y/n: your name

l/n: last name

u/n: user name

tws: swearing

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y/n's pov *

"oh my god, clay, wake up," i demanded, my voice monotone despite the panic that was rising in my chest. when the blond didn't stir from his sleep, i started shaking his shoulder, practically rocking our small car with the movement.

"what?" he mumbled, slapping my hand away and rolling over.

"my parents— my parents are coming to visit today."

"your what? what?" he repeated, and cracked open one eye to look at me.

i nodded vigorously and turned my phone screen so he could read the last texts from my mom.

he squinted at the letters, expression slowly melting as the messages came to an end.

"we're— no. no," he simply said, and i shook my head in agreement, understanding everything he was thinking even though he wasn't saying it.

we were two hours away from home, hungover, and in the same clothes we had been wearing since last night, except they now smelled distinctly of alcohol and greasy finger food.

we were in no condition for a "meet the parents" dinner.

"can you tell them you're busy? that they can't come?" clay added, shifting to an upright position as he knitted his brow tight.

"it's— it's noon, clay. it's almost a six hour drive from their house to ours. they've already been on the road for two hours, tops," i said, slouching my head into my hands.

he sighed and rubbed his face, sinking deep into thought. we both stayed silent for a moment, watching as partygoers dragged their feet out of the house in front of us and climbed into their cars.

they all looked just a little bit dead inside, but then again so did we.

"wait, we're two hours from home," clay spoke up, and i quirked a brow.

"yeah?"

"then we have to get— on— the road—" he continued, the last words strained as he wedged himself between the two fronts seats— "if we're gonna make it in time." he turned the key in the ignition so the car rumbled awake and looked back at me, expectant.

"we're really doing this?" i asked, climbing over the center console and plopping down in the passenger seat next to him.

clay didn't answer, too focused on swiping through the contacts list on his phone. he pressed the screen once and then jammed the device in the cup holder as the call switched to bluetooth before backing out of the driveway.

"were you guys hammered last night? is that why you just mysteriously disappeared?" nick's voice rang out, and clay rolled his eyes with a laugh.

"chill—"

"no—"

"daddy chill—"

"no, i will not daddy chill! we—"

"sap's just jealous that he couldn't come to the party," george butted in, snickering.

"no, i'm freaking out because y/n's mom called our house phone this morning and asked if we'd like if she baked a pie for dinner tonight. and she wouldn't let me say no! she insisted on it!"

"oh my god." i pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. "well, if she's bringing dessert, we can order something nice—"

"order something? no no no. nick—" clay cut himself off, pausing as he glanced behind his shoulder to change lanes— "nick, i need you to go to the grocery and pick up— um— actually lemme just forward you the recipe—" he picked up his phone and switched to driving one handed, typing something into his search bar with his thumb.

i narrowed my eyes at him. "you are a bad driver."

"i am a good multitasker," he corrected, and set his phone back down after sending nick a text. "check your messages sap."

"one sec, i— eggplant parmesan? what is this gordon ramsey garbage you're making me cook!"

"you are not cooking it because you are a fiend in the kitchen. just get me the ingredients and i should have enough time to make it when i get home."

"clay, we are literally two hours away. my parents get here around four. we can just order takeout, it's fine," i reasoned, but he was shaking his head.

"no— look! see, i've already shaved off ten minutes," he argued, motioning at the estimated time on the gps. "we can make it in time, and then i can still cook something good."

"are you sure you can cook at all?" george chimed in again.

"yes— shut up! i've made it before." he paused. "once."

"you're such an overachiever and for what," nick groaned.

"just go get the groceries," clay pleaded, and the brunet sighed.

"fine. don't get a speeding ticket on your way back."

"i won't—"

"he's going to." i interrupted. "bye guys."

"bye!" george and nick cheered, and ended the call.

i sighed, suppressing a laugh. "eggplant parmesan?"

"it's a just a vegetable. vegetables are easy," clay said, as if that was a perfectly good explanation.

"i don't know why you won't let me order takeout. my parents aren't fancy."

