Did That Really Happen v. 4.0

So things are getting super domestic around here, which shocks me to type. At the moment I'm kind of waiting around for some information on a job, and my flatmate interview on Monday. In-between the lack of any real errands to run and the snow outside, I've been spending a lot of time hanging out at Aydın's apartment reading my Russian Criminal Tattoo Encyclopaedia (!!!) and catching up on TV. I told Aydın the other day that I'd heard Turkish men have a bad habit of locking their foreign girlfriends inside (no joke) and he responded by handing me my own set of keys. A+, sir. He also made me dinner last night and refused to let me do anything to help other than chop some parsley. I asked him if I could cook for him for a change, and I'm kind of regretting my offer to make Sunday dinner. To be frank, I'm intimidated. All of the tricks up my sleeve require an oven (which I can't seem to find in his kitchen) or ingredients I have yet to find in markets here. What do you do with Turkish ingredients other than make Turkish food your Turkish host can make ten times better than you?

Anyway. Everything's been great here and I couldn't be in safer hands. My only slight trepidation came when Aydın told me that he had to go to his parents' house to meet his little sister's boyfriend and his family. (They'll probably get engaged in a month.) I asked him if his parents lived far and and he gave me a shy smile.
him: "No, they live on the third floor."
me: "the third floor? Wait, of THIS building?"
him: "yes."
me: "are you joking?? Your parents live in THIS BUILDING?"
him: "yes. Actually, my family owns the building"
me: stunned silence.

I should mention that this is a tiny apartment building and there are probably only four flats. Granted, he has his own entrance and I've barely seen anyone walk down the street, but still. It doesn't seem safe to have Mama and Papa Bear so close. Especially when I can guarantee that they would both heartily disapprove and dislike me.

Aydın left for work and class (six days a week...) an hour ago and as he was walking out the second of his two doors, I heard him tap on the first door I was standing on the other side of. I opened it and he said "umm... don't go outside right now. My family's there."

Thanks for the heads up, homie?
This is so fucking weird. If I spoke any Turkish whatsoever and didn't think he'd face some serious consequences, I'd head up to the third floor right now and introduce myself. They know I'm here. I know they're here. Can't we just play nice?