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Stephen grunted as he took a punch right to the face, his head whipping to one side. Not enough to knock him down. Just enough to make his ears ring for a second (and make him grateful he’d taken his earrings and eyebrow piercing out) and straighten back up with a punch of his own.
He hit hard, his punch connecting. In the corner of his eye, he saw Ruby sitting between Faye and Nox in the stands, holding Faye’s wrist with her other hand covering her mouth. She was hard to miss with that bright red hair.
He couldn’t smile with his mouthguard in very well—and didn’t have the brain space to spare in the middle of a match anyway—but he felt delight join his adrenaline. He loved boxing, but he also liked putting on a show. In the back of the stands somewhere else, his parents were probably watching. His father had let him start taking boxing lessons because Richard convinced the old bastard that boxing would help Stephen become a man.
And technically he was right. Stephen was growing into a man more and more every time he stepped into the ring. But Richard had talked Stephen’s parents into letting him start up boxing because Stephen had been interested in it as a kid and didn’t think they’d let him. And because it gave Stephen a healthier way to channel his anger at the world into something slightly less self-destructive.
But his parents still came to some of his boxing matches. Especially this one. The circuit’s championship for his age group and weight class.
Stephen cared more about impressing Ruby and making Richard proud than he did making his parents proud. If he won this championship, it’d be for his friends. Not his parents.
He blocked a punch and took another one to the side that knocked the wind out of him for just a second. But he caught it fast and retaliated. He wasn’t getting knocked down that easily. And if he did get knocked down, he’d get back up again. He was just as stubborn as his old man in that regard. About the only good trait he’d inherited from his parents.
He lashed, his right cross connecting to his opponent’s face and sending him down onto the canvas of the ring. The ref started counting seconds while Stephen kept his form, bouncing on the balls of his feet just to stay prepared, but took the brief opportunity to get his breath back.
“KO!” the ref announced. He grabbed Stephen’s wrist and swung it up into the air. “Winner: Carlisle!”
For all that he wanted to retch at the family name he despised, Stephen smiled in satisfaction as Ruby’s scream was the first he heard, and pride at his win. Ruby, Faye, Richard, and Nox all leapt to their feet to clap.
—
Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!
The rhythm was familiar. Stephen was a drummer, not just a boxer. He tended to find his beat and then stick to it. The bag was heavy and barely swayed from the force of his impacts. He was keeping it light for the moment. Just a warmup set. He’d get more intense to vent his feelings in a bit.
The portable radio on the ground behind him was playing some stupid pop song, but he hadn’t been able to find a better station playing anything decent this late at night, and stupid pop was better than stewing in his thoughts in the silence.
“Had a feeling I’d find you here,” a voice said.
Stephen swore and spun around.
A combat boot with too many buckles clicked off the radio. Tight black pants with tears. A red leather vest with shoulder spikes worn over a black tank top. Upper arm bracelets. Arms crossed, all weight in one leg to cock one hip higher than the other. Gold-blonde hair, one side shaved. Multiple black metal piercings up the exposed ear. A strange lack of jewelry or makeup. Piercing green eyes boring right into him like every facet of his soul was bared.
Stephen set his wrapped hand over his heart. “You scared the hell outta me,” he said. His other hand reached behind him and stopped the punching bag from swaying. “What are you doing here, Faye?”
“Swung by your parents’ place first. Your bike was missing. So. Figured you only have two haunts and you wouldn’t be at the practice space without the rest of us. Hedged my bets that you’d be here.”
“Marshall gave me a key,” Stephen said, scooping his water bottle off the floor and spraying some of it into his mouth. “He knows what my life is like. He lives right upstairs. Told me I could come by on nights I needed to vent some frustration.” He picked up his towel too and mopped up a bit of the sweat that had started to accumulate on his hairline. “What are you doing here, Faye? You never answered my question.”
Faye’s head tilted just slightly to one side, considering him for a long moment. She ran her tongue over her bottom teeth. “I’m pregnant,” she said.
