Simple Physics

Chapter 4 - Interference

Red, blue, green, white—pink? —Tucker frowned as he thumbed through his wardrobe, pausing at a faded, Easter-pink button-up he never before knew he owned. Mother must have snuck it in on him while he wasn’t looking. Sighing, he pushed past it. Seriously, what the hell did one wear to a not-a-date movie date with a football player on Friday night? Green matched his eyes, but his glasses made it nearly impossible to tell. Blue was too dark. Pink was absolutely out of the question. Frustrated, he rubbed the back of his neck and shut his eyes.

If it wasn’t even a date, did it even make sense to worry?

“Blee-beep!” his PDA called to him from his pocket, and Tucker fished it out, pushing aside his fashion woes for the time being in favor of his mysterious caller. As soon as he glanced to the screen, though, he groaned.

“White, green, and black,” it read, and Tucker instantly scanned his room.

“Danny,” he scolded, “where are you? Can’t you ever just knock like a normal person?”

“Aww,” the spectral voice of his best friend originated from somewhere by his window, and Tucker turned to face it, searching for any sign of movement to further betray his location. He found none. “But, Tucker,” Danny whined, somewhere near his bed now, still nothing more than a bodiless voice, “that takes all the fun out of it. Besides,” A cold chill swept through Tucker, something like stepping into an unexpected winter fog, and he suppressed a shiver, shutting his eyes as, moments, later, a very tangible, very real Daniel Fenton solidified behind him, grinning ridiculously as he propped his chin on Tucker’s shoulder and said seriously, “I’m not a normal person.”

“Fancy that,” murmured Tucker, eyes still shut. “I never would have guessed.”

“Hm.” Danny’s hum sent warm air whispering across his goosebumped flesh. “You smell good,” Danny informed him, “like…soap and hot water. Can I take this showered state and frantic wardrobe search to mean that Tucker Foley finally got himself a date?”

Though sorely tempted to retort, Tucker forced himself to ignore the question. “Hot water has a smell?” he asked instead. Anything to get Danny off the subject of dates—and hopefully off his neck, too, because tonight he had a deal to settle with Dash, and as non-romantic, non-date-like an occasion as it was, it still wouldn’t do to be dreaming up lascivious, never-will-happen-in-a-million-years fantasies about phantom superheroes the whole time.

“Yes,” said Danny, matter-of-factly, “it usually smells like soap.”

Tucker resisted the urge to groan. “Danny, really, what are you doing here?”

“Me? Why, I thought that was obvious.” Finally, finally, Danny got off his neck, and Tucker thought he might collapse from relief. “Your fashion sense is absolutely atrocious,” said Danny, sauntering to Tucker’s closet and surveying the selection with the air of a practiced merchant on the lookout for the only the best of the best, “So, naturally, being the well-renowned good-deed-doer that I am…I decided to lend you my keen eye for such things. Unless of course,” Danny paused with his hands on a pristine, snow-white turtleneck, “you don’t want to loose your virginity tonight?”

Tucker flopped back onto his bed with all the abounding grace of a rucksack tossed on a baggage lane and glared up at the ceiling, shamelessly blaming it for his every teenage quandary. “You and I,” he grumbled, “both know I’m not a virgin.”

Still in his closet, Danny shrugged. “ I s’pose it depends on your definition,” he admitted, “but…unless you’ve been engaging in scandalous acts I have yet to be made aware of…” Suddenly, Tucker became vividly aware of a strong sense of irking vulnerability associated with lying flat on your back while someone loomed anywhere between three and five feet above you—in mid-air—staring down at you like some all-powerful overlord or god, or—then, Danny drifted down to sit, cross-legged, on the bed beside him, and Tucker felt better. “You’re still a virgin by my definition.”

“Oh?” said Tucker, knowing he should just drop the subject and wishing he could, “And why is that?”

“Because,” Danny said quietly, leaning over him and hovering so close Tucker felt his breath on his face and the warmth of his body heat and, “you’ve never been fucked, have you, Tucker?”

Somehow, Tucker thought answering cognitively might have been easier if it weren’t for the fact that he was prone on his bed, pinned under and staring helplessly up at the first person he’d ever kissed, the only person he’d ever fallen in love with, and the one person in the world he knew for sure he could never ever have because Danny was in love with Sam, and Sam was in love with Danny, and Danny was straight—deep down—and Tucker knew that, and he respected that, but it really did nothing to keep him from dreaming and wishing he was going to the theatre with Danny tonight instead of Dash and that Sam would up and disappear from the world as they knew it and they could both just live happily ever after and—

“You haven’t, have you?” Danny prompted worriedly, apparently misinterpreting Tucker’s mingled expression for something else entirely.

