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Setting up camp with the dads was boring, so Lark and Sparrow slipped away.
They raced down a riverbank shouting each other’s names. They leaned over the river’s edge and tried to catch fish with their bare hands. Sparrow got something by the tail, but it slipped away. Lark thought he’d got one, but his hand closed instead around something metallic and umoving. He tugged at it, but it only came a fraction looser.
“Brother,” said Lark. “I’ve found something!”
Sparrow reached in and gripped the item with him. They jiggled it and heaved and then together pulled from the river a long, rusty sword, its hilt covered in runes.
“Yesssss!” Sparrow yelled, brandishing the blade. He held the hilt out toward Lark. “You try it, Brother.”
Lark slashed at a nearby bush. Twigs and leaves flew to the ground. “It’s perfect. We shall keep it forever!”
They were taking turns attacking branches and roots when Lark heard heavy footfalls. “Enemies are approaching,” he cried to Sparrow, who had the sword. “Defend us!”
Sparrow held the sword in front of him and took his best defensive posture. The enemies came closer.
“Boys!” a voice called. “Golly jeepers were we worried about you. What the heck are you doing all the way out here?”
Oh. It was their father.
“Hello, Father,” said Sparrow, not letting down the sword.
“Lark, Sparrow.” Stumbling behind their father, out of breath, came Grant’s dad, Darryl Wilson. “Sparrow, put that sword down and answer your old man. What are you two doing out here?”
“What does it look like we’re doing, Father?” said Lark.
“It looks like you’re playing with a dangerous weapon,” their father said. “With—are those runes? Is this a magic sword? Boys, do you even know what that sword does?”
“It cuts branches,” said Lark.
“And people!” added Sparrow.
Their father gave a dramatic sigh. “And what have we discussed about cutting people?”
“Only when we’re eighteen, and only with consenting adults,” Lark and Sparrow intoned together.
Darryl Wilson made a face like he’d just inhaled a bug. “Wait, what?”
Their father sighed again, even more loudly. Even for him, he sounded extra uptight. “Well, some people do certain socially-frowned-upon things as part of their spiritual, or even romantic, rituals. And when you’re an adult, you can decide for yourself—”
“Father,” Sparrow groaned.
“Gross,” said Lark.
“Look,” said their father, “the point is, it’s very dangerous for you boys to run around with a magic sword.”
“We live for danger!” said Lark.
“That sword could be cursed,” said their father. “What if using that sword means you can’t ever use a sword again, even when you’re adults?”
Sparrow looked at Lark. Lark looked back at him.
“What if it means you can’t protect each other, even if something were to happen where you’d need to?”
The boys kept looking at each other.
Darryl Wilson spoke. “Hey Henry, don’t you know some things about magic? Couldn’t you look at the sword and see if you can figure out what it does?”
“Oh, right,” their father said, and gave Darryl a look that at first neither boy could place. “That’s a great idea, Darryl. Boys, let me take a look at that sword.”
And then it did hit them, Sparrow first, Lark a moment later. This was the look their father sometimes gave their mother when the two of them held hands under a particularly colorful sunset. This was the look their father had started giving Fawnlight Moondrink, their mother’s spiritual coach, a month or two before their parents and Fawnlight had moved toward a new level of intimacy. It was the look their father had given Darryl Wilson himself in Neverwinter, when—though both boys cringed to remember it—their father and Darryl had kissed, and started stripping themselves naked.
Their father wanted to kiss Darryl Wilson again. Sparrow passed him the sword like a hot potato, hoping to erase the thought from his father’s mind, and his brother’s, and his own.
Their father studied the runes on the sword’s hilt and murmured something that sounded like hot dice. He turned the sword in his hands, frowning. A few moments later, he shook his head. “No idea,” he said. “Boys, I’m going to have to hold onto this for now.”
Still remembering the kiss, the boys reluctantly agreed.
“Our dad wants to kiss Darryl Wilson,” Sparrow said to Lark when they’d returned to the camp and had some privacy.
“I know,” Lark said, and shuddered.
“Our dad has our sword,” Sparrow said.
Lark balled his hands into fists. “We will take it back.”
