Story Title: Learning to Trust- Pyro, Bobby
Author: Savvy
Characters/Ships: John, Bobby
Fandom: X-men
Summary: After coming upon Xavier's Academy, John tries to adjust to the life of a normal teenager.
Rating: R for language, sexual references in first few chapters. NC-17 for later chapters
Warning: Slash, angst
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story. I only own the story itself.
Chapter 1: Skills of a Misspent Youth
It was my last resort. It was either do this or live on the streets. I had no choice. The temperature was dropping each day and by the look of the clouds huddled in the sky, it was going to snow soon. I hated the snow and the thought of being in it when it rained down was not at all inviting.
Taking two buses and hitch- hiking the majority of the way I now stood outside "Xavier's Academy for Gifted Youngsters." That's what the sign said anyway. What a gay name! I wouldn't call myself gifted by a long shot, but if what I had heard by mouth while sleeping on the streets of Manhattan was true, this was supposed to be a haven for people like me, mutants the news had said, or freaks as my parents had so bluntly put it before kicking me out on the streets with only the clothes on my back and my dignity, though broken, to survive on. Fuck them and their damn reasons. I could make it without them. I had so far, though barely. But, like I convinced myself during my grudging stay in the rodent filled alleyways of New York, that all was in the past, a hundreds or so miles in the past now if I was correct and any good with mileage.
I peered through the iron gates at the darkened grounds beyond. The large amass of black stone towered overhead, it's angles, turns and sharp edges throwing eerie death like shadows on the ground below where I stood, heart pounding in my chest, waiting for someone to notice that I was here. I glanced down at the dirty slip of paper in my hands and read the directions over again. Yep, this was the place. What now?
"Welcome."
Fuck, what the hell was that? I spun around, my Zippo held flipped open and blazing in my hands, ready for my next move. "Who's there?" I yelled looking toward the sky for who knows what. "Fuck, I'm finally losing my damn mind. I'm hearing things, and shit, now I'm talking to myself."
"We've been waiting for you. You're safe now, come in." The voice was deep, tenor, soothing even. It was a man's voice; old by the sound of it. Man, I'm hallucinating. I pulled the flame from the lighter into my hands and increased the intensity, the blaze making it easier to see down the street where I'd just come. There was nothing. Not even a fucking animal on the asphalt, but, an animal wouldn't be talking to me, would it?
Smart thinking, John, no Pyro, that's what I preferred to be called now, ever since a woman named Raven, Mystique as she liked to be called, had found me and taken me under her arm and branded me with that name after learning my powers. She also gave me the lighter to remember our meeting by. But that was in the past and she was gone now, though there hadn't been a moment since that I haven't thought about her. She said we'd meet again. I had nodded though I knew it wasn't true. I was a loner, had always been and would always be. A dead loner if I froze my ass off, which I was doing right now, the thin black jacket I had stolen out of a red ford truck barely breaking the wind as the name on the tag claimed it was supposed to do. Hyperthermia; that had to be it. That's why I was hearing voices.
"Come in," the voice repeated and to my shock the gates opened letting me in. But did I want to go in? If I was already losing it just standing outside the gates, who knows what bullshit would creep up on me once inside. But it was either stay here or walk down the ten mile barren road back to that small town I'd passed through two hour ago. Hell no, I wouldn't be walking back down that road if my life depended on it. Shit, now I was thinking about death. Maybe this was a bad idea.
But my legs pulled me inside, one step after another until I stood at the front door, which too opened on its own. What kind of freak show was this?
I had seen many schools in my childhood, never staying in one long enough other than to be kicked out and moved on to the next. But this building, with it's lamped hall lights, red carpeting, and crimson curtains flanking the windows was no school I'd every been inside. It looked like a museum rather than a school. It was tacky, ornate, and warm. Like a home that hadn't been lived in; with each piece of furniture carefully positioned and in its place. And what sort of school had hard wood paneling on the walls?