"i know, i just wanna do this right, you know? first impressions or whatever," he continued. he glanced my way and offered me a small half smile, his cheeks flushed pink as the morning sun highlighted his light freckles. for a moment i thought i might have caught a glimpse of nervousness in his expression, but before i could say anything about it, it disappeared.

he leaned over the center console and clapped a hand down on my thigh, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel with the other. "we may look like hungover messes, but we're going to pull off a successful dinner. trust me."

"mm," i hummed, and placed my smaller hand over his. "sure."

the drive home ended up being shorter than expected because somehow, someway, clay shaved off over a half hour of our trip without getting pulled over. by the time we stumbled into the house, we had approximately two hours and thirty minutes to make dinner and not look like two idiots that had just come home from a blackout drunk party in front of my parents.

"did you get the groceries?" clay asked nick as he tossed the car keys on the counter, already making his way over to the fridge to start getting ingredients out.

"i don't know— i think so? also, why'd you have to pick the most mommy blogger website for your recipe—"

"i panicked okay!"

"you're gonna have to add a ton of spices to it if you got it off of that kind of blog," george added, sifting through the food clay was laying out on the counter.

"that's true. do your parents like spicy food y/n?"

"i mean, they don't not like it," i answered.

"okay, perfect. see! the mommy blogger recipe will work out," clay said, turning on the faucet to start washing the vegetables.

"i am severely doubting you right now," nick stated, and clay flicked some water at him.

"stop stressing. i've got this under—" his fingers slipped and he dropped the eggplant into the sink— "control."

"control he says," i scoffed, "what can i do to help? actually, you know what? put us to work clay. i'm giving you full permission to make us like the little rats in the kitchen at the end of ratatouille."

"i did not give permission for that—"

"shut up nicholas, your input was not asked for."

"did you actually just full name me?"

"indeed i did. nicholas."

"okay y/n middle name l/n, i will not stand for this harassment."

"middle name l/n? nicholas, i've known you this long and you still don't know my middle name?"

"oh, i remember, your middle name is... stupid muffinhead."

"really? that's the best you could come up with?"

"i'm sorry, could you do better stupid muffinhead?"

"actually i could dickolas, i think—"

clay sighed loudly, breaking up nick and i's little exchange. "for the love of god, can one of you just cut vegetables."

"on it!" i smiled, happy he was finally giving in. i picked up the cutting knife he had set down on the counter and starting slices the eggplant, laying out the pieces on a tray so i could salt them afterwards.

nick stayed sitting on the barstool across from me, reading off the recipe as clay and i worked and otherwise just entertaining us.

"you know, i don't understand why they put their whole life story in before they tell us the recipe," he said, "like listen to this: 'eggplant parmesan was my grandfather's favorite dinner, and so on his seventy-fourth birthday when i was just fifteen years old, i cooked it for him for the first time ever. the light in his eyes when he took the first bite is exactly what inspired me to continue my passion for cooking as i grew up, and is a memory i cherish and think about every time i put food on my family's plate.' like— ma'am, i just want to eat."

"any askers suzanne corvelle? any askers?" george added.

"she has zero earnings. zero pr."

"her eggplant parmesan tastes like dog water."

"that's the main ingredient actually. dog water."

"did you put that in the sauce yet dream?"

clay shook his head, amused, and glanced over his shoulder at the pair. "you guys are the worst."

"you know, you shouldn't talk to your sous chefs like that. we could get you fired," nick stated.

"yeah," george backed up.

"not if i really amp up my gordon ramsey level though." clay cleared his throat and straightened his posture, plastering on his best attempt at a british accent for show. "you fuckin' dumbasses, you fuckin' put dogwater in the sauce!"

we all chuckled at that, faces going red with laughter.

"don't forget you'd probably call us an idiot sandwich or something too dream."

"oh yeah, that's a good one!"

"i think i'd cry if that happened to me honestly."

"imagine being an idiot sandwich," i said, and nick sighed.

"it's the lowest of the low."

"well i mean it could be worse. you could be like... an idiot sub."

"or an idiot panini," clay added.

"exactly."

