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Fic - Pyro - Some Kind of Boy 3

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  • Tara Ann
    Title: Blue Kitty (Some Kind of Boy – story 3) author: Tara Ann summary: Faith returns John s favorite possession. X2/Buffy/Angel/Tru Calling crossover
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 14, 2005
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      Title: Blue Kitty (Some Kind of Boy – story 3)
      author: Tara Ann
      summary: Faith returns John's favorite possession.
      X2/Buffy/Angel/Tru Calling crossover – one doesn't need to know Faith
      to read the story.
      Rating/warning & pairing: G. Pyro/Faith
      *Characters do not belong to me.
      ** I've liked Pyro from the first moment I saw him in X2. He's
      complex with confidence and vulnerability. I only hope I give St.
      John Allerdyce the respect and understanding he deserves. He is the
      boy with the soft edges and the palest pout.



      John sat in his room and stared out the window into nothing.
      Magneto and Mystique's "hide out" was located in a condemned church
      except there wasn't enough interest to tear it down. The view from
      his room was nothing special and the sky was grey; it had been grey
      from the moment he woke up and would remain grey until the sun went
      down.
      Magneto and Mystique were working on finding other mutants to
      join their cause; they had already re-recruited Sabertooth.
      Everything was going to fall into place sooner or later, hopefully
      soon. He was learning to discipline his power with Magneto's
      guidance, better than before, but he knew that once in the field
      discipline didn't come into play. It was also true that it wasn't
      really the power that needed to be disciplined; it was the person.
      John strafed for his own finesses to compliment the sophisticated
      control he witnessed in other mutants. Fire was his symphony and
      people would respect him for it. Then he had been hit with the
      defining question – was he willing to hurt the X-Men for the cause?
      Magneto made certain he understood that it wasn't because he wised
      them ill, it was simply because they posed as an obstacle. Mutant
      freedom or more precisely mutant superiority was the only thing ever
      discussed and John was becoming tired of it because the more he
      listened the more he was reminded of how he was different. He
      realized he hadn't really felt that way while at Xavier's school.
      Life there was more, dare he say it, normal. Faith didn't make him
      feel any less or more normal or not normal than he already did; she
      made him feel grounded. He wished she was the only thing he needed
      to think about, but there was so much more. The X-Men didn't expect
      one to give up their outside connections to the world, but under
      Magneto's ideal it was expected. It would have been more accepting
      to them if he was dating Rogue.
      John didn't want to give up Faith.
      Then she was standing in his room, surveying the territory.
      "No posters or pictures?" she said.
      She looked stunningly lush like she always did – long brunette waves
      that seemed to breathe separately from her, long-sleeved purple
      shirt, short suede skirt and knee-high black leather boots. Around
      her wrist she wore interlocking silver hearts with tiny amethyst
      stones in the center.
      "They just let you in?" said John, startled slightly, but not
      enough not to notice how fine she looked. Her hair smelled like
      oranges, her skin like peaches, her brown horizontal tear-dropped
      eyes always sparkled worldly for her youth, and her lips were always
      glossed and pouting sex, determination, or uncertain concern.
      "After some heavy duty chit chat convincing," she said,
      looking around. "Don't you have any belongings? It's real cozy
      rosie."
      "I'm not clingy," he said.
      "Yeah, you never know when you have to run or flee from some
      town devouring crater," she said with a smile.
      He looked at her blankly and she focused on his eyes, dark, deep eyes
      that glistened, sometimes blazing intensity when he looked at her.
      He really was handsome, smooth face, not quite naïve, flawless with
      that teasing hint of trouble and edged decision.
      "I have some stuff, but it's not here," John said. "They don't want
      me with you."
      "Threatened by little me?" Faith smiled. "That's definitely
      not a first. "She sat beside him. "I should warn you, if you're
      planning on falling in love with me I tend to break hearts before I
      get mine broken."
      "Oh really," John said with the smallest smile. They kissed
      and it didn't take him long to glide his hand up her skirt.
      "I knew you'd do that if I wore this skirt," she said in a
      whisper. "I'm not scared of your friends. I don't scare easy.
      Actually, I don't scare ever. C'mon, we're going out."
      "We are?"
      "Fuck yeah. I went on patrol and I'm rushing. I like
      dancing and you and I are gonna dance."
      She took his hand and stood up. Then she noticed a blue
      spiraled notebook on the floor. Faith reached down and picked it up.
      "Homework?"
      John stood up, looking slightly nervous.
      "No. Don't," he said. "It's just, I like to write
      sometimes."
      "Poetry?"
      "I don't think so."
      Faith looked at the notebook dangling from her
      hand. "Really?" She opened it and John didn't stop her.
      "'Countess Eliza was headstrong, lovely with a fair bosom.
