Well, I saw this very hot picture and am dying for any kind of fics that might go with it. Comments spammed about fics for the pic, but no one linked any. I've been looking all day, but can't find anything. Can someone help?
I don't know how to work the fake cuts and I hope I put the link in right.
- Current Location:My bed
- Current Music:Bent - Matchbox Twenty
Prompt: Retreating from your fears doesn't make them go away.
Warnings: Character death (again)
“How’s it been going Bobby? Carla said you talked about the mustangs today.”
Bobby smiled at him and closed the book he was holding, placing it on the bedside table. He stretched his hands up into the air and gave out a massive yawn then looked out the window. Lunch should be here any minute now…
Piotr sighted and gave it another try.
“She also said she gave you a few books to read… Do you like then?”
Monologue was more like it.
Bobby shrugged and grabbed the four paperbacks lying near his bed, showing them to his friend. Not any fancy titles, Piotr noticed, but good enough reads.
“Do you want me to bring some as well? I’m sure you’d love to have something useful to do while you’re here.”
Bobby looked at him and shook his head lightly. He didn’t need anything else to read it seemed.
Every time Piotr would come and see him, at least during the first minutes of each of his visits, he would get this inexplicable urge to punch him in the face. Bobby gave the impression that he was punishing you, in a four-year-old sort of way, by refusing to talk, no matter what. It slowly killed him, the knowledge that, as each day passed, he might never hear his friend’s voice again. Not the most beautiful voice though it may be, but one that, now, most surely, would bring him a little measure of peace.
When younger, Piotr himself was a man of few words, but as the years went by he realized that there were a lot of things that, if not said at the right time, would most likely never be stated. And that would be a pity indeed. Body language had its limited power, but it came nowhere near the sublime influence words could have on you; a pause in the speech, a particularly curious word inflexion. That’s why, one day, he decided to start speaking. He was able to withstand a normal conversation, and, even though that might not seem of much difficulty to the average person, Piotr managed to shock everyone around him.
But still, even Piotr wasn’t prepared enough to have a conversation with someone who just wasn’t responding back. He wished Marie would come here sooner and help him out a bit. She always seemed to have a better grip on the situation.
“I told Carla that we’d take another walk in the forest, if that’s okay with you.”
Bobby nodded and got up from the bed, stretching his legs a bit. He looked out the window again, and then turned to Piotr. He looked a bit pale, but nothing worth getting troubled about, he guessed.
A knock was heard on the door and Piotr got up to answer it, seeing as Bobby made no movement whatsoever, and continued to stare aimlessly around his room.
“I’m coming,” he said as he pressed the knob and smiled when he saw Marie on the other side of the door. She was holding a tray of food.
“Hey there, Piotr,” she said. “Sorry I’m a bit late, but Carla asked me to bring up his lunch, since I was already heading up."
“No problem. I just got here a few minutes ago myself. Want some help with that?” he offered.
“No, that’s okay. I’ve brought breakfasts on a tray before,” she politely turned Piotr down, walking into the room, nodding a salute at Bobby.
Bobby nodded back and extended his arm, awaiting the eternal shake of hands, the way they have always greeted each other since they were teenagers.
“How’s it hanging, tough guy?” Marie asked him, giving his hand a firm shake, trying to avoid giving into her emotions, and just give him an all out hug; maybe even cry a bit.
Bobby shrugged and headed towards his table, where Marie had previously placed the food tray. He looked at his two friends and raised his eyebrows and the both of them nodded. They managed to understand him without words any more.
“Of course you can eat, God. You shouldn’t even ask us that, Bobby,” Marie said, sitting on the bed and looking over Bobby’s books. “Carla gave you these?”
Bobby nodded and took a sip of the soup smiling at the good taste.
“You know she’s the one that cooks for him, right?” Marie asked Piotr and the Russian nodded.
Bobby lifted his gaze and pointed towards the former Mafia hit man, winking at him.
“Yeah Bobby, I’m quite aware that she likes me.”
“You’re just getting her hopes up, you know that, right?” Marie noted disinterestedly, shifting her gaze from one page to another, apparently interested in what the author had to say.
Bobby scoffed and took another sip, as if trying to keep his mouth shut.
“She knows I’m married,” Piotr mumbled, playing with his fingers. He seemingly regressed to a prepubescent mental state upon being asked that question.
“That’s not what I said, Pete,” Marie said, turning the page and scoffing at a sentence. “If only life was that easy.”
“I’m not talking about you and your situation Pete. You’ll deal with that in your own way, when you’ll feel ready for it; if ever. I’m just saying you should think about what you’re doing to her. Because I’ve seen you two together and you may not be aware of it, but you’re flirting like crazy. It’s not fair you know. Not for her, not for Kitty and especially not for the kids. You love Kitty, don’t you?”
“What’ that supposed to mean, Marie? Of course I love her!”
“Then stop your midlife crisis and act like a man, dammit!”
Bobby got up from the table, suddenly, and motioned towards his friends that he was ready to leave. Maybe he wasn’t, but the discussion was starting to annoy him. He didn’t need to hear this right now.
“Don’t you want to eat it all? No good?”
Bobby shook his head and placed both his hands on his stomach.
“Okay, you’re full. I’ll take your word for it,” Piotr said, thankful that the discussion had averted Marie’s interest from him. “Come on, we’ll walk around the grounds once.”
“You think he’ll ever talk again?” Marie asked, when she was certain that Bobby far enough in front of her to be out of hearing range.
“Marie, we’ve had this talk before; thousands of times. You’re the one who always kept my hopes up,” Piotr answered, keeping his pace steady.
“Well I think it’s time we switched roles. I’m starting to loose my faith in things ever getting better.”
“Is it the years?”
“I don’t think so. I mean what’s one more year of silence, after five of getting used to it? I’m not really sure what it could be really. Maybe I’ve changed. Who knows?” She shrugged and kicked a small pebble from the ground.
