‘I promise you, sir, your daughter’s sex life is of utmost importance’

The Moises have a very loud doorbell. A very long doorbell. The kind with multiple chimes that bing-bong-bing straight into your soul and ring doom inside your head, waiting for that door to open so you can deal with this nerve-wracking intervention that, goddamnit, isn’t even about you. You’ve never had to go through the ‘what are your intentions with my daughter’ spiel before, and it’s been implied that Indigo’s dad is a formidable man. Not that you’ve ever met him before. Maybe this showdown would be easier if you had. Then he’d know you’re not that big of an asshole.

Besides, you’ve got superpowers, right? Right. This’ll be fine.

Weirdest part about entering into someone’s house for the first time is the waiting beforehand. The still, sunny day, with its blossoms and birdsong, feels kind of at odds with this oppressing trepidation you feel. Maybe it’ll be Indy herself who meets you at the door, and you won’t face the full first brunt of this man yourself.

After a half-minute, or perhaps an hour, there’s a thumping in the foyer, and someone yanks the door open. That someone is definitely not Indy.

Mr. Moise is fairly tall, a little round, and a lot bald. The only hairs on his head are in two bushy eyebrows and a thick, furry mustache laid across his upper lip, plucked straight out of the eighties. Together, they make it look like he has a trio of fuzzy caterpillars perched upon his face. They wiggle and contort as he looks you up and down with a deep sense of scrutiny.

“…You Chase?” He finally says, gruffly. You give a small nod, unsure what to say. He steps aside to let you in, his expression locked in a damning stare.

“Shoes off, please,” he says firmly, before you can even make it two steps inside. You get the sense he’s trying hard to reel in his convictions for the sake of his daughter. Or perhaps establish power early. You’ve hardly managed to slip off your sneakers before he says, in the exact same tone, “would you like a glass of water?”

The kitchen is well-kept, open, and modern. It opens up into the living room, where various sketches and paintings are hung on the walls, most bearing Indigo’s signature. They’re occasionally broken up by pieces of vaguely Caribbean folk art.

There’s a large porcelain bowl full of salted pretzels on the counter in front of you. They give off a very pristine ‘for guests’ sort of vibe. You really aren’t sure if you qualify. Better safe than sorry.

You’ve never felt so guilty just drinking a glass of water before.

As you sit uncomfortably on a stool at their kitchen island, Indigo’s dad putters about, drying and putting away dishes. His face stays permanently furrowed, purposefully trying not to look at you. You’d guess there’s rather a lot he wants to say to you right now, but he’s forcing himself to wait until his daughter arrives. And where is she, even?

You take another small sip. “So… is Indy… around?”

Finally looking in your direction, Mr. Moise opens his mouth to respond. Before he can get a word out, a loud, elongated moan calls out from the floor above you.

It’s a primal sound, the kind made a body completed surrendered to pleasure. High, shaky, and undeniably Indigo-pitched.

You didn’t even realize she was capable of sounds like that.

…Way to go, Sully?

Mr. Moise’s face is scrunched up tight, caterpillars smushed together, every feature wrenched in a very strong desire to never hear his daughter make that kind of noise again. Ouch.

Huffing, he shuffles around to the fridge and yanks out a broom from behind it, grumbling under his breath. “Been at this all goddamn morning… stupid kids and their…” He proceeds to do the stereotypical boomer thing and thump the handle up against the ceiling.

To be fair, you find it hard to blame him for not wanting to go up there himself, lest he witness his daughter in full-coital beast mode. Or the guy who’s apparently the current bane of his life just going to town on his precious girl.

The noises don’t stop. You’re not sure they heard him, the thumping being drowned out by all the _‘oh god’s, ‘right there’s, and ‘you like that?’_s. This really isn’t helping the three of you get on her dad’s good side.

Fuming, Mr. Moise yanks out a stool with a screech, hauls himself up on it, brings his face inches from the ceiling, and pounds his fist against it so hard you swear paint flakes off. Finally, the noises stop.

The brief peace is immediately disturbed by the barrel-chested man’s great big bellow. “Indigo Tamara Moise, get your rear end downstairs! Your friend is here!” his voice thunders upwards. It’s almost impressive, the way he manages to make ‘friend’ sound like a dirty word. “…And you damn well better be dressed!”

