Flash Fire by T.J. Klune
5
Fic: A Pleasure to Burn
Author: PyroStormIsBae
Chapter 37 of?
138,225 words
Pairing: Pyro Storm/Original Male Character
Rated: R (Rating is finally going up!)
Tags: True Love, Pining, Gentle Pyro Storm, Happy Ending, First Kiss, More Than First Kiss, Fluffy like a Cloud, So Much Violence, Evil Shadow Star, Bakery AU, Private Investigator, Anti-Rebecca Firestone, Hands Going under Clothes, !!!, Naked Party and You’re All Invited
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Chapter 37: An Opportunity
Author Note: Another update so soon? Why yes, yes it is. You’re so welcome! And while I know many of you were probably hoping for a continuation of the sexy times, I’m asking you to bear with me. It’s important that these characters work toward the big event by talking about things that will bring them even closer together. Talking matters, and it’s important to me that both Nash and Pyro Storm are on the same page. You, as well as our heroes, are about to be presented with an opportunity that will blow your mind! Also, this wasn’t beta read because I wanted this to be a surprise for a certain … someone who does certain … things. Sorry if there are any mistakes! Thanks!!!
Nash gasped as Pyro Storm manhandled him up against the wall near the door to the roof, wearing only his mask and a tiny pair of underwear that was illegal in at least twenty-six states. The hero acted like Nash weighed nothing, even though his body was strong and heavy with muscle. He wanted to continue, to have Pyro Storm ravish him and fill him up with his fire of love, but something crossed his mind.
“Wait,” he managed to say as Pyro Storm attacked his neck, biting down.
“What?” Pyro Storm murmured against his throat, hands roaming.
“We need to talk. But in a good way.”
Pyro Storm took a step back, leaving Nash slumped against the wall. “Of course. We should definitely talk about what we’re going to do before we do it. Safe, sane, and consensual, that’s the best way to be.”
“Exactly,” Nash said. “Everyone on Reddit knows that, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Oh?” Pyro Storm asked, muscles on full display. He had an eight-pack, and his thighs were like slabs of concrete. Nash had to look away to keep his thoughts in order. “Then what do you mean?”
Nash pulled out his phone, pulling up the presentation he’d worked so hard on. “I want to offer you an opportunity—one I think would help you to become a better hero. I’m talking, of course, about branding.”
Pyro Storm nodded sagely. “Ah, I see. Yes, that is very important. Tell me more. I’m very excited to hear about this.”
“Good,” Nash said, “because every superhero worth his salt needs brand recognition. We need to be at the forefront of it so that no one steps in and tries to fill the void in the current market. I have a sixteen-slide PowerPoint presentation I’d like to show you, and I think by the end, you’ll agree that Pyro Storm needs to have his own online presence: Twitter, TikTok, Instagram, the works. No Facebook because we’re not elderly and don’t post racist Minion memes. That will be part one. Part two entails the launching of the official Pyro Storm merchandise line. We will commission creators in the fandom to make art in their medium and sell them, with a portion going to nonprofit so people will feel good about paying for it. And it will be so much better than the cheap knockoff crap that’s out there today.”
“Wow,” Pyro Storm said. “You’ve thought of everything. I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you. But I’ve got a question, as everyone knows a good plan has three parts. What’s part three?”
“You’re so smart,” Nash said. “Part three will be speaking engagements and/or photo ops. We can go to conventions together and charge people to take a photo with you while you say your catchphrase.”
“My catchphrase?” Pyro Storm asked, adorably confused. “But I don’t have a catchphrase.”
“I know,” Nash said. “Which is why I’ve made one for you. You ready?”
“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” Pyro Storm said, sweat trickling down his bare chest. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and all your ideas are top-notch. And, I should say, you look hella good when you say them out loud.”
“Thank you,” Nash said. “You are hotter than” ***think of something to put here that’s really sexy and don’t forget before you post this.***
“Whoa,” Pyro Storm said. “I can’t believe you said that. What’s my catchphrase, which I’ll use without question because I know how hard you worked on it?”
Nash felt his heart trip in his chest. He’d never expected to have a boyfriend who was an Extraordinary and who also thought all his ideas were perfect. “Okay. Here goes. Ready? Your catchphrase is … It’s time to burn.”
“My god. Nash, did you really think of that all on your own?” Pyro Storm took an aggressive step toward him. “I’m going to put my hands on your butt and squeeze. It’s time to burn.”
“Awesome,” Nash said. “I’m so happy that you like every one of my ideas and don’t think any of them are dumb or a waste of time. I’ll oversee your social media, and maybe the very people witnessing our love story blossom right before their eyes would like to take part in the merch store. There might even be a sign-up sheet available right now at Pyro Storm’s official website, which will be linked below.”