“Hey, is everything alright at home?”
“Of course it is.”
“Then what’s brought this sudden change in attitude?”
“I don’t know really. Maybe the growing up process final kicked in. Warren said it should start any decade now…”
Piotr smirked and patted his friend’s back.
“He’s a wise one, my friend.”
If front of them, Bobby jumped and grabbed one of the oak’s branches, stripping the yellow leaves from it, one by one, and then letting the tree return to its normal position. He laughed as it did so, and then he proceeded to jump all the way to the building entrance.
“He’s such a child sometimes…”
Carla waved at them and they waved back for a moment, then turned and headed towards their cars
“Are you heading home?” Marie asked.
“Yeah I need to grab the kids and see a movie or something. I’ve been busy lately and they keep telling me they want to hang out.”
“Well you don’t hear that every day, do you?” Marie asked amused. “Especially from eight year old boys. Don’t they start getting that ‘I don’t need parents’ phase right about now? I know that’s when I got mine…”
Piotr shrugged as if to say that’s just the way life goes. “Yeah, they have their moments sometimes, but it doesn’t last them very long. How about yours?”
“Makeup. And high heels. Don’t even start laughing. She’s driving me crazy. ‘Mommy can I have a new mascara?’, ‘Mommy can I get some black eye shadow?’, ‘Mommy can you get me a new bra?’. A bra, Piotr! A bra!” Marie said desperately between his friend’s laughs. “What can you put in one of those when you’re eight years old?!”
“Oh, Marie,” Piotr said with a smirk, trying to contain his laughter as best he could.
His friend sighed, opening his car door. “We should really get together, all seven of us,” she added, tapping her fingers on the window.
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea; Kitty would love it. How about next week?”
“Sure. I’ll tell them when I get home.”
“Will you be here on Sunday?”
“Aren’t I always? I think Jean-Paul is going to come too,” she said getting in the car.
“Nice of him to make all that distance. Well, see you in a couple of days then.”
“Take care of yourself Pete,” Marie said, nodding at him and driving off.
Piotr put his glasses on and looked as Marie’s car passed him. He waved him off and took a final look at Bobby’s window. Maybe his friend was there, looking back at him and waving, but the sun was in his eyes, so he couldn’t see. He could hope things would get better though something inside him told him that they would probably not. But he would be here for Bobby, no matter what.
He opened his car’s door and threw his jacket on the passenger’s seat, starting the engine and leaving the retreat.
In his room, Bobby watched as the Russian’s car distanced from the building and he waved aimlessly.
AN: So, what'd you think? Oh and if you didn't get it, that was the end.
- Current Location:In bed
- Current Music:Hurt - Johnny Cash
Prompt: Retreating from your fears doesn't make them go away.
Warnings: Character death (again)
He felt an arm creep under the table, a hand running up his thigh and so, smiling broadly at their two friends, he inconspicuously slapped it away. He then proceeded to step on his best friend’s foot, making him yelp in pain.
“What’s wrong, Bobby?” he asked innocently.
“Nothing John, just a leg cramp I guess,” the ice mutant replied rubbing his toes on the inside of his shoe, trying to make the pain subside.
“Oh, okay then,” John quickly dismissed him, throwing a quick glance his way before doing so. Bobby had learned to know that look over the years. Those mesmerizing eyes were clearly saying: I’m glad I make you horny, but not here. Not now. Later…
However, their two friends, on the opposite side of the table, were oblivious to what that look meant and just took another sip of their drink, blaming their behavior on best friend/room mate strangeness once again.
“I think we need to get going, guys,” Marie said, looking at her watch. “It’s almost midnight and we have to get up early tomorrow; get the kids to kindergarten.”
“Yeah, and I promised Kitty I’d take her to work since her car has some bugs that she didn’t get to fix yet,” Piotr added.
John raised an eyebrow, the way he always loved to do, and nudged his lover.
“I’m so glad we’re not tied down,” he said. “Unlike some people…”
“Always told you it was a bad idea,” Bobby continued, looking from Marie to Piotr. “You just can’t get any extra benefits from getting married.”
“Some of us actually prefer stability. You know, having someone to go home to at night.”
“Not wonder around the clubs, searching for our next lay...”
“Then sending her home the next morning, not even giving her a kiss goodbye.”
“And the children…” John continued, not being interested in what the two had to say. “They just kill the sex moods with all that crying and stuff, don’t they?” He took a sip of his mojito and stared at them, expecting an answer, daring them to tell him that he was wrong.
“There are other things in this life more important than sex, you know.”
“Keep telling yourself that when you’ll have your fourth orgasm during the same night. Then, maybe, just maybe, I’ll believe you,” Bobby retorted to his former partner in crime.
“Come on, we’ll walk you out. Maybe head down town to the new place,” John said finishing his drink, getting up from the table and walking over to the bar, paying for their drinks.
Bobby made his way outside together will their old friends and just before pushing the door, to get outside, he felt a familiar hand glide effortlessly in his. He didn’t have to look back to know that it was John, so he just squeezed said intruding hand and walked on to the sidewalk. He frowned when he heard the lighting and looked up to the sky to see where the leaking was coming from. It was raining cats and dogs; his least favorite kind of raining of all the types that existed.
“Wait here Johnny and try to keep dry; I’ll go get the car,” he said pulling his hand out of his lover’s and running through the rain to the other side of the street, where John had parked his car.
Bobby blinked twice, getting the drops of water out of his eyes and on the third go a loud honking horn broke the sound of raindrops falling.
A scream and a loud thud resounded from the street and the drops of water seemed to turn red before his eyes. He blinked again and, through a weird twist in time that nobody seemed to notice, everything slowed down. He heard an echo of a scream and two familiar voices shout out his lover’s name into the night.