The silence rings out for another few moments. Then you hear the sheepish sounds of clothes being put back on.

You sit there stiffly, empty glass in hand, for another minute or so. Indigo’s dad wipes down counters with aggression.

There’s some hushed back-and-forth from the stairwell. Then some nervous giggling. Indigo sticks her neck around the corner like a startled cat.

Upon seeing you, her face softens, and she enters into the kitchen, Sullivan lagging behind her. In contrast to her nervousness, he walks with all the swagger of a guy who knows exactly what sounds he can wring out of a woman. And you’re a little bit tempted to smack him upside the head for it. Read the room, man.

Indy gives you a small wave, hugging her other arm around herself. “Hi, Chase, thanks for coming.”

Sullivan gives you a confident upnod. “Hey, man.” He steps up behind Indigo and puts his hand on the small of her back.

Mr. Moise’s gaze zeroes in on the gesture, eyes narrowed.

The couple is trying, unsuccessfully, to pretend like they weren’t just doing what everyone in this room knows they were doing. Their pupils are dilated, their breathing forcibly even.

Indy’s tank top is on inside-out. And backwards. Her bra strap is also falling off her shoulder.

There is something translucent and glistening on Sully’s chin.

Mr. Moise yanks a paper towel from a roll by the oven and thrusts it towards him, refusing to look him in the eye. Sully takes it, confused.

“Your face, dumbass,” you offer helpfully. Indigo looks at him, and her eyes widen as she sees, too late, the trace of her juices still adorning her boyfriend like a bright neon advertisement of their activities. She shrinks in on herself and cups her eyes, staring at the floor, mortified. Sullivan just dabs at his face, clearly also a little cowed.

Her father turns to you and brandishes an indignant hand towards the two lovers. “So. I’m to understand this is all your doing, hm?”

Yup. You own a real-live romantic relationship. Whee. “Guess so.”

“Dear god, why?”

Good question.

Well, you didn’t really think it was that bad an idea. Honestly, from your point of view, it turned out pretty alright, their inability to stop touching each other notwithstanding. “Sully’s my friend, I guess. Wanted to help him out. Wanted good things for him.”

Mr. Moise’s face turns slightly red, like he’s trying to swallow another yell. Like the cosmic pressure to respect your decisions regarding your property and his wants and hopes for his child are warring intensely within him. “What about Indigo? Do you not care about her future, son? This isn’t just about you and your boy’s club, my daughter has a life, and dreams, and this stupid boy-” He jabs a finger in Sully’s face.

Indy steps in front of Sully and pushes her dad’s hand down, face etched in hurt and anger. “Don’t talk about him like that! My life and dreams include him, hell, they are him, and I can’t believe you’d-”

As the argument between them devolves in front of you, you lean toward Sullivan and speak low. “Dude, you texted me like half an hour ago. Could you seriously not keep your hands off her before I got here?”

Sully tosses the paper towel into the garbage beneath the sink. Bye-bye, Essence d’Indigo. “What can I say? When a pretty lady wants something, I deliver,” he grins. “And you know I enjoy me some good eat-”

“Shut up before you dig us deeper into this mess.”

Arms are flung and spittle flies as the father-daughter diatribe rages on in front of you. “-Said that you were going to dump him as soon as you graduated, what happened to that-” Mr. Moise puffs.

Sullivan frowns a little. Ouch. You give him a little pat on the back.

Indy blanches and stammers. “You- That was different! Things are different! And I certainly didn’t say it like that-”

Sounds like some of these emotions have been brewing for some time.

“-I swear to Christ, young lady, when your mother gets home-”

Fuck. You whisper to Sully, “Do I have to deal with a second pissed-off parent?”

Sully’s currently got his hand buried in the pretzel bowl. “Probably not? Her mom’s chill. Or, chill-er. I think she’s in Jamaica right now. Something about the grandma being sick.”

Maybe just delaying the inevitable, then.

“I saw how hard you worked for that GPA! D’you think acceptance letters to the U of goddamn CLA grow on trees?” Mr. Moise is holding the dishrag again, along with a dirty mug. Like he’s so flustered he can’t properly argue without doing something with his hands. “You’d throw that away for this… this mophead with no future?”

