He does it often, normally when they're out at places at the mall or the movies, when they're supposed to be casual and normal. Occasionally he does it at school, much to her chagrin. This one horrid time that she hates to remember he did it at the Institute when they were supposed to be cleaning up after dinner. He chipped a glass that she was washing.

She's always known Bobby is spontaneous and she knew that being in a relationship with him would be no different. What she didn't know was that Bobby is surprisingly possessive, at least, he is when it comes to her.

She found out when she had dragged him shopping for Tabitha's birthday. She was talking animatedly, babbling away while he didn't even try to listen. She didn't mind. She didn't remember half of the things she said after she said them. She just likes to hear her own voice and Bobby doesn't really mind. He likes her voice too.

Anyway, they were just strolling through the mall when suddenly he slammed her up against the wall by the wrists. Afterward, once she had caught her breath, she asked shakily, "What was that for?" Her face glowed red as she tried to ignore the looks of passersby.

He smirked smugly, allowing himself a self-satisfied smile at the sight of her bruised lips and mussed hair. "Nothing. Just glad you're mine."

She shrugged, letting his slightly sexist comment go just that once. It's not like she doesn't think of him in the same way. He slung an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him, leading them toward the store she had mentioned earlier that she knew Tabby was into. As they left, she caught his glance back at a group of boys around their age who were staring at them with wide eyes. Apparently, that public display of possession was not a message to her only. She shrugged it off. So Bobby's jealous. It happens.

As it turns out, he isn't just jealous. He's possessive and enjoys reminding her at random times that she's his.

She found that out when he had dragged her to an old-fashioned arcade to play outdated games. Other than some of the staff, they were the only teenagers there. All of the other patrons were in elementary school, save for the one twenty-year-old man in the corner who looked like he had taken up residence at the Galactica machine.

She was leaning against the machine Bobby was using, bored as hell and not paying any attention at all. She heard a loud whoop and suddenly she was pinned to the side of the Pacman machine. At this point, she had learned to just go along with it until he was off of whatever jealous high he was on. This time, she noticed, was a little different. He wasn't making a big show of having his hands everywhere, of having his mouth everywhere. He was just pressing, hands gripping her biceps hard enough to bruise, lips mashed up against her own like he was trying to mold them into one, smothering her by pushing his body as much onto her as possible so that she could feel every inch of him.

When he got off of her, she could see his face split in half by a ridiculously happy smile. His eyes were bright and excited. In that moment he looked so much like one of the many other giddy children running around the arcade. She looked around for any ogling teenagers she may not have noticed before that may have provoked him to stake his claim of her to the whole room as he is prone to do. She didn't see any.

"What was that for?" she giggled, gingerly rubbing her arms where he had gripped her. She knew she'd have to wear long sleeves for at least a week.

He was bouncing from foot to foot. "I beat the game!"

"Congratulations!" she laughed.

"I just wanted to remind you that you're dating the most awesome guy ever." He smirked and they spent the rest of the day wandering the strip mall outside.

Sometimes he does it to remind himself that she's his.

She found that out when they were at the mall, once again. She felt like shopping a lot after spending the past week cramming for an intense Algebra test. Bobby agreed to come along, not without a lot of cajoling. They were in a new store that sold more breezy, beachy clothes, wandering through the racks of summer clothing. He had about a million bags on each arm.

She turned around in the middle of a rant about cheap flip-flops to see him looking a little more subdued than the normal Bobby.

"Hey, are you okay?" she asked.

He looked up surprised. "Yeah, yeah, totally. Just thinking."

"Thinking?" she quipped. "Picking up new hobbies, are you?"

He shrugged, giving her a small smile to acknowledge that he knew it was a joke. He didn't play along.

"Babe?"

Bobby laughed half-heartedly. "Amara, it's cool. I was just thinking."

She looks at him suspiciously before returning to her shopping. She wasn't going to pry if he didn't want to talk. Turns out he did, because a second later he asked, "Do you miss the sun?"

"The one outside?" Amara asked.

He picked at a sheer crop top with a long fringe that covered nothing. "I mean, like, back home."

"I guess, sometimes, yes. It's a lot colder here than Nova Roma."

Bobby nodded. "Do you-" He licked his lips. "Do you ever miss it?"

"Yes." She said it quietly.

The look on his face is what made her inquire, "Where are all these questions coming from?"

He shrugged again, still not looking her in the eyes. She reached for his hand, always, always cold, and ran her thumb over his knuckles. "Bobby, I'm not going back anytime soon." When he didn't look up, she grabbed his chin and made him look at her. "Hey. The sun's overrated anyway. I much prefer the cold."

