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redfiona99Happy belated birthday James.
Fandom: X-men movieverse
Genre: Light slash, angst.
Rating: 12, really nothing offensive - it's Colossus fic for crying out loud.
Characters: Pyro/Colossus (or rather John/Piotr), most other movieverse characters get a mention.
Spoilers: For large chunks of X2. Please, if you've not seen it, don't read this, I don't want to spoil anyone.
Notes: There is another, unfinished, version of this fic languishing on my laptop. I think I prefer this version, plus the rate the other one was coming along, it will never be finished.
Summary: After the events of X2, lots of people have sleepless nights, but not always for the expected reasons.
~~~~
John was gone.
It was Bobby who'd told Piotr, told him in such an off-handed way, as though John had just walked out to go to the corner shop. Not that Bobby meant it that way, it was just his way of coping. He clammed up and hid behind a wall of ice. For all that Bobby was supposed to be the most open and friendly person at the School he could lie and hide himself well enough when he needed to.
John had been the exact opposite, with his rash temper and tendancy to show off. He was supposed to be angry and cynical. He was supposed to be the one that was unreadable, except that had never been true either. You could tell if someone had hurt him because he struck out, physically or verbally. He was a very open person in that way.
But he was gone. Joined Magneto, according to Professor Xavier. Which both did and didn't sound like John. He always said he didn't believe in grand causes, he believed in surviving so why he joined a revolution was beyond Piotr. Except that he might have thought it would annoy the Professor. If John thought something would anger him then of course he'd do it. That was one of the few things John enjoyed, annoying Professor Xavier.
But he'd be back.
~~~~
After a month it became obvious that John wouldn't be back.
Piotr worried, maybe John was dead or injured, he never normally stayed away this long, not even all the times he claimed he was leaving forever which happened about once a year.
But the Professor assured him that John wasn't, couldn't have been. Piotr wanted to know how the Professor knew, but all the Professor would say, with that all-knowing smile of his, was that Magneto wasn't such a monster that he wouldn't have somehow told him.
Piotr chose to believe him, however much it hurt. Because if John wasn't hurt, then John had walked away from him.
Of course he didn't press the issue, other people had far more to be upset over.
Miss Grey's death was so much more important than his little loss, at least John was alive out there, somewhere. Probably making mischief like he always did.
But Miss Grey wasn't, and that hurt everyone much more than they were saying. Especially Mr. Summers and Mr. Logan. It was like, what was the American expression, walking on eggshells around them. They were both trying to hide it so they would snap at the oddest things. They were too filled with worries to bother them with his.
And then of course there were the younger ones, the ones who were captured and the ones who weren't, they still had nightmares about it. They'd still have nightmares about it years later, from what he'd seen of John's restless sleep. They needed to feel safe and some of them trusted him, the ones who had been left in his care. He could not look weak in front of them, he had to keep them safe.
As for Bobby and Rogue, they were already beating themselves up about what they'd missed about their friend that would make his actions seem logical. Who was he to intrude, he shared John's bed, that was all. And only once, and a few kisses besides. They didn't need to feel guilty that they'd missed another facet of John's personality. He wasn't a very open person in that way, from what Piotr knew, John learnt to keep some secrets to himself.
Yes, he missed John, but that got him nowhere. Nor did all this thinking, he was still wide awake at three o'clock in the morning. The problem was there was nothing for him to do, none of his usual sleeplessness cures would work. Most of them he couldn't use, he couldn't go outside, the Professor had put a ban on them leaving the house after dark - oh how much John would have love to have broken that new rule - and Logan was enforcing it. And taking it very seriously, he didn't want to see the little ones in danger again. His treatment of someone of the age and supposed responsibility that Piotr had reached breaking curfew would be less than pleasant, Piotr supposed. Not injury causing but guilt inducing.
