Flash Fire by T.J. Klune

16

Wow,” Dad said, staring at Nick as he walked down the stairs, head held high. “Now I know why you didn’t want me to see the suit until you were ready to go to prom.”

“Right?” Nick said gleefully, jumping the last few steps. The dress shoes didn’t have any traction, and his feet almost slid out from underneath him. He managed to stay upright, playing it off like he’d done it on purpose. Spreading his arms away from his body, Nick turned in a slow circle, hoping the overhead light was catching the sequins on his suit. “Isn’t it awesome?”

“Ye-es?” Dad said. “You’ll certainly stand out, that’s for sure. I’ll admit, when you told me that it once belonged to a dead magician, I thought you were overselling it a bit. I was wrong.”

“It might even be haunted,” Nick said as he stopped turning. Suddenly realizing he was about to go to prom with the boy of his dreams, Nick asked nervously, “Do you really think I look all right? It’s not too much, is it?”

“Nah,” Dad said. “It’s you, through and through. And that’s a good thing.”

“Good,” Nick said, slightly relieved. “At least I’ll look devastatingly handsome, which will hopefully divert attention away from the fact that I still can’t dance very well.”

“I doubt Seth is going to care about that at all,” Dad said, “looking like you do.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. “Are you making fun of me?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Dad said, eyes wet.

“Aw, Dad, come on. You don’t need to cry. I know I’m redefining couture, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dad said as he sniffled. “I’m … you look happy, Nicky. Which makes me happy.”

“I am,” Nick said. “We’ve earned a night where we get to go be stupid and not worry about someone trying to punch us in the throat or freeze our innards.” He paused. “Huh. Our lives are weird.”

“That might be an understatement, kid.” Dad lowered his phone. “You do deserve this. All of you do.”

“Which is why I convinced Seth to ignore the app, at least for tonight.” Nick had expected Seth to put up a bit of a fight, which is why he was surprised when Seth agreed almost immediately, saying that he wasn’t going to answer any call, no matter how serious. Tonight was about them and Jazz and Gibby.

“Good,” Dad said, taking a step back. “She’d love this, Nicky.”

Nick flushed happily. It was getting easier now to bring her up. It still hurt and probably always would, but it wasn’t like how it used to be. “I think so too. She’d say I looked kickass.”

“Yeah, that sounds like her.” Dad took a deep breath before shaking his head. “Okay, let’s head out. I’ll need to take at least a hundred pictures when we get there, and I don’t want the restaurant to send the hit men after you.”

“Five pictures.”

“Ninety.”

“Ten.”

“Ninety-one.”

Nick glared at him. “I hope you’re never called to be a hostage negotiator because everyone will die, since you don’t know anything about negotiating.”

“Or do I know everything?” Dad said as he headed for the door. “Get your butt in gear.”

Grumbling, Nick followed Dad toward the door.

On the ride over to the Gray house, Nick played with his new phone. It wasn’t anything special, but so long as it got him online and could get him in touch with Dad, he really didn’t care.

He pulled up the Pyro Storm Twitter account, staring, dumbfounded, as the number of followers now approached almost half a million. The mentions were a mess, so he mostly ignored them, trying to keep his excitement in check at the verified celebrities who’d started retweeting Pyro Storm’s missives. Knowing this sort of popularity was part of the slippery slope of becoming evil itself (a social media influencer), Nick absolutely did not consider sliding into the DMs of one of the retweeters, the dude who played a superhero on the big screen with a costume so tight it was basically an advertisement for circumcisions. Nick already had a boyfriend, and he was a real superhero who also happened to wear a skintight costume. Granted, it didn’t give away whether Seth was circumcised or not (and Nick did not pull up the many, many photos he found of Pyro Storm to look closely, no sir!) but that was okay. It’d be like a fun surprise when they got around to … doing stuff. Which they would, eventually, right? What if something happened tonight? What if Seth was ready for hand stuff or butt stuff and Nick hadn’t even prepared? What did one do with another person’s penis, anyway?

“What are you looking at?” Dad asked.

“Nothing!” Nick cried, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “And I definitely wasn’t looking up the differences between circumcised and uncircumcised penises, if that’s what you were asking!”