She smiled coyly and he grinned in return. Suddenly, there were two hands on either side of her face, a wall pressed up against her back, and a warm body pressed up against her front, one of his legs wedged between her own. She heard a loud clatter as he dropped all of her bags and some hangers were knocked to the ground in his haste to get her against the wall. When he determined that she was thoroughly wrecked, he took a step back and just stared. She leaned against the wall for support, chest heaving and knees shaking. Her shirt was skewed and her hair was an absolute mess. His eyes traveled up and down her body before smirking triumphantly.

"What was that for?" she panted.

His smirk was infuriating, but his answer was too endearing to stay mad. "I love you when you fall apart."

She blushed. It was the second time he had ever told her he loves her. She had yet to say it. She fixed her hair and shirt with the most dignity she could muster.

"Thanks," she replied lamely.

He snickered and took her bags up again. After the look the cashier lady gave her and her boyfriend as they were checking out, Amara decided to never shop there again.

It isn't always that romantic. Most of the time it's annoying. He does it at the most inconvenient times. The majority of the time she goes along with it, let's him put on his show for the ones who gawk, let's him press against her till she can't breathe, let's him make her fall apart. A few times she's not in the mood to humor him and his insecurities so she just shoves him off, like that time he tried to instigate it when the whole mansion was in the kitchen cleaning up after dinner. That was humiliating. After those incidents, he has to jump through a lot of hoops to get on her good side again.

This time, however, she sees it coming. She saw the group of boys on the bench undressing her with their eyes while she went to the bathroom. She knows Bobby will be sitting peeved in the mall food court while he waits for her, glaring daggers into the perverts all the while. She knows he'll do it again, and she knows him well enough to know it will probably leave more unwanted bruises that lead to unwanted questions at the dinner table.

She knows what people say. They shouldn't be together because they're so different. Carefree, restrained. Wild, refined. Hot, cold. Cold, hot. They also say they're perfect because they're so different. Opposites attract and all that. She's got a stick up her ass, and he's got sticks in his head. Hot, cold. Cold, hot. She hates it. She's a person who can do whatever the hell she wants, and if she wants to be a dignified, respectable person, she will be. And if her boyfriend wants to be an impulsive idiot, he will be. And if she wants to be spontaneous, she will be. And if they doubt her, they better damn well watch her.

As she opens the door to the bathroom, her plan firm in her mind, she thinks, 'Let's see if this shuts up those public displays of possession.'

Those boys are still there when she walks out, which only makes it better. She walks with a little more sway to her hips than usual. She knows they notice and she knows he notices, even if he doesn't know she's doing it on purpose. She struts over to where he waits in a metal food court chair. He's tapping his foot, bright eyes hungry not just for her, but to put on another big show especially for the creepers on the bench. She tries to train her face into something unassuming.

The second she's within arms' reach he wraps his cold fingers around her wrist and tugs her forward. She falls onto his lap, a leg on either side of him. He has her hips in a vicelike grip, sliding her forward on his lap until there is no space between them. When he kisses her, she fakes a gasp and falls helplessly into it like she always does, wrapping her arms around his neck. She feels his lips twitch against her own in a self-satisfied smirk that just feels awkward with her tongue in his mouth.

'Funny boy,' she thinks. 'He thinks he's winning.'

She rolls her hips over him. He almost chokes on his tongue, or her tongue, he doesn't really know. The quiet whispered "damn" across the food court has her fighting a laugh because she knows it's the boys on the bench.

She does it again slowly, forward, back, and snakes her hands into his hair. She tilts her head and deepens the kiss, keeping up the slow rolling of her hips. He squirms a little, betraying the uncertainty he's trying to hide by throwing himself into the kiss. No doubt, she threw him for a loop by not only reciprocating but taking it a step up. It is a well-known fact that Amara hates PDA. That's half the reason Bobby insists on it.

Like ice, Bobby is a sharp shock, a harsh gasp of air that rakes through your lungs at first contact. Like magma, Amara is a slow, rolling force that churns and boils and consumes and explodes. He is a surprise and she is an inevitability. She dislikes public displays of affection and he loves public displays of possession.

The fingers threaded through his hair tighten into fists, pulling his hair in a way that she discovered he really likes a few weeks prior. He hums in approval. She rolls her eyes. 'It's like he still thinks he's in control.'