Indy begins yanking cups out of the drying rack and all but tossing them into the cupboards. “I’m his future! We’ll make a future together! I worked for that GPA so I could choose whatever future I wanted, and I happen to choose this stupid, sweet, brilliant mophead, thank you very much!”

Sully leans back in. “This is how her whole family argues. It’s really weird. The time I accidentally left a condom in her room, they cleaned their whole garage together.” He crunches down on three pretzels at once.

Barbs and concerns keep whizzing back and forth through the space in between them. Her father brings up the early stages of their relationship, how regularly Indy would come home upset from yet another lover’s spat. Indigo fights back and insists most of that stuff was her fault too, they’re more mature now, they haven’t had a real fight in months, etc.

Sully casually leans against the counter, eyes almost bored, like he’s seen this many times before.

Voices are very raised. “So what’s the plan, then, huh? You throw away your one-in-a-million ticket to a damn good school, and then you follow this kid to goddamn Phoenix?”

All the contents of a cutlery drawer clang as Indigo yanks it open. “Yes!”

Mr. Moise begins handing her freshly dried knives and spoons. “And then what? You have no plan! Your mind is so screwed by kiddy love and some asshat’s fancy words you can’t think two feet in front of you!”

Indigo takes them and organizes them diligently. And loudly. “The plan is to be together! To be happy! To celebrate our love! And I really wish my dad would celebrate it with me!”

Her dad vigorously shakes some dish soap onto a squeegee. “Love celebrations don’t pay bills, Indigo! What the hell are you gonna do to move your life forward? All this boy is gonna do is hold you back!”

Indigo throws another mug into the cupboard. It does a tiny spin before clattering into place. “We’ll do plenty! Stuff that actually matters! Live together! Grow together! Get married in a couple years probably! Maybe have kids! Point is, if we’re broke, we’re broke together! That’s all that matters!”

Mr. Moise’s eyes bulge out from his forehead. “Kids?!”

Uh oh.

“Maybe! All I care about is making my man happy and giving him my life!” She points at you, still red-faced at her dad. “Chase took this ship and he righted it! He used his gift and told me just how much I love Sully and how all that matters to me proving that love every day, whatever form that takes, and I couldn’t be happier now! Thank you, Chase!” A blink of a nod at you before wheeling back on her father.

You’re… wel…come…

Mr. Moise looks about ready to faint. His daughter thunders on with her rant. “I will give this stupid, lovable idiot everything he could possibly want! If it’s a ring, sure! If it’s babies, I will give him goddamn babies!”

Face ashen, Mr. Moise turns to Sullivan. “…Want… you... babies?”

Sully, still leaning against the counter, looks a tad deer-in-headlights, most of his confidence evaporated. He shrugs one shoulder half-heartedly. “Uh. Maybe? Sometime down the line? I’unno…”

Indigo’s Dad collapses into a wicker chair in the corner of the kitchen, ignoring the stack of recipes already on it. He puts his face in his hands. “My baby girl is going to be made into… some kind of broke-ass babymomma, a trophy wife, a, a, bum with this…”

Indigo pinches the bridge of her nose. “Dad, I’m not gonna…” Having her agency usurped is hitting a nerve, you might guess.

Shot in the dark, this whole thing has at least a little bit to do with the classic Overprotective Dad being scared to face the reality that his daughter is growing up. Though in all fairness, these are unusual circumstances.

Indy, looking defeated, raises her head up at you, eyes silently pleading. Right. You did come here for a reason.

Awkwardly, you step forward and put a hand on his vast shoulder. “Look, sir, I pushed these two closer together so they-”

Abruptly, all at once, his turns his ire onto you. He to his feet, shaking your hand off him and taking full advantage of your height difference to stand over you, face dark. “You! This is your fault! You and your magic words, your bullshit power, and I ain’t standing for a lick of it-” He moves forward, his imposing aura pushing you back like a tidal wave. Even Indigo flinches.

“I thought you were her friend! Don’t you even care about her? Her future, the future of this family! Her real family, not some coked-up whatever-the-hell unholy union these two seem swell to drown themselves in-” Your friends watch nervously from the sidelines, Sully shrinking slightly into Indigo. Thanks, guys! You’re both great.

Mr. Moise rages into your face. “But no, you just care about you, and this pathetic boy with no future, no job, no nothing-”

Hands up in front of you defensively, you think fast. “I claim your opinion of Sully!”

