By for an LJSanta deadbeat.
Adam had spotted the rising tower of flame a moment before Laurel hurried over to him. "It's the twins," she said apologetically. "I didn't want to nag them too hard on account of . . . you know, Kori and all, but. . . ."
"They're drawing attention to us. I know. I'll talk to them." Adam manoeuvred through the crowd. The rally for the football team was supposed to be held that evening, but the Hendersons' extreme pyrotechnics would inevitably result in some last-minute rescheduling. The closer he got to where the rally was going to be held, the more chaotic everything seemed. The air was thick and hazy with smoke. Teachers were yelling at students to return to the school building, but most of the kids were marvelling at the inferno. In the distance, he could hear the weak sirens of New Salem's fire trucks. After the twins hit puberty, he thought grimly, fighting the tide of departing gawkers, you would have thought the town council would have noticed the spike in arson activity and known enough to upgrade the fire brigade.
The rally's bonfire—meant to be a small, manageable blaze stationed near the tunnel where the players would emerge to meet their adoring fans—had been turned into a monster of heat and light. Adam could feel the scorching temperature halfway across the field, the air transformed into a stinging smog that made his skin prickle and his eyes water. "CHRIS!" he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth. "DOUG!"
The twins were bouncing around in the shadows like imps, their faces painted in the school's colours—though Adam guessed that was more for the relative anonymity than out of any sort of school spirit. As he approached the brothers, a sharp snag rang out, making most of the adults clutch their heads protectively as tongues of fire unfurled upwards, like the breath of some dread dragon. Some of the flames turned turquoise blue, others a virulent green, much to the amazement of the onlookers. "All hail Prometheus, bringer of fire!" one of the twins chortled. With their faces obscured by paint, it was impossible to tell them apart.
"All hail Loki, Lord of Mischief!" the other declared, pumping his fist in the air.
Adam grabbed each brother by the arm and pulled them out of sight, shoving them into a little-used alcove that ended in a service exit. "You guys, we can't afford this sort of thing right now," he said, drawing them deeper into the shadows when the first fire truck pulled in. "Tone the fire down, and then head home. I know you want to blow off some steam, but this isn't the time or the place. Go down to the beach or something."
Grumbling, the twins reluctantly reversed the spell that had enhanced the fire. Once the flames were more manageable, they opened the rusty service gate and stepped through, blurting out names of gods of fire, mischief, and chaos as they snuck out the back way. Adam stayed in the shadows of the alcove until the last of the fire crews had left. Given that the fire had initially been set by a school official, it probably wouldn't be investigated in detail, but he wanted to make sure nothing at the scene could implicate Chris or Doug. He was wiping ashes off his hands when he shut the creaky gate behind him, and thus didn't hear or see anyone approaching. "You're a firebug now too?" the low voice said.
Adam looked up to see Nick leaning against a wall, grinding the butt of his cigarette into the chipped stonework. "What are you doing here?"
"Saw the twins shuffling home like dejected zombies and then Laurel filled me in on her way to Suzan's party." He shook his head. "Karaoke or something?" He tossed his extinguished cigarette into a puddle, earning him a cross look from Adam. "Thought you might appreciate a ride after having to do damage control."
That was an awful lot of talking for Nick, who was usually the quietest one in the Coven—even quieter than Sean, although Sean was silent out of lack of confidence, whereas Nick simply didn't like speaking. "Thanks. I appreciate it."
Nick nodded absently, hopping back into his car, his rare burst of chattiness apparently over. Instead of driving the familiar route to Crowhaven Road, though, he took a longer, windier way, stopping down the beach at a secluded spot the others tended to avoid, finding it too cold and windy. "I know what Cassie is to you, Adam. I can see it."
Adam went still. Nick never called him by his first name when they were with the others. It was only when they were alone, and it was almost like a little treat—the way Nick said the d so hard it was almost a t, yet drew out the m as if it were a meditation. "I—" Adam stopped himself before he could launch into the tidy lie he'd been telling himself, the same one he had been preparing for when Diana—benevolent soul that she was—would inevitably broach the subject. "It doesn't have to change anything," he said plaintively, gazing out at the water. "Look at Diana. She's fine with us. Cassie will be too."
