it’s thanksgiving, and you’re sitting at your parents place, eating dinner. you’ve had lunch with steve’s parents earlier in the day, and you managed to keep up the charade perfectly.

your father and steve’s owned half the town. the two of you had known one another since birth, and you’ve hated on another since you could talk. even so, he hates your parents, and you hate his. you’ve bonded in an odd sort of way.

your father is talking to steve, which is a good sign. he’s going on about sales figures, and steve nods along, just as he did with his own father. you push food around your plate, eating slowly like your mother taught you. steve’s free hand loosely holds yours. he’s always been affectionate, even with friends. you’ve gotten used to it, and you’ve grown to almost enjoy it, not that you’d ever tell him that.

“thank god you two came to your senses, i was starting to think i’d never get grandkids. steve, honey, when do you think you’ll propose?” your mother asks.