I wasn't given much time to study my surroundings when a lady, tall, auburn-haired and smiling, walked toward me, her hand held out in welcome. "Welcome," she said. "I'm Jean Grey."
I looked at her hand and then at her face and I stayed frozen in place, my Zippo firmly held in my hand. She didn't seem at all perturbed by my hesitation for she dropped her hand and smiled, her eyes averted to my lighter and then back to my face. "We're happy you've made it here safely. We've been watching your progress for sometime now."
Watching my progress? I thought as she beckoned me to follow her. That didn't sound right. Maybe I should leave.
"I wouldn't go back out there," she said as if reading my mind. Looking back me she smiled at me. "Storm says you made it just in time. Snow's going to be falling any minute now."
Storm? Was that someone's name? This was getting stranger by the second.
When I didn't respond, she continued right on. "I know it's late, but before we get you settled in your room the Professor wants to speak with you."
"Xavier?" I asked remembering the name on the sign outside.
"Yes, that's right. Charles Xavier."
I followed silently, and I was growing more hesitate about this as we walked further and further into the school. We passed a large sitting area, an office and then something resembling a classroom though their were plush seats behind desk, rather than the usual straight back prison chairs that I had come accustomed to in some of the public schools I'd attended.
"Here we are," she said stopping outside large wooden doors. "The Professor's waiting for you."
I flipped my lighter round in my hand as I stared at the door. I'd keep it out just in case.
She smiled at me and shook her head knowingly. "You won't need that, I trust you." How the fuck was she doing that? I thought averting my eyes from her. "I'll be back to show you to your room." She finished. And with that she left, her heels tapping the floor as she entered another room down the hall.
I knew if I thought too much I would lose my nerve and never go inside, so pushing all my hesitations aside I turned the brass knob on the door and pushed it open. Seated in a large leather chair sat an old man, his head bald. He was grinning. I'd seen that face somewhere. On television if I wasn't mistaken.
"Welcome John. I'm Charles Xavier" he said gesturing for me to sit, but I didn't want to, and he knew, some how.
"But, by all means stand if that makes you most comfortable."
The door snapped closed behind me and I jumped, my hands instinctively grabbing my lighter and flicking it open in alarm.
"No reason to be alarmed," he smiled. "Jean has telekinetic powers. That mean she can move things with her mind. She must have saw that the door was open and closed it for us. But enough about Jean, tell me a little about you."
I closed the lighter's cap and gripped it tightly in my hands. For a moment we stared into each other's eyes, mine unwavering under his. Why should I tell him anything? I knew nothing about him, except for his name which I'd found out on my own. But as I thought these things, all my memories flashed before my eyes as if in some sort of movie reel. Why should I tell him anything about my childhood? How I had stood outside my parent's house and screamed at them to let me in, saying that I would try to change for them if that would make them love me or how I had to scrounged for years to survive; eating leftovers out of trashcans and finally given in to prostitution to make enough money to eat and then get a bus ticket to this shit hole only to have some sick pedophile question me about my life. Why did he have to know any of this? It was none of his business. He could kiss my ass. I wasn't telling him anything. I tightened my grasp on the Zippo in my hands and didn't look away until he did.
"In that case, we should have you examined tomorrow for any bodily diseases you may have encountered over the years. And you'll find out soon enough that your childhood experiences aren't as uncommon as you perceive them to be."
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I asked. I hadn't said anything about that had I?
"No need for language. I'm also a telepath," he said as if that were obvious. "You'll be seeing Jean Grey in the morning so rest up until then. Though you seem likely to faint any second," he smiled.
Then there was a knock on the door behind me and in came that Jean lady from before. "Ah Jean, we're finished as you already know. Would you be so kind as to take Mr. Allerdyce to his room? Drake has an available bed I think."
I didn't have time to find out how the old man knew my last name. Probably read my mind again. Jean motioned for me to follow her and I did, wanting to put as much space between myself and the old man as possible.
