For some reason I just wrote four different Eight Days of Luke crossovers.
I've been trying to come up with fic for this book for months and my mind suddenly decides it wants silly Utena & David duelfic? Whatever, I guess.
Title: Fire Warning
Fandom: Eight Days of Luke/(Dark is Rising, Revolutionary Girl Utena, American Gods, X-Men films)
Characters/Pairing: David/Luke throughout, various others
Warnings: Sort-of character death, Pyro swearing, things getting set on fire
1.
"What I don't understand is you," Will said, sitting down on one of the chairs with his glass of water. "You seem to be a relatively good man, yet you've willingly allied yourself to the Dark."
"Luke is not part of your dark," David said, sounding a bit annoyed. "He's a trickster figure, an agent of change. He isn't actively trying to destroy the world- well, most of the time, anyway." He glared at Will. "The evil stuff is a load of Christianizing crock. You should know that, if you're really an anthropology professor." He shrugged. "More importantly, he's a good boyfriend. Takes me to cricket games, buys me ice cream, things like that."
"No one ever buys me ice cream," Jane said, elbowing Bran and Will.
"I suppose we've got no choice but to accept your help," said Will, resting his forehead against his palm and sighing.
"Not if you want to save England from sinking into the ocean, no," David replied. He crouched down to scratch the enormous dog between the ears.
"Hang on," said Bran. "We are really going to trust him? Not only does he worship creatures of Wild Magic, he is in fact dating one. That does not ring of sanity to me."
"I wouldn't call it worship," David said. "Not worship worship. I just light a few candles and slaughter a few chickens now and again."
"I bet the dog is actually a terrible monster in disguise," Bran persisted. The dog took this as an invitation to jump up on him and begin enthusiastically licking his face.
"Oh Fenris, no!" said David. "Bad dog. Down."
2.
"Oh, no," said Luke. "No, you can't come here. We've got a hard enough time already mustering any belief, we don't need any more gods on this island, thanks."
"Utena wishes to complete her schooling here," said the tiny Indian woman in the pink dress. "So, we are staying." David eyed her nervously. She was tiny, all right, but there was something about her that was absolutely terrifying.
The other woman said something fierce-sounding in Japanese.
"Um, perhaps we should listen," David said.
"Don't worry, David," said Luke, patting his arm, "I can handle them."
"But why-" David began, and was interrupted by the woman in the pink dress.
"There seems to be only one way to settle this. I challenge you to a duel."
"Certainly!" said Luke, grinning so his freckles were even more prominent than usual. David had a very bad feeling about this. Duels weren't something Luke could charm his way out of.
"Then pick your mortal champion."
"Pick your what?" David said. Everyone was looking at him in a way he didn't like at all.
3.
Shadow first met the man he wold later come to know as David Allard on the edge of a cave in the center of America, as the sun began to rise.
David was a pleasant man in his late thirties, dressed in casual clothing and a British accent, wearing a tired but friendly smile on his face. He had a backpack slung over one shoulder and looked like he had been doing quite a lot of traveling in the past few days. He wasn't the kind of person Shadow might have expected to meet there.
Shadow wasn't surprised to see David there, but only because he wasn't feeling much of anything at that moment. He watched as David looked past him and saw what was left of Mr World, still wrapped in a blanket. He saw David's face change.
David climbed over the chain marking the cave as off-limits to guests. He walked into the darkness of the cavern, and gently he cradled the body. "You idiot," he said quietly in exasperated fondness. He looked up at Shadow. "I am so very, very sorry about all of this," he said.
Shadow couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he just nodded.
A helicopter crew tried to take away the body, but David fought them off. "I'll take care of him," he insisted. Eventually they gave up, and went to find something else to clean.
David took out a lighter and twisted it around in his hands thoughtfully. "You want a cigarette?" he asked. Shadow shook his head.
The stranger seemed to think of something. "My name's David Allard," he said. "It's my real name, you can have it for free. And listen. If you ever need help, or just somewhere to stay... you're welcome in England. There's someone there who would love the chance to repay a debt."
"I'll remember that," said Shadow, but he was thinking only of Laura.
4.
John isn't sure where he is, or why. Oh, he knows he's in a club in England- but which club? And why the hell is he in England? If he thinks for a moment he can remember something about the Professor going on a world speaking tour, and maybe something else about Bobby and his girlfriend having really loud not-sex in the bunk above him, but thinking's hard when he's this drunk.
One thing he does know for sure: he's just met the most amazing girl in the entire fucking universe.
She has really short, really pretty orangey-red hair, sort of the same color fire is, sometimes, and she's wearing this tiny red dress and she dances so close to him he can feel every slight movement of her hips and it is totally amazing.
John hadn't even thought he was into girls- he'd had pretty strong evidence to the contrary, in fact, given how many times Bobby has gotten a starring role in his more embarrassing wet dreams. This girl, though, this girl he is so into it is blowing his mind.
"It's pretty hot in here," he yells into her ear. "You want to catch a smoke outside?"
She grins at him, a crazy megawatt grin full of sharp white teeth, a dangerous kind of grin. "Sounds like a great idea."
They push their way through the crowds and somehow manage to make it outside into the cold night air, and he can't hold off any longer, he starts slobbering kisses all over her face and the tops of her breasts. She laughs and pushes him off her. "Hold on, you promised me a fag first," she says. She reaches into her purse and takes out to cigarettes, pushes one between his teeth.
"Uh, yeah," he says, kind of muffled, "just let me-" His hand slips into his jean pocket for the lighter that never leaves his person.
"No need, love," she says, and snaps her fingers under his nose. He sees a brief spark in the darkness of the street before the end of the cigarette begins to glow.
He takes it out of his mouth and stares at it. "Oh fuck, wow," he breathes, because holy fuck, she just created fire. Under his nose. Like she's fucking Prometheus, come down from heaven just to deliver the secret of fire to him personally.
"Neat trick, huh?" she says. She is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, sharp-faced and freckle-jawed and gangly. He drops the cigarette and digs in his pockets until he finds a piece of scrap paper. He hands it to her.
"Do it again, to this," he says.
She smiles and the paper erupts into a little ball of flame in her hand.
He grins back, and reaches out for the fire. It flies to him, leaving her with a tiny layer of ashes coating her pale skin. He cups it in his hands, tickles it a little. The flame is double reflected in the twin mirrors of the girl's pale eyes.
They burn a lot of things down that night.