Mr. Moise stops advancing and slowly straightens, his face suddenly cold. Sully clutches Indy’s arm while they both toss you wide-eyed ‘what are you doing’ stares. Best act now. “You feel the same way about him that your daughter does!”

For the first half-second after thos words leave your lips, time seems to slow. You manage to register the dad’s mouth closing and Sully gaping at you and all at once you realize your mistake and you really need to start thinking before you speak but at hey least you’re learning??

“Not the fucking-! ROMANTIC PARTS, YOU DON’T- You just-” Shitshitshitshit- “You think he’s fine!”

All the air has been swept out of the room. Mr. Moise has yet to start doing… any…thing...

Crisis partially averted?? KEEP TALKING YOU FUCKING IDIOT-

“You think he’s- fuck- that he good for her! That he can be good for her! For your daughter! That he’s fine and dandy and not a pathetic loser and that you see what she sees in him FROM A PURELY PERSONAL and PLATONIC PERSPECTIVE AND NOTHING ELSE and you think they can probably have a happy future together-” Why does this feel like tossing band-aids at a nuke?

You trail off, you and your friends both on edge, wondering what the big bad scary dad will do next. For a few short seconds, the pristine kitchen feels almost eerily still, long enough for you to wonder if you should start shoving your foot even further down your esophagus.

With an almost clinical calmness, Mr. Moise steps out towards Sullivan, and… sticks out his hand.

Confused, and still latched on to his girlfriend in fear of her father, Sully takes a moment to stare at it before placing his other hand in her father’s own beefy one. Mr. Moise gives it a single, almost violent shake. He claps Sully’s shoulder with the other, making him wince, the burly man’s face carved in something you think is supposed to be a smile?

“If this boy says you’re alright, then you’re alright, son. You have my blessing.”

Sullivan’s lanky arm is thrashed about as Indy’s father enthusiastically prolongs the handshake. “Um… thank you, sir…?”

Satisfied, Mr. Moise releases and turns to his daughter, eyes suddenly soft. “Honey, I-I’m sorry, I got carried away. It ain’t easy letting you… you know, make all your own choices, especially when they’re… hm.” He coughs into his fist.

Well this is an abrupt change. It’s like he forget what reason he even had to be angry in the first place.

A little taken aback, Indigo’s eyes flick to her boyfriend. “It’s… fine, Dad. You don’t…” She scuffs her foot against the linoleum floor. “I love you, and Mom, and it’s weird for me too, moving forward like this. But I was always eventually gonna grow up and out anyway.” She squeezes Sully’s arm, and he looks at her with a slightly dazed smile, which she returns. “Sully’s the biggest, brightest part of my future. And you’re my future too, but... it’s his turn, now.” Her voice is quiet as she interlocks fingers with Sullivan, staring at their joined hands in subtle wonder. “You and Mom have always taken care of me. Maybe a little too much. But now… that’s his job.”

Brain clearly having completely switched tracks, Mr. Moise outright guffaws. He punches Sullivan in the same shoulder, probably adding to the fresh bruise. “It better be! And he damn well better not half-ass it, either! This girl’s a firecracker, kid, you lucked out. I should know.”

Sully cracks another bewildered hint of a smile as Mr. Moise clears his throat again, looking back and forth between them. “Look, I might not always approve of every little thing you crazy kids do, but I want you both to be happy. If that means making this house sound like a barnyard all the time, then I can deal.”

Well that was easy.

Indy and Sully, hearts clearly brimming with sickly-sweet love and the official thumbs up from Dad, cup each other’s’ faces and lean in to share a long kiss. And you realize you might have just enabled their PDA even more. Maybe having free reign here means they’ll keep it mostly to this house. Thanks for taking one for the team, Mr. Moise.

Once the lovebirds pull away, and you and the dad can stop flicking ‘where are we supposed to be looking right now’ glances at each other, he clears his throat and nods at Sully. “Dr. K?”

What?

Sullivan’s eyes dart down to the bright orange 16 on his chest. Indigo retracts her hand from where it was resting atop it, confused. Sully lifts his head back up with a crooked grin. “Yessir. Best pitch in the league.”

