies?’ Asher’s mom asked, and before Asher could answer for him, his dad was cutting in with: ‘Right, we couldn’t want to accidentally kill you or anything.’

“Nobody’s trying to kill anybody! For the record. So just...let’s not? Kay? Kay. Can we go sit down please?” Asher begged, before mouthing a quick I’m sorry at Matt. “Why don’t we talk about how Matt’s going to be a doctor. That’s way more fun than this, right?”

“Wha- Afraid of me is worse, I can’t-” Matt groaned, sinking further into his seat. They had somehow become some sort of friends, but this was definitely asking too much. Plus, Matt was awkward and had the very real probability of making things so much worse. He could see directly through Asher and his little scheme though, could hear the words that the other had stopped himself from saying. That’s the point. “I hate you,” he pulled himself up, making sure to make eye contact just then, so Asher couldn’t even try denying that he was talking to him. “When is it?”

Asher gave an apologetic grin (fully aware he was going to pay for this somehow later). “Now?”

*wibbly wobbly timey wimey skip*

An hour--and an uncomfortable suit jacket later--Matt and Asher found themselves standing on the front doorstep of Asher’s childhood home. With his nerves mounting by the minute, Asher glanced over at Matt, who seemed to be faring about as well. “You look like you’re about to throw up.” He told Matt, not even bothering to try and sound annoyed by it. He felt the exact same way. “Word of advice? Don’t.” Asher ordered, fidgeting with his jacket as he procrastinated ringing the bell. Or should he just walk in? Being an adult was so complicated.

There was a lot of issues with Asher’s request and Matt had only mentioned one of them. The implications of meeting Asher’s parents was… Well, you know. You didn’t usually do that unless you were close, which they weren’t. Hell, Matt didn’t even know where they stood right then. He couldn’t help the look he sent Asher, wondering if the boy could truly vouch for anybody, let alone someone who was assumed to be an alien killer. “They’re going to hate me,” he muttered. But already he was giving in. “Fine. I’ll go to dinner with you and your parents. But you’re not throwing me under the bus to get out of whatever thing you’re trying to get out of.”

It was purely out of necessity (and the fact that Asher had no other friends or connections at school yet) that he was even asking Matt. It meant nothing, and nobody should read into it in any way. “No, they’re going to be afraid of you, and only for like two seconds, it’s fine. You’re fine. Plus, they aren’t VIOLENT or anything, so you’re not in danger.” He probably should have mentioned how proficient his mom was with a spear, but that felt like an issue for another day. “But that’s--” Asher stopped himself, aware of just how shitty ‘but that’s the whole reason I’m bringing you’ would sound to anyone outside of his own brain. And honestly to the person inside his brain, as well. “Of course not. Wouldn’t even dream of it. You’re just there to make awkward conversation.”

Matt would have been startled with Asher bursting into his room if he hadn’t heard the startled cries of other people being pushed aside in the hallway. While yeah, he hadn’t automatically assumed it was Asher, it wasn’t really all that surprising. What was surprising was Asher’s demand for help. Sure, they were on a better footing than they had been in years, but Matt didn’t think they were that close just yet. “Your parents? Don’t they– Don’t they think I’m some psycho alien hunter?”

Okay, Matt had a point--and a fairly good one at that. But hey, what better dinner conversation was there than please welcome the villain from my childhood to the table? “Uh--yeah, okay. That’s definitely a talking point.” Asher floundered, briefly losing his gusto. Stupid Matt, always thinking about the consequences of things. “But we can move past that! We have me to vouch for your good character. Don’t give me that look, my word still means a lot in some circles.” That was blatant embellishment, but he was going to breeze past it anyway. “Come on dude, please? I’m literally begging you. Have you ever seen me beg?”

Natira shrugged, as if none of this was a big deal to her. “I’ll ground him too.” Which sounded like a great idea, until she realized that two grounded dads meant both of them in the same area– which meant gross love interactions. Grimacing, she shook her head. “No, you’ll be the only one grounded. Pops will be the opposite of grounded. Banished.” Better. “Don’t ask me, I don’t know shit about dancing. I just definitely know it’s not foie gras because that’s something that you eat.” Calling out Asher was always fun, but it was less fun when he admitted that he was wrong. She liked seeing her parents get all stammery and embarrassed, it gave her more power. “Careful dad,” Natira had heard of the jealousy first hand back in 2019, but she really didn’t think her dad would still be hung up on that. Actually… she wasn’t all that surprised. “You look uglier when you’re jealous.”

“Wait, so if you’re in charge now, does that mean you’ll be paying the bills around here? I’ve got a nearly empty fridge that would love to be filled. Your sister’s started cooking now, which is simultaneously as terrible and as great as you’d expect.” He knew where Reena stood on Nat (she’d been complaining since the moment Nat got home), but he wasn’t sure where Nat stood on Reena these days. He’d honestly been a little afraid to ask, because he was pretty attached to the wifi AND he preferred his curtains un-scorched. “Maybe you should just banish both of us. We’ll go out, have a date night, maybe get a hotel room.” He gave his oldest daughter an exaggerated suggestive face, complete with the eyebrows and everything. “I’m not jealous. We just have a different relationship than you guys have. And I’ve never been ugly in my life, that’s one of my biggest problems. It makes it hard to relate to normal people.” He joked, giving in to the urge to reach over and ruffle her hair. She could try, but she wasn’t going to get a rise out of him. He would be the adult here. Probably.