“You think of everything,” Pyro Storm said. “So what if we’re in the middle of solving a string of murders that have shaken Nova City to its core, or that we were about to have sexual relations for the first time? This is just as important. Thank you for bringing this up, and I hope everyone goes to the official website you created. Now, where were we? Because I have a mighty need to put myself inside yourself.”
Nash’s phone fell to the rooftop as Pyro Storm descended upon him. He brought his mouth close to Nash’s ear, and whispered, “What’s the name of the website where people can sign up?”
www.OfficialPyroStorm.novacity
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Comments:
ImSoExtra(ordinaries) 09:19 Um. What.
PyroStormSuxx 10:14 WTF IS THIS? I HATE PYRO STORM BUT I CAME HERE FOR THE BUTT SEX. WHY DID YOU TURN THIS INTO A COMMERCIAL?
LetPyroStormSmash 11:02 I’ve signed up, thank you for the opportunity! Question: how explicit can we make the art? Because I have this idea, but it’s going to show a lot of nudity, and possibly some tentacles. Please let me know!
ExtraordinaryGurl 11:16 This didn’t go where I thought this was going. That’s not cool. You must really be into edging.
ShadowStarIsBae 12:26 Okay, but this must be against the terms of service for the fic hosting site. You can’t just turn your story into an advertisement. This is supposed to be fiction, not an infomercial. Can you please just get to the sex and the solving of the serial murders? In that order?
FireStoned 12:36 I SIGNED UP AT YOUR STUPID WEBSITE AND I’M ONLY GOING TO SEND REBECCA FIRESTONE FANART. I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK BECAUSE REBECCA FIRESTONE DESERVES TO HAVE EVERYTHING GOOD IN THE WORLD. SHE IS THE BEST THING THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO ANYONE AND THE FACT THAT YOU MAKE HER THE VILLAIN WHILE MAKING EVERYONE GAY IS UNREALISTIC.
SoundOfJazz 13:12 Wow, Nicky! This is certainly a way to go about it. Not what I would have picked or even considered, but I admire your follow through! Gibby said some stuff too, but I’m just going to leave this positive. Let me know how I can help!
ReturnOfTheGray 14:31: This is why you didn’t want me to beta read? When did you have time to make a website? And where did you get that picture of Pyro Storm to use as the header on the website????
When Nick had returned to Centennial High (Home of the Fighting Wombats!) last fall, his arm in a sling after he’d dislocated it saving Rebecca Firestone from certain death, he’d been something of a hero. Everyone had seen the footage from the Action News helicopter of him standing on McManus Bridge, the lights from dozens of police cars flashing, Shadow Star defeated and unconscious on the ground, the air filled with smoke.
But it was the kiss that had gotten everyone talking.
Pyro Storm—weathered and beaten, but not broken—kissing one Nicholas Bell for all the world to see before he rocketed into the sky in a bright flash of fire. There’d been others on the bridge then, too, people with their cell phones out, recording shaky videos from different perspectives. Someone had put them all together in a five-minute-long, multiangle video and posted it online. The last time Nick had checked, the YouTube video alone had racked up nearly four million views.
Nick had left the school a nobody, a queer kid who was loud and annoying and tended to give presentations on the mating habits of box turtles when he was supposed to be discussing Byronic heroes in English class.
He’d returned a celebrity.
Students who hadn’t given him the time of day came up to talk to him: jocks (“So cool, bro, obviously no homo”); cheerleaders (“Like, I could not even believe you liked boys, but that is so hot”); the academics (“How exactly do Pyro Storm’s powers work, and why did you not get burned when you engaged in mouth osculation?”); the stoners (“Whoaaaaaaa, dude, gnarly stuff—do you think Pyro Storm would come to my house and smoke us out?”); the theater kids (“So we don’t have to do Brigadoon for the tenth time, we’re putting on an original musical about you and Pyro Storm”); the band geeks (“We’re gonna do a concert in your honor for all that you—Nick, the trombone is not a toy for you to play with, put it down”); and the rich kids (“You poor waif, you can barely even tell your arm sling isn’t Louis Vuitton”).
Nick had basked in the attention, signing autographs for everyone who’d asked (six people). In the week he’d missed while recovering, his infamy had grown to near-mythical levels, especially when Rebecca Firestone had unmasked him as ShadowStar744, the most popular fanfic writer in the Extraordinaries fandom. She’d called his masturbatory ode to Shadow Star a manifesto and publicly questioned whether Nick had been working with Shadow Star, her own history with the villainous Extraordinary be damned. But it’d backfired on her, only adding to Nick’s mystique. By the time he returned to school, rumors were flung about without evidence to back them up, especially when the truth came out that their fellow classmate and Nick’s ex-boyfriend, Owen Burke, was Shadow Star.
