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Fic - Pyro - Some Kind of Boy 14

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  • Tara Ann
    Title: Level of Your Eyes (Some Kind of Boy – story 14) author: Tara Ann summary: John and Jill are very comfortable together; Faith is keeping a secret.
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 14, 2005
      Title: Level of Your Eyes (Some Kind of Boy – story 14)
      author: Tara Ann
      summary: John and Jill are very comfortable together; Faith is
      keeping a secret. X2/Buffy/Angel/Tru Calling crossover – one doesn't
      need to know Faith to read the story.
      Rating/warning & pairing: G. Pyro/Jill
      *Characters do not belong to me except for Jill – she is mine and
      looks like Claire Danes.
      *Lyrics taken from the song "Sadness" by Porno for Pyros.
      ** 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.

      I got the devil in me, it's just a cloud
      it's sadness
      then I find compassion
      and I find it vanishes
      I want to find some laughter
      when you laugh they can't kill you*

      Click. Flame. Click. Flame. Click. Flame. John continued to
      flick his shark-mouthed lighter when Jill climbed on to his lap and
      rested his blue spiraled notebook on his chest. His head was set
      comfortable in the pillows on the couch.
      "I want a leopard skin couch," she said. "I really liked
      your story."
      He looked up at her, his dark eyes glazed sexy
      sleepy. "Yeah?"
      His smile was faint, warm, looking for unconditional praise.
      "Yeah," Jill said. "It was romantic, really romantic. There
      was all this carnal possession, but there was love . . . real love
      and compassion."
      John closed the lighter. "You sound kind of surprised."
      "I'm not really," she said.
      "It's just fiction," he said.
      Jill looked down, her slender fingers tracing the metal
      spiral of the notebook.
      "The sex scenes are sweeping and grand." She glanced into
      his eyes.
      "Not like ours?"
      "That's not what I meant," said Jill. "Ours are sweeping and
      "Mostly it's just sex."
      She seemed temporally stunned.
      "Sometimes it feels like just sex, but it isn't." Jill tapped his
      chin. "You have a strong chin." She sighed quietly. "I'm going to
      take a bath. Will you take it with me?"
      "So I can get you naked, my silly little jellybean."
      Jill tussled his hair, the slicked back strands of his dark hair
      freshly misplaced.
      "There was this kid in the mansion who believed you woke up like that
      every morning, with perfect hair."
      "I hope I maintained the illusion for him," said John.
      "The younger kids told me you made fire kites for them."
      "They don't know what they were saying. I should have threatened
      them never to tell." He smiled, "Let's get naked."