Nor could he go downstairs, even on tiptoe; not that he could really tiptoe, Piotr was naturally heavy footed and his metal body seemed to weigh him down even when it wasn't there. Because Mr. Summers would be there, and everyone tried to avoid him. He didn't sleep enough anymore, and even without seeing them you knew his eyes were red-rimmed with tiredness and tears. It was best to stay out of his way.
He couldn't play chess either, Miss Grey wasn't there anymore and no one else knew how to play. She had always been so good to him, playing games with him when there must have been more important things for her to do.
Not even his beloved painting could help him, because he knew what lurked underneath the few innocuous sheets of watercolour paper at the front of his pad.
It was a painting, or the beginnings of one, the last in a series, all of John. It had started off innocently enough, pictures of John doing things you wouldn't expect him to do, like smiling sincerely. Then they'd slowly become more intimate.
The fact was Rogue and Bobby were partly correct in their guilt, they had shut John out, not deliberately, but because they were young and in love. And John, wanting to be the centre of attention as always, didn't feel like being the third wheel, so he found someone else to bug and pester.
He'd noticed Piotr watching him, studying him, and decided to have some fun. And fun lead to liking which lead further because they were young, male and horny.
The picture was a nude, he'd sketched it quickly just after and was going to fill the rest in and try and use it to shock John at a later date that would not now come to pass. The only thing had with him was his lighter and a smuggled in cigarette. He did these to try and make himself look older, but all that it did was make him look like a younger Julian Casablanca.
He'd threatened to burn the sketch if Piotr didn't come back to bed. So Piotr did. That was the last time they were alone together, two days before Mr. Logan came back.
The thought of going back to that put him off painting, because he didn't like to leave things unfinished. Maybe that was the point though, first loves are not meant to last, but at the same time they're never finished, no goodbye was ever said. Finishing the painting would be admitting there would be no more detail to add, that he'd never see John again to fill in the gaps in the painting.
There would be no late-night walks or television, no friendly game of chess or painting. This would be just another sleepless night with only a bottle of vodka that John had left to keep him company.
~~~~
End notes: The painting bit is comicverse but it was the only thing that fitted.
Fandom: X-men movieverse
Genre: Light slash, angst.
Rating: 12, really nothing offensive - it's Colossus fic for crying out loud.
Characters: Pyro/Colossus (or rather John/Piotr), most other movieverse characters get a mention.
Spoilers: For large chunks of X2. Please, if you've not seen it, don't read this, I don't want to spoil anyone.
Notes: There is another, unfinished, version of this fic languishing on my laptop. I think I prefer this version, plus the rate the other one was coming along, it will never be finished.
Summary: After the events of X2, lots of people have sleepless nights, but not always for the expected reasons.
~~~~
John was gone.
It was Bobby who'd told Piotr, told him in such an off-handed way, as though John had just walked out to go to the corner shop. Not that Bobby meant it that way, it was just his way of coping. He clammed up and hid behind a wall of ice. For all that Bobby was supposed to be the most open and friendly person at the School he could lie and hide himself well enough when he needed to.
John had been the exact opposite, with his rash temper and tendancy to show off. He was supposed to be angry and cynical. He was supposed to be the one that was unreadable, except that had never been true either. You could tell if someone had hurt him because he struck out, physically or verbally. He was a very open person in that way.
But he was gone. Joined Magneto, according to Professor Xavier. Which both did and didn't sound like John. He always said he didn't believe in grand causes, he believed in surviving so why he joined a revolution was beyond Piotr. Except that he might have thought it would annoy the Professor. If John thought something would anger him then of course he'd do it. That was one of the few things John enjoyed, annoying Professor Xavier.
But he'd be back.
~~~~
After a month it became obvious that John wouldn't be back.
Piotr worried, maybe John was dead or injured, he never normally stayed away this long, not even all the times he claimed he was leaving forever which happened about once a year.
But the Professor assured him that John wasn't, couldn't have been. Piotr wanted to know how the Professor knew, but all the Professor would say, with that all-knowing smile of his, was that Magneto wasn't such a monster that he wouldn't have somehow told him.