Nick’s favorite rumors included:
Nick was an Extraordinary himself—either a hero or a villain, or possibly both … or … neither;
Nick and Owen were murder-husbands and had killed thirty-six people;
Nick was a sociopathic black widow/femme fatale (how that worked, he didn’t know) who’d seduced Owen and Pyro Storm and pitted them against each other in a fight to prove their loyalty; and
Nick, Owen, and Pyro Storm were in a polyamorous relationship that had gone sour when Nick and Pyro Storm wanted to break up with Owen.
Sure, Nick had failed to become an Extraordinary himself, but this was the next best thing. Nick let the attention wash over him with no small amount of glee, knowing changes such as this, while rare, lasted a lifetime. He wouldn’t be going back to the life he’d once lived. This was forever.
It lasted four days, six hours, and seven minutes.
Nick had relished the attention, retelling the Battle of McManus Bridge over and over and barely embellishing any of the details, but it soon grew tiresome when he declined to answer the biggest question on everyone’s mind:
Who was Pyro Storm really?
With Nick’s refusal to answer this simple question came an unexpected side effect: a fresh wave of speculation. Owen Burke had been Shadow Star, ergo it was possible that Pyro Storm was also a student at Centennial High. A list was made and circulated of the most likely suspects, and Nick was outraged when Seth hadn’t made said list. It was mostly filled with douchebros who did nothing to dispel the rumors, cockily saying that even if they were Pyro Storm, they’d never tell. Even a few girls made the list, which offended Nick greatly—not because of their gender, of course, but because he would never be caught dead making out with a girl. The very idea was homophobic.
It didn’t help that he knew everyone had seen him kissing Pyro Storm after the Battle of McManus Bridge. To keep anyone from connecting the dots to Seth, he’d started a rumor that Pyro Storm had broken up with him when he realized Nick’s heart would always belong to Seth. This had backfired quite spectacularly as it’d spread like wildfire, most believing that Nick had cheated on Pyro Storm with Seth. Pyro Storm was better-off, they all agreed. He needed someone who would appreciate him for all that he was. Nick obviously couldn’t do that, so it was for the best.
With that, Nick’s popularity went as quickly as it’d come. It’d hurt a little, but he’d gotten over it.
That being said, he was a little (read: a lot) irritated when everyone suddenly became fixated on Extraordinaries. They showed up to school with graphic T-shirts with Shadow Star’s face on them and backpacks with a terrible likeness of Pyro Storm printed on it. They shared pictures of sightings of Extraordinaries from all over the world:
Eis Augen, a German man who could shoot ice from his eyes, his name literally translating to Ice Eyes. He was suave and coldly handsome and lived in a frozen palace outside of Berlin.
Valve, the man in Oregon who could create portals to travel long distances in the space of seconds and was revolutionizing the travel infrastructure of Portland. He’d also accidentally on-purpose opened a portal on the marchers in a Straight Pride Parade. No one quite knew where the second portal had opened, and the problematic heterosexuals hadn’t been seen since.
Florida Man, the dude in Tallahassee whose skin was the color and texture of an alligator, his teeth terribly sharp. He was currently going through a name rebranding, given that most search results for “Florida Man” brought up stories of people eating bath salts and going through a KFC drive-through on an alpaca.
The Sheep Herder, a woman in New Zealand who could control the minds of sheep to get them to do whatever she wanted. Her popularity had spiked when she’d sent seven hundred sheep after a group of twelve white nationalists who had been holding a rally in Wellington. Last anyone heard, they still hadn’t stopped running from the herd of sheep chasing after them.
And dozens and dozens of others, some with powers small, some with powers great. He’d even heard of an Extraordinary capable of changing their appearance to mimic anyone they wanted, including getting the powers of those they copied. That sounded cool as hell, but Nick thought it was a little far-fetched, and he hadn’t been able to confirm it after spending hours online, only to hit dead end after dead end. Everyone at Centennial High (and throughout the rest of Nova City) waited with bated breath to see if any other Extraordinaries would rise in their fair city, along with Pyro Storm.
It was quiet without Shadow Star, which was good. It was fine. They didn’t need a villain. Quiet meant easy. Quiet and easy meant Seth would always come back to Nick.
But the problem with things being quiet and easy was that Nicholas Bell had never been quiet or easy. Loud and complicated was Nick through and through, and he couldn’t help but wonder if things were a little too quiet, a little too easy.
But everything can change in an instant. A snowflake can lead to an avalanche.