“No,” Dad said slowly. “I wasn’t asking that at all. But now I think I need to. Nick, why were you looking up the differences between—”

Nick was saved when Dad pulled up to the curb a couple of spaces down from the Gray house. He was already out of the car and running up the pathway before Dad had even come to a stop. Pounding on the door, he shifted from one foot to the other, glancing back at Dad, who was stepping out of the SUV and demanding Nick answer his question right this second, and that he shouldn’t be looking up anything about penises.

“Oh my god, Dad!” Nick bellowed. “Would you stop shouting about penises in public?” What the hell was taking them so long to answer the goddamn door?

Dad reached him before anyone let them in. “You’re wearing a dead magician’s suit to prom. Nothing I could say could possibly embarrass you. I have something for you.”

“Would you stop calling it—ooh. Present. Give it.” He held out his hand, wiggling his fingers.

Dad reached into the pocket of his slacks, something plastic crinkling as he pulled his hand back out. Slacks. Weird. And a button-down. Nick frowned. Why was Dad so dressed up? When he wasn’t at work, Dad was a jeans-and-shirt sort of man. Before Nick could ask (a brief thought, dangerous and bright: what if he had a date?) Dad dropped whatever he’d pulled from his pocket into Nick’s hand.

For a second, Nick thought it was a wet wipe wrapped in plastic. Or candy. A mint to keep Nick’s breath fresh? It certainly didn’t feel like a mint. And there were … three of them? All squishy, almost wet, like it was … like it …

No. No, no, no.

Nick’s eyes bulged as he stared down at the condoms in his hand. “What,” he whispered, “in the fresh hell is this?”

“Just in case,” Dad said as if he hadn’t blown Nick’s mind, and not in a good way. “I don’t know what you and Seth are going to get up to, but it’s better to be prepared. Always wrap it. They’re also lubricated. You’re welcome.”

Unfortunately, the next words out of Nick’s mouth were, “But we’re both virgins!”

The skin under Dad’s left eye twitched. “That doesn’t matter. Use condom sense, Nick.”

Nick slumped against the door, legs wobbly. “Did you—did you just make a dad joke about condoms?”

“I did. And I regret nothing.”

“Dad, no.”

“Dad, yes. Don’t be an idiot, kid. It doesn’t matter if you’re virgins or not. Get used to needing condoms. The sooner you get that through your head, the sooner you can have something in your—”

“Remember the touching moment we had back at home when you cried and then we hugged?”

“You mean twenty minutes ago?”

“I take it back,” Nick said savagely.

“Oh no,” Dad said. “Anything but that.”

“Why is no one answering the damn door?” Nick growled, shoving the condoms in his pocket. He banged his hand on the door again, hoping they hadn’t been overheard. Nick almost wanted to tell his father that he and Jazz had already gone and bought condoms last weekend just to see the look on his face, but the less said about that adventure, the better. Suffice to say, it’d ended with Nick throwing crumpled money at the startled clerk at CVS before fleeing, box of condoms in hand. Unfortunately, the automatic sliding doors hadn’t opened as quickly as Nick had been running, and Jazz said she’d never seen someone bounce off glass so hard before. Not one of his prouder moments.

“Hold your horses,” Nick heard Bob call from inside the house. “I can only move so fast, my goodness.” The door opened, and Bob grinned out at them. “About time! Everyone else is already here. Come in, come in. Aaron, nice to see you. Nick, you look—” He choked as Nick stalked inside, suit glittering. “Wow. Now that is a suit. Good lord. I don’t know what statement you’re trying to make, but you sure are making it.”

“Thank you,” Nick said. “That’s very nice of you to say. The color of my lapels is called eggplant, according to the clerk at the suit rental place.”

Bob recovered as he shut the door behind him. “The girls are getting their pictures taken. Figure when Seth comes down, we can get a few more before we head out.”

“‘We’?” Nick asked. It was only then that he noticed that Bob was a little more cleaned up than usual. Gone were his overalls. Instead, he wore a pair of khakis and a nice sweater that hugged his shoulders. “What do you mean we head out? Dad’s dropping us off at the restaurant, and then we’re taking a Lyft to prom. Where are you going?”

“You didn’t tell him?” Bob asked, glancing at Dad.

Dad shrugged. “Figured it’d be better if I told him here. That way, he wouldn’t yell at me because we’re at someone else’s house.”

