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He startled when he felt a tap on his shoulder and looked back.

Dad was there, smiling at them. He said, “Hey, you mind if I cut in?”

Nick blinked. “You want to dance with Seth? Uh. Okay?” He glared at his dad. “If you threaten him with more dental dams or fire extinguishers, we’re gonna have words.”

“Is that right?” Dad said, lips quirking. “Words, you say.”

“So many words,” Nick threatened. “Like,allthe words. Istill haven’t sufficiently recovered from you trying to destroy my life.”

Dad winced, and Nick wished he’d kept his fool mouth shut. He hadn’t meant it how it sounded, but now that it was out there, he wondered if there was a kernel of truth to it. Maybe therapy wasn’t a bad idea after all. Being fluent in Nick, Seth squeezed his arms, letting him know he was there.

Nick sighed. “That’s not what I meant. Sorry. You know how it is. My mouth moves before my brain tells it to.”

“I know, kid,” Dad said. “It’s one of the things I love about you.” He shook his head. “And I don’t want to dance with Seth. Wouldn’t want him to see that I’m the upgrade over you.”

“Oh my god, why are youlikethis?”

“Cool your jets, kid,” Dad said. “I’m not asking your boyfriend to dance. I’m asking you.”

“Wait, really? You want to take all this for a spin, Pops? Sure you can handle it?” Yet again, he wished he could take his words back. “Okay, there was an implication there necessitating certain fic tags that would automatically make me ill, so let’s move on from that.”

“Too late,” Dad said with a huff. He began to turn away when Nick laughed and grabbed his arm.

Dad’s hands started to go to his waist, when Nick shook his head. “I get to lead.” He settled Dad’s hands on his shoulders and put his own on Dad’s waist.

“Seth?” Dad called over Nick’s shoulder. “Nick wants to lead, so can you have 911 dialed and ready? I have a feeling my feet are about to be broken.”

“You’re not funny,” Nick said with a glare.

“I really am,” Dad said, and they began to shuffle their feet awkwardly.

“So,” Nick said after four seconds of silence, far more than he was comfortable with.

“So,” Dad said.

“We’re dancing.”

“Sort of,” Dad said, wincing as Nick somehow managed to kick him in the shins.

“Should I spin you?” Nick wondered aloud. “I feel like I want to spin you.”

“Let’s not and say we did,” Dad said. Another bit of shuffling where Nick received empirical evidence that bony knees were hereditary. Then, “Good party.”

Nick sighed. “We really need to work on your small talk.”

“Yeah? Why don’t you give me a few pointers since you seem to think you’re so much better at it?”

“I don’t think it,” Nick assured him. “I know it. It’s fact.”

“Good to know, Nicky.”

He was about to tell his Dad that a spin wasdefinitelynecessary, but his brain highjacked his mouth and something else came out. “Are you happy?” he blurted, wishing almost immediately he could take the words back. He didn’t want to do this here. Now. Not in front of everyone.

Dad stopped, hands still on Nick’s shoulders. He cocked his head, blinking as if trying to clear his vision. His brow furrowed momentarily, and he glanced around as if he suddenly remembered where they were. Weird. He looked at Nick again, and that faint confusion was gone. “Of course I am, kid. I’m with you. Nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“And everything is… good?”

“Think so. Why?”