And on a cold February morning, it began to snow.
We’re going to be late,” Jazz said, eyeing Nick with mild disdain and curiosity. She frowned as she readjusted her Hermès scarf, as if it were Nick’s fault it had gone slightly askew.
“I know, I know,” Nick muttered. He set his backpack on a bench in the Franklin Street Metro Station and began to riffle through it. “I swear my phone was in here. I don’t know where the hell it went.” He wasn’t panicking—not yet—but he was close. He needed his phone. It was his lifeline to Dad, just in case.
“Did you drop it?” Gibby asked. “I’ll do it.” She shoved his hands out of the way and pulled the bag into her lap. He didn’t protest; Gibby seemed like she was in a foul mood.
“I didn’t drop it,” Nick said, glancing up at the crowd moving around them. “I had it on the train when Seth texted and said he was running late and was probably going to fly to school. I swear I put it back in my bag.”
“Yikes,” Jazz said. “I’m apparently not used to hearing stuff like that yet.”
“Thank you,” Nick said. “I mean, objectively, we know he can do it, but still, hearing about it trips me out. He doesn’t get why.”
“Gross,” Gibby said, grimacing as she pulled out a busted lip balm that’d exploded and was now covered in hair. “What the hell, Nicky. Clean your damn backpack.” She tossed the lip balm in the trash can next to the bench before resuming the search. “You’re a gay boy. You’re supposed to be neat and tidy.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Jazz said, squeezing his arm. “That’s stereotyping. You can be however you want to be, so long as it doesn’t involve you jumping into the Westfield River again. I still have nightmares about the way you smelled.”
“We all do,” Gibby said. “I’m glad you’ve moved on from—Aha! Got it.” She pulled out his phone and tossed it at him.
Nick was too grateful to argue. He glanced down at the screen—no messages—before sliding it into his pocket and taking his backpack from Gibby. “How’re things going with your parents?”
Gibby shrugged. “Slow going, I guess. I mean, Dad is still pissed off. Mom too. They haven’t said I can’t hang out with you, so I’m counting that as a win. We’ll see where it goes, I guess.”
“Daddy and Mom had a billion questions,” Jazz said. “I didn’t know the answer to most of them, so they’re probably still confused—though Mom did have to tell Daddy that he can’t just ask Seth to light things on fire.”
Nick sighed. “I don’t know what it says about me that I think the way your Dad does.”
“It’s good,” Jazz said. “Or really bad. One of those two.”
“Uh, yeah,” Nick said. “Sure. Let’s go with that.” He glanced at Gibby nervously. “Can I ask you a question?”
Gibby frowned at him. “When have you ever asked instead of going for it?”
Shrugging awkwardly, Nick said, “First time for everything, I guess. I—” He steeled himself, knowing this was important but fearing the answer. “Has—has my dad ever scared you? Like, not … ugh. Not like he was coming after you, but—”
Gibby stared at him for a long moment before saying, “Are you asking for me or to make yourself feel better?”
“Probably a bit of both,” Nick admitted. “But I know it’s not about me. And seriously, tell me the truth, okay? Or don’t, if you don’t feel comfortable. You’re important to me, Gibby.”
Gibby groaned. “It’s too early for feelings. What the hell, Nicky.” She gnawed on her bottom lip before squaring her shoulders and looking at Nick dead-on. “Okay. Honest?”
“Honest,” Nick agreed.
“No. Your dad has never done anything to me to make me uncomfortable.”
Sagging in relief, Nick said, “That’s—”
But she wasn’t finished. “Not directly. But Nick, he’s—he’s a cop. And even though I know him, that still doesn’t change what that means. You see a badge and the uniform, and you think of safety. I see the badge and uniform and think about how often people like him have failed people like me. It’s not just about your dad; it’s about all of them. And it doesn’t help that your dad did what he did. I know it was a few years back and it was a white guy, but if he assaulted someone once, who’s to say he won’t do it again?”
“Yeah,” Nick muttered. “I get that now. I’m not going to pretend that what Dad did was justified. It wasn’t. And I think I kind of … I don’t know.”
“Glossed over it?” Jazz asked quietly.
“Maybe,” Nick said with a wince. Someone bumped into him on the way toward the stairs, and he scowled over his shoulder before looking back at his friends. “No, not maybe. I did.” All he’d been thinking about was how he’d act if someone was talking shit about his mother like that. He had to find a way to reconcile that with who he knew his dad to be. At least, who he thought his dad was. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
Gibby shrugged. “I get that your dad was grieving, but that doesn’t give him an excuse.”
Nick shook his head. “I know. Thanks for being honest with me.”