Drawn from his daze, and Tucker frowned. “Oh,” he said, “no.” He looked away. “No, I haven’t.”

Danny grinned. “Good,” he said. And then he went intangible, phasing through Tucker and the mattress like water through a sieve and landing with a thud on the floor beneath the bed a moment later. Tucker was ninety-nine percent sure Danny’s lips had passed through his on the way down—and ninety-eight percent sure he had done it on purpose. Swearing, Tucker rolled to the side of his bed and sat up, pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to banish a headache.

“Did you break up with Sam again?” he asked after a moment.

Under the bed, Danny shuffled slightly, then coughed, probably stirring up dust with his movement. “Why?” he mumbled eventually, the indistinct question only further muffled by his secluded position.

Because you only bother with me when Sam won’t bother with you, Tucker thought sourly. A moment later, he groaned guiltily. “Because…I…” He shook his head and sighed. “Never mind. I guess I was just wondering, is all.”

A long pause followed, proceeded by, “I’ve never broken up with Sam, Tucker. You know that.”

Oh. Right. Tucker walked to his closet. Danny never broke up with Sam; Sam broke up with Danny. Why the hell anyone with half a brain would ever dream of breaking up with Danny, Tucker couldn’t fathom, but that was always how it happened. He thumbed through his wardrobe, not even glancing at the contents.

“Sorry,” he said. “I forgot.”

“It’s alright,” said Danny, “I forgive you.” The second part of the sentence came from directly behind him, and Tucker’s fingers trembled as he traced over the turtle-neck Danny had picked out earlier, fighting so hard not to lean back—just a little—and succumb to the heat of Danny’s body. “Don’t wear that one,” Danny murmured, and Tucker blinked, dropping his hand.

“Why not?” he asked.

“Because,” warm breath teased Tucker’s throat as Danny stepped forward, bringing his chest up flat against Tucker’s, “it’ll cover your neck.”

“Oh,” Tucker breathed, swallowing dizzily, “okay.”

For ten precious seconds, they stood like that, unmoving. Then, Danny asked, “When does your date get here?” and Tucker shook himself back into reality.

“I’m…umm…it’s…fuck.” Tucker pulled away from Danny, knowing he’d never get anywhere otherwise and rubbing his neck as he fought to clear his head. “It’s not…officially…a date, really,” he said finally. “It’s more of a…planned outing.” Danny raised an eyebrow. “I’m meeting them there. That is, we’re not going together. But we’ll be there together, obviously…when we get there…I mean…but…it’s not like it’s…well…” Tucker’s words trailed off and he frowned, rather unsatisfied with the way that had turned out.

Smiling in an unforgivably knowing way, Danny rolled his eyes and dragged out a pair of dark jeans from Tucker’s closet. “I thought you didn’t date guys, Tucker?” he teased, and Tucker’s cheeks went dark, glasses nearly falling off as he scrambled to catch the pants that came flying at him a moment later.

“I don’t,” he insisted, though he had to admit to himself it wasn’t very convincing as he fumbled to resituate himself, shifting the jeans to one arm and shoving his glasses back into place with the other. “And, what makes you assume it’s a guy anyway?”

Danny snorted. “Honestly, Tucker, how dumb do you think I am?” Tucker decided it was probably a rhetorical question. “First, you’re blushing like the Virgin Mary staring down a dildo. Second, no guy gives two-pence about what he wears on a date with a girl because it’s his job to do the seducing there, not look worthy of being seduced, and third…if it were a girl, Tuck, you would have told me every detail by now, recounting everything from the smell of her perfume to the color of her nail polish, and the very first thing I would have heard…was a name. I have no name, no details, and not only have you avoided even admitting it’s a date, but you’ve also carefully managed not to specify a gender one way or the other.”

Point taken, Tucker thought begrudgingly.

“So, that being said,” Danny tossed him a shirt and jacket, and this time, Tucker caught them smoothly, “who’s the lucky guy?”

Tucker poked at the jacket collar. “Does really it matter?”

Danny looked up. “Of course it matters.”

Tucker frowned. “Why? I mean…it’s really nothing serious, Danny, I swear. It’s just…it’s practically nothing. Why do you care?”

Danny studied him. “Because I do care, Tucker,” he said finally, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Because I care about you and what happens to you and…I’d never forgive myself if…” He trailed off, pursing his lips with a dissatisfied expression, then ultimately finished with, “I just don’t want you to get hurt, okay?”

Tucker observed the display curiously. “Always the hero,” he murmured finally.

“Tucker-” Danny objected, but Tucker cut him off.