He felt someone grab his hand and pull him towards the van that had stopped abruptly in the middle of the road, its driver walking out onto the street holding his head in his arms, sobbing. Maybe sobbing, he couldn’t realize since it was raining that hard. His legs were moving without his control and he didn’t know who the person dragging him was. Probably Piotr, because he thinks he sees Marie just a foot in front of them, shock etched on her features.
He then found himself stopping in front of the van and kneeling down next to a body that looked just like his Johnny‘s. He saw the mirror image of his lover lay sprawled on the wet concrete, his arm bended in an unnatural way, the bone sticking out of it, a pool of red around him, the rain washing away the gushing blood from his forehead. His chest didn’t rise and fall in its usual way any more and his neck was twisted in the wrong way.
He softly touched the boy’s face as he heard Piotr call an ambulance on his cell phone and then, the entire world stopped in its tracks. The rain lay motionless in mid air and people were looking funny as they got caught in mid step. Bobby bent over his best friend and pulled his head in his lap, brushing the rebel strands of hair out of his face. People would scold him for acting like this, probably, but he asked himself over and over again: how is one supposed to act when one dies? Because that was just what happened when the van hit John. Bobby died.
“Are they sleeping yet?” Marie asked picking the tens of toys sprawled on the room’s carpet. She looked interestedly at one of them and shook her head in dismay. What were they going to think of next?
Piotr glanced at the three kids out cold in the bedroom and closed the door behind him, smiling at his friend.
“I wish I could fall asleep as fast as they do,” he said bending together with Marie to help her clean up the mess their kids made. “Play dates are more exhausting for us than then they are for them, I think.”
“We’re just getting older Pete. Even if we don’t want to admit it.”
“Yeah… Married… Never saw that coming really,” he said throwing the toys in their special enclosure and whipping his hands on his pants. His wife would scold him for that, but she wasn’t here, so he took advantage of that. “Want a drink?”
Marie nodded and followed him into the kitchen.
“Neither one of us did,” she said taking the drink the Russian offered her and opening it.
“I think John did. I didn’t really buy his comment that night. I think it was just for show.”
“John’s always had Bobby to rely on,” Marie noted, “so he’s never thought about marriage. He got all his safety from him, never needed a girl to make him feel loved. That’s why I think he wanted us to get married. You know, be as happy as he was.”
“Yeah, that’s what I think too,” Piotr agreed taking a sip from the beer. Chatting was hard right now, but silence would be even harder. Without the distraction that their spouses provided them and with their children out cold, they needed to keep the conversation going no matter what. It was the only thing that would keep them on the edge of sanity.
“You think he’s going to be okay? Bobby, I mean. It’s strange, not hearing him talk any more. It’s been a month already.”
Piotr shrugged and huffed gravely.
“I don’t know. He’s not going to be himself any time soon, that’s for sure.”
“I just hope he doesn’t try anything stupid…”
“What? Like suicide?”
Marie nodded and coughed in a strained way. She didn’t necessarily want to bring the subject up for discussion, for fear of actually making it a possibility.
“I don’t think he will, as long as we won’t let him. He needs to understand that, even though it’s not pleasant to know, he can’t change anything about what happened. He needs to move on with his life.”
“It sounds horribly awful. You know that, right?”
“I know, but it’s the truth… I didn’t think I’d get to this point of understanding life, but having kids helps you grow up, in the true sense of the word.” He pounded his fist on the table, making it shake a bit and swore loudly.
“Shit! You know I’d give anything to have John back, don’t you?”
Marie nodded and took her friend’s hand, shaking it reassuringly.
“Of course I do. And don’t worry, so does Bobby. He’ll be fine in a few months; he just needs time to get used to the new situation.”
“Then he’ll start talking?”
Five years had passed since that conversation in the kitchen and Bobby had still not uttered a single word. After all, dead men don’t speak.
- Current Location:In bed
- Current Mood: tired
- Current Music:Through the Monsoon - Tokio Hotel
Prompt: Retreating from your fears doesn't make them go away.
Warnings: Character death (again)
AN: I feel much more comfortable with smaller fics than I do with big ones. It gives me a bit more freedom to play with the characters I think.
He stopped the car’s engine and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He sat motionless for a minute seemingly going through some details in his mind, then nodded to no one in particular, grabbed his jacket from the passage seat and stepped out. He felt as if he had just walked in an oven and so he opened the door to the passenger seat and grabbed a pair of sunglasses out of the glove compartment.
He shut the door behind him and as he walked towards the building entrance he pressed the button on his car key. The Mercedes gave a small beep and locked its doors.
“It’s days like this when I curse the fact that black’s my favorite color,” Piotr said as he pushed the revolving door and entered into the building.
He walked down the long corridor he learned to know so well during the last couple of years. He took a left and headed towards the main entrance, where the nurse booth was. He hated coming in through the front door. Maybe it was a silly superstition; maybe it was the reason for which he had first used that particular door; maybe it was habit. Who knew? And most importantly, who cared?
“Hey there Peter,” a brown haired girl asked him as he approached the booth.
“Hey Carla. How’s it going?”
The girl shrugged and wrote something down on the chart she was holding.
“Same old, same old, you know. This isn’t the place of exciting happenings. If you want that you should go to Saint Michael’s. They have the runaway homicidal patients, not us. And we tend to like it like this.”
“You like yours quiet and bedridden, don’t you?”
The girl named Carla looked up at him and frowned, not figuring out if what he had just said was to be taken as an insult or not. She waved her pencil at him in a mock threatening way.
“Don’t you start putting words in my mouth mister! I said no such thing. I just said that we’re an uneventful community. You now I love him just as much as you do and would like nothing more than to see him up and running again.”
“How is he by the way?” he asked in a conversational manner, that was a bit strained, truth be told.
Carla wrote down a few more words and put the chart down on the desk, together with the pencil. She looked at Piotr and sighted. It wasn’t sadness, just exhaustion.
