(no subject)
Title: A Blaze of White
Author: amberlynne
Fandom: X2
Pairing: Bobby/John
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I am not Stan Lee, nor am I employed by Marvel or any other company involved in the making of the X-Men movies. This never happened.
Notes: Written for the contrelamontre White challenge in 40 minutes
Bobby sat at the window, tracing patterns of ice over the glass, watching it shimmer in the morning sun. He briefly considered writing a poem or a sonnet across the slick surface. It was safer that way, unspoken words melting and drifting toward the window sill. He attempted to concentrate on the intricate patterns in the ice crystals instead, the sheer force of his will keeping him from slinking across the room and in to his roommate’s bed.
John was laid out on his stomach across the crisp white sheets, his breath deep and even. He looked peaceful and not the least bit cold, despite the fact he’d tossed most of his covers to the floor sometime in the night. Bobby let his gaze wander from John’s sleep tousled hair, down the sleek muscles of his back, to the whiteness of the sheet, dipping dangerously low on his hips. Blinking and shaking his head, Bobby turned back to the window, and tried to focus on the fluffy flakes that had begun to fall past the window. He didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. He couldn’t keep his brain from noting the stark whiteness of the snow matched the teasing sheet draped over his friend a few feet away.
Bobby had always associated white with cold. Even before he realized he had, well, special talents, white was always snow or a freshly frozen pond. It was no surprise to him that he liked white, found it comforting even. Cold was his element. He felt in control, connected with cold. Sure, it hadn’t always been that way. He’d lost count of the number of pencils, doorknobs and lamps he’d frozen before he learned the control he almost took for granted now. At will, he could create sheets of ice, sparkling white with frost, or keep a heaping bowl of ice cream chilled to the very last bite. It made him feel special, where he used to feel like a freak. White was good.
What Bobby hadn’t known, until he met a certain lighter-flicking brooder, was that white could also be hot. Searing, blinding, overwhelmingly hot. There were no bright flashes of orange and red in the heat he felt when John smiled at him. It wasn’t really warmth, either. Warmth was like a blanket. Comfortable and cozy. John’s gaze created a flash-point in Bobby’s chest, striking out to the tips of his fingers, toes and other unmentionable places, an overwhelming feeling. The worst part, or best, depending on how he looked at it, was that, unlike the cold, he had no control over the white heat. He could freeze a lake solid, but John’s affect on him, he could never seem to cool.
Author: amberlynne
Fandom: X2
Pairing: Bobby/John
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I am not Stan Lee, nor am I employed by Marvel or any other company involved in the making of the X-Men movies. This never happened.
Notes: Written for the contrelamontre White challenge in 40 minutes
Bobby sat at the window, tracing patterns of ice over the glass, watching it shimmer in the morning sun. He briefly considered writing a poem or a sonnet across the slick surface. It was safer that way, unspoken words melting and drifting toward the window sill. He attempted to concentrate on the intricate patterns in the ice crystals instead, the sheer force of his will keeping him from slinking across the room and in to his roommate’s bed.
John was laid out on his stomach across the crisp white sheets, his breath deep and even. He looked peaceful and not the least bit cold, despite the fact he’d tossed most of his covers to the floor sometime in the night. Bobby let his gaze wander from John’s sleep tousled hair, down the sleek muscles of his back, to the whiteness of the sheet, dipping dangerously low on his hips. Blinking and shaking his head, Bobby turned back to the window, and tried to focus on the fluffy flakes that had begun to fall past the window. He didn’t know whether to laugh or scream. He couldn’t keep his brain from noting the stark whiteness of the snow matched the teasing sheet draped over his friend a few feet away.
Bobby had always associated white with cold. Even before he realized he had, well, special talents, white was always snow or a freshly frozen pond. It was no surprise to him that he liked white, found it comforting even. Cold was his element. He felt in control, connected with cold. Sure, it hadn’t always been that way. He’d lost count of the number of pencils, doorknobs and lamps he’d frozen before he learned the control he almost took for granted now. At will, he could create sheets of ice, sparkling white with frost, or keep a heaping bowl of ice cream chilled to the very last bite. It made him feel special, where he used to feel like a freak. White was good.
What Bobby hadn’t known, until he met a certain lighter-flicking brooder, was that white could also be hot. Searing, blinding, overwhelmingly hot. There were no bright flashes of orange and red in the heat he felt when John smiled at him. It wasn’t really warmth, either. Warmth was like a blanket. Comfortable and cozy. John’s gaze created a flash-point in Bobby’s chest, striking out to the tips of his fingers, toes and other unmentionable places, an overwhelming feeling. The worst part, or best, depending on how he looked at it, was that, unlike the cold, he had no control over the white heat. He could freeze a lake solid, but John’s affect on him, he could never seem to cool.