It turns out that when it works, when it's right, Steve is a pretty damn good boyfriend. He'd once told Nancy that he wasn't, and for a long time he thought it was true, but he was wrong then. It just didn't work with them. It wasn't right.

As it turns out, what he has now is all that he ever really wanted. All that playing the field, dumping girls before they could get too close-- it was all bullshit. He wanted a relationship the whole time, he's realizing, but he was just so worried that he would be shitty at it just like his parents were.

But he isn't. Maeve is right, this works, and Steve often finds himself flooded with a contentment unlike anything he's ever known. Sure, he likes to go out and have fun, but he likes this too, the quiet nights in.

Steve is slumped against the couch watching some terrible action movie while Maeve lays in his lap, head rocking back and forth a little every so often as she reads. His hand is under her shirt, resting just below her breasts, but there isn't anything sexual about it. It's just comfortable and intimate, and he always wants to be touching her if he can.

"They're too fast, Maeve," he says in a playfully exasperated tone, lifting his other hand to gesture at the television. "They're just too furious."