“He’s doing well, actually. We had a nice long walk in the forest this morning and I told him about the wild horses in the South West, you know, the mustangs. I think he enjoyed it. He seems like he’s good around animals,” she trailed of, lost in thought.
When Piotr cleared his throat loudly and she snapped out of her daze and smiled at him.
“Should we go see him now?”
She nodded and led Gustav to the stairs, which were right to their left.
“You should really try and convince the management to put in an elevator here or something. The stairs are nice enough, but it takes a hell of a long time to get to where you want to go.”
“Not everyone around here is in as much of a hurry as you are Gustav,” Carla said to him continuing to climb the stairs at an alert rhythm.
“Since when did 21 year olds get so smartass on me?”
Carla giggled and shrugged.
“You’re old. I’m young. Did you forget that it’s compulsory for young people to be smartasses towards the older generation?”
“38 years isn’t old,” the Russian scoffed in an amusing sort of way. She always liked to call him old and even though he knew he wasn’t, he still couldn’t take the whole thing lightly.
“It is if you’re 21,” she replied cheekily, running up the last couple of stairs, knowing full well that Piotr would try and trip her if she wasn’t careful. It wasn’t flirting, she kept telling herself over and over again every day. Piotr was a married man with 2 kids to look out for. Lovely, smart, wonderful kids, but another woman’s kids nonetheless.
She looked behind her, waiting for the ‘old man’ to catch up and when he did she just stuck his tongue out to him.
“The maturity of that gesture is simply bewildering, don’t you think?”
“I know,” she murmured, blushing a bit under his intense gaze. “Shall we go on with out tour?”
“Carla, I’ve been here so many times that I’m even familiar with the spiders lurking just outside the windows.”
Carla looked scarred at the glass in front of her and pulled away from it a bit, closing the distance between her and Piotr. The mutant grabbed her by the arm and amusedly took her away from the evil creatures that might pounce on her any minute.
Her heart beat increased and as she looked at him she felt a strong blush creep up in her cheeks.
"Piotr what are you doing?”
“I’m saving you from your arachnophobia before you go into a seizure. This is a mental facility after all. I’m not sure that anyone here would be qualified to give you mouth to mouth if you have a panic attack.”
Carla pulled her hand away from the man and huffed.
“You don’t give mouth to mouth during a panic attack and I’m more than capable of controlling my phobias, thank you very much.”
Piotr laughed at her comment and walked away, leaving her flushed and breathing deeply. It wasn’t flirting. She just had to remember that. Piotr was an honest family man. Piotr didn’t flirt. Piotr was off limits. Piotr. . . was hot.
“Damn hormones,” she whispered and ran to catch up with him. She thought that adolescence was over.
She was walking a few feet behind him when she saw him stop and look outside the window to the lush forest below.
“This global warming stuff really freaks me out sometimes. 34 degrees in the middle of September is just plain sick. I don’t think these trees are shedding because they want to. I think they’re shedding because their leaves are all burnt down.”
“It’s not that hot really,” Carla said looking at the thermostat on the wall right next to them. “It’s hotter in the city.”
“Yeah, we’re just buying our time till we roast to a cinder.”
“Well you are wearing black… And you have a leather jacket on you. Why don’t you try some other colors? Maybe lose the jacket.”
“I always said naked was the way to go,” he said jokingly, not realizing what his words did on the young girl. “But social standards need to be respected, so, sadly, I’ll just have to remain clothed a little bit longer.”
“I didn’t say you should take you clothes off,” she said, starting to walk away from him, counting the number of steps she had to take before he would follow her. “I just suggested you wear lighter colors.”
“You have to wear white as part of your uniform,” he said, motioning towards her white nurse outfit. “I have to wear black as part of mine. You know, keep up with the tough rocker image.”
She shook hear head in dismay and stopped in front of the 12th room on the floor. “I took the liberty of sharing some of my books with him. I’m not really sure he read them, but at least I can say I tried.”
“Thanks a lot Carla. You’re a real help, compared to that Judith bitch he had 3 years ago. I swear that woman wanted to kill him more than make him better.”
Carla smiled and excused herself. “If you need anything, I’m downstairs, as always.”
“Yeah, thanks dear. I’ll probably wait for Marie to come and we’ll all go out for a walk around the grounds,” he said pushing the door open and leaving Carla alone in the hallway.
The room was lit up by the bright midday sun, but the temperature was at a bearable 21 degrees Celsius. He hanged his jacket on the back of the door and sat down on the bed, near his friend.
Apparently he was looking through one of the books that Carla must have brought him, his eyes focusing on the paper rather then on the words.
“Good book you’re reading there?” Piotr asked, his voice snapping the man out of the daydream he was in. A pair of blue eyes looked kindly at him and he smiled. “Hey there, Bobby…”
AN: Liked it? Hate it? Tell me! I figure it's going to be about 3 chapters... 4 tops.
- Current Location:In bed
- Current Music:She Didn't Have Time - Terri Clark
Prompt: Madina Lake | Now Or Never
Warnings: Character death
Too long in the same place
I'm sinking into this town.
I've charmed the same old snakes
I think we gotta get out
I'm slapping my hands frantically over my nightstand looking for my Zippo and the car keys. I'm surprised no one's come barging in asking me what the fuck I'm doing up so late, then I realize everyone in this Hell hole will already be awake. Finally, I find my wallet, keys, and Zippo then shove them into my pockets and haul ass out of the room. I'm almost to the door before I get caught.
She's sitting in the living room with a book, but her yellow eyes are locked on mine. "You sure?" Is all she asks, no judgment, no damnation, just wanting a decision. I nod my head, stupid grin on my face. "Fine then." She waves her hand at the door. "The bag's for you." I look at her questioningly but she's ignoring me and gone back to her book. I find the bag she's talking about hanging off the door knob. Its got fifty grand in it easily. I chuckle and look back in the living to tell Mystique that we won't be needing it, but she's gone.