Her hips grind down into him more deliberately and she pulls at his hair more forcefully, yanking his head to the side and following with her mouth. For a second, she worries about getting caught by someone they know, but Bobby catches her lower lip between his teeth and she decides she doesn't care. Bobby never does.

One hand disentangles from his hair and slides down to cup the side of his neck before sliding to the other side of his chest to rest over his pounding heart. It's kind of awkward having her right hand tugging at his hair and her left on his heart, but the feeling of his heart throbbing in her palm sends a rush of something through her veins that makes her unintentionally speed up the movement of her hips. His appreciative moan reminds her where she is and what she's doing. She slows back down to the torturously slow pace she was at before. He whines, bucking up into her slightly. She realizes now why power is so attractive to Bobby. His heartbeat burns her fingers.

A sound across the room reminds her that she has an audience. Bobby hears it too and surges up into her mouth with doubled enthusiasm. His eyes are open now, which means his focus is now on showing off for the bench pervs he had forgotten about and not her. She pulls at his hair and moans into his mouth, a combination that makes him groan and buck his hips up quickly in an effort to speed up her languid movements. She slows down even more until he stops fighting the pace she set and just suffers it. When he finally does, she scrapes her nails over his scalp as some sort of reward. His eyes flutter closed again.

The hand on his heart slides down so awfully slow he whimpers. Like, actually whimpers.

She moves his hands from her hips to her ass. He groans long and low.

She's kissing harder and his brain is fuzzy. She's pulling harder and his blood is rushing. She's grinding harder and his pants are tight.

Her fingers burn everywhere they touch him. She pulls his hair and disconnects their mouths. His lips chase hers, but she laughs and pulls him back again.

"Mmm... Amara," he pleads.

She raises her eyebrows as if she doesn't know what he's asking, but her hips gyrate in a circle that makes him throw his head back in the best kind of agony. He squeezes her ass in hopes that she would understand.

Instead, she yanks his head to the side and ravages his neck. He bites his lip to hold in all of the sounds she's drawing out of him. A strangled "please" manages to slip out. She bites his pulse point and his hips stutter. She can feel him hard beneath her. His hands are running up and down her exposed thighs fast enough to give her brush burn. His chest is heaving under her own.

Her pace is still driving him insane, she can tell. He's grinding up into her desperately, hard and hot. She kisses up his neck and moans his name in his ear. He tells her to go faster. She slows down.

"Fuck, woman," Bobby grunts in frustration.

She slides down his lap to sit on his knees, pulling her hands back to her sides. Her eyes take in her wrecked boyfriend. His hair is a mess, his skin is flushed, his eyes are dazed, and his breathing is heavy. She smiles triumphantly, considering it good enough payback after he's done this to her in the middle of the mall so many times, but the effect is weakened by her equally as heavy breathing.

"What was that for?" he pants, tracing shapes on the sides of her knees with his cold, cold fingers. No matter how hot he gets, his fingers are always, always cold.

She shrugs, trying to act nonchalant while her heart is thundering in her chest. "I thought you should know that I'm your girlfriend. And you're my boyfriend."

He pulls her against him by her knees, kissing her again, but she pushes back and stands up off of him. He looks at her like he has just been affronted in the worst possible way.

She giggles. "Come on. I think I saw a sale at that new store by the information desk."

"No, what- why- Amara," he whines, tugging at her hand. She shivers but hides it with another giggle.

"Let's go," she says, pulling him up. He glares and stands reluctantly.

She turns around, blushing at the looks she's getting from the few people in this trash mall, and sees those boys on the bench leering at her or gawking unabashedly. Behind her, she feels Bobby tense.

His arms wrap around her waist from behind and he rests his chin on her shoulder. She rolls her eyes, making an effort not to smile at his oh so predictable behavior. Instead, she elbows him in the stomach and grumbles, "Bobby, we can't walk like this."

She can feel his smirk against her cheek. "Well, you're going to have to walk in front of me."

"Why?"

He pulls her back flush against his front.

"Oh."

"By the way, you're never doing this again," he says casually as he grabs one of her bags off the floor.

She looks around at the shocked mallgoers, laughing nervously. "Don't worry. I've suffered enough embarrassment to last a lifetime. But it was worth it."

Allowing herself one more prideful glance back at Bobby's messy hair and red cheeks, she smirks and sashays out of the food court with her boyfriend shuffling very closely behind. She knows he'll wait a while before trying that again.

Okay, so my first X-Men: Evo fic is Bobmara and also the naughtiest thing I've ever written. Wow. That was a rollercoaster to write. I'd really appreciate some feedback.

Basically, Lissy