Stephen felt his heart stop. “Wh-what?” His eyes were wide and his mouth was open.
“Rich doesn’t know yet,” she continued. “No one does. Not even my mother. I want you to help me tell him, Steve.”
Stephen’s heart kicked back into gear, and went right into overdrive. “I-I—uh—u-uh? I—o-of course!” he stammered. “I’ll do whatever I can.” He staggered back a step, his back hitting the punching bag. He tried to run his hand through his hair but with his fingers wrapped they didn’t quite open as well as he wanted them to. “Oh, my God,” he whispered.
“And because I know what Rich will say, I’m going to give you some warning: we’re going to ask you to be the godfather.”
Stephen’s breath caught in his throat. “Faye, I… I’m not even eighteen yet.”
“You will be by the time the baby is born,” Faye remarked. “And I know Rich and I wouldn’t want anyone else to be our baby’s godfather and the best uncle ever.” She made a face, almost rolled her eyes, and dropped her crossed arms. She opened them up. “And despite the fact that you’re gross and sweaty, get over here.”
Stephen rushed across the three paces that separated them and scooped her up off the ground into a hug, burying his face in her arm to avoid the spikes on her vest. “Faye, I… congratulations!” He set her down. She hugged him properly. She was short enough that she could tuck her head under his chin and he held her there tight. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be a mom. I’m having a hard time imagining it, really.”
“Why?” Her voice sparked with fire and challenge.
“Just… imagining you talking to the other moms at preschool who are all wearing pastels and neutrals with perfectly-styled hair and light makeup. Tasteful, understated accessories. And then there’s you in all your heavy-eyeliner, spiked vest, side-shave punk glory.”
“I am pretty glorious,” Faye said with a smile in her voice.
“Damn right. But also… just… can’t imagine you ferrying some little blond kid to soccer games and—”
“Excuse you,” Faye snapped. “This is a hockey household, thank you very much.”
Stephen snorted. “Oh right. Of course. Yeah, that I can imagine, actually.”
“I started playing hockey when I was five. My kid can too.”
“Oh I know. And that’s gonna be the toughest damn kid on the rink, with you and Rich as their parents.”
Faye laughed. “Hell yeah.”
Stephen leaned back and looked down at her abdomen. Nothing to see yet, of course, but he felt excitement starting to zing in his blood. He looked up and met her eyes. “How do I help you tell Richard? What can I do?”
—
“Ooh! A private lesson, Violett?” Ruby teased, sliding out of her jacket as Stephen locked the door to the boxing gym behind them.
Stephen winked and jogged over to her. “Thought it might be fun.” He bent down and scooped up a punching bag, reaching up and hanging it off a hook on the metal frame support trusses of the ceiling. He let his duffel bag fall off his shoulder, running his callused hands up her bare arms. “God, your arms look good in a tank top,” he said softly. Appreciatively.
Ruby gave him a smirk. “Softball,” she said.
Stephen stripped off his hoodie. “Mmhmm,” he agreed.
Her eyes devoured him. She reached up and took his deltoids in either hand. “Don’t know why you’re complimenting my arms when yours are right here, baby,” she whispered.
Stephen looked away, almost surprised to find himself embarrassed. “H… here,” he said, unzipping the pocket of his duffel bag. “I got you some new hand-wraps. So they’d be clean. Lemme show you how to do them up.” He pulled out a set of pink hand-wraps and gave them to her, keeping his well-worn black ones for himself. He guided her through it, occasionally taking the wrap from her and correcting it gently.
Once both of them were safely wrapped up, he took his stance in front of the bag. “Like this. See my feet? You wanna stand with your left foot forward.”
Ruby copied.
“Tilt your foot a little. You wanna be solid but flexible and that’s gonna break your ankle.”
“Like this?”
“Perfect. There you go.” He struck the bag twice. “One, two. Left, right. Got it?”
She did too. “One, two.”
