For StellaHarding: Kevin De Bruyne

A.N. Sorry if my lack of knowledge about VfL Wolfsburg is obvious. I don't watch them and don't follow them. Once again, sorry for my ignorance.

Stella straightened out her dress and double checked her hair and makeup once more. In the adjacent bedroom, her boyfriend dug through his drawers searching desperately for an appropriate tie for the occasion. If anyone else were to look on the scene, some would suggest that they were meeting someone important at a fancy restaurant. In a few ways, they would be right.

Kevin and Stella looked anxious as they exited their shared home. Stella, not wanting to frighten her boyfriend any more than he already was, put on her brave face as she entered the car. "We'll be fine, you'll be fine," she told a certain Belgian footballer who didn't look the least bit comfortable.

"Sure, and I'm Prince Harry," Kevin joked. Noticing the mischievous look on his girlfriend's face, he sighed in annoyance. "Forget it." He backed up the car as Stella tried to contain her giggles by hiding her mouth behind her hand. She failed miserably. Wiping nonexistent tears from her eyes, Stella turned to look at her brooding boyfriend.

"I'm sorry," she choked out, still highly amused.

"I'm glad my first meeting with your parents is a joke."

"It's not. There's just no need to get so stressed out about it, Kev," Stella soothed, grabbing his hand in her smaller one. "They love me, I love you, and they'll love you. Simple math," Stella shrugged.

"Coming from the girl who just failed her math test," Kevin pointed out.

"The professor hates me, I've already told you this," Stella sassed. "Stop stressing out Kevin."

"Just, what if they don't like me? Did you mention my profession?"

"My profession," Stella gagged. "Since when do you use such formal language?"

"I'm being serious, Stella," he sighed.

"No, I didn't. Just don't mention that you play for VfL Wolfsburg and we're in the clear. My dad's a Hannover 96 fan," Stella muttered.

"Great," Kevin sarcastically murmured, turning on the wipers as the sky opened up. Stella pointed out a house and Kevin pulled into the driveway of said house. Shutting off the car, the pair took a synchronized last deep breath before stepping out of the car. Rushing up to the front porch, Stella knocked on the door.

Shuffling and words penetrated through the familiar wooden door before Stella's mother opened the door. She smiled and pulled her daughter into a tight hug. "Oh, Stella, it's so good to see you again," her mother smiled, pulling away. Her gaze travelled to an uncomfortable looking Kevin De Bruyne. "And you must be her boyfriend, Kevin. I'm Stella's mom," the older woman smiled, shaking Kevin's outstretched hand. "Well there's no use standing out here to catch a cold. Come inside."

Stella's mother disappeared into the kitchen as Stella and Kevin piled into the former's childhood home. Kevin hung Stella's coat and his own on the rack before they made their way into the dining room where Stella's father stood. His eyes first landed on Stella. He rushed around the table to greet his daughter before his eyes focused on the Belgian. "And you must be Kevin . . ." he trailed off.

"Yes sir, that's me," Kevin said awkwardly, looking at his girlfriend with a 'Help Me!' look in his eyes. Stella's father's originally cold expression instantly melted into a smile.

"I'm just playing. If you've lasted this long with our Stella, there must be enough about you that's good enough to join us for dinner. Take a seat, you too Stella. I'm going to help your mother in the kitchen. We'll be just a moment." As Stella's father exited, Stella smirked at her boyfriend.

"See, I told you it would be okay," she teased, tugging him to a seat.

"I'm not out of the clear yet," Kevin replied. "Although that did go smoother than I originally thought," he admitted. Stella's parents returned with dinner in their hands. They placed it in front of the young couple before taking their seats across the table. They dug in shortly afterwards.

"So, what do you do for a living, Kevin? Stella wasn't quite open about the topic."

"Oh, I play football."

"For college?" Stella's mother asked.

"Oh, no. I play professionally in the Bundesliga," Kevin replied, imaginary beads of sweat being felt by the footballer.

"Really? That's interesting. What team do you play for?"

"VfL Wolfsburg," Stella stated for her boyfriend, staring up at her father to see his reaction. His features turned unreadable as he looked over at the boy with newfound interest.

"Really . . ."

"Dad," Stella warned.

"What? I just said 'Really.' Is that a crime?" A cold look from Stella's mother answered the question. "I just wish the boy played for a friendlier team to Hannover 96," he muttered. Kevin looked like he wanted to bolt out of the awkward situation his job had indirectly caused and silently cursed himself. Stella looked at her father with a warning look.

"But there's nothing wrong with Wolfsburg, right Dad?"

"Well, I'm not sure about that . . ."

"I'm sorry if the team I play for offends you, sir," Kevin said aloud, praying that the man would return to the happy older guy he had first met. He liked that guy. That guy didn't look like he wanted to shove Kevin out into the rain.

"Oh it's no problem, Kevin," Stella's mother smiled, elbowing her husband in the arm. "Right?"

"No problem," Stella's father repeated, giving one last glance to his wife before turning back to his dinner. Stella quickly changed the subject and the original warm atmosphere returned to the quaint house. Stella's father got over Kevin's occupation at Wolfsburg as the dinner wore on, not mentioning the offending fact afterwards.

Kevin and Stella helped clean up before getting ready to leave for their own home. The sky was now pitch black, the rain still falling heavily. "Well it was nice meeting you, Kevin," Stella's mother smiled, hugging him quickly. She hugged Stella too before stepping back. Stella's father stepped forwards.

"Nice meeting you, kid," he shook Kevin's hand.

"Likewise, sir."

"Just promise me one thing, Kevin. If you two ever get married and have kids, make sure they have a set of Hannover shirts—"

"—Dad!" came Stella's embarrassed cry as she pulled her boyfriend out of the house, her face pink. With a last good bye, the young couple raced to the car and drove off into the night, Stella's parents waving as the car disappeared around the bend.