None the Worse ✓

31) 'Family Members That You Only See Once A Year Asking Annoying Questions'...

Just when Ben had started to feel like he'd grow attached to this chair and his boyfriend's hip, the screech of his mother's voice sounded in the distance. "Benji! Thijmen!"

"Seems like it's time to go." Thijmen held out his hand and Ben reluctantly laid his own hand on it. Without any effort, he pulled him up, and Eleanor's screams got louder with every step they took.

"We're coming, ma!"

"Oh, good! We're in the lounge room on the south side!"

"Why not the living room?" Thijmen asked Benjamin.

"Because of the Game of Thrones pillows."

"Oh, I see."

They heard everyone before they saw them. Put two dozen people in one room and there's bound to be some noise. Benjamin forgot they were holding hands a few seconds too late, which was around the time said silence died down, all of a sudden, as though somebody had suddenly muted the TV.

But no, he wasn't outside of a screen.

His mother waved this off, gesturing for them to sit. "That's the exchange student. They started dating like three weeks after they met."

"Kids these days," said his father.

Benjamin broke out coughing.

Okay, so there weren't that many people. The obligatory aunt who never married, grandparents, cousins that ignored Benjamin in favor of game consoles whenever they showed up, metalhead uncle who looked like he had an afro the color of an artificially-flavored strawberry soda, ma's Monopoly Saturday friends and... that was it.

Okay.

He sat down.

"Aren't you going to present him?" asked the metalhead uncle (Mark, for simplicity's sake).

Benjamin was made of iron. Rusty iron. When he moved, his limbs creaked. "Um. Okay. Yes. Hi."

"Kids these days don't know what being straight is like," began his grandma, "back in my day, we—"

Benjamin's mother strategically offered her a drink.

"He's Thijmen," he rasped out, "Thijmen. Thijmen. I, uh, kind of have a hard time pronouncing it. We, uh. Yeah. Thijmen, say something."

One glance at the Dutch boy and the tiny smirk playing around his lips told Benjamin that he was up to something. Oh, no.

"Het spijt me, maar ik spreek geen Engels."

All the jaws in the room were on the floor. Benjamin's cousin, Harry with the Harry Potter glasses, even dropped his cookie. Thijmen looked satisfied with his little prank.

"Does he not speak English?"

At least Benjamin's parents could show a little smile, before they told them that, yes, he did speak English, and the joke was ruined.

Now Thijmen looked a little less satisfied, so Benjamin leaned close and whispered, "I'd say you could speak your demon language to me when we're alone, but I don't really understand it, so... yeah, I don't know where I was going with this, either."

Thijmen ignored him and sat down.

Everyone ignored him and began handing plates here and there, and so Benjamin ignored himself and did the same. For a family where seemingly everyone else was straight, there was sure no major commotion about his own un-straightness. In fact, they didn't really seem to care. Twenty-first century family for the win. Or maybe he was never really meant to have the spotlight in the first place; why else would a giant, dead bird lie in the middle of the table? Benjamin appreciated the turkey. He almost stroked it. He enjoyed eating it.