“Oh boy,” Bob said, gazing intently at Nick. “Okay, I want to see the look on his face. Go ahead.”

“Dad?” Nick asked. “What’s he talking about?”

“Nothing big,” Dad said. “You won’t even know we’re there.”

That didn’t sound good. “Know you’re where?”

“Prom,” Dad said cheerfully. “Martha and Bob came up with the idea—”

Bob snorted. “Don’t you dare try to pin this on us. It was all you. Wouldn’t want to deprive you of the credit.”

“We’re part of the chaperone team,” Dad said. “The school put out a call a few weeks back, asking for parents to volunteer.” He shrugged. “I signed up. And then Bob and Martha did too.” He smiled. “And I couldn’t let Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents feel left out, so they decided to volunteer as well.”

Nick said, “What.”

“You won’t see us,” Dad said. He leaned forward, his face inches from Nick’s own, his voice a whisper. “But we will be there, watching your every move.” He glanced pointedly at Nick’s coat pocket, where he’d put the condoms.

Nick shoved Dad away as he burst into laughter. “I can’t believe you—this is such a violation of—do you enjoy seeing me suffer? Is that what this is?”

“Yes,” Dad said. “That’s exactly it.” He sobered slightly. “But also, to make sure nothing happens. Not that I think it will,” he added as Nick started to sputter angrily. “A precaution, and nothing more, especially with this whole bounty business. I promise I won’t try to talk to you. No one will even know we’re related. Especially with you in that suit.”

“Whatever,” Nick said. “I’m done with you.” He pushed his way past Bob into the living room, where Gibby’s and Jazz’s parents were standing in front of the girls. He was about to demand that they find something else to do for the night when Trey and Aysha Gibson moved to the left, and Miles and Joanna Kensington moved right.

Nick’s lament died a quick death in his throat at the sight of his girls. He’d already seen their fancy outfits at the shop, but somehow, they looked even better now: Jazz, in her lacy, flowing dress, and Gibby in her old-fashioned tuxedo, her bow tie matching the colors Jazz wore. She’d even found a red wallet chain, which dangled on her right hip. Fixed to her chest was a rose boutonniere, held in place by a safety pin. Jazz had a corsage made up of a rose on a bed of baby’s breath.

“Holy shit,” Nick breathed. “You two look freaking rad.”

Gibby tipped her top hat at him as Jazz curtsied wonderfully. “Thank you,” Jazz said. “You clean up good too, Nicky.” She leaned forward, kissing his cheek before wiping away the smudge left from her lipstick.

“Seriously,” Nick said. “Everyone is going to be super jealous of us. We’re going to be the best-dressed people there. That’s a thing that happens at prom, right? Best-dressed group of four award or something? Because we’ve already locked that shit down.”

Gibby reached out and straightened Nick’s bow tie. “I’d like to not be the center of attention, at least for one night, if that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah,” Nick said, admiring Gibby’s tux. “That sounds good to me. What would make it even better is if our parents weren’t going to be there.”

“What,” Jazz said.

“What,” Gibby said.

“Surprise!” Miles said. “We all get to go to your prom too.” He wrapped an arm around his wife’s waist. “Chaperones for the win!”

“Daddy,” Jazz said with a pout. “You should’ve told me. What if I want to do something that you don’t approve of?”

“Then you probably shouldn’t do it,” Miles said. “Seems simple enough.”

“You probably won’t even see us,” Aysha said, snapping photo after photo. “We’ll skulk in the shadows with all the other chaperones.”

“And we’re going to dance too,” Trey said. “I’ve been practicing the worm, and I think I’ve almost got it. Miles and Aaron are probably going to do it with me.”

“Dad, no,” Gibby said.

“Dad, yes,” Trey and Miles and Dad all said at the same time.

Martha appeared in the entryway to the living room, smiling widely. She looked around the room, gaze settling on Nick. She crooked a finger in his direction, beckoning him toward her. He went, shooting a glare at his father, who ignored him as if he couldn’t feel the heat of Nick’s eyes.

“Look at you,” Martha said when Nick stopped in front of her. “Only you could pull off a suit like that. Quite handsome.”

