The week leading up to Alejandro's family's visit passed in a blur of blundering anxiety. Miguel was so preoccupied with what could possibly go wrong that it wasn't long before The Crimson Goat's entire staff knew they were coming. Ralph's half-joking warning that he'd better be careful around Alejandro's mother "or else she'll leave with a massive, bloody purse" had made him so horribly nervous he'd managed to slice his finger open.

"Are you sure I look okay?" Miguel asked as he fumbled with the buttons of the dress shirt Alejandro had bought him for the occasion. The stiff fabric chafed uncomfortably against his scales, but it was almost worth it just to give Alejandro an excuse to help him.

Alejandro made quick work of the troublesome buttons before picking up Miguel's hand and giving the bandaged finger a kiss as gentle and brief as a butterfly landing. "You look wonderful. Just one last thing." Alejandro wrapped his arm around Miguel and pulled out his phone. "Say cheese!"

"I look ridiculous," Miguel muttered when Alejandro showed him the resulting photo. Stress had tightened his smile into a grimace, and the shirt's sleeves stopped halfway down his arms.

"You look fine. Besides, I've been meaning to change my lock screen." A series of quick taps was all it took to display the two of them on his phone. Despite his discomfort, Miguel couldn't help thrumming. Alejandro looked so happy standing beside him, holding him close as he beamed into the camera.

Someone knocked on the door, coaxing a nervous smile across Alejandro's face. "That must be them!"

As Alejandro went to let his family inside, Miguel took out his bottle of venom suppressant, twirling it between his fingers. He'd already taken some alongside a pair of hard boiled eggs, just enough to guarantee he could kiss Alejandro in front of his parents without ruining his appetite. But they would be visiting for hours, more than long enough for the usual dosage to wear off.

Their relationship was bound to be hard for Alejandro's family to accept even if Miguel wasn't constantly drawing attention to his fangs and venom all evening.

Alejandro had assured him things would be fine. That his parents would accept their relationship sooner or later. That even if they didn't take things well at first, he wouldn't let that come between them.

But Miguel couldn't lose another family.

He took a deep breath and downed the entire bottle of venom suppressant, struggling not to gag as bitterness flooded his mouth. This wasn't like the delicious burning of a Carolina Reaper. No, there was no pleasant undercurrent here, just a claw-curling intensity that made Miguel all too happy to throw the empty bottle into the garbage with the others.

A storm of Spanish echoed through the apartment as an older couple and a young man wearing a button-down shirt followed Alejandro inside, only for silence to take its place the instant they laid eyes on Miguel.

Alejandro's younger brother, Diego, spoke first. "¿Quién dejó entrar al lagarto?" Miguel shrank under the force of his glare.

"¿Dónde está tu novio, mijo?" Despite the gray hairs framing her face, Mrs. Morales looked every bit as fierce as Isabella with a fire in her eyes that could burn as easily as it could comfort.

Alejandro took a deep breath. "Miguel es mi novio, mamá." He slipped his hand into Miguel's, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Encantado de conocerlos a todos," Miguel said. And it was nice to finally meet them, despite being called a lizard and feeling like his heart might burst through his tight-fitting shirt. He cleared his throat. "Sorry if my Spanish isn't very good. My old pack didn't speak it much."

Silence filled the apartment again. Alejandro's parents stared at Miguel, their eyes wandering over every inch of him. He tugged at the collar of his shirt. Each breath made him feel as if he was slowly suffocating.

Mr. and Mrs. Morales shared a glance. A nod.

At last, Mr. Morales held out a hand. "It's nice to meet you, too." A smile lifted the corners of his mustache. "Alejandro's told us a lot about you. Not everything," he said with a sidelong glance at his son, "but enough to know that you make him very happy."

Diego scoffed. "He doesn't even have a pack. If you're going to date a lizard, couldn't you at least—" His words morphed into a high-pitched yelp as Mrs. Morales smacked the seat of his pants.

"Manners, Diego." Her eyes softened as she took Miguel's hand in hers, her long nails gentle on his thin fingers. "You're much skinnier than most of the chupacabras I've seen. Has my son been feeding you enough?"

"Definitely." Miguel's stomach betrayed him with a long, low growl as a dull ache started in his venom glands. "I'm always happy to have more of his delicious cooking though!"

Mrs. Morales clicked her tongue. "Which is why he needs to feed you better. Don't worry, I'll make sure you get some meat on those bones before I leave. Take it easy while we take care of you, okay?" She prodded his stomach with a familiarity that few humans ever dared to express around a chupacabra before rolling up her sleeves and striding into the kitchen.

As the rest of the family sprang to help her— and tried to avoid being smacked by a kitchen utensil whenever they got in her way— Miguel couldn't help but notice how much like a pack they truly were. Together in the kitchen, they were no longer mere individuals but parts of a loving whole guided by their strong-willed leader. Mrs. Morales reminded him of Isabella in ways that both delighted and terrified him. He was in her good graces, stars knew how, but how long would that last?