Gibby snorted. “When have I ever not? We’ll figure it out. Just … think. Really think. Can you do that?”
“Yeah,” Nick said. “Of course. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
She rolled her eyes fondly. “Gee, Nick. Thanks.”
Jazz laughed as Nick scowled. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. Oh hey, I have an idea I wanted to float by the both of you.”
“Uh-oh,” Jazz said as Gibby took her by the hand, pulling her toward the stairs that led to the streets above. “I get chills when you say stuff like that.”
Nick trailed after them, pulling his hoodie up and over his head to keep his ears warm. They reached street level as the sky began to spit flurries. “This is a good idea. I’ve thought this through.”
“For how long?” Gibby asked. “Because your idea of thinking things through usually means you just thought of it two seconds ago and didn’t think it through at all.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “I’ll have you know I first thought of it on Saturday, so that’s almost two whole days of percolation.” Gibby was about to speak, but he cut her off. “And no, this doesn’t involve me becoming an Extraordinary. I’ve given up on that. This is about Team Pyro Storm.” He bopped his head and wiggled his hips as they passed a group of buskers on the street, banging on plastic buckets. One grinned at him and flashed a thumbs-up, which he returned in kind. God, he loved the people in this city. He pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills and tossed them into a small box set before them and then moved on, blowing into his hands to warm them up.
“Does this have anything to do with the abrupt left turn your fic took?” Jazz asked. “Because I was a little disappointed I didn’t get to read about you and Seth—oh, I’m sorry, Nash and Pyro Storm—getting down.”
“Gross,” Gibby muttered. “I told you not to read that stuff. There’s no looking away once you see what goes on in Nick’s head.”
“I’ll pretend that was a compliment. Thank you, Gibby. And Jazz, I appreciate you reading my work and leaving a comment. Comments are life.”
“You’re welcome,” Jazz said. “Even if it didn’t go like I was expecting it to—though, if you think about it, it’s a really weird way to tell Seth you love him.”
Nick almost walked into a pole. “Say what now?”
Jazz squinted at him. “That’s the whole point of the fic, right? It’s a love letter to Seth.”
This … this was news to Nick. “It is not! I don’t love him. Oh my god, we’ve only been dating for like four months, seven days, and sixteen hours!”
“Nope,” Gibby said. “Nope, nope, nope. I sat through the cluelessness, the pining, the longing looks that made me want to yell at the both of you. I don’t have the strength to listen to this now.”
“But—”
“No. You’re a boy, you’re stupid, and I don’t care.” Gibby pulled Jazz further down the sidewalk, leaving a dumbfounded Nick staring after them.
“She cares,” Jazz called over her shoulder as Nick jogged to catch up with them. “She has a funny way of showing it. I also care, but I just tell you so you’ll know instead of wondering.”
“It’s not a love letter,” Nick said, chasing after them. “And you know it, you jerk.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Bell,” Gibby said. “Branding?”
Right. Focus. “Think about it,” Nick said as they rounded a corner, Centennial High appearing in the distance. “What does an Extraordinary need in the twenty-first century? Brand recognition.”
He waited for them to be suitably impressed.
Jazz popped a bubble with her gum. Gibby yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. He was losing them. Time to bring out the big guns.
“Okay,” he said. “I can see you’re interested but need to know more. I’ve got you.” He hurried around the front of them to face them, walking backward. “Picture this: What’s better than having a superhero protecting the streets of our fair city? Having a superhero with global brand recognition.”
They looked dubious at best. Time to bring out the bigger guns. It was a good thing Nick had had two whole days to mastermind his plan.
Ready to blow their minds, he said, “We’ll have a Twitter account, which I’ll run and get hashtags trending on—something like hashtag #ReturnOfTheFire or hashtag #TheHeroOfThePeople. And we’ll even have some tweets from Pyro Storm’s perspective, saying things like On Twelfth and Liberty Ave, crime in process, stay away, citizens. Hashtag #SafetyFirst, hashtag #FriendlyNeighborhoodPyroStorm.” He frowned. “We’ll have to work on that last one, so we don’t get sued for cribbing intellectual property, but still.” He shook his head. “And merchandise! We’ll commission artists in the Extraordinaries fandom to create art we can plaster on bags and shirts and coffee mugs and sell them in a merch store.”
“Who gets to keep the money?” Gibby asked, pulling Nick to the side before he backed into a pole.