“Thank you. I’m getting that a lot. It’s hard being this pretty.” He sighed as he looked her up and down. She wore a dress the color of storm clouds. “You look nice, too, but I guess that means that you’re doing the whole chaperone thing. Neat.”

“I’ll ignore that last part and say thank you for the compliment.” She steered him toward the stairs. “He’s a little nervous.”

Nick blinked. “Seth? Why?”

Martha chuckled. “He’s got it in his head that tonight has to be perfect to make up for the last few weeks. I told him he shouldn’t worry too much, but you know how he is.”

Nick did, and while he hadn’t exactly been nervous before, he was now. He didn’t know why. “As long as we’re together, nothing else matters.”

Martha watched him for a long moment before sniffling. “Oh, I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but you don’t know how much I needed to hear that. Thank you, Nick.”

Nick was confused. “For what? I didn’t do anything.”

She wiped her eyes. “Never you mind. Keep on being you, no matter what. That’s all I ask for.”

“I don’t know how to be anyone else,” Nick said honestly. “Warts and all.”

“I like what you call your warts. They’re part of the boy you are, and I happen to love that boy very much.”

“Oh,” Nick said, flushing as he shuffled his feet. “I—uh, I love you too?”

Wrong thing to say, seeing as how Martha hugged him tightly, her chest hitching once, twice before she pulled away, shaking her head. “I’m happy he has someone like you. Protect each other. Care for each other, and you’ll never be left wanting.”

“We always do,” Nick said, ready for the explosion of parental emotions to be over. “Is he still upstairs? Do you want me to … go … get … wow.” The last word came out breathy and soft, a sigh that crawled from Nick’s throat.

Seth Gray stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at them, a question on his face as he glanced at his aunt. She waved him off, taking a step back, but she might as well have disappeared for all Nick knew, because everything disappeared—the sound of the people in the living room, the house itself, the city, the world. All that existed was Seth. Heart in his throat, Nick tracked every step Seth took down the stairs.

His slacks pulled tight against the muscles in his thighs, his suit coat buttoned up the front of his broad chest. His purple bow tie (Eggplant, Nick thought hysterically, such a gross food) matched the pocket square folded into the top pocket of the suit. His shoes were shiny, and Nick couldn’t think of a single phrase that didn’t involve something the adults in the room wouldn’t appreciate, seeing as how much of it was aggressively filthy. He watched as Seth’s curls bounced, the ends of which looked wet, as if Seth had just come from the shower.

Nick realized his mouth was hanging open as Seth reached the bottom of the stairs.

“Hi, Nicky,” Seth mumbled, looking down at the floor between them.

“Oh my god,” Nick breathed. “How dare you look that hot without a damn warning first. What in the actual hell are you doing with me?”

Seth chuckled as he glanced up shyly at Nick over the tops of his glasses, something Nick didn’t know was a kink of his until right this very moment. Seth seemed pleased, his cheeks reddening as he reached out and tugged on the lapels of Nick’s coat. “I’m with you because I want to be. And because you’re pretty hot yourself.”

“I won’t question your tastes then,” Nick croaked out. “Because I’m wearing a dead magician’s suit and don’t want to make you change your mind.”

“I wouldn’t,” Seth said. “Even though you’re wearing a dead magician’s suit.”

Nick knew it was almost time. Almost time to tell Seth everything he felt, everything that was practically bursting in his head and chest. Not quite yet, but soon. Tonight. When they were slow dancing, perhaps in a corner away from everyone else. He’d say those three little words that scared the hell out of him, but that he knew he felt down to his bones.

“Nick?” Seth asked.

“Sorry,” Nick said hastily. “Sorry. Just … thank you.”

Seth arched an eyebrow. “For what?”

“Existing,” Nick said honestly. “For being my best friend. For being my boyfriend. For being you.”

Seth laughed bright and loud, and Nick was entranced. He watched Seth lean forward until he was kissing him sweetly. Seth tasted like toothpaste. Nick was going to devour him.

It was only then that Nick saw the clear plastic box in Seth’s hand. Inside sat two violets held together by a pin and wrapped in a black band of satin. “Is that for me?”

Seth nodded, fumbling with the box, fingers shaking. “Yeah. Uh, the boutonniere, like we talked about?”