He smiled and left his spot, stepping up behind her. He set his hands on her hips. “You gotta rotate a little through here,” he said softly, bent a little closer to her ear. “Try it again.”
She did, and he used his hold on her hips to move them through her motions.
“See? Feel that?”
“Uh… uh-huh,” she agreed.
He smiled. “Good.” He let go. “Try again?”
“I don’t know, handsome, might need a little more guidance on my stance,” she remarked.
He chuckled and slotted himself up against her from behind. He ran his hands down her arms. “This is the better angle to punch from,” he said, subtly fixing her elbows by holding her wrists. “And when you go forward, you wanna roooootate your hands so your palms are facing the floor when you make contact.” He curled his hands over hers as he slowly demonstrated a punch. “And you wanna hit with your first two knuckles. Otherwise you’ll break your ring finger and pinky.” He kissed behind her ear as he spoke, pretending not to notice the way she shuddered. “And then… back to center.” A kiss to the back of her neck, nudging her curly braid aside, and he stepped back. “Got it?”
She struck twice.
“Flawless. Of course,” he praised.
—
“Are you actually insane, Dad?” Gem demanded, arms crossed and looking cross. “You are not actually thinking about doing this.”
“I am.”
“Dad! You’re gonna get yourself caught!”
“I promise I won’t, Gem,” Stephen replied.
“Oh yeah? So, what? You don’t think all your old boxing buddies aren’t gonna suddenly realize that’s Impulse in the ring?”
“It’s just a small bracket for my coach’s retirement party. He was a twenty-something when I was a teenager and he was the first man at that gym who really believed I had something in me when it came to boxing. I owe him everything. I can do a for-fun tournament with former students. And I’ll even throw a match so no one assumes it’s Impulse in the ring.”
Gem raised a hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Dad. This is such a bad idea. Do you not see that?”
“Oh I do. But it’s just the gym. This isn’t part of the boxing circuit. This is just for fun. And it’ll be nice to go back to the old gym again. You and Pearl don’t have to come watch if you don’t want. But I’m going to participate and I’d like it if you two came to see.”
Gem took a deep breath. “You gonna invite Tango too?”
“I was planning on it.”
“Fine. Just… don’t do anything stupid.”
“Why do you think I’m inviting you and your sister? Someone’s gotta keep me accountable.”
“You invite Tango to keep you accountable. You invite us to enable you to be worse.”
Stephen laughed. “You’re not entirely wrong.” He reached out and gathered his daughter to his side. “Come on. Come keep me company in the kitchen while I get started on dinner and we wait on your sister.”
“Fine,” Gem said with a dramatic, fake sigh.
—
Being back in the ring was weird. How long had it been? Approaching thirty years now since the last time he was in any sort of proper boxing match? Eons and yet seconds at the same time.
He wasn’t the only former student who’d elected to participate with a T-shirt on. He hadn’t wanted all his Impulse scars on display. He was, however, in the best shape for his age group. Not that he was surprised by that. Considering the rest of his life? It’d be stranger if he wasn’t.
On the front row of the bleachers that got pulled out in the gym for sparring night, Gem and Pearl sat beside Tango and Jimmy, the latter two holding hands. Stephen could see Tango’s wedding ring flash off the lights when he raised it to cheer. “Go Uncle Steve!” Gem, Pearl, and Jimmy whooped in agreement. Seeing Tango with a faux-hawk similar to Faye’s side-shave sitting next to voluminous red curls was almost like old times. Apart from the collared button-down shirt Tango was wearing, trying to look less like Deepfrost.
Stephen bounced on the balls of his feet. He felt simultaneously like the teenager he’d been when he spent most of his time in the ring, and the villain he’d been for the last almost-thirty years. His fire was burning merrily under his skin. Perfectly controlled. Not to be released at all tonight.
The bell on the ring ding!ed. “Fight!” the ref announced.
Stephen snapped his stance into place and wasted no time throwing the first punch.