mutatismutandis: Bobby's ice rose. (Gifted)
Summary: They'll logically end up standing in a pool of lukewarm water.

"Don't you ever get sick of being such an ass?" Bobby mutters.

A clock in the hall chimes. One, two, three, four. John makes a new fire sculpture, a flaming ass. To illustrate. When will he get sick of being an ass? When will he stop lusting after Bobby's ass? When will either one of them get a fucking life?

"I'm tired," he says. He's had his fun, but he's not lying. He dodged the bedwetting, but he's still an ass. He's not Virgin Bobby with the blue, blue eyes. "I'm going back to bed." He pockets the lighter and waves the flaming ass into oblivion.


Bobby and John are polar opposites or a perfect match, depending on how you look at it. This is a hot, chill story about how they might fit together, at least for a while. Complex and layered, and I really like Pyro's characterisation.

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