He said let's change our luck
This night is all we've got
Drive fast until we crash
This dead end life
Sweet dreams that won't come true
I'd leave it all for you
Brick walls keep closing in
Let's make a run tonight
You're waiting on the porch for me, bright blue eyes casting glances all over the place. I notice the porch light doesn't come on as it usually does. Really, Bobby, I don't understand why you're being so stealthy about this. It's not like any of the neighbors pay any attention to us. I can't resist pulling you into a kiss as I see you. I show you the bag and its contents and you let out a quiet laugh as well. Mystique's a good woman under all the layers of bitchy terrorist right-hand woman to the devil himself.
What are we waiting for?
These years are dying slowly,
Today is still in front of us
And we're breaking out
Cause today is now or never.
You slink to the car like you're going to hijack it, looking over your shoulder and skittish as a bunny. I'm almost embarrassed but you're just too cute. You do a sort of roll over the hood and you get into the passenger side with the speed of lightening. I snicker as I get into the driver's seat and you look very pleased with yourself. I can't believe we're actually doing this, it all seems like a dream.
I don't want a life of agony
I wont be another tragedy
And I won't pretend I don't exist
Invisible until I turn to dust,
Open your eyes we're still alive.
When I start the car, you flinch at the loudness. As if someone's going to look out their window, see us driving away, and follow us. As if. No one pays attention to other people in the middle of the day, much less at night. They probably think we're sneaking out to go to some club or something, no one knows what we're really doing. After all, we even fooled Xavier, Mystique, and Magneto. We're in the car and we're not getting caught.
Let's burn our dreams into the skyline
Tattoo our sweat in tears
Forever you and I
Hold your breath till we cross the sundown
This is the moment
Time is racing slow it down
I pull out of the driveway and drive down the street just like someone would if they were on their way to the grocery store. When we pass the stop sign at the end of the street and turn onto the highway, you squeal excitedly and I can't help but smile. We're finally doing it. I can't help a glance at you and my smile widens, the look on your face reminds me of the before everything was shot to hell and I'd gotten you that chick flick, , and even watched it with you. The look on your face screams utter happiness.
What was I waiting for,
The years went flying by me
And I can't ever get them back
What was I afraid of,
I just want to live my life while I'm still alive
Looking slyly at me out of the corner of your eyes, you slip your Nena CD into the CD player and begin belting out her lyrics at the top of your lungs. Oh, Bobby, you clever little bastard. You know I'm too excited to even yell at you for bringing that crap into my car. You're dancing in your seat now, and I even start humming along. Bastard. You know I hate this kind of bad excuse for music. I will never understand why you love it, not at all.
Before I break away from me
Cause this place is my lobotomy.
Imagine we were dead
Counting all the things we never did.
The excitement in the car is so thick and electric I feel like screaming. Even though it was your idea in the first place, I think it's getting better every second. I see the tattoo on my arm peek out past my shirt and I think, hell yeah, freedom really does feel good. And we're not even out of the city yet. That tattoo was my idea, Freedom in fancy, curling script on your left arm and my right. We're getting away with it, we're getting out. We're going to be free.
He said don't change your mind
Let's leave this town behind
We'll race right off the cliff
They will remember this
It all got so mundane
With you I'm back again
Just take me by the hand
We're close to the edge
A police siren flashes behind us and we both freak out - though I'm not sure why, what we're doing isn't illegal. Probably. After the cruiser races past us, you turn to me with wide eyes full of wasted panic and we both burst into laughter. I have to try hard to keep my eyes on the road and concentrate on not crashing into a tree. That'd be no fun. The police are idiots, they won't recognize me and all you have to do is turn on your boy scout Bobby charm and we could get away with murder. Shaking my head I reach out my hand and give your's a light squeeze before grabbing the steering wheel again.
I remember when you told me
I should live like I'm dying
The safest place in life is now,
Today's the day we're breaking out.
Your CD ends, finally, and you look frustrated. Reaching into the back seat, you sift through all the crap and garbage back there and pull something back. After you put your Nena CD safely away in its case, the sounds of Metallica fill the car. Ooh, Bobby. You're the best boyfriend ever, you know that? The best. As if you can read my thoughts, you smile, pleased.
We're finally alive
Never looking back at what we've done
We'll say it was love
Cause I would die for you
Best boyfriend in the whole world, I think contentedly. Then I frown. What a great world that turned out to be, a world where it's not even fucking legal to be with the one person you love. So what if we're both men? That couldn't matter any less to either of us, so why is it so god damn important to everyone else? You can see the annoyed look on my face and without a thought light a cigarette for me, you always knew me so well.
Where are your guts to fly
Soaring through, through the night
Leave the edge and fly
So, that's why we decided this world doesn't deserve us. You and I, Bobby, we deserve so much better.
"There," you say, pointing out the black windshield. Your voice wavers from the excitement. I check out where you're pointing and nod, speeding up a tad. I can feel you keep your eyes on me the whole time. The CD ends but something fuzzy has invaded my ears and if you say something I don't hear it.
We're getting close. I take my hand off the steering wheel, toss my cigarette out the window, and grab for yours. I decide we're under control, so I take my other hand off the wheel and pull you practically onto my lap. Kissing you, I whisper in your ear, "I love you," as my tears fall into your hair.
“I love you too.” You say as the front of my Escalade breaks the tiny wood divider easily and the road falls away. There's nothing in front of us but a long drop down, and then freedom.
So what's left to prove
We have made it through.
AN: My beta disappeared on me (or at least returned the e-mail) so I have no idea how this turned out other than sad.
- Current Location:In bed
- Current Music:Why? - Jason Aldean
Prompt: “Ring my doorbell.”
