callmelyss:

Ahhh, finally. Sorry this took forever, darlin’. 

Milestones (and Scattergories) [1600 words] 

Stensland doesn’t know if it comforts or worries him that Clyde’s hand feels as clammy as his when they reach the front porch. Clyde’s hand itself—usually warm, strong, gently calloused—he likes, has liked from the beginning. That Clyde is as nervous about this as he is. Well. In one way, that’s sort of nice, isn’t it, that Clyde cares enough to be nervous, nice that he wants Stens to meet his family at all, an enormous step in itself and how many films are there about this particular moment from slapstick comedies to heartfelt dramas and Sidney Poitier and it’s certainly a sign, of what neither of them has put words to just yet, much as Stensland’s tongue itches to put about a quadrillion words to it, only he doesn’t know if any of them are the right words, damn it, and why is this always so hard.

Because then again, Clyde might be nervous because this is a terrible, terrible idea, and he’s just begun to realize what a complete disaster he’s brought about by inviting Stens along—

The grip on his hand tightens just perceptibly; Clyde’s thumb ghosts over his knuckles, soothing.

Stensland exhales and squeezes back. “How much of that did I say out loud just now?” he asks, as the two of them contemplate Mellie Logan’s front door.

“Most of it, I reckon,” Clyde says. But he’s smiling in that way he has by crinkling his eyes at the corners, and it’s too much to resist. Stens has to kiss him.

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