b Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men: Evolution, the concept for the Misfits or any sort copyright for the characters used in this story. Thank you for your indulgence. On a different note, I'm back to fanfiction after over a year of procrastination. If any fans of my old stories still wish to know how they would have turned out, or where they were going, please let me know and I'll tell you. I just really want to get back into the Misfit Club. /b

Pyro was, in short, depressed. Not truly confused, angry, lovelorn or even ponderous, though any of these would have done sufficiently well, but he was quite simply depressed. He sat hunched at the Manor kitchen table, his hands behind his head. He cut a figure quite unlike his usual, maniacal self as he stared, contemplating the silver lighter that sat in front of him on the table. It was unnaturally quiet in the Misfit Manor as the rest of the Misfits and all but two handlers had left to cause chaos at the X Mansion.

Pyro had stared at the lighter solemnly, not moving. For no apparent reason, he reached, took the lighter, lit it and leaned back sighing. He reached out his mental 'fingers' and began to mold the flame. It grew larger and billowed in an unfelt breeze. As it grew, it twisted and spiraled in a statue, in the form of a young woman, detailed wings stretching from her back. The figure started to come to life, its long skirt billowing, and its feathers ruffling. It leaned forward and began to extend a hand to caress his cheek.

"Pyro!" Covergirl let out a cry as she stood wearing a short bathrobe, her eyes wide. Pyro's head snapped in her direction, and the fiery angel was almost instantly snuffed out.

"Sorry, Sheila." Covergirl lifted an eyebrow at this statement. It was uncharacteristically downtrodden for the fire mutant.

"John, we both know that you're not feeling well. Do you wanna take about it?" Covergirl pulled up a chair and put her hand on his leg in what she hoped was a comforting manner; talking to Angelica and Lina was much easier than this.

"Not with you particularly, I'm sorry. I just don't think you'd have any experience in this subject." John lowered his head into his hands over the table. Having a suspicion as to what was going on, Covergirl still felt rather indignant at being so easily put off.

"And why can't I help you?" She inquired crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes. Pyro eyed her with slight disdain and anger.

"You, Sheila, are a former supermodel. Doubtless, what you wanted is what you got. Unrequited love, therefore, must mean someone simply wanting you for your body and not you mind. And after drawing this conclusion it can be naturally ascertained that you have no experience in this area."

Covergirl blinked, temporarily bemused.

"'Ascertained'?"

"When I can't sleep, I get Freddy to read me big words from the dictionary." Pyro grinned, a glimpsed of the happy-go-lucky mutant's unsubdued personality.

"Moving on, I'll have you know I've had my share of unrequited love. Come on, Pyro, talk to me kid. This is why I'm here. To help you." Covergirl said with all the sincerity that she felt. Pyro looked up from the table at her with trusting eyes.

"Do you promise not to tell anyone?" He asked, sounding utterly defeated. Now having a very developed idea of where the conversation was going, Covergirl nodded. "Well, continuing in the vein of unrequited love, I don't suppose you where ever really unsure of where the feelings came from?"

"No, mostly those feeling were based on lust." Covergirl admitted.

"Describe said feelings." Pyro half requested, half commanded.

"This is not a sordid account of my past loves, thank you," Covergirl blushed. "We're talking about you. Describe yours."

"Fine." Pyro grunted non-commitally. "They're… confusing at best. I really don't want them. Part of me wants to act on them."

"Why don't you want them?" Covergirl questioned.

"Well, they're weird for one. And they get in the way of people I don't feeling like screwing over."

"Why do want to act on them?"

"Like you said, lust. Basically, it's pure instinct, isn't it? But it's wrong."

"It's not wrong Pyro. It's who you are. And take a moment to remember that there are more fish in the sea." Covergirl, encouraged by Pyro's nodding, was on a roll. "There will be other boys that will-…"

"Wait a second!" Pyro interrupted her, looking confused and indignant. "I'm not gay. Didn't you see the size of those knockers on that angel?"

"Isn't this a 'coming out' conversation? The likeness is impeccable." Covergirl argued, looking equally confused. "The whole unexplained feelings thing, 'it feels wrong?' This is very much-…"

"Jean. Jean bloody Grey. I am straight and Jean has set my burning loins a light." Pyro interrupted irritably.

"I think I understood the gay thing more. Why is it that you're only attracted to fire chicks, and all of a sudden Jean? …Oh. Right."

"Yes. She is an angel, born from the ashes of a dead star and shines with the ironic beauty that has only been truly seen by the sunblind man." Pyro waxed poetically, as Covergirl stared.

"…I keep forgetting. You write Gothic Romance and Jean has the Phoenix force." Covergirl droned, feeling emotionally exhausted. "And, by the way, do you honestly expect me to look at the cup size of flaming statue when I'm convinced that the person who conjured to up is about to commit suicide." She said, regaining some energy.

"Sheila, don't you think I'd be immune to my own powers?" It was Pyro's turn to raise a questionary eyebrow. It only lasted a second before his face split into a smug grin. Covergirl glared at him.

"And just like that you're better?"

"Sure as shooting, Sheila. You don't think a little thing like this could get me down for long? Besides, I'm a nice guy. We really can't have falling for me because she thinks she has a chance, can we now?"

"I'm surprised that you haven't drowned in arrogance yet." Cover replied, deadpan.

"I get that a lot, Sheila." Pyro smiled. "I think I'll go to the X Mansion now." With that, he teleported away.

"…" For a few seconds, Covergirl said nothing. "I want a drink…"