“At least Reena loves me,” Matt replied dramatically. He wondered if throwing his arm over his eyes would be too much and settled on yes. Plus, his back wouldn’t really thank him for it. “Just remember who’s fault it is when they make fun of you for those shoes you just bought.” Not that Matt had any room to talk, especially when it came to fashion. He just wore whatever fit. Hell, most of his clothes were pretty old. He scootched his butt down until he was actually comfortable and capable of looking at Asher without having to extend his neck. “I don’t think she’d notice if you sprayed some in her face, if I’m being honest. She’d tell you that you smelled even if you smelled like… something that smells good. Pizza.”

“Small blessings. That, or she’s trying to kill you so she gets to be the token human of the family.” Asher suggested with a shrug, trying to act like he meant it. Their kids were actually fairly decent, most of the time, despite their dramatics. “You said you liked the shoes! What’s wrong with the shoes?” Asher spluttered, reconsidering his decision not to dump Matt onto the floor. But the other man looked comfortable, and fuck if Asher hadn’t gotten all complacent and soft in his old age. “So what I’m hearing is that my husband wants me to use pizza scented body spray. That’s honestly kind of disturbing, you know? Will I wake up to you gnawing on one of my arms in your sleep if I do that?”

“Then you’re grounded,” Natira shot back without a second thought, raising her eyebrows like she expected Asher to shoot one back. For all her teasing, her dads were really great parents. They got pretty lucky having a daughter who actually behaved most of the time– they probably would have been screwed if they got a delinquent like the rest of the parents did. Still, they did pretty good with her. “First of all, that definitely doesn’t mean what you think it means,” she said, kicking at Asher’s shins much like a bored child would. She needed to think of a reason to be over at Tommy’s, but nothing she could think of would sound believable. Maybe she could play with that. “Second, no. I took him to the future” present, “to help him become a better person. Because I’m such a nice girl.” She laid the sarcasm on thick.

“Um, wow. Rude.” Asher complained, too grateful that she was home to really be that upset with her. “Would you mind explaining to my husband why I can’t leave the house? Thanks.” She was a sassy kid, her personality so clearly Asher’s fault that he couldn’t complain about her. Much. “Yes it does. I heard Matt say it once.” But even as he was arguing the point, he was starting to doubt he was right. He was rarely right about that kind of stuff. “...And we both know how closely i listen to him when he talks about boring stuff. Okay, maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about.” He conceded, shifting out of the way so her feet couldn’t connect with his legs. If he didn’t love her so much, she’d be very difficult to live with. Even after six months away. “Uh huh. Is there any way you could possibly leave him there next time? Kidding, I’m kidding. I love Uncle Tommy as much as anyone in this house does.” Asher said, not even bothering to hide his grimace.

“There was an ugly Christmas sweater contest at work, I had to wear it,” Matt argued– though this wasn’t the first time they had had that conversation. He was pretty sure their daughters burned the thing the day after he wore it because it was never found again, but he was pretty proud of it. “Oh, you Steele’s and your sarcasm.” He sat on the couch with a groan, instantly popping his legs up onto Asher’s lap. “She did say this house smelled too much like old man for her, so I’m sure she’s figured out it’s going to Reena by now.” 

“Uh huh. I’ve heard that one before.” Asher shot back, but he was smiling fondly. Like an idiot. A bit of both. “Just be glad I didn’t teach it to our kids. Imagine how awful they’d be with a weapon that powerful at their disposal.” He said (you guessed it) sarcastically. One of Matt’s feet came dangerously close to the project Asher was reassembling on the coffee table, and Asher considered picking him up and moving him to the other side of the couch, but in the end no damage was done. And no marriages were ruined. “I’m shocked and offended. Do you think she’s noticed I switched to Old Spice? Although that could be the ‘musty mothball smell’ she was referring to.” Asher shrugged.

Natira had wondered if her dads would remember meeting her in the past. She doubted it, mostly because she had used a fake name and had tried to avoid fucking with anything too much. Plus, her dads were idiots. “Yeah? I’m a little too old for grounding, aren’t I?” She didn’t want to admit how homesick she had been, but seeing her dad the way she was used to (scruffy instead of twinky) made her realize just how much she missed him. “Does it help if I say I was doing something extremely important? With, uh–” A memory flashed into her head, one that she definitely hadn’t had before. “Uncle Tommy.”