It just had to be another one of those nights that no one was allowed to go out. No one knew why they were supposed to stay in, but they all had their suspicions, especially when they could hear the jet lifting off from the basketball court. John and Bobby had staked out in one room while Piotr and Sam took another and all was quiet, much too quiet for someone like John, of whom, was bouncing in place. This had been going on since they were told to stay inside and they had already given up watching television as it was around two in the morning and nothing was good on and they had given up on playing cards because John couldn't sit still long enough to play.
Bobby seemed to be perfectly alright with the arrangement, but if you looked close enough, he looked ready to bolt out the door. So, he took a deep breath and said loudly, "Ring my doorbell."
It was silly and stupid, but only John knew what Bobby meant. They had been stuck inside on some other weekend and John had rented the movie 'Meet the Robinson's' one time quite similar to tonight and had gotten both himself and Bobby hooked on the one particualr scene that Bobby had just quoted. No one knew what they meant when one or the other blurted the line out, but the other had returned in kind, making it their own private joke.
John turned to Bobby, grinning. "No. Ring my doorbell."
Bobby grinned back. "No, no. Ring my doorbell," he replied.
He looked as if he wanted to laugh, but he bit his lip and glanced at the wall behind his bed, as if wondering what Sam and Piotr were thinking. John was wondering the same thing, but he doubted they cared.
"No!" John shouted, startling Bobby out of his thoughts. "Ring my doorbell!"
Bobby looked mildly affronted. "Ring my doorbell."
"Ring my doorbell!"
"Ring my doorbell!"
Suddenly, Sam's voice filtered through the wall. "Shut the fuck up or I'll ring both your doorbells!"
John glanced at Bobby, wondering if he should laugh or not by the look of abject horror on Bobby's face. He almost did when Bobby started shouting.
"Ew!!" Bobby scrunched up his face as he shivered. "Oh, god, ew! We were so totally not talking about doorbells, Sam!"
John waited for the inevitable outcry from Sam, which he didn't have to wait long for. It didn't come from Sam, though, but from Piotr.
"You two are disgusting!" Piotr said loudly. "I don't even want to begin thinking about what you really were talking about!"
John couldn't help it any longer and burst out laughing. Sam had started to protest before something muffled his voice, halting the protest. Bobby whined, shaking his head.
"I don't think I'll ever be able to say that again."
John abruptly stopped laughing and went and sat next to Bobby, pulling their bodies close. "You'll be able to," he said, grinning as he pressed a light kiss to Bobby’s lip. "I'll make sure of it."
AN: Don’t ask me, seriously, don’t. This was at 5:40 AM after a party with a bunch of my friends.
- Current Location:In bed
- Current Music:Sinners Like Me - Eric Church
Title: Should Have
Pairing: John/Bobby, Bobby/Rouge, minor Rogue/John
Prompt: “More Like Her” - Miranda Lambert
Words: 954 words
John watches them sometimes, Rouge and Bobby. He’ll be sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the rec room, reading a book or writing in a notebook, eyes always straying from the page to the two of them. And they would be across the room, sitting on the couch playing thumb wars. John can easily read the book in Bobby’s eyes, the want to close the inch wide gap between them and kiss. He see Rogue pull away and can’t help the small feeling of triumph at the pain it causes them both.
She's beautiful in her simple little way
She don't have too much to say when she gets mad
She understands she don't let go of anything
Even when the pain gets really bad
Guess I should've been more like that
He often studies Rogue as used to do Bobby. The girl was quiet and shy, afraid of her powers and what they did to her and the people around her. She was pretty even if she didn’t wear the designer clothes, spend as much time on her make-up as Jubilee or Kitty, or try and flirt with the boys like the other girls did. Even though she wasn’t a normal, teenage girl she was still pretty, in her own way.
He admires her strength, her determination, her control. Rouge is strong for looking more like a damsel-in-distress. She always draws the lines with Bobby and their touches even though he knows she’s as horny as he is. She never complained about touching people when they needed her to, never said what it felt like to absorb their powers, personalities, and emotions. Looking back on it, John wished he was more like Rogue.
You had it all for a pretty little while
And some how you made me smile when I was sad
You took a chance on a bruised and beaten heart
Then you realized you wanted what you had
I guess I should've been more like that
When John first came to the Mansion he was a scared, hungry, mistrustful, abused ten-year-old. And there was Bobby, two years older, smiling, and ready to help him with everything and never press him for information. He didn’t trust the adults, still only trusted them to a point, but he would have followed Bobby through Hell if only he’d asked. And so they were inseparable, two boys growing up together for four long years. Then the girls who were always mooning over Bobby began to interest him more than the boy at his side. Hormones kicked in and the world changed and suddenly Bobby didn’t want John, he wanted one of the girls who were always flirting with him.
I should have held on to my pride
I should have never let you lie
I guess you got what you deserved
I guess I should've been more like her
And so Rogue came into the picture, exactly what Bobby wanted - a female version of the hurting child John had once been. The once casual touches between them became fewer and far between, Rogue began taking all of Bobby’s attention, but John believed the lies. No, the slightly pale and sickly skin was from the Danger Room sessions, he was just out studying late with Piotr studying, he wasn’t in the mood tonight - too tired from those Danger Room sessions.
Forgiving you, she's stronger than I am
You don't look much like a man from where I'm at
It's plain to see desperation showed it's truth
You love her and she loves you with all she has
I guess I should've been more like that
And then Alkali Lake happened and John switched sides, choosing power over whatever else the Mansion could offer without Bobby. The power and fighting and terrorism excited him and he forgot about the Mansion and Bobby and everything they had done together. John was lost in the fire, excitement, rush, and fight that Magneto required of him. There was no John anymore, no scared little kid, it was just Pyro - the terrorist.
Then Alkatraz Island happened. He say Bobby and Rogue again. Rogue was holding Bobby’s hand and John could read the air between them and the expressions on their faces. Bobby was in love, and it wasn’t with John. Rogue was in love as well, and Wolverine wasn’t the one she was looking at. What was he supposed to do? He just wished he’d been more like Rogue, then called the fire to do what it needed to in order to win this fight.