      The water in the porcelain tub was hot and milky with jasmine
      and honey. Jill rested her feet on his shoulders and he stared at
      the small upside down cross on her left ankle; it was burgundy and
      waved like the gentlest flame.
      "Did it hurt?"
      "It's still kind of sore," she said. "There wasn't too much
      blood. I think the guy thought I was some sort of devil worshipper
      or something. I just liked the way it looked."
      "It's pretty. I like it."
      "He asked me if I wanted my clit pierced."
      John rubbed his cheek against her ankle. "I'll burn his
      Her smile was short and glossed pink. "I wish I could knit
      you a scarf, but I don't know how to knit."
      "Do you know what the professor told me? He said, `I can't
      predict the future, but I predict you will do great things John. If
      ever you need us we will be here.'"
      "You don't believe him?"
      John's eyes studied the tiny crystal flame pendent he gave
      her for Christmas. It hung daintily on a silver chain around her
      "I do believe him," said John. "Do you think he's
      "No," said Jill. "I think he knows he can't keep all the
      children. I don't think he wants to."
      "I think sometimes they thought I wanted to burn the school
      down. I never thought of doing that. I let Jean read my mind."
      Jill frowned. "That's not fair. I wish I could read your
      mind." She slouched slightly. "We should get those floating candles
      and turn off the lights."
      "The darkness isn't quiet enough," said John. For the first
      time he didn't seem to notice the scar on her chin.
      "Did you ever read The House of Mirth?"
      John nodded. "It's one of my favorite books. Two people
      completely in love with each other, ready to eternally deny each
      other because of society."
      "No one can stop me from loving you," said Jill. "Not even
      He might have wanted to shrug her words off, but even more he
      wanted to remember them.
      "I've never really been someone's boyfriend before," he
      said. "I mean, there were a few times when I guess I was someone's
      boyfriend, but I've never really felt like someone's boyfriend before
      "This is the real one," said Jill. "The one that counts
      every dime."
      She reached over the tub and picked up a bottle of virgin
      pina colada, taking several quick gulps. Jill smiled and said, "It's
      better with whiskey."
      "I thought they put rum in those drinks."
      "Nope, I like whiskey and chocolate."
      "And cherries," said John. "I just want to be . . .
      good . . . enough for you. I want to be a good boyfriend."
      His eyes didn't look at her, but he could feel her watching
      "You are," she said. Then she submerged herself under the water for
      several moments.
      When she returned her eyes were squeezed shut and she put her feet
      back up on his shoulders. Her eyes were wide and she wrinkled her
      nose. "I like doing that. Pretending to drown myself. I used to be
      Ophelia, now I'm just some kind of girl and you've always been some
      kind of boy."
      It was John's turn to down his bottle of beer – the same kind
      Logan liked to drink.
      He grimaced. "I don't like beer very much."
      "What do you like?"
      "Something hardcore. Even though I get too drunk."
      "Tell me something about your family?" she said.
      "Why?" His face was free of distaste and loathing; there was only
      hesitation and reluctance.
      "I want to know," said Jill.
      John sighed. "I used to fail spelling tests on purpose when I was
      mad at my parents."
      She laughed. "That's very bad boy."
      "Yeah, well, it was one my early signs of rebellious character
      traits. My mom wrote poetry, but she never tried to publish it. My
      dad's biggest dream was to own his own car wash, but it never
      happened. My mom grew up in Darlinghurst in Sydney near St.
      Vincent's hospital. Her brother lived in Darling Harbor. She moved
      with my dad, who was born in Greece, to Pittsburgh and they popped me
      out very unexpectedly. I suppose they tried to be the perfect family
      and there was love in the home, but it . . . I don't know where it
      went . . . I don't think they knew, either . . . the only real reason
      I was at Xavier's in the first place is because my mom wanted me to
      go there, but it's over now . . . I guess.
      "I used to play crazy eights with her and she sang these crazy
      Australian songs. One day my dad told me he needed to teach me how
      to play real games with cards, but I never really saw the point in
      gambling, especially when you don't win."
      "You have to learn how to win," said Jill.
      "He wanted to drive a Porsche and my mom, she missed Australia. When
      I found out my mutant power, my father was already gone and my
      mother, I think she finally didn't know what to do with me."
      "She would have figured it out," Jill said. "Do ever think of
      looking for your dad?"
      "No. I used to. He should look for me. I think I saw him at my mom
      mom's funeral, but maybe I made it up."
      "Do you blame him for leaving you and your mom?"
      "No. I only blame him for the fire."
      "Oh," said Jill. "Were your parents rebels?'
      "Hi-def until they had to grow up. I've heard too many stories from
      my uncle. They told her not to marry my dad, but they were crazy in
      love. My mom didn't always do what she was told."
      John stared at the scar on her chin.
      "I really wish I'd caught you," he said.
      "Why? I'm glad you didn't."
      He thought about what she said and remembered when he first saw his
      shark-mouthed lighter in the pawn shop window. It gleamed in
      brilliance and he pawned his mother's gold cross of Mary for it. His