"You'll be rooming with Bobby Drake," she said looking down at me. You may want to wash up before going to bed," she said taking in my dirty shirt and jeans. "But be quiet. Everyone's asleep at this hour."
"Are you telepathic too?" I asked.
"Yes, but I'm not anywhere as powerful as the professor. He's the reason why you're here."
"What's that suppose to mean?"
"He led you here. But he'll explain everything in the morning. Here we are."
She pushed open the door and stepped in. The room was dark and I could see someone lying in a bed near the window. That Bobby guy I figured. She seemed to be following my gaze for she placed a finger to her lips and led me to the restroom and closed the door behind us.
"Towel, soap," she said and I watched as each item zoomed down from its cabinet. "Clothing is on your bed. I'll see you at eight for your check up," she smiled making for the door. "Good night?" And on that note she left as quietly as she entered.
I stared transfixed at my surroundings; at the pearly- white Jacuzzi tub in the corner by the window and then at the walk in shower with multiple nozzles of multiple shapes and sizes fixed into the wall at different heights. I'd never been in a place this nice before. It was pretty overwhelming.
After using the tub, it took me a minute to learn what the different knobs did, I wrapped the towel around my waist and crossed to the mirror and looked at myself, for what had to be the first time in weeks.
I looked horrible.
Bruises lined my jawbone, forehead and cheeks; some blue, some red and I had a black eye. As I looked further down more cuts and scraps crisscrossed over my chest, arms and back. I looked like I'd been attacked by something large; and I had, though it hadn't been one large thing, but five large gangly guys. They had jumped me for my Zippo of all things a while back. They had taken it from me and beaten me in the process. I had had enough strength in me to see one of them light a cigarette with it; a smirk on his triumphant lips as they mocked me as I lay sprawled on the ground. That had been enough motivation to do what I had done. The looks on their faces as their bodies burned still makes my stomach turn and I can still smell the scent of their flesh burning. Ah, but that was in the past. It hadn't been the first time and I was sure it wouldn't be the last. I had to move on.
I guess I had blocked out the pain. You learn how to do that after being through what I had, but I felt the pain now and it was excruciating. I could barely move my arms and when I accidentally dropped the towel on the floor with my dirty clothes I could barely bend to pick it up. On the fifth attempt I simply gave up.
Making sure that I knew where my bed was in the bedroom, I flipped off the lights and walked blindly into the room, naked as the day I was born. I could hear the snores of the other boy coming from his bed so I knew he slept, oblivious to the fact that a complete stranger now walked round the room baring ass.
I found clothes like Jean had said and I slowly pulled them on; boxers, pajama pants, and finally shirt, though I had to rest between arms. I climbed into bed and as soon as I lay my head onto the pillow flashes from my childhood threatened to burst through the wall I'd placed them behind long ago. This bed reminded me of when I was five and still unaware of my ability to manipulate fire. The bed had felt just like this, soft, warm, inviting.
But I promised myself that I wouldn't go there. Why remember memories of a life that would never be? It was fucking pointless. Too much had happened since I last lay in that bed. Those survival memories were my true past. Fuck the rest.
I turned my eyes to look at the boy in other bed. What would he be like? Would he shun me like everyone else had done? If he did he could fuck off as well. I didn't have time for friends anyway. They were a waste of time; like clients that used to fuck my brains out and then try to leave without paying; a fucking waste of my time. Guys had been the worst and I had learned quickly to receive pay first, fuck second. Oh, the things a child learned when their life depended on it. The skills of a misspent youth, was what tricks liked to call it when I'd recount those nights. They would laugh, but it wasn't funny at all. I'd gotten out of that life as soon as I had enough money; leaving their jeers behind me…
Shit, I was doing it again, reliving the past. It always caught up with me didn't it?
I watched the other boy sleep until my eye lids grew heavy. Making sure my Zippo was in hand I turned onto my side and dozed, my senses on alert as I slept my first true sleep in days.
Author Note: Do you like it? I hope so. I'm getting use to this Pyro/Iceman thing. Please review!!
Edit: For mistakes.