She had a point, but Asher had never been one to concede defeat. Even as a parent--which had been recommended against in all the parenting books, but Nat and Reena had turned out just fine, so whatever. “You’re never too old to be grounded.” He told her, still trying to sell the disapproving parent routine. “I mean, I don’t exactly know first-hand, and neither does your father, but we’re trying to make up all of this parenting stuff as we go. It’s not like there’s a manual or something.” He snorted, relief nose-diving and exploding somewhere on the ground next to his common sense. “Uncle Tommy, huh.” Despite his husband’s deep friendship with the other man, Asher had never quite gotten over his negative first reaction to the guy. “What, was he teaching you how to pat de gras for six months?”

“It might be too late for this, but I think I’ve finally achieved complete dad status.” Matt moved from the kitchen into the living room, a glass of water in his hands. Natira had finally come back and they had finally stopped worrying, but things hadn’t quite returned to normal. “Daughter One’s first words to me when she came back was ‘You’re alive,’ and she actually sounded happy about it.”

@ashersteele

It took Asher a second to register Matt’s presence, so completely focused on the project he was working on that he looked up a full ten seconds after Matt walked in. “The fact that you think you hadn’t already reached full dad mode is laughable. I saw your Christmas sweater last year.” But honestly, yeah, the lack of enthusiasm was as frustrating as it was unsurprising. She’d always seemed to want to be their friend more than their daughter, anyway. “Okay, maybe we should talk to her about the attitude? I guarantee she meant it sarcastically. She’ll be horrified to know that we didn’t will the house to her.”

“My parents want me to come to dinner, and I can’t go alone.”

Trust was an interesting subject, especially with the two of them. Just… what– a week ago?– Asher had been accusing Matt of trying to kill him. They had spent most of their lives hating each other specifically because one didn’t trust the other. Those words meant more to Matt than Asher probably understood, though it was just one more thing he was smart enough not to voice. Anyways, if he told Asher how much he liked hearing that, Asher would take it back and Matt didn’t want that. “My parents told me to kill any alien on sight,” he raised his eyebrows, his tone still sounding light despite the harsh words. “I don’t really think their opinion matters.” And maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say just then, but the words slipped out and Matt had to make sure that Asher knew. Matt wasn’t like his parents.

“I thought you were fucking with me, though,” he admitted, attempting and failing a shrug much like Asher’s. “Like a bully thing. Since you were, y’know, my bully.” He said it matter-of-factly, not in an attempt to attack Asher or make him feel bad about the past. He just wanted to make sure that things weren’t misconstrued in the long run. Yes, he punched Asher for kissing him, but that didn’t change the way he felt.

Matt wasn’t sure what happened (though that seemed to be a pattern the two of them shared). Asher had been harsh, he had sounded upset, but that was Asher. One moment Matt was feeling stupid giddy at the idea of Asher being jealous and the next he could feel the bed shifting beneath him. “No,” he said, barely capable of masking the desperation in his voice. He moved faster than his drunk self should have been capable, grabbing Asher’s arm. His grip was light, something Asher would be able to escape from without a fight, but Matt hoped it wouldn’t come for that. “Stay.” And god, if that didn’t make him feel some sort of pathetic.

My parents told me you wanted to kill me, and then you kissed me. But that didn’t help anything, not when Matt was looking at him like--like fucking something, and it meant something, and Asher wasn’t sure what to say to that. He wanted to tell Matt something that meant something, too, but he’d never been good enough with words to get anything out. “You don’t always have to do what everybody tells you to? I’m impressed, Murtaugh. You’re growing as a person.” What he meant, of course, was ‘I’m really glad you didn’t do what they told you to. I missed you. You’re a better person than I gave you credit for.’ Nothing but his tone reflected that in any way, words too soft to actually qualify as teasing, gaze fixed too intently on Matt’s face like he was trying to memorize it.

“You thought I was fucking with you?” Asher crowed, able to kind of find the situation amusing now that he had enough distance and time separating him from it. “Dude, I thought you were trying to catch me off guard so you could kill me easier! For all I know, that’s the number one move they teach you guys in ninja alien hunter school.” He sounded like an idiot, but honestly when didn’t he? Matt’s words sobered him immediately, regret flashing through him like a knife to the heart. He’d been stupid, and childish, and petty--and a little hurt, but Matt had never deserved that. He thought back to all the names he’d called Matt, to the stupid jabs he’d sent Matt’s way whenever the guy was in earshot. “Fuck, I--sorry. About that. Um, I probably should have said that before. I wasn’t trying to...I wasn’t trying to bully you. I just wanted you to think I wasn’t afraid of you.”

Asher made it about two inches closer to the edge of the bed before Matt grabbed him, the insistence in Matt’s voice stopping Asher more than the grasp on his arm. He wasn’t sure how to take the open panic in Matt’s voice, so he didn’t think about it. “Okay, whatever. Fine.” He grumbled, scooting back onto the bed and flopping against his pillow with more force than was specifically necessary for the action. “Way to make a guy feel like sloppy seconds,” he said, trying for a joke and failing (because of course none of his jokes ever seem to work when he needs them to anymore). “Just so you know, Tommy might have been okay kissing your boozey breath, but I’m not going anywhere near it.”