Nero ducked as Yazoo threw yet another shirt out of the closet. The younger brother gazed around his bedroom floor, which had been littered with ten shirts and five pairs of pants. Yazoo emerged from the closet, holding up two hangers, looking between them. He rolled his eyes, turning to face his brother.

"Do you have anything besides black?"

"I like black."

Yazoo sighed, arms dropping to his sides. "Nero, darling, you're going on a date. Your first date. You cannot, I repeat, cannot wear dingy dark colors."

"What's wrong with dark colors?"

"What isn't wrong with dark colors?" Yazoo countered.

"I am Nero the Sable."

"That was the old you. You're Nero Valentine now. And no brother of mine is going on his first date wearing black."

Yazoo's eyes lit up and he gasped. Nero swallowed, not liking the look in his brother's eyes.

"When is your date?"

"He's picking me up at seven."

Yazoo checked the clock. "One o'clock. Six hours. Perfect!"

"What's perfect?"

"We're going shopping!"

Nero's heart dropped into the pit of his stomach. "Oh crap."


Nero didn't know which was worse: The fact that he had a date, or that Yazoo had pulled him to five stores in the last ten minutes and he still didn't have any new clothes. Nero checked his watch. He hoped he would be able to get away with his black shirt and pants if Yazoo didn't find what he was looking for. Unfortunately, his hopes were dashed when his brother let out a squeal of delight and rushed over to a clothing rack.

"Oh my goddess! Yes!"

Yazoo rummaged through the clothes and pulled out a pair of pants.

"Oh hell no!" Nero declared.

"Yes!"

"No!"

"What's wrong with them?"

"They're white!"

"And that's why they're perfect."

"I don't wear white."

"You do now. Here. Try these on."

Yazoo shoved the pants into Nero's arms and hurried over to another rack that displayed shirts.

"Yaz, please. I'm begging you, don't make me wear these."

"Who's the fashionista of this family?" Yazoo asked.

"But, Yaz-"

"Don't 'But, Yaz' me. Go try them on."

Nero groaned and went to the changing rooms. When he came out, wearing the white pants, Yazoo waited for him outside with a polo shirt. Nero's heart sank.

"Goddess, no!"

"Goddess, yes. You'll look adorable."

"It's blue."

"Yes."

"Light blue."

"Yes."

"Yazoo, I'll look like a cruise director."

Yazoo shoved the shirt into Nero's hands. "Try it on."

Sensing that he had no other choice, Nero took the shirt and went back inside the changing room. He pulled it on and went back out to show Yazoo. The silver haired brother cheered and clapped.

"Oh my goddess, yes."

Nero looked down at himself. "Yazoo, I look like a cross between Weiss and Azul."

"Nonsense, you look fabulous. Your date is going to love you." Yazoo frowned. "Speaking of which, who is your date with?"

Nero swallowed hard. "Dmitry."

Yazoo's jaw dropped. "Dmitry the Terror Born?"

Nero nodded, looking sheepish.

"That Dmitry asked you out on a date?"

"Something's different about him, Yazoo," Nero said. "At Deepground, he always knew what to say. He had a reply for everything. Nothing fazed him. But, the other day, when he came to the door, you should have seen him. He didn't know what to say."

"Well, people can change, I guess."

"So, does that mean I can wear my black shirt and pants?"

"No. You're wearing that. Change back, you're buying it."

Nero leaned his head back and groaned.


Nero pulled at his collar as he stared at the clock. Seven o'clock chimed, igniting his stomach with fluttering butterflies. He had never felt so nervous. A knock sounded on the front door. Nero went to answer, opening it to find Dmitry standing on the porch. He wore a pair of black dress pants and a crimson red dress shirt. His hair had been tied back in a high tail.

"You look...wow," Dmitry said.

Nero felt his face burn with a blush. His eyes fell on the bike in the driveway. "You ride that thing in those pants?"

Dmitry chuckled. "It's not very comfortable, trust me. But, that bike is the only thing I have."

Nero nodded. "Well, better than nothing."

"Ready to go?"

"Not so fast, you two," came a sudden voice.

Nero turned around to find Vincent and his two boys standing in the hallway behind him.

"Where are you taking Nero tonight, young man?" Vincent asked, addressing Dmitry.

"A new restaurant called Willow's," Dmitry replied.

"And when will you have him back?" Saitharius asked next.

"He'll have me back when he brings me back," Nero said.

"Shall we wait up for you?" Saitharius questioned.

"Grandpa, yes. You boys, no."

"No school," Dominico stated.

"It is Friday, after all," his brother added.

Nero pushed Dmitry towards the driveway. "I'll see you three when I get home. Try not to burn the house down while I'm gone."

Dominico waved. "Have fun."

Vincent and the brothers watched Nero and Dmitry climb on to the bike and drive away. The brothers looked at each other and grinned. They glanced up at their grandfather, trying to look as innocent as they could. Vincent turned and walked back inside the house.

"If your mother catches you I'm denying everything," he said.

The brothers high-fived and ran for their bikes. Vincent watched from the living room window, shaking his head. What better chaperones than Nero's own children?