“We will,” Sparrow said. “Unless...”
“Unless?”
“Unless we can make him give it back.”
Lark grinned at his brother. “I’m listening.”
“Our dad wants to kiss Darryl Wilson,” Sparrow said again. “Our dad did kiss Darryl Wilson once, but not, it seems, again.”
“He would have told us,” Lark agreed. “There would have been—”
The boys spoke in unison. “A family meeting.”
Sparrow thought of Fawnight Moondrink, how their parents had sat them down in the kitchen to tell them about their new level of intimacy. How their father had made buckwheat-date cookies to celebrate, and the cookies had stuck in their teeth for what seemed like days. “So there’s something he wants. If we give it to him...”
Lark nodded. “He will give us the sword back!”
They found Darryl at his grill.
“Our dad wants to kiss you,” Lark said, with no preamble. “We think you should do it.”
Darryl very nearly dropped the burger he was flipping. “What?”
“You did it before,” Lark pointed out. “In Neverwinter.”
Darryl flipped another burger. It steamed and sizzled. “Boys, that’s not... I mean...”
“He’s extra grumpy,” Sparrow explained. “If you kissed him, he’d stop being grumpy and give us our sword back.”
“Oh,” said Darryl, “this is about the sword.”
“It is about our father,” said Lark.
Darryl flipped the burgers, then turned and frowned at Lark and Sparrow. “Boys, who your father does or doesn’t want to kiss is really none of your business.”
“Incorrect!” Lark exclaimed. “You did it in front of us. In broad daylight.”
Darryl’s cheeks turned bright red. “That was… We thought you were the Lord of Chaos.”
Lark grinned at Sparrow. Sparrow grinned back. “We are the Lord of Chaos.”
Darryl gave a nervous laugh. “Okay, sure, yeah, you two are little rascals.”
“Are you scared to kiss him?” Lark asked.
“Boys,” Darryl said again. He made his voice stern, as if he thought he was in charge. “I’m going to say this again. “Who your father kisses, or wants to kiss, is none of your business.”
“Incorrect again,” said Lark. “He kissed our mother’s spirit buddy or whatever and told us all about it.”
“Your mother and I love each other very much,” Sparrow intoned, “but we also have a special relationship, blah blah blah.”
Darryl’s eyes were wide. “Wait, really?”
“Really what?” asked Sparrow.
“Your dad went out with someone who wasn’t your mom and that was just... that was cool?”
“Yup. It’s called—”
The boys singsonged the phrase together. “Ethical non-monogamy!”
“Huh,” Darryl said, turning back to the grill. “Well, uh, okay boys, that’s probably too much information, right?” He gave another awkward chuckle. “Why don’t you two go let everyone know burgers are ready?”
The boys looked at each other.
“We’ll go,” said Lark.
“Think on what we’ve told you,” said Sparrow.
They left Darryl and ran around the campsite yelling “MEAT!”
After dinner, they went to their father.
“Father,” said Lark. “You should definitely kiss Darryl Wilson.”
Their father’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“He likes you,” said Sparrow. “He got all red and jittery when we brought it up.”
“You brought it up to—” their father sighed. “Oh, boys, I wish you would have asked me before talking to someone else about… Boys, kissing is very personal. Sometimes you have to give people space to kiss or… not kiss.. when they’re ready.”
“Would you have brought it up?” Lark asked.
Their father frowned. “Gee, I don’t know. You know, kissing’s very personal for me too. Maybe I needed some space myself.”
“You already kissed him,” Sparrow pointed out. “In front of us.”
Their father sighed again. “Well, that’s a good point, Sparrow, that did happen. But I think maybe there’s a reason it hasn’t happened again.”
“Cowardice?” Lark suggested.
“No,” their father said, a little too quickly. “Look, boys, you know that your mother and I have a beautiful relationship where we love each other very much and sometimes we love other people very much too.”
Lark and Sparrow looked at each other and grimaced. “Uh-huh.”
“Well, I don’t think Darryl and Carol have that same kind of relationship.”
Lark’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
“Well, you’re right, Lark,” their father said. “I don’t know for sure.”
“You could ask him,” said Lark.