"You don't know that." Nick's voice was hard as he clenched his jaw, gazing out at the wind-whipped water. As kids, he and Adam had gone to that spot to play away from the others, who found it too boring or too inhospitable. In their teens, they had gone there to experiment—first with beer, then with pot, and then with each other after finding Adam's father's stash of gay porn in the attic. Nick had to shut his eyes for a moment as memories came rolling back through his mind, wave after wave after wave: the first blowjob Adam had given him, awkward but eager; the feeling of Adam's hand stroking him as he jerked Adam off in turn, all give and take, grunts and groans; the first time they fucked, almost more pain than pleasure until they had learned each other's bodies and rhythms. In public, they were barely civil to each other; had one of them been female, rumours would have been swirling about a love-hate, opposites-attract relationship, but the idea of two boys in love with each other wasn't really on New Salem's social radar.
"I know that I want you," Adam whispered, unfastening his seatbelt and leaning across the console to turn Nick's face toward him, "and I know that I belong with you. That's all I need to know." He slid an ash-smeared hand along Nick's jaw as he moved in to kiss him, making it look as if he had painted the mechanic's face with shadows and light.
Nick unbuckled his seatbelt and shoved it aside, but his other hand didn't immediately go for the lever that would tilt his seat back. "They're expecting you at the party," he said, Adam's mouth still so close that their lips brushed when he spoke.
The use of the singular wasn't lost on Adam. Nick was, of course, invited to most Coven gatherings, whether casual or formal, but he so rarely attended that most of the others simply stopped asking him. "But later. . . ."
"Later," Nick said with a ghost of a smile as he started the car's engine again, "I'll be in the garage, working on Deb's bike."
The information was as good as an invitation, and Adam leaned in for one more kiss before both of them refastened their seatbelts and Nick drove the circuitous path that would bring them to Crowhaven Road as if they had come from school. As he stopped in front of the Conant house, he looked over at Number 10, where Suzan lived. Lights shone in all the windows, and the dull, incoherent thrum of music being played too loud pulsed in the air. "You can still go," Adam pointed out, pulling the cuff of his sleeve over his hand and wiping Nick's face clean. On his own, Nick was cool and confident, but something in him melted a bit around Adam; he would need some time to regain his trademark cool composure. "Go park at home and come back. At least for one song. I'm sure Suze has some beer, and it'll make Cassie think the Coven is one big happy family."
"One big happy incestuous family," Nick muttered, pinching Adam's ass as he got out of the car. Adam laughed and shook his head as he ran up the walkway to his house, planning to clean up quickly before joining the party.
Nick drove the short distance home, having another cigarette as he changed clothes. He thought about jerking off before going over to Suzan's, but decided to wait and see if Adam took him up on the invitation. Knowing he shouldn’t, he had another cigarette on the way over to the Whittier house, and prepared himself for the look of astonishment he'd get when someone \opened the door and found him on the other side. To his surprise, it was Diana, not Suzan, who answered. "Nick!" Diana's bright green eyes lit up. "I didn't think you were coming!"
"Token appearance," he said simply, stepping inside, now back to his curt sentences. "For the new girl's sake."
"Cassie's not here yet, but come on." Diana pulled on his arm. "Adam's going to sing next. You don't want to miss this," she laughed gamely. "He can't sing at all."
Nick knew for a fact that wasn't true. When Diana was off visiting other family during the summer, he and Adam would camp down in their secret little cave, and Adam would sing old fisherman's songs in the morning when he thought Nick was still asleep. His voice was both rough and soft, buoyed by a hint of a Scottish burr. "That'll be a treat," he said out loud, the remnants of smoke in his throat adding to his scoff.
Sure enough, Adam was on Suzan's makeshift stage, taking a long swig from a bottle as he gazed down at a screen where the lyrics would scroll across. "Ready as I'll ever be," he announced, setting the bottle down. "I think I'll take one from Melanie's set. I'd just mangle the U2 songs."
Nick knew the song—it was one of Deborah's guilty pleasures—but the Karaoke version of the music was tinnier, so the vocals didn't register until the second verse. Monday, you can fall apart/ Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart/ Oh, Thursday doesn't even start/ it's Friday I'm in love/ Saturday, wait, Adam warbled, purposefully drawing out 'Saturday' until it sounded like a wail from an injured cat. And Sunday always comes too late/ But Friday, never hesitate/ I don't care if Monday's black. . . . Nick rose and headed for the kitchen, shooting Adam a pointed look when no one was watching. It was a Friday night, after all, and most of their firsts and trysts had been on Fridays. It was as much an answer as Nick's saying he would be in the garage was an invitation. He stayed until the end of the song and even hung around a bit until Sean took the stage, mangling some Megadeth song, before he took his leave. He did have to work on Deborah's bike, after all, so he wanted to get to the garage before Adam did.
Fin.
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