DISCLAIMER: X-MEN ARE NOT MINE. FEVER BY ELLA FITZGERALD IS NOT MINE. I WISH IT WAS, BUT SADLY IT ISN'T.
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Damn. This was the most boring class ever. Man. Why did he even go to class anyway? In fact, why the hell did he enter this school again? Oh yeah, he had to go to class because there was nothing better to do in the God forsaken hell hole and he needed to go to this 'institute' because his parents had thrown him out. He was all too 'gifted' for their taste. He was too 'gifted' for anybody's taste. All confusing when voiced out but it made sense in his brain. Everything made sense in his brain.
What was Sto---I mean Ms. Monroe saying anyway? Something about Math? Was this Math class? Nah…maybe it was English? If this were English then there should have been a 'Mr. Allerdyce, can you please read the following text if it is not too much of an inconvenience?' Since that comment hadn't arisen, this couldn't be English. Did it really matter what class this was? It was all muddled into one day anyway, and it was not as if he liked a particular class. They were all the same to him.
Was lunch near? Did he already have lunch? Man this was getting weird. He felt like he was in twilight zone or something. He had not get out of there. Hall pass could give him at least a few minutes of sanity. That was it. The hall pass. He raised his hand up in the air. Sweet escape.
"Ms. Monroe?" he said, but as soon as his hand shot up in the air, the door opened and a girl came in.
Everybody's got the fever, that is something you all know
Fever isn't such a new thing, fever started long ago.
Was it just him, or was it suddenly a hell of a lot hotter all of a sudden?
"Yes Mr. Allerdyce?" Ororo asked him. God. He had been staring hadn't he. Hall pass. Remember.
"Oh, can I…" Hall pass? What was he thinking about? Why would he need the hall pass now?
"Can you…." His teacher signaled him to continue his sentence.
'Think. Think John!' he beckoned to himself. "Can I know when the class is ending 'coz I don't think my delicate mind can handle anymore molding for today." He said sarcastically. Bad comeback, but a comeback nonetheless.
"That is enough Mr. Allerdyce." She raised a 'I-am-not-in-the-mood-for-your-stupid-antics-right-now' eyebrow. John just smirked and shrugged at her. He loved getting under people's skins. It was a definitely a pastime worth spending his precious effort on.
"Um, excuse me?" she asked. She was still standing by the door, as if she was a little shy of coming in. Damn, he suddenly got the urge to loosen his collar. Of course, the urge was still there, just ignored to the limits of his self restraint.
Sto---I mean, Ms. Monroe signaled her to come over as she faced the board again. Where was she going to sit? Everywhere was full right.
Thou givest fever, when we kisseth, fever with thy flaming youth
Fever - I'm afire, fever yea I burn forsooth.
She was walking towards his direction. Did she notice him checking her out, not that he was. He was merely scrutinizing with care. Yeah, scrutinizing. Why was she coming directly towards him? Did she want to 'scrutinize' him too?
Ah, but then he forgot the seat behind him. That one was always empty. Always empty. She was going to sit behind him. He felt a sweat drop from his brow. Purely imaginary. Couldn't be possible.
As she passed him, he felt her cloak swish by his hand. Somehow, amidst his uncomfortable feeling of pure heat…pure unadulterated heat…he shivered. Did his throat suddenly run dry? He wanted water? This was definitely not him.
You give me fever - when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight
Fever - in the morning, fever all through the night.
Damn, did it suddenly get hotter? Hotter? Since when couldn't he handle a little heat? He was the heat. He could handle hot. He was hot. He is hot. But where were the damn windows when you needed them? Damn.
He started looking around the room, not even minding is Storm saw him. Damn. Not Storm, Ms. Monroe. He always confused himself too much for his own damn good. There were windows. They were all closed. Probably because of the air-conditioning. But if there was air-conditioning, then why was it so damn hot!
He took deep breaths, not too deep though that he would sound like those asthma kids, no thank you. Relaxing deep breaths. That was more like it. Let all the chi…or chow…or ching….what ever…just let all the good stuff in. "Ahhhh." He breathed out with relief.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
What the heck was that?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
What the hell. It came from behind.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Now that presented two options. Either it was Bobby or her.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
When you put your arms around me, I get a fever that's so hard to bear
You give me fever - when you kiss me, fever when you hold me tight
It was her. Bobby was not the tap kind of guy. It was her. He needed to drown out the sound. He was feeling all…all…stuffy again. He finally gave into the urge. He took out his trusty old Zippo.
Click. Tap. Clack. Tap. Click. Tap.
This was not working.
Click. Tap. Clack. Tap. Click. Tap.
Really not working. Good. If the ass shit 'institute' had any bit of air conditioning, then why did it feel so damn hot! He loosened his imaginary collar. No relief what so ever. He then did the first dumb ass thing he could think of. He put his hands behind his back and lit up a fire ball.
To anyone with a brain, it would seem like a stupid thing to counter heat by lighting up a fire ball. But no. This was relaxing to him. Fire soothed him. They didn't call him Pyro for nothing you know. He fingered the fireball. Good this was good. But then, the ass wipe had to live up to his reputation. Suddenly the fire was gone. The comforting flame was not a cold block of ice. He dropped it, and startled the whole class while he was at it. Storm, yeah that's what he said, looked behind her, and glared at him. Not like this was a new thing. It was now reaching the point that those glares signaled the completion of his day. Pissing teachers off was almost as relaxing as the fire. He shrugged at her, and she once again got back to teaching the class.
'Damn shit ass popsicle idiot….' He mentally sent more profane and colorful words the Ice Dick's way. As soon as her attention was away from him, he looked back to voice out his thoughts, but then his eyes saw that the icehole's palm was now laid at her table. Bobby lifted his hand.
'Shitface show off.' He mentally grumbled. He made a rose. 'Oh bring out the Macy's day parade coz Booby made a damn ice rose.' He rolled his eyes.
"Welcome to Mutant High." He said. That was the best he could come up with? Welcome to Mutant High? Weak man. Weak. He turned back and played with old zippo again.
Now you've listened to my story, here's the point I have made:
Chicks were born to give you fever, be it Fahrenheit or Centigrade
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
"I'm Bobby."
Click. Clack. Click. Clack.
"Rogue."
Click.
He stopped. He ran his hand through his hair. It wasn't moist, but he swore he could feel the sweat coming down as she spoke her name. Damn the air-conditioning.
"Rogue." He whispered to himself.
Fever - till you sizzle, what a lovely way to burn.
What a lovely way to burn.
What a lovely way to burn.
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YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD GIVE ME FEVER…REVIEWS. THIS IS MY FIRST FIC IN THIS FANDOM SO IF YOU LIKEY ME, REVIEW AND I WILL WRITE MORE :D
THETOFUUBEAVER