Their father sighed. “Oh, I don’t know, boys, it might just make things awkward.”
“Okay, we’ll ask him!”
“Lark, Sparrow,” their father said. “I am asking you to please respect my privacy.”
The boys exchanged a look. Lark grinned. “Okay,” Lark said, “we won’t ask him.”
Their father looked suspicious, but he didn’t question them. “Well, thank you, boys,” he said slowly. “I appreciate your respect.”
“You’re welcome!” Lark and Sparrow said together, and then they dashed away.
They found Paeden by the water, sharpening sticks.
“Here’s the thing,” Paeden said, when they’d explained the situation. “I don’t know if I can help you.”
“There’s a sword at stake,” Lark reminded him. “We’d let you borrow it.”
“I’m aware of the sword,” Paeden said. “I’m hungry for the sword. The problem is, we’re talking about love. If you’d asked me a fighting orphans question, or a reabsorbing your own piss question, I’d be all over it. But love? Kissing? Nah, that’s not Paeden’s thing.”
Lark glowered at him. “But Darryl Wilson is your thing.”
Paeden nodded. “Darryl is my son.”
“We just need to know,” said Sparrow, “whether your son can kiss our father.”
Paeden’s brow furrowed in concentration. “One question,” he said. “Do you want him to kiss your father?”
“We told you,” said Lark.
“There’s a sword,” said Sparrow.
Paeden held up a hand. “I know about the sword. But if you just want to do a sword heist, we can do a sword heist. You’re making it about kissing. Why?”
Lark and Sparrow looked at each other. Kissing was gross. Their father kissing Darryl Wilson had been gross the first time, and it would be gross if it happened again. But like, regular dad gross, not barefoot faux-monk who didn’t wash his hair for spiritual reasons gross.
Lark spoke first. “You tell no one this or we hunt you down, understand?”
Paeden grinned. “I’m where secrets go to die, baby.”
“Good,” said Lark. The boys looked at each other again.
Finally, Sparrow said, “We don’t… hate… Darryl Wilson.”
“He likes cooking meat,” said Lark.
“And wearing a shirt,” Sparrow added. They both shuddered, remembering Fawnlight Moondrink standing in their kitchen in nothing but flowing drawstring pants.
“Our father likes him,” said Lark.
“And we like our father,” said Sparrow. “Mostly.”
“If they were to kiss,” said Lark, “it wouldn’t be terrible.”
“We wouldn’t like it,” said Sparrow. “But we wouldn’t put slugs in his morning tea while his back was turned.”
“Or razor blades in his sandals.” Lark added with a grin.
Paeden nodded slowly. “Okay, yeah, yeah, I gotcha.” He trailed off and thought for a moment. “So here’s what I’m thinking. You said he got nervous when you talked about this Fawndrink guy?”
Lark and Sparrow nodded.
“Darryl gets nervous sometimes,” Paeden said. “Maybe it means he’s open to ethical whatever, maybe it doesn’t. But it might. I’ll work on him.”
“You’d better,” said Lark.
“We’ll be watching,” added Sparrow.
“Don’t you worry.” Paeden flexed an arm and pointed to himself with his thumb. “Paeden’s got this.”
Lark and Sparrow watched Paeden walk to Darryl Wilson’s side of the camp, but watching was boring, so they played ninja to pass the time. They saw Darryl and Paeden talking. They saw Paeden clap a fatherly arm around Darryl’s waist. They saw Darryl take out his ancient Nokia and speak to someone for a long time, Paeden giving an occasional thumbs up. They saw Darryl put the phone away and Paeden give him a high-five. They saw the pair of them walk towards Lark and Sparrow’s father together. Finally, what seemed like hours later, their father approached them with Darryl beside him.
“Lark, Sparrow.” Their father had a huge, goofy smile on his face. “Darryl and I are going to go take a walk together. Can we trust you to listen to the other dads while we’re gone?”
Lark and Sparrow looked at each other. “Certainly, Father,” said Lark.
“We’ll listen to the other dads just like we listen to you,” said Sparrow.
Their father looked concerned for a moment, but Darryl reached for his hand and the goofy smile returned.