Piotr chose to believe him, however much it hurt. Because if John wasn't hurt, then John had walked away from him.
Of course he didn't press the issue, other people had far more to be upset over.
Miss Grey's death was so much more important than his little loss, at least John was alive out there, somewhere. Probably making mischief like he always did.
But Miss Grey wasn't, and that hurt everyone much more than they were saying. Especially Mr. Summers and Mr. Logan. It was like, what was the American expression, walking on eggshells around them. They were both trying to hide it so they would snap at the oddest things. They were too filled with worries to bother them with his.
And then of course there were the younger ones, the ones who were captured and the ones who weren't, they still had nightmares about it. They'd still have nightmares about it years later, from what he'd seen of John's restless sleep. They needed to feel safe and some of them trusted him, the ones who had been left in his care. He could not look weak in front of them, he had to keep them safe.
As for Bobby and Rogue, they were already beating themselves up about what they'd missed about their friend that would make his actions seem logical. Who was he to intrude, he shared John's bed, that was all. And only once, and a few kisses besides. They didn't need to feel guilty that they'd missed another facet of John's personality. He wasn't a very open person in that way, from what Piotr knew, John learnt to keep some secrets to himself.
Yes, he missed John, but that got him nowhere. Nor did all this thinking, he was still wide awake at three o'clock in the morning. The problem was there was nothing for him to do, none of his usual sleeplessness cures would work. Most of them he couldn't use, he couldn't go outside, the Professor had put a ban on them leaving the house after dark - oh how much John would have love to have broken that new rule - and Logan was enforcing it. And taking it very seriously, he didn't want to see the little ones in danger again. His treatment of someone of the age and supposed responsibility that Piotr had reached breaking curfew would be less than pleasant, Piotr supposed. Not injury causing but guilt inducing.
Nor could he go downstairs, even on tiptoe; not that he could really tiptoe, Piotr was naturally heavy footed and his metal body seemed to weigh him down even when it wasn't there. Because Mr. Summers would be there, and everyone tried to avoid him. He didn't sleep enough anymore, and even without seeing them you knew his eyes were red-rimmed with tiredness and tears. It was best to stay out of his way.
He couldn't play chess either, Miss Grey wasn't there anymore and no one else knew how to play. She had always been so good to him, playing games with him when there must have been more important things for her to do.
Not even his beloved painting could help him, because he knew what lurked underneath the few innocuous sheets of watercolour paper at the front of his pad.
It was a painting, or the beginnings of one, the last in a series, all of John. It had started off innocently enough, pictures of John doing things you wouldn't expect him to do, like smiling sincerely. Then they'd slowly become more intimate.
The fact was Rogue and Bobby were partly correct in their guilt, they had shut John out, not deliberately, but because they were young and in love. And John, wanting to be the centre of attention as always, didn't feel like being the third wheel, so he found someone else to bug and pester.
He'd noticed Piotr watching him, studying him, and decided to have some fun. And fun lead to liking which lead further because they were young, male and horny.
The picture was a nude, he'd sketched it quickly just after and was going to fill the rest in and try and use it to shock John at a later date that would not now come to pass. The only thing had with him was his lighter and a smuggled in cigarette. He did these to try and make himself look older, but all that it did was make him look like a younger Julian Casablanca.
He'd threatened to burn the sketch if Piotr didn't come back to bed. So Piotr did. That was the last time they were alone together, two days before Mr. Logan came back.
The thought of going back to that put him off painting, because he didn't like to leave things unfinished. Maybe that was the point though, first loves are not meant to last, but at the same time they're never finished, no goodbye was ever said. Finishing the painting would be admitting there would be no more detail to add, that he'd never see John again to fill in the gaps in the painting.
There would be no late-night walks or television, no friendly game of chess or painting. This would be just another sleepless night with only a bottle of vodka that John had left to keep him company.
~~~~
End notes: The painting bit is comicverse but it was the only thing that fitted.