I should have held on to my pride
I should have never let you lie
I guess you got what you deserved
I guess I should've been more like her
John thought back to the lies Bobby had told him, the begging he had done with his eyes and his body. He thought about how he wasn’t like Rogue and the differences is why Bobby loved her, he poured all of those emotions into his fire and made it hotter and hotter. He forced it onto Bobby, mocking him with his eyes and taunting him with words. Anything to burry the old John under Pyro. He still thought that Bobby got what he deserved, Rogue, the perfect girl, everything John wasn’t.
She's beautiful in her simple, little way
Rogue was beautiful, perfect. So who was John more jealous of - Rogue for having Bobby or Bobby for having Rogue?
A/N: Couldn’t sleep, was listening to Miranda Lambert and finishing up Story Time and then realized this song fit perfectly and so had to write it.
- Current Location:At Taylor's
- Current Music:miranda lambert "dry town"
Title: Story Time
Prompt: 11. How John Survived Before He Got to the Mansion
Words: 1,949 words
“John what’d you do before you came to the Mansion?”
They always started their nights like this. It was something Bobby had dubbed story time. Originally, it had been made so John could tell Bobby more about himself and not feel threatened and exercise some creativity at the same time. John would come up with two or three stories to tell Bobby before they fell asleep, one would be the truth and the other(s) would be fiction and it was up to Bobby to figure out which was which.
“I was a cowboy, drug dealer, and a normal kid.” John started, rolling over so he was lying next to Bobby rather than on top of him. “Which do you want to hear first?”
“I don’t care.” These nights were all about John and Bobby did as little to intrude in them as possible, even picking which story John would tell him first. Waiting for John to begin Bobby began running his fingers through the pyrokinetic’s brown hair.
“Well, I was born outside this tiny town called Caldwell; it’s about sixty miles East of Austin, the capital of Texas.” John began; hazel eyes closed as he envisioned or imagined the story and told it to Bobby. “I have a pretty big family, three sisters, two great uncles, all four of my grandparents, two of my great grandparents, two great aunts, two parents, and a million cousins, second cousins, and third cousins.
“One of my great uncles, his wife, and their two sons live on a house in the ranch that my great uncle, Jerald, made. It sits on the top of a huge hill with a bunch of tall trees surrounding it. We go to that house for Thanksgiving, Christmas, and family reunions. My great-grandfather and his girlfriend live in another house there, closer to the road than Jerald. People meet up there before coming to Jerald’s. Next to them is the renter’s house, at the edge of our property away from all the cattle and woods.
“I live with my parents and sisters in a two story house in the back eighteen acres of our ranch, farther from the main road than my PawPaw or Uncle Jerald.” As John spoke he gained an accent, a slight drawl on his letters and a slowing of his speech. “I never left the ranch except for funerals and weddings, I was home schooled because of how far we lived from town. The ranch was my life; we raise mixed cattle - Braymer and Angus. We’ve got over five hundred head total and it has been good. When I was thirteen I first found out about my powers. . .” A pause and John’s eyes don’t open he only takes a deep breath before continuing.
“It was Thanksgiving and my aunt Gayle - Jerald’s wife - was helping me and Dad set up a bonfire. My dad was always more of a pyromaniac than me; he’d always say a bonfire wasn’t big enough unless you could see it from space.” John chuckled dryly and shook his head at the (imagined?) memory. “We’d hauled three dead trees into the empty space in front of the house and doused it in gasoline. My Aunt Gayle was going to light the bonfire that year - I don’t even remember why she got the privilege. Either way when she lit the lighter she hadn’t washed her hands and had them covered in gasoline. Her hands started burning and she started screaming, everyone started freaking out. All I wanted was for my Aunt Gayle to be safe and for the fire not to hurt her.” Another slight pause. “And then before I knew it, the fire was listening to me. In front of my entire family I showed them I was a mutant.
“I thought they were going to disown me for sure. They were always racist against something. First it was black and Mexicans, then after 9/11 it was Arabs, then gays with the whole gay rights thing, then mutants. I was so afraid I looked at my dad and he said that I should go home and wait for him. So, I got in my truck and went back to the house. I went to my room and sat on my bed and stared at my hands until my dad came into my room. He sat on the bed next to me then he hugged me. Didn’t yell at me, didn’t hit me, didn’t disown me, he just hugged me and said everything was going to be alright.” John’s voice caught in his throat and he was quiet for a few moments, getting himself under control again. “I never cried until then Bobby, ever. A week later Jean Grey and the Professor showed up, told my parents about Xavier’s and then they sent me here.”
Then John slid into his second story, the drug dealer one. “Grew up in Austin, Texas.” Bobby wondered what it was with John and this place, was he reading a book about it or was he really from there? “Well, South Austin. It was lower working to lower middle class. I lived in a three bedroom house with my mom, brother, stepsister, grandparents, uncle, and whatever friend or cousin was crashing with us. Mom got one room with her brother - Uncle Bruce, grandparents got the other, brother - Darrel - got the last bedroom, and then we converted the garage into a room for my stepsister, Caroline. That left me with the couch in the living room.
“It sucked.” John’s voice sounded like any other teenager’s complaining about their family. “Everyone would stay up late playing poker, drinking, watching TV and I couldn’t sleep until they left then Mom would be up at five getting ready for work. So, I started sleeping during the day instead of going to class, just so I could sleep. No one cared that I missed school, grandparents were too old, Mom had two jobs, Uncle Bruce was always gone on some drug or another, Darrel and Caroline didn’t give a fuck what their little brother did.
“I used to get bitched at too. Someone was always sending me to get cigarettes or booze or drugs. It was because I was the smallest and I was always there and I knew where to get it. So I started smoking the cigarettes I bought, drinking the booze I bought, trying out the drugs I could.” He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head. “I never said no to a drug, but I never did heroin. And you know why?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Because I didn’t know anyone who would share or who had it. I was such a dick.
