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John, aiming for subtlety, did the dishes. Rodney, thinking subtlety was overrated, thank you very much, paced back and forth in the kitchen and kept checking his watch.
"Easy," John said softly, setting a mug in the drainer.
"Oh, yes, easy for you to say," Rodney snapped. "You with your – your words and your smirk and your . . . "
John looked over his shoulder with his eyebrow raised. "My words?"
"Like there's a situation you haven't been able to sweet talk your way out of!" Rodney said, adding a finger flourish, no doubt for emphasis.
John grabbed a towel and wiped his hands, turning to lean back against the sink. "What does my alleged ability to sweet talk hypothetical someones have to do with – "
"What if he crashes and burns?" Rodney said, vibrating.
"So he crashes and burns," John shrugged.
Rodney gaped at him. "He's our son."
"Yeah, and he's sixteen, and it's time he got to, you know, be sixteen, and that means crashing and burning from time to time."
Rodney folded his arms across his chest. "Well. That's . . . a dumb rule."
John smiled fondly and crossed the kitchen to nose Rodney's hair, just above his ear. "He'll do fine."
"She might hate him. They might have nothing to talk about. She might be a floozy who wants to go all the way the first time."
"Well hey, you know what they say, like father, like son . . ."
Rodney scowled at him. "Which father?"
John thought about it. "Pretty much both of us."
Rodney hmmphed.
"Look." John shifted to slide his arms around Rodney's uncooperative body. "It's a date. That's all. He's gonna do this a lot. He's gonna get his heart broken and he's not going to tell us how he's feeling because, Jesus, we raised him. But he'll work it out and I loaned him a shirt and he has condoms already."
Rodney spluttered, hands waving wildly. "What??"
"Better safe than sorry. And I bought the good kind, not the 300 for $3 from Costco."
Rodney made a range of noises previously not heard in nature. "I just – "
But there was the sound of footsteps on the stairs and, seconds later, Finn came bounding in, cowlick sticking straight up at the back of his head despite the obvious application of water and half of John's styling products. "God," he said, eyeing his parents. "Do you ever stop?"
John laughed. "No." He rummaged in his pocket for the car keys. "Back by midnight."
"Yeah, sure," Finn said, heading for the door.
"And don't!" Rodney blurted. "I mean – with the – just . . . have fun and – you know? And if you need, you have your phone and, um, be nice, and here – " Rodney pushed a twenty dollar bill into his hand. "Don't get syphilis."
Finn flashed him a crooked grin. "Sure, Dad. See ya, Baf." And he was gone.
"Beer?" John asked after a moment's silence.
"Yes," Rodney said weakly. "And a time machine."
John kissed his temple and went for the Fat Tire. The time machine was Rodney's business, after all.