Indy’s dad chuckles nostalgically. “That man was my idol as a kid. ‘Course, that was before he got into the nose candy…”

Sully shakes his head morosely. “Tale as old as time.”

The switch from being basically at war to spontaneous bro bonding over sports and the emotional whiplash therein is pretty evident on Indigo’s face. They’re getting along, but at what cost to her?

Now visibly more relaxed, Mr. Moise addresses his daughter. “Honey, d’you mind if I borrow your man for a bit? I wanna show him a thing or two in the backyard.”

Still bewildered, Indy just nods, mouthing the words ‘my man’ as she watches her dad and boyfriend wander out to the back, the former’s arm slung comradely around the latter’s shoulder. “You know, when I was your age, I pitched my school to a 2.39 ERA.”

Sully’s face lights up like a stadium at the chance to talk ball with another guy. “Holy shit, seriously?! What’s your-” Their chatter is cut off by the glass door sliding shut behind them.

Still in a slight daze, Indigo watches them go, her arms crossed around herself as she observes the two men in her life bond so effortlessly. You step up beside her. “So. Crisis averted?”

“Mm-hmm.” Indy murmurs quietly, her sparkling gaze locked on Sully’s face as he laughs heartily to a quip her father’s made. Like that face is her whole world.

This girl is in deep. In no small part thanks to you.

She nudges your shoulder gently. “Thank you. Honestly. Seeing them get along means everything to me. You have no idea.” Her eyes shine and her smile could move mountains.

You scratch your head. “Yeah, no problem.” Interpersonal problems can eat your ass. You are on fire today.

Indigo clears her throat and looks away. “So… We’ll see you on Wednesday?”

...What? Do you have some kind of regular set relationship therapy schedule now or something? Just what do they think you’ve signed up for? “Wait, what’s on Wednesday?”

She shifts weight from one foot to the other. “Oh. Um, Sully’s Mom is building her float for the parade, and she asked all of us to help? I figured you were going be part of it, I think your dad’s bringing the flowers, isn’t he?”

…Right. Fourth of July, duh. Sully’s mom works in car insurance, so any big event is an excuse to advertise. And she’s good friends with the local florist, AKA dear ol’ Dad, so…

First time the whole group will be in one place since the party. Second chance to exercise the whole of your abilities on all your friends at once. All under the banner of Independence Day fireworks and general patriotic mayhem. And under the eye of your dad.

Jane will be there. She probably couldn’t get out of helping her aunt even if she wanted to. Maybe you can take things a little further with your long-time crush, cosmic powers permitting. Maybe.

You’ll see Yu at some point, you assume. Community event, and all that. Big barbecues in the park and intermingling with the community. Sully and Indy will be there to help with the float, obviously, if they can tear away from each long enough to focus up.

And Pearl…

Is it weird that you’re scared to see her again? You may have her blatant nude, taken just for you, burning a hole in your back pocket (as if you’re gonna forget anytime soon), but after a day of being away from her…

Would she even be there? Of all your friends, she’s probably the least obligated to Sully. They tolerate each other at best. And she’s not exactly the big brash party type of gal. Maybe the point is null.

The last two times you both saw each other, things got… more sexual than you ever would have thought or intended. The first time was your fault, arguably the second time too, but at this point it’s like anytime you’re around each other you’re predisposed to give in and toy with every sexual thought that enters your heads. Like your bodies and souls yearn to cross every line and become one while your brains scream “but friendship!” in vain.

And if that happens again… you won’t be in the peace of her bedroom anymore. You’ll be around family, and friends, and families of friends, and throngs of people. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe that’s for the worst.

Maybe you’ll have to wait and see.

“…Yeah. I’ll be there.”

CONTACT: Unknown
Unknown: hey! Uh
Unknown: I literally don’t even know your name
Unknown: but you just dipped! When was I supposed to ask??
Unknown: hello??
Unknown: did you forget that we swapped numbers? With the whole…. number thing……… fiasco………………
Unknown: look the sex was fun even if you kinda had us do it in a
Unknown: weird place
Unknown: there are coffee grounds….
Unknown: in places
Unknown: that I don’t wanna talk about
Unknown: but that doesn’t solve my problems!!
Unknown: *doesn’t solve YOUR problems!!!!!
Unknown: okay it solved one problem but like what about all the others???
Unknown: ????????????????????????????????????????