“Look, I promise not to do anything stupid. Okay, Danny? I hardly foresee any danger, but if things head seriously downhill, I’ll pull out. I’m taking my own car,” His mom’s car, technically, but that was beside the point, “and I’m bringing my cell. It’ll be a populated theatre in a lighted mall and…I know how to take care of myself. If it makes you feel better, I’ll leave my cell on, and promise to call you if anything goes wrong, alright?”

Danny blushed. It was kind of cute, actually. “You promise?”

“Yeah,” said Tucker, “I promise.”

“Um…okay. Well…I guess I should let you go then…but Tucker?”


“You…you know I’m not jealous, right?”

Jealous? What reason could Danny possibly have to be jealous? Danny had everything. And yet, Tucker couldn’t imagine why he’d even mention it unless… “Yeah. Right,” he said, suddenly not so sure.

“Good,” said Danny. “Oh, and one more thing…”


“You need to change out of those clothes anyway, right?”

“Er…” Something told him he wasn’t going to like where this was going. “I…guess…so…but, Danny, what-” But Danny was already standing before him, lifting a hand to touch his forehead, and before he could object, a chilly, tingling feeling swept Tucker’s body, turning him momentarily intangible. It took him several seconds to realize Danny had neglected to do the same for his clothes, and all but his boxers had phased through his insubstantial body to the floor below in a moment’s notice. Instantly, heat flooded his face, but by the time he managed to open his mouth, Danny was already sinking through the floor.

“Have fun, Tucker,” he said, and then, he was gone.

Left alone in his room, Tucker scowled and stepped out of the hapless heap on his floor, muttering, “Show-off,” to no one in particular before proceeding to dress in the outfit Danny had laid out.

Twenty minutes later found him downstairs and dressed with wallet in hand, snatching the car keys from a hook beside the door on his way out. His mother’s call of “Tucker, is that you?” caught him halfway into closing it behind him, and he cursed, seconds from freedom. Sighing, he stepped back into the house.

“Yeah,” he said. “I was heading to the mall.” He fingered the keys in his palm, listening to them clink. “Can I borrow the car?”

“Baby, why…what are you doin’ going to the mall at this hour?” his mother asked, puzzled, walking out of the kitchen with her hands wrapped in a dishtowel. “Are Sam and Danny going too? And-” She stopped—so abruptly, in fact, that Tucker took an uncertain step forward, concerned. Then, she hastily tossed the dishtowel back in the kitchen. “Tucker, honey, don’t you move a muscle…I’ll be right back.” And with that, she disappeared, scurrying off down the hall and leaving Tucker clueless at the front door.

After a few moments of listening to his mother scramble, mumbling and muttering as drawers opened and closed, she finally reemerged, and Tucker got a sinking feeling in his stomach as she approached, eying her right hand warily. Even from a distance it looked like…and as she drew closer it looked even more like…and when she finally arrived his face became several shades paler because it now seemed undeniable that his mother was actually bringing him-

Condoms?” Tucker squeaked, beyond mortified. “Mom…this isn’t…I’m not…I wasn’t even…”

“Just in case, honey,” she soothed. “Better safe than sorry.”

“But,” Tucker stuttered, “you don’t understand…it’s…I…” His cheeks and neck burned as his mother stubbornly pressed the gold plastic wrappers into his palm, and he gave her a desperate, forlorn look. “Do I really need four?”

His mother shrugged. “If you’re anything like your father…”

Tucker went a sort of sickly pale, brown-green color, and nearly tripped over his own feet in an attempt to half-run backwards out the front door. His mother waved cheerily as he fled to the car, and he grimaced, still trying to clear the unwanted images from his head as he stuffed the key in the ignition and pulled on his seat belt. A cynical part of him wondered if she’d said that just to ruin his sex drive, and therefore remove the need for those “just in case” condoms. Somehow, he doubted it. Even his parents weren’t that naïve.

He spent the five-minute drive to the mall flipping through radio stations and trying hard not to think about his mother, or the condoms, or Danny, or what his breath smelled like, or what Dash would look like when he got there. All in all, he thought he did a pretty crappy job. He needn’t have worried, though. When he pulled into a parking spot outside the mall and stepped out, it took no effort to locate Dash, propped up against a pillar by the front entrance, hands in his pockets and blonde head tilted back in lazy repose, and with that one look, Tucker forgot about just about everything—except, unfortunately, the condoms.

In fact, something about looking at Dash made it frustratingly difficult to think about anything but those annoying, square pieces of gold-wrapped plastic now shoved deeply into the far reaches of his back pocket, and as Tucker approached his unofficial, movie-going companion, he wondered if his mother might have known more about teenage male hormones than he’d given her credit for.



This free website was made using Yola.

No HTML skills required. Build your website in minutes.

Go to and sign up today!

Make a free website with Yola