“We do,” Nick said promptly. “We’ll each get a cut, but maybe a bigger one for Seth since he’s the Extraordinary doing all the heavy lifting. It’ll help that we don’t need to upgrade the secret lair anymore. Which, by the way, thank you—I hadn’t thought of night vision goggles, but now that we have them, I can’t live without them. Also, we’ll donate a percentage to a LGBTQIA nonprofit because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Only the best,” Jazz said. “And Daddy didn’t even threaten to take it all back, even though he said he and Mom wouldn’t let me spend any more money until they’ve had time to think things through. I think part of them wonders if we all have superpowers and didn’t tell them.” She laughed. “Can you imagine? Me with powers. I’d make heroes look good.” As if to prove her point, she lifted one of her heels to show them her Alexander McQueen, skull-embellished pumps. “Mom was fine with it after she got a couple of glasses of wine in her. Once that happens, she agrees with pretty much anything and tells you things you don’t want to hear, like what she thinks about the shorts her tennis instructor wears. I’ve never met him, but I know more about his anatomy than I’ve ever wanted to, because apparently his shorts are really short.”
They stared at her.
She shrugged. “What? She likes tennis and wine and her tennis instructor. I don’t judge, and neither should you.”
“Have you talked to Seth about any of this?” Gibby asked Nick as they continued toward school. “Or is this one of those times where you make plans without telling one of us and then hope for the best when you try and enact it?”
“He knows,” Nick said defensively. “He read about it in the fic. Team Pyro Storm, ready to tweet and sell overpriced signed posters!” He smiled. They did not. He added, “And also save lives.”
Gibby shook her head. “I don’t know, Nicky. It sounds all well and good, but he said he wasn’t sure about what he wanted anymore. It’s taking a toll on him. He’s tired all the time, and even though Shadow Star isn’t around now, there’s always something that has to be done.”
Gibby wasn’t wrong, but what could they do about it? Even Seth had said Nova City would always need someone like Pyro Storm. Nick was trying to help as best he could, hence the branding. The logic was a bit faulty, the equation not quite equaling the answer, but he’d get there. “I know, but all we can do is support him with—”
For the second time in a few days, he crashed into someone. His fault this time. He whirled around, the words I’m so sorry on the tip of his tongue, but then he saw who he’d hit, and his apology died screaming.
Her hair was a little longer than it’d been when they’d last stood face-to-face, and it was bleached an alarming shade of blond. But her shark’s grin was the same, her makeup on point, her eyes sparkling as she raised a microphone to her lips, turning toward the man standing behind her with a camera on his shoulder and pointing directly at Nick. Nick had only seen her once in person since they’d both been trapped on top of McManus Bridge. She’d shown up at his house a few weeks after the battle, crew in tow, demanding that Nick give her an interview. Dad had told her in no uncertain terms that if she ever stepped foot on his property again, he was going to shove his own foot so far up her ass, she’d be gargling toes. After he’d slammed the door in her face, he’d turned and told Nick that violence was never the answer, and that violence against women was a pandemic that needed to be stopped. Nick had laughed it off at the time, but after hearing more clearly what Dad had done to the witness years before and the fallout that came after, he didn’t think there was anything funny about it now. He’d never thought of his father as violent, but he had evidence to the contrary. He didn’t know what that made his dad—or himself, for not asking the questions he should’ve. Gibby and Jazz were right. He’d just … glossed over it.
That night, she’d gone on live television and reported that she’d been verbally threatened by Aaron Bell, the former detective who’d been demoted after physically assaulting a witness and the father of one Nick Bell, who had been at the center of the fight between Shadow Star and Pyro Storm. “But I will persist,” she said. “Nova City deserves answers, and no man will keep me from getting them.” Even though he despised every fiber of her being, he wondered if she’d been scared of his father. He didn’t know if he wanted her to be or not.
Regardless, Nick was not a fan.
“Rebecca Firestone,” he snarled as she looked directly into the camera.
“We’re standing on the streets of Nova City,” she said as if he wasn’t staring daggers at the back of her head. “And, by happenstance, we have come across Nicholas Bell. If you’ll recall, Mr. Bell is the author of This is Where We Scorch the Earth, a lengthy manifesto disguised as poorly plotted fanfiction regarding the Extraordinary Shadow Star.”
“Happenstance?” Jazz asked loudly. “You’re standing in front of our school.”
Nick, focusing on what was really important, exclaimed, “Poorly plotted? It was a goddamn masterpiece. Yes, in retrospect, it was extremely misguided, but still!”
She ignored them, even as students heading toward the front doors stopped and turned to stare at them.
“Shadow Star,” she continued, “who turned out to be sixteen-year-old Owen Burke, a student at Centennial High and the son of Simon Burke of Burke Pharmaceuticals.”
“And who you had a crush on, even though you’re, like, fifty,” Gibby said. “That’s gross. And illegal.”
“I am thirty-two,” Rebecca Firestone snapped, façade of the plucky reporter shattering. “And he presented himself as someone far, far older, so—”
The cameraman coughed pointedly.