And she'd been right about him being skinny. The dress shirt still clung to his scales like most clothes that hadn't been specifically tailored for him, but there was a leanness to his limbs that there hadn't been before. A weakness like that of a newborn calf staggering to its feet for the first time.

The source was the stress caused by being banished from his pack. That had to be it. That and his body adjusting to the strangeness of living like a human.

Nothing to worry about.

It wasn't long before the five of them settled down to sizzling plates of beef enchiladas served with sour cream and homemade salsa.

"Thank you so much for having us over, mijo," Mr. Morales said. He blew on a steaming forkful before shoving it into his mouth. "It's wonderful to see you so happy."

Alejandro blushed as he cast a fond smile in Miguel's direction. "Next time, you'll have to let us do all the cooking. Miguel is absolutely amazing in the kitchen! He made us flan for dessert."

"I couldn't have done it without you," he said with a quiet thrum. Just thinking about all the sugar that had gone into it made his fangs ache. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that if it weren't for Alejandro's help whatever emerged from their oven wouldn't have been edible.

"Don't sell yourself short," Alejandro said. "You're one of the best chefs I know."

"The only reason I'm any good is because I had an amazing teacher." Miguel gave Alejandro a quick peck on the cheek.

Only when everyone else at the table sucked in a sharp breath did Miguel realize Alejandro had neglected to tell them about another detail.

"He takes venom suppressant," Alejandro explained hurriedly.

"Wouldn't miss out on kissing him for all the stars in the sky," Miguel said, sneaking his hand over to give Alejandro's a gentle squeeze.

Alejandro's family sighed with relief, leaving them all to focus on their enchiladas. Miguel's taste buds sang as the perfect blend of ground beef and melted cheese bathed in the salsa's heat. Mrs. Morales wasn't a chef, but she could easily cook alongside anyone at The Crimson Goat. Each mouthful was filled with equal parts delicious flavors and love.

But Miguel could barely enjoy it.

The ache in his venom glands grew with every movement of his jaw until he finally managed to push the mixture down his throat with his tongue. He felt every moment of its descent. Unlike the largely liquid mixture he was used to thanks to his venom, this heavy thickness was a struggle to swallow.

"I'm so glad you've finally managed to find someone who makes you happy, mijo," Mrs. Morales said. "You were so upset after you and Ralph broke up."

"Has he found someone who can 'give him what he needs'?" Diego grumbled, making air quotes with his fingers.

Alejandro sighed. "We've been through this. We tried to make it work, but there are just some things I can't do."

"Can't or won't?"

"None of your business." Alejandro winced as his knife screeched across his plate. Miguel swallowed a hiss as the throbbing in his venom gland spread through the rest of his head. Why did silverware have to be so loud? "Anyway, he seems happy. He has a girlfriend."

"Does he have her name next to yours on his—"

"Diego Ramírez Morales, I swear if you do not stop antagonizing your brother this instant, you are going to get la chancla!" Mrs. Morales slipped off one of her flip-flops.

A look of sheer terror crossed Diego's face. "Lo siento, mamá."

"I am not the one you should be apologizing to." The look on Mrs. Morales's face could have killed a whole pack of coyotes.

"I'm sorry, Alejandro."

"And?"

"And Miguel," Diego said through gritted teeth.

"That's better." Miguel fought to keep his spines from trembling as Mrs. Morales turned her attention to him. "Is everything alright, dear?" In an instant, her voice had gone from as sharp as cactus needles to soft and gentle. "You've barely touched your enchiladas."

"They're delicious," Miguel said, involuntarily shuddering as he forced himself to swallow another mouthful. He winced as a stabbing pain shot through his venom glands. "I just don't feel too good."

Alejandro put a hand to his forehead. "You're burning up," he whispered.

"It's not that bad, really." Miguel tried to twitch his lips into a smile, but they ended up in a tight grimace.

Mrs. Morales muttered a string of what Miguel could only assume were Spanish swear words. "Alejandro, put him in bed. Eduardo, get him a washcloth. Diego, help me find some soup in this disaster of a kitchen." She snapped her fingers. "¡Ahora!"

Alejandro led Miguel into his bedroom, whispering apologies the whole way. As soon as he'd laid him down, he planted the gentlest kiss on his forehead, which was soon covered by a damp washcloth from Mr. Morales.

Tears ran down Miguel's face as Mrs. Morales brought him a bowl of chicken noodle soup. He hadn't had this many people caring for him since he'd been banished from his pack. "I'm so sorry for ruining your dinner," he said hoarsely.

"The only thing you should be apologizing for is for not taking better care of yourself," Mrs. Morales said. "Now, let's get a little something in you."

The soup went down far easier than the enchiladas. Miguel drank every last drop of the broth. Salty though it was, it quieted his stomach and filled him with warmth.

The whole family took turns watching over him for the rest of the evening, even Diego. When they settled in for the night, Mr. and Mrs. Morales claimed the pull out couch, Diego made himself comfortable on the air mattress that was usually stored in the closet, and Alejandro insisted on pulling up a chair so he could sit right beside Miguel.

He held Miguel's hand the entire night.