“Then I sort of stumbled on dealing. I bought a bag of Ecstasy the day before it was made illegal. Then I had a five pound bag of Ecstasy that suddenly went up a good twenty bucks in price. So, I started selling the tabs for five bucks a pop instead of two. Made some nice dough, then people started asking me for other stuff and I had connections so I just cut out the connections and started bringing the people what they asked for personally. It was just easier for me and I made more dough that way.” A shrug as if it meant nothing to him. “I was doing some meth with a buddy of mine when I found out fire was my mutation. The fire under the spoon suddenly got all big and I didn’t burn my hand. At first I thought I was just that fucked up but then I came down and could still fuck with fire. It was awesome; I was psyched and started charging people to light their shit perfectly. Anything to make a buck.”
He stopped, either not wanting to continue or having to think of how to continue. “I was a total junkie when Summers and Storm came for me. Totally strung out on God knows what, track marks everywhere, skinny as a rail, and probably dead on my feet. Mom was too happy to send me away; I had been stealing cash from her for years. I mean, it wasn’t Mom’s fault she tried you know? But I’m a fuck up and she couldn’t fix me, not with all the work she had to do. Either way Storm and Summers picked me up and then wham! Next thing I know I’m here being forced to get clean.”
“Last one for tonight, Bobby-boy,” John said before starting his final tale. “I was just like you. I had a mom, a dad, grandparents, two sisters, and a dog. We lived in Pflugerville, a suburb of Austin, yeah we‘re still in Texas. My dad was a retired Marine, an electrical engineer who worked for IBM. When I was a kid, before my sisters were born, we moved around every few months, living on base and in trailers, before my dad finally retired and went to college. My mom had me young - sixteen - never finished high school, but she lied on her application and got a job managing an apartment complex called Timbers Apartments while my dad was in college. She was so good at it that they gave her three more complexes to manage and worked her to the bone. She always regretted not finishing school, she was smart. Four years down the road Mom quit her job, Dad graduated in the top one half percent in the nation, and we bought a house.
“I went to Pflugerville Middle School, then my Freshman year attending Pflugerville High School is when my powers finally caught up to me. My sisters were always messing with me, total and complete brats, the two of them. I was sitting in the living room, reading a book and one of them, Chelsea, my older younger sister, she’d have been twelve at the time. She grabbed my book and tossed it to my other sister, Aimee, who would have been eight. We were all four years apart. They started threatening to tear it to pieces and just being a pair of monsters when it happened. I was just so angry with them that I didn’t even think. I blinked and then the book and my sisters’ shirts were on fire and they were screaming. Dad came in and put the fires out; made sure everyone was alright hen asked me what had happened. When I told him that the fire from one of Mom’s million candles had jumped from its wick and onto my sisters he just nodded and went upstairs. I heard the computer turn on and tried to ignore the scorch marks on the carpet and my sisters’ ruined clothing.
“When Dad came back downstairs he was on the phone with Xavier. Next thing I know he’s telling me all these things about mutants and how I’m one and how I have to be careful, how I have to learn to suppress it, to keep people like my sisters safe from myself, how I had to learn control.” John stopped suddenly, taking a few deep breaths, in his nose and out of his mouth. Bobby realized he was calming himself down. “I had to learn how to bottle my emotions up, make myself safe for everyone else. A week later I was flown here with my Dad and we checked this place out, talked to the teachers, and then Dad went home and I started unpacking my stuff.” Bobby could feel John shrug.
“So, Bobby-boy, which one was real?”
A/N: Oh my God, that was hard to finish! Obviously, the last one I gaffed out on, for some reason it was the hardest to write and you can see it came out kinda choppy, not nearly as good as the first two - in my opinion anyway. So, how did you all like this one? Like I’ve said before I can’t do crack, but I hope I put an interesting twist on this.
- Current Location:At Taylor's
- Current Music:Small Town Southern Man - Alan Jackson
Prompt: Crack-a-thon 6. Amnesia
Warnings: A bit of sap and fluff.
“Dude, what were we talking about?” John blearily glanced over to Bobby, blinking his dark eyes owlishly.
“Huh?” He asked, sitting up enough to take another hit; holding the smoke in as long as he could before letting the air out and coughing a few times, trying to suppress it. Wordlessly, he passed the thick glass pipe to Bobby, before falling back onto the pillows.
“Dude, you said something.” Bobby tried before John waved his hand, interrupting and cutting Bobby off. Bobby took a hit as well, mimicking John as best he could and managed to cough only a couple times. “Seriously,” He swayed dangerously as he passed the pipe back to John. “What’d you say?”
“I don’t remember, man.” John said before laughing suddenly. Bobby seemed to find whatever it was hilarious as well because he laughed right along with John until he felt like his sides were going to burst.
“You gotta remember, dude.” Bobby prodded, poking John as he passed the pipe.
“Cash it, man.” John said instead handing over the lighter as well. “One big hit is all that’s left.”
Bobby took a deep breath and then let it out. He sealed his lips over the pipe, covering the small hole on the left side as he lit the lighter, holding it just above the weed, and sucking. After a few moments he let go of the hole and inhaled.
This time he did cough a lot. John just laughed, patting him roughly on the back. “You’re good man, you’re good.” He waited for Bobby to quit coughing. “Wanna grab some munchies?” Then he was stumbling up and leaving their room for the kitchen; smelling to high heaven of illegal narcotics and not caring. Bobby stood shakily and followed, not knowing what else to do in his drug induced high.
Too bad Bobby didn’t remember what sparked their original conversation, because John did.
Too bad John and Marie were friends, because John sure wished he could steal Bobby from her now that he knew.
Bobby liked him too.
- Current Location:In bed
- Current Music:If You Could Only See - Tonic