Rebecca Firestone schooled her face. “Right. Edit that out in post. Three, two, one.” She smiled. “Nicholas Bell has been a central figure in the ongoing mystery of the Nova City Extraordinaries. On McManus Bridge, dozens of witnesses, including myself, saw him kissing the Extraordinary known as Pyro Storm, who was considered—and, potentially, rightly so—the villain of Nova—”
“Hell yes, I did,” Nick said, leering at the camera. “Go gays!”
“—who was considered the villain of Nova City,” Rebecca Firestone said through gritted teeth. She turned to Nick, eyes narrowed. “Mr. Bell, would you care to comment?”
“I would,” Nick said as Gibby groaned behind him.
“You would?” Rebecca Firestone asked, momentarily shocked. “Of course you would. What do you know about Pyro Storm? Did you know Owen Burke was Shadow Star? What is your relationship with both of them? Emotional? Physical?” She thrust the microphone in his face.
His moment to shine. Rebecca Firestone would regret ever being born. “My comment is this: I’m a minor, and Rebecca Firestone is attempting to speak to me without my guardian present.” He let his bottom lip tremble as he shook his head. “I wish there was an adult who would help save me from Rebecca Firestone’s incessant questioning. I was a victim, and she’s making me relive my trauma of a night I wish I could forget, even though I was the one who saved her from—”
“You little shit,” Rebecca Firestone growled before composing herself.
The whispers from those standing in front of the school grew louder, a few of them laughing. Rebecca Firestone glared at Nick before that evil grin returned, her eyes alight in a way that made Nick uneasy. Without looking away from Nick, she held out her hand toward her cameraman and snapped her fingers. The cameraman reached down to a large duffel bag at his feet. He muttered under his breath that he wasn’t paid enough for this shit before he pulled out a tablet and handed it to Rebecca Firestone.
She tapped the edge of her microphone against the screen. “Tell us, Mr. Bell, have you seen Pyro Storm since the events on the bridge?”
He shrugged, knowing he had an audience of his peers and that it was best to keep them guessing. There was a chance he could turn this around in his favor. “Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.”
“Mm,” she said. “And your boyfriend—Seth Gray, right? What did he think about you kissing another man?”
Uh-oh. That wasn’t good. “We didn’t get together until after that.” Total lie, but she didn’t know that. “Seth is the best,” he added quickly, because he was of the mind that Seth Gray deserved to be complimented publicly. “His smile is like sunshine, and his bow ties give me life.”
“Right,” Rebecca Firestone said. “Young love. How precious. I would ask, however, what your boyfriend would think about you as you continue to fraternize with Pyro Storm.”
Nick squinted at her. “I’m doing what now?”
Her smiled widened, her teeth bared. She turned the tablet around, showing Nick the screen. He felt Jazz and Gibby crowding his back, peering over his shoulder.
On the tablet was a picture. Nick knew exactly when it’d been taken. New Year’s Eve. He’d had plans to go out with Gibby and Jazz and Seth, but they’d been forced into action when Seth had been alerted about a break-in at the history museum, where a display of priceless jewels on loan from India had been shown for almost a month. Pyro Storm had foiled the heist, and all the jewels had been accounted for. Their night out had been shot, but Nick figured it was worth it to keep relations between India and the US on the level. He was nothing if not diplomatic.
After, he’d met up with Pyro Storm in the streets of Nova City, hidden away in the shadows of an alley. Right at midnight, Seth had kissed him sweetly, promising that the New Year was going to be awesome.
Apparently, they hadn’t been alone. Because here, on the screen, was a picture of Nick wearing ridiculous gag glasses covered in glitter that showed the numbers for the New Year, pressed up against the brickwork of an old building, Pyro Storm kissing him, Nick’s hands hidden under his cape. The picture was blurry and had been taken from across the street, but it was obviously Nick, head tilted as he kissed an Extraordinary.
“What the hell?” Nick asked furiously, trying to swipe to see if there were any other photos. There weren’t, but one was enough. “What is this?”
“An exclusive,” Rebecca Firestone said as she plucked the tablet from Nick’s hands. “Care to comment as to why you, someone who says he’s in a healthy relationship, would be playing with fire?”
“Wow,” Jazz said. “Did you really think of that all on your own? You’re so impressive.”
Rebecca Firestone ignored her. “Mr. Bell? Thoughts? I’d hate to come between young love, but this is something that should be addressed. Anyone can see what you were doing. In fact, someone did, which is why this picture was sent to me from an anonymous—yet concerned—citizen of Nova City.”