"tag yourself, idiot sandwich edition," george declared, and we all chuckled.

as the moment fizzled out, clay chimed in, sticking his sauce-covered finger out to me. "hey, wait, taste this for me real quick."

i rolled my eyes and licked it off, clicking my tongue against the roof of my mouth. "mm.. more salt. and maybe more spice. remember what blog you got this recipe off of."

"more spice?" he frowned, and tasted some of it, "that's already spicy!"

"you're just a wimp," i said, and clay smeared sauce on my cheek for it.

"hey!" i laughed, rubbing it off, "now you're just a wimp and a child."

"actually though, what?" nick chuckled as he tried the sauce, "where's the heat man?" he picked up the spice shaker next to the pot and sprinkled a hefty amount into it despite clay's protest.

"are you trying to kill me?" he sputtered, watching as the brunet stirred it in.

"yes. this is a murder attempt. premeditated. perish."

clay sighed and chuckled, pushing him aside so he could go back to cooking.

we prepared the eggplant parmesan for about an hour longer, and by the time it was in the oven for the final time, we were sweaty and smelt like tomato sauce. that, and we were covered in it too, courtesy of clay liking to flick it at me everytime i teased him.

i slouched against the countertop and folded my arms across my chest, letting a long sigh pass through my lips. "we did it. and we can relax now."

"thank god. i'm gonna take a nice long shower. i think the sauce smell has like.. soaked into me now," clay chuckled, running his hands through his hair.

"same. i'll—"

my phone dinged with a text, cutting me off.

i swiped to open it.

Hey hon, traffic was a breeze, so we're gonna be a little early. Yay!! See you in five. 👍👍

"see you in five," i repeated out loud.

"what?"

"she's gonna— they're— my parents are going to be here in five minutes."

"wha— how? how? we're supposed to have nearly an hour!"

"i don't know! they drive like maniacs i guess?" i ranted, and grabbed clay's wrist to drag him to our bathroom so we could get ready.

it made sense we were both speedrunners, because we cleaned up and dressed in a matter of minutes. clay ruffed up his hair with water while i pulled mine back, and we both masked the smell of last night's alcoholic indulgences with deodorant and some form of perfume or cologne. we swapped our old clothes for some casually nice ones, and by the time we finished brushing our teeth, the doorbell rang and we were scrambling to run out of the bathroom.

it's not like we looked our best, but we looked better than we did before, which was at least an improvement.

"nick, can you get the door please?" i asked, quickly turning to face the hallway mirror so i could get the swab of toothpaste off my shirt.

i scanned my appearance over one final time, and my eyes travelled down my neck to the purple bruise marking my skin.

i froze, suddenly remembering last night.

i hadn't even noticed the hickey until now.

"shit!" i whisper-shouted, and spun to run back to my bathroom.

"y/n!" my mom greeted before i could, and i stopped in my tracks, angling myself sideways so she couldn't see the mark on my skin.

"hey mom, dad— i just— gimme one second—" i glared at clay as i walked backwards down the hallway, gesturing wildly at my neck, and he clapped a hand to his mouth, stifling laughter.

with sounds of chitter chatter behind me, i barreled into my room and slapped my hands down on the edge of my sink.

i stared at myself in the mirror, studying.

the hickey was about an inch across, dark purple, and extremely obvious with my hair out of my face.

it stuck out like a sore thumb.

oh my god—

i slid my phone out of my back pocket and started typing before i could think twice.

hey nomi

how do i cover up a hickey

like a really dark one

like completely get rid of it

..

what.

her contact name suddenly popped up with a phone call and i hurried to answer it, putting her on speakerphone and tossing my device on the vanity as i rubbed at the bruise on my neck.

"HOW DO YOU WHAT? WHAT?" she laughed, and i quickly adjusted her volume so everyone in the house couldn't hear her.

"okay, i swear— i swear it's like— small—"

"I DON'T CA— BRO TURN ON— ANSWER FACETIME—"

i gave up trying to decline her call and turned my camera towards me.

her expression was totally neutral, and then she bust out laughing.

"OH MY— MANS IS A VAMPIRE? MANS— WOW— YOU REALLY GOT ACTION— YOU REALLY TOOK "HAVE FUN" TO A WHOLE 'NOTHER LEVEL—"

"NAOMI!" i laughed out.

