X-Men: Thank You For Not Smoking
Title: Thank You For Not Smoking
Fandom: X-Men: The Movie
Characters/Pairings: Bobby & John
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 630
Notes: Pre-movies! Ahaha. I'm on such a huge Bobby/John kick right now. :P But I'm no good at actually slashing people. So.
"Want one?"
Bobby glances over at his new roommate - St. John Allerdyce, the thin runaway pyrokineticist who is anything but a saint - and goes back to his homework.
Then he spins back around so quickly he almost falls off his swivel chair. John is holding out a carton of cigarettes to him, his eyes pretty much gleaming with challenge.
"You're not allowed to smoke in here, St. John," Bobby says in his most commanding tone. "You know that."
John rolls his eyes.
"You sound just like that Cyclops guy," he says impatiently. "And who cares, anyway? I won't tell if you won't."
Bobby frowns and bites the inside of his cheek. "No. It's against the rules."
John snorts contemptuously. "Suit yourself. Just don't tell and I won't have to hurt you, Frosty," he says, and winks at Bobby.
"Whatever," Bobby grumbles, and slams his textbook shut. "I'm going to the library."
It becomes something of a habit for them, because they are both stubborn and habits form so easily: Bobby studies. John offers. Bobby refuses. John rolls his eyes.
From there, things diverge. Eventually Bobby gets tired of running away to the library, particularly after realizing that John is smart enough not to get caught. Sometimes St. John smokes out the window. Sometimes Bobby discreetly covers his mouth with his hand and breathes in sweater sleeve lint.
Sometimes John blows smoke directly into Bobby's face.
Sometimes Bobby throws his textbooks at John.
And sometimes, they just get along.
"Want one?"
By now, Bobby doesn't even need to look to see the smirk on St. John's face, the carton in his hands, the lighter beside him on his bed. The image is so familiar that it's practically burned into his mind's eye.
"No thanks," Bobby mutters, jotting down a few more notes for homework. He can hear John shaking the carton once, twice.
"You sure?" The lighter clinks open, clinks shut. Open, shut.
For a moment, Bobby hesitates and turns all the way around to face his roommate as he finally lights the cigarette between his lips.
"Why do you smoke?" he asks, and John glances at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. Then he shrugs.
"Feels good, I guess."
Bobby watches him suspiciously. "Really."
An eyeroll. "No, Bobby, I'm lying. Don't be stupid."
The other boy considers this for a long moment; surveys the way St. John takes a drag, holds it in, and breathes smoke in Bobby's general direction. It looks... Looks...
"Cool..."
"What?"
Bobby shakes himself. "Nothing. I mean - Fine, I'll try it."
The smirk on John's face almost makes Bobby reconsider - how can a boy with a St. in his name look so devilish? - but regardless, he moves onto the edge of John's bed and gingerly takes the cigarette out of John's offering fingers. Indirect kiss, he thinks fleetingly, feeling exactly like the idiotic teenager he is, before putting the cigarette between his lips and taking a drag.
The effect is immediate: Bobby coughs and sputters uncontrollably, much to St. John's amusement. While Bobby is still hacking up his lungs, John snatches the cigarette back before the bedspread can catch on fire, cackling his laughter, which only intensifies when Bobby attempts to punch him.
"That's disgusting," Bobby croaks finally, turning his head when John blows smoke at him. "That - ugh - You think that feels good?"
The other boy shrugs. "Good enough."
"John, it felt like - like - " Bobby coughs into his fist one more time. "Like burning, that's what it felt like."
St. John grins - smirks, really. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."
Bobby, now almost fully recovered, gives John a long look.
"Again."
Another smirk crosses John's lips but he passes the cigarette back to Bobby all the same.
Fandom: X-Men: The Movie
Characters/Pairings: Bobby & John
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Word Count: 630
Notes: Pre-movies! Ahaha. I'm on such a huge Bobby/John kick right now. :P But I'm no good at actually slashing people. So.
"Want one?"
Bobby glances over at his new roommate - St. John Allerdyce, the thin runaway pyrokineticist who is anything but a saint - and goes back to his homework.
Then he spins back around so quickly he almost falls off his swivel chair. John is holding out a carton of cigarettes to him, his eyes pretty much gleaming with challenge.
"You're not allowed to smoke in here, St. John," Bobby says in his most commanding tone. "You know that."
John rolls his eyes.
"You sound just like that Cyclops guy," he says impatiently. "And who cares, anyway? I won't tell if you won't."
Bobby frowns and bites the inside of his cheek. "No. It's against the rules."
John snorts contemptuously. "Suit yourself. Just don't tell and I won't have to hurt you, Frosty," he says, and winks at Bobby.
"Whatever," Bobby grumbles, and slams his textbook shut. "I'm going to the library."
It becomes something of a habit for them, because they are both stubborn and habits form so easily: Bobby studies. John offers. Bobby refuses. John rolls his eyes.
From there, things diverge. Eventually Bobby gets tired of running away to the library, particularly after realizing that John is smart enough not to get caught. Sometimes St. John smokes out the window. Sometimes Bobby discreetly covers his mouth with his hand and breathes in sweater sleeve lint.
Sometimes John blows smoke directly into Bobby's face.
Sometimes Bobby throws his textbooks at John.
And sometimes, they just get along.
"Want one?"
By now, Bobby doesn't even need to look to see the smirk on St. John's face, the carton in his hands, the lighter beside him on his bed. The image is so familiar that it's practically burned into his mind's eye.
"No thanks," Bobby mutters, jotting down a few more notes for homework. He can hear John shaking the carton once, twice.
"You sure?" The lighter clinks open, clinks shut. Open, shut.
For a moment, Bobby hesitates and turns all the way around to face his roommate as he finally lights the cigarette between his lips.
"Why do you smoke?" he asks, and John glances at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. Then he shrugs.
"Feels good, I guess."
Bobby watches him suspiciously. "Really."
An eyeroll. "No, Bobby, I'm lying. Don't be stupid."
The other boy considers this for a long moment; surveys the way St. John takes a drag, holds it in, and breathes smoke in Bobby's general direction. It looks... Looks...
"Cool..."
"What?"
Bobby shakes himself. "Nothing. I mean - Fine, I'll try it."
The smirk on John's face almost makes Bobby reconsider - how can a boy with a St. in his name look so devilish? - but regardless, he moves onto the edge of John's bed and gingerly takes the cigarette out of John's offering fingers. Indirect kiss, he thinks fleetingly, feeling exactly like the idiotic teenager he is, before putting the cigarette between his lips and taking a drag.
The effect is immediate: Bobby coughs and sputters uncontrollably, much to St. John's amusement. While Bobby is still hacking up his lungs, John snatches the cigarette back before the bedspread can catch on fire, cackling his laughter, which only intensifies when Bobby attempts to punch him.
"That's disgusting," Bobby croaks finally, turning his head when John blows smoke at him. "That - ugh - You think that feels good?"
The other boy shrugs. "Good enough."
"John, it felt like - like - " Bobby coughs into his fist one more time. "Like burning, that's what it felt like."
St. John grins - smirks, really. "Yeah. Yeah, I know."
Bobby, now almost fully recovered, gives John a long look.
"Again."
Another smirk crosses John's lips but he passes the cigarette back to Bobby all the same.