[Fic] Double Heart
Characters: Claire Bennet and John Allerdyce AKA Pyro
Setting: Loosely based on the Stop Running verse, set in the Brotherhood's headquarters.
Rating: I'd say a PG-13ish because they're pottymouths.
Summary: A moment of stupid questions and goofing off. Written by request for finisfervens from the song fic meme posted here, and crossposted from indestructigirl.
“So come on,” John started, leaning back on one elbow, "can you really regrow limbs? You know, like a lizard?” Claire just rolled her eyes, nodding. “Yes. I’ve regrown a toe and a foot. Haven’t really tried for much more than that. As much as I like to test my limits, I’m not that adventurous.”
She scooted back toward the wall, lifting her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. It was always a bit chilly in the Brotherhood headquarters and so she was always doing things like that to warm herself. Even with a hoodie, she still got cold.
Her lips split in a grin, “Got any more stupid questions for me?”
“The only stupid question is one that’s never asked.” John’s tone was mocking, as was his expression. “Or some shit like that. But you’ve got to be used to this by now, how long have you had your power again?”
“About five years or so, give or take,” she replied thoughtfully. It was odd to think of her ability as a power, because she often didn’t feel very powerful. Sure, it was useful and most of the time she was glad to have it, but it wasn’t, at least in her eyes, a force to be reckoned with like Pyro’s ability to control fire. “I’ve tested a lot of things out. A lot of things I’ve never even told anyone.”
The sheets rustled as John shifted again, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Can you get a tattoo? Have you ever tried?”
Claire shook her head. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever tried that. I just assumed it wouldn’t work, and I don’t really want to be walking into a tattoo parlor where I might freak out some poor, unsuspecting tattoo artist. Besides, I don’t even know what I’d get. Anything I tattooed on myself would literally be there forever unless I somehow cut it off of me.” She actually shuddered at that last bit, clearly not enjoying the idea of regen tattoo removal.
“Yeah, I guess that’s an issue, if you don’t know any mutant tattoo artists. Even if human tattoo artists generally occupy a certain level of social outcasts, they’re still human.” The disdain in his voice made Claire’s skin crawl, but she ignored it. She was actually sort of grateful that he continued speaking, because she couldn’t bring herself to think of anything to say to that. “You could just get something stupid and cliché, I mean if it’s not gonna stay anyway. Even if it does, burning it off might be better than taking a knife to it,” John added, flicking the lid on his Zippo for effect.
“What, like a double heart or something?” she asked, laughing. The stupid and cliché comment took her mind off the blatant - was it racism? - in his comment toward humans. Claire’s eyes were drawn to his hands, watching him play with the lighter with such a natural grace that it seemed attached to him. She couldn’t help but find it fascinating. “I guess burning it off might be easier to heal from. Not that either of them would hurt much. But burns heal much faster than regrowing chunks of skin.”
“A double heart, yeah. With ‘Claire’ written in one, and ‘Duchess’ in the other. Or ‘Starfish’ if that’s how you roll.” He seemed to be finding way too much amusement in this. With a sudden flash, a fireball appeared in one hand, and he held it up and looked at Claire in its glow. “Don’t think it’d be that easy for me to burn you, though. You might have to do that part yourself.” The Zippo snapped shut and dropped to his lap, the fireball floating from one hand to the other and back again.
“I’m not getting a tattoo, John.” But her smile hinted that she was definitely thinking about it, even if she was trying to hide it. “I’m pretty sure it’d just fade away and then the tattoo guy would be mad I wasted his ink.”
Suddenly Pyro extinguished his pet fireball and rolled onto his side, his upper body dropping off the side of the bed as he dug around under the bed with one hand. Claire watched, pushing away the idea that she was checking him out (even though that was exactly what she was doing) and instead focused on wondering what he was looking for. After a moment, he grunted in apparent victory and pulled himself back up onto the bed.
In his hand, he held two Bic pens, one red and one black. “Temporary tattoo; no pissed off tattoo guys or burning Claires required.” The smile he gave, she was sure it was about the most genuine smile she’d seen from him, and so she found herself softening a little. She was also pretty relieved he hadn’t noticed her checking him out, or if he did notice, he didn’t seem to be calling her out on it.
“Really? Well, since you’re offering…” Claire began, and then trailed off. She put up one finger up, clearly deep in thought. “But where?”
“Wherever you want it.” A pause. “Within reason.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “It’d have to be somewhere I can wash it off easily, unless you feel like scrubbing a hard to reach place.”
John was trying to hide how grateful he was that the dimly lit room was hiding his flustered expression. Even so, Claire was sure that had gotten him, at least a little, because of the delay in his reply.
“Roll up your sleeve.”