      mother had always told him if he wanted something he should take it
      and he did. She had supported the car wash idea until it started to
      physically harm their financial development. John Allerdyce had
      wanted that lighter and he took it; it wasn't just a lighter, it was
      part of his very essence. He wished he could have told himself that
      he had seen Jill the way he first saw his lighter, but she had been
      the one to see him and seek him out.
      The scar on her chin seemed like the perfect imperfection. It
      haunted him sometimes and he didn't know why. Ideals couldn't be
      flawed, not in his mind; he didn't want them to be. He wondered if
      she lived a parallel version of herself the way he did. He wasn't
      deceiving everyone; he was just being very cautious and guarded.
      John wanted to survive in this world that sometimes seemed like the
      most unbearable place in the world, second to his mind.
      "It's snowing sweetly outside," said Jill. "Cemeteries and
      snow are pretty. Maybe it will snow so much we won't be able to
      leave the apartment."
      "I'm thirsty for fruit punch whiskey. With cherries. If you
      sent the town blazing I wouldn't mind."
      She must have kissed him a thousand times, but the soft edges of his
      face still seemed untouched. He looked at her with the palest pout.
      I love you. He said it in his mind so many times, but he
      rarely spoke the words out loud to her.
      "My sister says I'm wild at heart," said Jill.
      "I love that movie."
      "Me too."
      "We should watch it together. I once watched the same movie
      three times in one day. I was completely obsessed. It was the
      chrome metal love story of a husband and wife. The little couple
      that crashed."
      "I've been making little fire tornadoes," John said. "Little
      for now, much bigger for later." He smiled. "I never hear you
      sing. You're classically trained in opera and I never hear you sing."
      "I guess I gave it up."
      "I don't know."
      "Are you shy?"
      "No," said Jill. "I never learned to play the violin. My
      sister was in Chicago on Broadway. She was the chick in cell who
      couldn't speak English. She knows many languages, including
      Japanese. I speak French when I want to and all that jazz."
      John smiled. "Mademoiselle La Boy."
      "The Marquis De Sade is buried in Paris. Someone stole his
      "That really sucks," said John.
      "What's the greatest pain you've ever felt?"
      The question seemed strangely normal to him.
      "Superficial pain? There was this backward cerebro. It
      really fucked me up. It fucked us all up."
      "I felt something horrible," she said. "I thought I was
      dreaming, but I wasn't the only one."
      He didn't realize she was referring to cerebro's penetration
      towards the humans.
      "Very uncomfortable and unforgiving," he said and smiled
      smoothly. "Understatement of forever." His thoughts drifted to that
      cruelly disgusting moment of burning intensity, searing pain, and the
      ever-melting snow around him. He grimaced in his mind.
      "I was going to help them. They needed it."
      "Do they know that?"
      John shrugged. "It doesn't matter now."
      "You always wanted to be a writer?"
      "I wanted to be a firefighter," said John. "Just kidding. I
      don't know what I wanted to be. I never thought it would be
      genetically pre-determined for me."
      "It's not. The fire is part of you, but it's not the only
      thing you are. It will be if you let it."
      "You think I shouldn't let it?"
      "I think you know what you should and shouldn't do," Jill
      said. "When I was little I wanted to swim with dolphins. Then I
      wanted to work with gorillas like Sigourney Weaver in that movie."
      "If you lived in the jungle with the gorillas I would have
      never met you," said John. "I pretty much gave up animals when I
      burned my cat to death."
      "Blazie likes you."
      "She was a present from some girl."
      "Your ex-girlfriend?"
      "I guess she wasn't really my girlfriend."
      "I want to dance the cooch in the carnivale," Jill said.
      John laughed. "No you don't."
      "Maybe I do."
      "They don't have things like that, anymore."
      "They should. Kurt got to be in the circus. I bet that was
      "I guess." John shrugged. "Did you know that if you swallow
      jellybeans and don't chew them they jitterbug in your tummy? It's
      true. My mother told me. Jellybean jitterbug."
      His dark eyes widened with child-like wonder.
      "I don't believe you," said Jill.
      His smile was smooth and playful. "Cross my heart."


      Faith had tried to tell John Allerdyce several times that she
      was pregnant, but every time she went to see him she decided not to.
      She stood outside the door to his apartment and was going to knock.
      Faith the Vampire Slayer could slay demons and diminish the forces of
      darkness, but she couldn't tell some guy that she was going to have a
      baby? it wasn't something she wanted to do alone and she wasn't even
      sure what she was going to do once the kid was born. This was the
      last time and she didn't know why she couldn't tell him. The first
      time she had tried she had run into that ice boy and the second time
      it had been the man with the claws. She knew then that Logan, that
      was his name, knew what she had to tell John. She told the guy it
      wasn't important. Now she was here and then she was gone. She would
      tell him one day and hoped the end of the world wasn't lurking around
      the corner. Faith didn't even wonder if the baby was a little girl
      or little boy.
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