“But,” said Lark, and their father’s face clouded again. “We will need our sword back.”
“Your what?” Their father was still holding Darryl’s hand. “You mean that wacky old thing you two pulled out of the river, with all that kooky writing on the handle?”
“The most beautiful and sharpest sword in all the land!” said Sparrow.
“We’ll need it,” Lark said, “to defend the camp while you’re gone.”
“You want us to be safe, don’t you, Father?” asked Sparrow.
“Darn tootin’ right I want you to be safe,” their father said, which was promising. “You’re my two beautiful boys. But the sword itself could be unsafe. I mean, we still don’t even know what kind of magic it does.”
Lark grinned, showing teeth. “Only one way to find out.”
There was a tinny ringing sound. Darryl pulled his Nokia out of his pocket. “Hello, Darryl Wilson here.”
The voice on the other end was loud enough for everyone in the group to hear. “Well, actually,” it said, “there are at least five ways.”
Darryl frowned at his phone. “What?”
An exasperated sigh crackled through the phone speaker. “There are at least five ways to find out what kind of magic the sword does.”
Darryl covered the phone speaker with his hand. “It’s Well Actually. He thinks he knows something about the sword.”
Another exasperated sigh. “I don’t know anything about the sword. All I said was there are ways you could find out about the sword without giving it to two out-of-control children.”
Darryl moved his hand from the speaker. “Okay,” he said, “like how.”
“Like Henry could do another arcana check, for one.”
Darryl looked at Lark and Sparrow’s father. “Another what?” he asked, but their father was nodding. He pulled the sword from the pack on his back and studied the hilt again. When he looked up from the hilt, he seemed, for once, less stressed. He gave Darryl a thumbs up, and Darryl got off the phone.
“Boys,” their father said, “I’m going to let you have this sword.”
“Yessssssssssss!” Lark jumped up and down, chanting sword sword sword, and Sparrow joined him.
“Do you boys want to know what kind of magic the sword does?” their father asked.
“Nope!” said Lark.
“Don’t care!” said Sparrow.
“Come on now, boys,” Darryl said, in his coach voice. “What if that sword did something totally cool, like shoot lasers, and you didn’t even know because you didn’t listen to your father?”
Lark stopped chanting. “Does it shoot lasers, Father?”
“It does something even cooler than shoot lasers,” said their father.
“Fire?” said Lark.
“Grenades?” asked Sparrow.
“No,” said their father. “It’s a sword of protection.”
Lark and Sparrow looked at each other.
“Isn’t that cool?” asked their father. “Lark, if you use that sword to protect Sparrow, it gets even more powerful. And Sparrow, if you use it to protect Lark, same thing.”
“That’s not cooler than lasers,” said Lark.
“But we accept it,” said Sparrow. He held his hands out for the sword, and he and his brother whooped for joy when their father passed it to him.
* * *
Lark, Sparrow, and Paeden took turns attacking a large tree.
“For Sparrow!” yelled Lark, relishing the extra power of the sword’s protection magic.
“For Lark!” yelled Sparrow.
“For Darryl!” yelled Paeden.
Glenn and Ron, apparently taking their kid-watching duties seriously for once, sat nearby.
“So Henry’s a swinger,” Glenn said, stroking his chin. “Damn, that dude’s cooler than I thought.”
“Too bad there aren’t any swings around,” Ron said, sounding melancholy.
Eventually, Henry and Darryl returned from their walk, still holding hands. “Boys, dads,” said Henry. “Darryl and I have something to share with you about some new developments in our friendship.”
“Do we really, Henry?” Darryl was blushing. “I mean, some things are more private, right?”
Paeden grinned. “Did you kiss him, son?”
Darryl blushed even harder. “I mean, yeah, that’s kinda obvious, isn’t it.” He gave a nervous laugh.
“Boys, dads,” Henry began. “Darryl and I...”
Lark and Sparrow sat down on the ground. This was going to be a long, boring, probably kind of gross announcement, but at least it was about a guy they didn’t hate. Lark held the sword out to Sparrow, and Sparrow took hold of the hilt with him. Power, they mouthed to each other, and then they settled in to ignore as much of their father’s speech as possible.