"OKAY I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY— I— HHH—" she rolled over in bed and slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her wheezes, then took a deep, shaky breath— "phew— you— god, i'm just so proud right now— um— anyway do you have concealer? or foundation? lots of that."

"i think so, yeah," i answered as i sifted through one of the drawers in the vanity. i picked up a thin tube of concealer and started to dab the product over the hickey as naomi had suggested. when i had applied and blended an even layer, i pulled back and leaned in to my phone camera to show her.

"mm.. one more coat, one more coat. y'know, cause clayton straight-up took a bite out of your neck—"

"he didn't, but i would've let him," i half-joked, biting my lip on impulse.

naomi laughed harder and shifted her camera positioning again as she rolled on her side.

"no no," i continued, "he didn't bite last night, obviously, but he did piss of my ex on purpose, which was kind of exciting."

"what?" she sputtered.

"yeah. tldr he tried to come up to me and clay spun me around and gave me a hickey, and then later when he tried to come up to me again he was like "she was waiting for her boyfriend" in his tough guy voice—" i sighed, a smile creeping onto my face.

naomi blew a whistle and shook her head. "man, what i would've give to just see that in a movie dude. or a book— actually, jk, i don't read."

i chuckled. "oh yeah, says the fucking valedictorian, or whatever." naomi snickered at that, and i rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "but yeah. now my parents have spontaneously decided to visit so—"

"wait that's why you needed to cover the hickey? your parents are there?"

"yeah..." i trailed off.

"wow. is clay freaking out?"

"a little i think. i.. honestly can't tell. he's just overachieving like he usually does."

"hm, makes sense. wait— god— okay, get back out there and save him then!" she laughed.

"oh yeah— shoot. okay, bye nomi! love you, thanks!"

"your welcome! gossip later!" she reminded.

"yeah yeah. bye!" i hung up the phone and patched up my concealer one last time. when the dark purple spot was completely covered l, i put away my makeup and headed back out to the dining room.

my roommates and my parents were all seated around the table, and clay was leaning over the center with a hot dish in his hand and placing it in the middle.

it smelled amazing.

i took a seat across from my dad and smiled. "sorry, just had to do something real quick. how are you guys? how was the drive?"

"fine. i think we found a shortcut! that gps didn't know what it was talking about," my dad tsked, and i chuckled.

my mom nodded in agreement. "it did not! god, and my back is killing me after all that. i think this nice meal will help me feel better though." she turned her gaze from me to the blond, who smoothed out his shirt as he sat down next to me. "do you cook much clay?" she asked, and his eyebrows raised.

"not often actually, but i've made this once before. i hope you guys like it."

"i'm sure we will," my dad answered, taking the liberty to start scooping spoonfuls onto everyone's plates.

"thanks pops," i smiled, jabbing my fork into the top of the dish.

he nodded in response, and then turned to clay once again, eyes assessing. "so... boyfriend right? that's a big deal?"

i beamed. "yeah, we—"

"no. well, we haven't labelled it. nothing— like— official, i mean." clay butted in, and my father quirked an eyebrow.

ah shit.

i mean he wasn't wrong. we hadn't actually talked about it, but he had called himself my boyfriend last night, so i just went ahead and told my parents...

crap.

my shoulders drooped.

had he just said all that to ward off jared?

my dad picked up on my subtle frown and quickly changed the topic to other things, and then my family and roommates carried on talking like normal. after a few minutes clay excused himself to get a glass of milk because the food was too spicy, and then that put the focus onto me once again.

george and nick were wrapped up in their own little conversation and my dad was too busy squinting at his phone, so when my mom leaned across the table to talk quietly to me, nobody really noticed.

"i thought you said you guys made it official," she asked, brow worried in sympathy.

"sorry, i— i think i got a little hasty with labels. he was pretty out of it last night, and so was i," i struggled to explain, and my mom nodded.

"don't sweat it hon. you'll figure it out."

"right," i half-smiled, and she leaned back in her chair again.