      Her one secret was that she was a witch, powerful, her true kindness
      unprecedented, she concealed her nature and her infatuation of
      possible love for the Marquis de Charenton,'" Faith said, reading
      from the notebook. "'Though she was unaware of it, he had seen her
      work her midnight magic in the woods under the lavender shadowed
      moon. He wished courtship upon her for she had already unknowingly
      seduced him.
      "'The Marquis de Charenton knew she liked to fence and challenged her
      to a duel with the wager of her heart, but the Countess Eliza was
      weary for there were many who wished to steal her powers.'"
      Faith licked her lips and looked at him.
      "I think that's the first time I've ever seen you blush," she
      said.
      "I don't know why I write it. I just do," he said, his voice
      serious. "I like it."
      "Does it get steamy?"
      "It will," he smiled.
      She gave the notebook to him and he tossed it on to the bed.
      "Why the gothic romance?"
      John shrugged.
      "Happy ending? There aren't enough of those," said
      Faith. "Something always goes wrong."
      "I guess it depends on what happens next," he said. "Are you
      planning on breaking my heart?"
      "Is it in the position to be broken?" she said.
      She had to admit the sex between them was getting better,
      more naturally connected and he knew how to fuck and make love during
      the same time. Faith had had relationships where she had been truly
      happy and content like any other normal glittering girl. She had
      also had one relationship where her contentment became surreal,
      surrendered, sometimes sour, and almost intangible. Her relationship
      with John was an understanding satin-rose laced like a black patent
      leather corset with increasing intimacy. Somehow she knew she felt
      the same, but they never spoke of it.
      "I thought you didn't slay, anymore," he said.
      "I don't. Only sometimes," Faith said. "It relaxes me.
      Besides, I can't really abandon what I've been given, never wanted
      to, I'm just kind of sidetracked for the ever eternal moment."
      The whole reliving days gig – she never asked for the gift,
      she had just been upgraded with it and was realizing the bigger
      picture; it was a puzzle piece, part of the good fight which meant it
      wasn't just exclusive to the good guys.
      "You're really not scared of anything?" said John.
      Faith thought about the ancient vampire Kakistos and how she
      watched him murder her first Watcher Madchin. She had been terrified
      of him; it had been her real reason for setting up camp in Sunnydale,
      which of course had led to slayer rivalry with Buffy and continued
      into Los Angeles, which turned out to be refuge for redemption. And
      when Faith held the Slayer scythe in Sunnydale, she finally
      completely understood the full, never-ending, exhilarating power she
      held as The Slayer and it was right to share it with others like
      herself.
      "Nope," she said. "Are you scared of something?"
      Quite casually he said, "My world ending."
      Looking at her John wondered if they really were part of the
      same world. He wondered if it really mattered. Faith was his first
      real relationship and he liked it.
      "I know what's going on is important," said Faith, "and
      someone is always choosing sides. The more you decide on one side
      the harder it becomes to leave it behind. There's something bigger
      going on than mutant rights. There's good and there's evil and
      mutant or non-mutant doesn't factor into the equation."
      "I'm not in your fight," he said.
      "No, but my fight is rolling, and if my side loses your fight isn't
      even going to exist. People will die."
      "You worry about your fight. I'll worry about mine," said
      John.
      Magneto talked about stopping the second Holocaust. The
      Holocaust, the apocalypse, they both seemed like the same thing to
      John.
      "Easy licks, but I don't want to have to worry about you,"
      said Faith, "and these days I tend to care more for others instead of
      just myself."
      "You don't have to," he said softly, locking into her knowing eyes.
      Faith reached down her shirt and pulled out his lighter,
      silver with a painted shark mouth reminiscent of a World War II plane.
      "I promised I'd give it back," she said, holding it out towards
      him. "Don't be too mad at me. I kind of defaced it with loving
      intentions."
      John took it from her and examined his prized possession; he hated to
      be without it and was glad to have it back where it belonged – with
      him. Then he saw what she had done. Engraved on the smooth metal
      surface in script was, "to John, love Faith."
      He stared down at it, clicked it open with his usual suave
      demeanor and flicked it once as if he didn't quite trust the flame
      completely. Then he snapped it shut.
      John looked at her, trying to put his thoughts into some sort
      of genuine sentence, but everything he was thinking seemed too
      mundane or cliché so he kissed her lips tenderly.
      "Are we going or what?" she said, tugging at his waist.
      He smiled. "I'm gonna spank you."
      "Spank me silly? Spank me lush? I'm not into the S&M scene, on me,
      or the whole bondage gig, either, on me, but I think some sweet
      compromises could be made," she said, licking his lower lip, her
      voice a salty twinkle. Then she savored his soft lips one more
      time. "It's kind of chilly outside."
      He went to his closet and tossed her his navy blue jacket
      with the circled "X" on the left shoulder.
      "You can keep it," he said. "I don't need it."
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