“No comment,” Gibby snapped, grabbing Nick by the hand and attempting to pull him away. “Lady, you don’t want to piss us off more than you already have. I’ll sic my girlfriend on you, and you don’t want that. You haven’t seen scary until you’ve seen Jazz-scary.”
Rebecca Firestone scoffed as she looked over at Jazz in time to see her step out of her heels, flip them expertly in her hands, and advance with them raised like weapons. “Try me,” Jazz said primly as she cocked her head.
“What are you doing here, Firestone?” Nick jerked his head to find his boyfriend pushing his way through the crowd, his dress pants perfectly creased, his black sweater lint-free as if freshly rolled, and a goddamn paisley cravat. Ascots and cravats were almost the same thing, but ascots were more informal, which Nick only knew because of Seth, and while it was mostly useless information, it still made him slightly weak in the knees, current situation be damned. Who the hell did Seth think he was, walking in here to save the day, looking so stupidly adorable that Nick thought he would just die?
Seth stepped between his friends and Rebecca Firestone, whose smile faded, brow furrowing as she looked him up and down.
“Leave now,” Seth said coldly, and the growing crowd around them tittered. They’d never seen Seth so assertive, and Nick wouldn’t be surprised if half of them weren’t immediately and irrevocably lusting after him. If they weren’t, then they should’ve been. Seth was pretty much the hottest thing in existence when he wore a cravat and spoke forcefully. “Don’t make me tell you again.”
“Uh,” the cameraman said. “Yeah, I’m getting out of here.” He lowered his camera, pointing the lens toward the ground. “I was already worried about this assignment, seeing as how your last cameraman died, but that young lady is scary, and I don’t want to die or go back to prison.”
Jazz feinted toward him, heel raised, and he stumbled backward, almost tripping over his duffel bag.
Rebecca Firestone snarled as she shoved the tablet back at him so hard, he almost dropped it. “Goddammit, fine.” She whirled on them, poking Seth in the chest with a perfectly manicured fingernail while glancing over his shoulder at Nick. “This isn’t over. I know you’re involved with the Extraordinaries, Bell, and no matter how connected you are to the NCPD, no matter how many people try to cover for you, you know it and I know it. And I will find the truth. We all deserve to know who hides behind masks.” She turned around, glaring up at the students gathered on the stairs. “Stay in school!” she barked up at them before storming down the sidewalk, her cameraman trailing after her.
Seth stared after her until she disappeared into the crowd before he sighed, shoulders slumping. When he turned, gone was the steel. All that remained was Seth: tired, wonderful, lying Seth. “What did she want?” he asked as the students began to head inside the school.
“To cause trouble,” Gibby muttered. “She’s got a picture of you as Pyro Storm eating Nick’s face. Good job, both of you. That’s not going to help with rumors around here.” She jerked her head toward the school, where everyone still stood whispering as they glanced at Team Pyro Storm.
“So they’ll think we’re in an open relationship,” Nick said. “We’re progressive that way.”
Seth rolled his eyes. “Noted.” He looked off to where Rebecca Firestone had disappeared. “What’s her angle, though? She’s not my favorite person by a long shot, but is she really just asking about who you’re kissing? That seems beneath her.”
“The only thing beneath her is the ground,” Nick snapped. “She’s a pain in the ass, and we have to figure out what to do if she tries to make trouble.”
“Is that—is that his angry face?” Jazz whispered to Gibby as she put her heels back on.
“I … don’t know?” Gibby said, squinting at Nick. “It looks like he has a nervous tic or he’s holding in a fart. You never can tell with boys. It’s what makes them so ridiculous.”
Seth shook his head. “We don’t need to worry about it now. There are bigger things to focus on.” He looked at Nick. “Such as the latest chapter of your fic. Nick, I say this with nothing but admiration for you as a person, okay?”
Good start. Nick loved being admired. “I approve. You may proceed.”
Seth said, “What the hell are you talking about with this branding thing? And a website? When did you have time to make a website? And why was there a tab to sign up for a meet and greet?”
Ah, time for the sales pitch! “I’m so glad you asked. Prepare to have your mind blown. It—”
The bell rang.
“—will have to wait,” Nick said quickly. “Because we can’t be late for class, as our education is important, and Dad will send me off to boarding school if the school calls him again. An empty threat, but I don’t want to risk it because the boarding school is in New Hampshire and I don’t even know where that is, which is a damning indictment of the state of our school system. But Seth, you’re going to love it, I promise. And I’ll let your mind run with the possibilities until lunch. Also, you look amazing and your cravat gives me life.” He smacked a kiss against Seth’s lips before stomping off toward school. “Good talk, team!” he bellowed over his shoulder.
Always leave them wanting. Cosmo.