Nick panicked. “Right. Right. The boutonniere. Like we talked about. That one. I’ll …” Oh crap. Had he forgotten it? It was in the fridge, and he couldn’t remember if he’d taken it out. Dammit. Prom was going to be ruined because Nick couldn’t keep his head on straight, and Seth was going to be disappointed when—

Something was thrust into Nick’s hand, and he looked back and saw his father standing behind him, holding Nick’s backpack. Nick looked down, and there, in his hand, was a plastic box like the one Seth held.

“Thanks,” Nick said, breathing a sigh of relief. He lifted the box to pull the boutonniere out, but his hands were shaking too hard, and he almost dropped it. Dad and Bob appeared before he could stab Seth in the chest with the pin. Dad took the box from Nick, Bob from Seth. Then they exchanged them, the plastic crackling. They pulled them out at the same time, and Martha stepped forward, taking the empty boxes. Nick heard everyone gathering in the entryway, but he couldn’t focus on them because Dad was in front of him, pinning the boutonniere against his chest. Bob did the same to Seth, whispering quietly to him, words just for them as Seth nodded, head jerking up and down.

When they finished, Nick was stunned to see Bob—grizzled, kind Bob—tearing up as he stepped back. “Look at you,” Bob said roughly. “You look like your father. I wish they could be here to see all that you’ve become.”

Seth smiled a watery smile. “Me too. But I’ve got you, so I think I’m doing okay.”

More tears fell from most of the adults in the room as they posed for photographs. The only person not outwardly teary was Miles, but even he had to blow his nose into a kerchief as Jo took pictures of Gibby standing behind Jazz, hands on her waist.

Finally, Jazz said, “We need to go. Our reservation is at six, and I don’t want our war against Ireland to be in vain.”

“War?” Bob asked, brow furrowing.

“She’s kidding,” Miles said. “Sort of. A diplomatic issue, but I’ve taken care of it. We’re all good. Get appetizers. Get all the appetizers you want.”

The adults gathered on the porch, calling out to them, waving and saying they’d see them all soon. Jo continued to take photo after photo. Nick made to follow his friends down the stairs but stopped when Aysha grabbed Dad by the arm.

“We’re trusting you with our daughter,” Aysha said in a low voice, the warning clear. “We care about you, Aaron, but please don’t mistake our affection for forgiveness. We’re not happy with what you kept from us, or what you represent. It’s going to take us time.”

Nick bristled, and at one point, he might’ve come to Dad’s defense, but he shoved his irritation away. She and Trey were right to say what they did. Dad had messed up, and not only because of what he’d kept from Jazz’s and Gibby’s parents. It went much further than that. Nick couldn’t defend his father against their words, not when they spoke the truth.

Dad nodded. “I understand, Aysha. I have to work to earn back your trust, if I ever do. I know it may not seem like much, but you have my word that I’ll protect them as much as I would Nick.”

Aysha paused a beat before nodding and dropping her hand. “All right. We’ll hold you to that promise.” She sighed when Trey took her hand. “We can worry about the rest later. Get our kids where they need to go. Don’t want a war with Ireland. We’d probably lose.”

Dad nodded before descending the stairs, nudging Nick along.

“She’s right, you know,” Nick muttered as they walked toward the SUV where Gibby had opened the door for Jazz, bowing low, much to her delight. “Both of them are.”

“I know,” Dad said quietly. “They’re absolutely allowed to be angry with me, same as you. I messed up. The best thing I can do now is own it and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“Can you do that?”

Dad stopped and glanced at Nick. Nick didn’t look away. “I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told them at our meeting.”

“Support group meeting,” Nick said with disdain.

“Do you want to hear this or not?” He waited a moment as Nick closed his mouth. “I told them that I—okay. Not understand where they’re coming from, because that isn’t fair to them, but that I was listening. It’s not up to Aysha and Trey to teach me anything because that takes the weight of it off me and puts it on them, and they don’t deserve that. I have to be the one to make things right as best I can.”

“What does that mean?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Dad said. “But when I do, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Nick said, nudging his shoe against Dad’s.

Dad laid an arm around Nick’s shoulders as he chuckled. “I’m counting on it, Nicky. Let’s get you where you need to be. And remember what I told you: no one in their right mind pays twenty bucks for a glass of water. But if you really have to, I’ve put money in your account.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Dad pulled him close. “Anytime, kid.”