Author's note: Well, first things first, welcome back xAmerican Angelx, Marcus1233, BluePuppeta.JAA and LizaGirl. I do like to see familiar names in my reviews! Thankyou!

This chapter includes brief mental conversation between John and the professor and thoughts that John is not really intending to be heard. Hopefully it's clear enough anyway but thought I'd just better give you all a heads up.

Chapter One: Spontaneous Combustion

(Sometime during X-Men 1, after Marie arrives and before Liberty Island)

It was days like this John Allerdyce decided it was a good thing he could not create his own fire. If he could...the whole fucking mansion would have spontaneously combusted by now. Scott Summers would have gone up in flames on day one – smug, judgemental goddamn son of a bitch. John swore he gave him detentions just for fun. Hell, all of the teachers would probably have gone up in smoke by now. They were always picking on John, even when (on the rare occasion) it wasn't his fault. Take Storm's class the other day. John had been showing off to the new girl, when Bobby Drake had frozen his little flame, causing John to drop it. And upon hearing the sound of ice crashing to the floor, who does Storm give into trouble? John. The pyrokinetic. Never mind the ice mutant sitting behind him. Oh no...it was obviously John's fault that ice fell to the floor...

As for the students? Piotr Rasputin was just too damn nice for his own good. Jubilee was too hyper. Kitty was too hyper. All the girls were too hyper and...well...girly. That new girl, Marie, she was also just a pain in the ass with a really annoying voice and a really annoying fixation on Bobby Drake.

And Bobby? He was a dick. An annoying, shy, polite, ridiculously attractive dick. As John glared sideways at him, only half listening to Professor Xavier's lecture, he decided if he could create his own fire, the Iceman would be melted on the floor right about now. With one last scowl, John returned his attention reluctantly to the Professor.

"So, can anyone give me examples of opposites?" Professor Xavier looked out expectantly at his students. John scowled again. What the hell? Did he think they were five years old? Never the less, his classmates started to answer:

"Day and night..."

"Good and evil..."

"Fire and ice..."

John turned to look at the boy next to him. Bobby just smiled back and winked. Dick. John scowled again. Bobby was always far too chirpy that early in the morning.

I'll give you fucking opposites, John thought.

"Black and White..." the other students continued.

Hot headed and calm...

"Love and hate..."

Rash and patient...

"Up and down..."

Arrogant and modest...

"Left and right..."

Loud and quiet...

"Old and new..."

Vulgar and polite...

"Heaven and Hell..."

John Allerdyce and Bobby Drake.

"Very good," the Professor nodded approvingly to his students. Yours too John. John scowled. He hated living with psychics. "Now, let us consider the relationship between many opposites. Consider that without one, the other may not exist. That even though they appear to contradict each other, without the other, they are nothing. Without a villain, there cannot be a hero. Without feeling cold, we would not appreciate heat. Without knowing hate, would we feel love?"

John frowned. What wishy washy drivel. The Iceman was his opposite, but John was quite sure that he would still be around even if Bobby wasn't...

"Of course," the professor continued. "There is also to be considered, the old saying opposites attract..." Some more than others.

John glared at the Professor as the psychic just looked back with an amused glint in his eyes.

Fuck you he replied silently but venomously. He really fucking hated living with psychics. Right at that minute, John Allerdyce hated everything.

--- --- --- --- ---

John kicked open one of the side doors to the mansion and skulked out into the grounds. He was supposed to be in class with Summers right then, but the bastard would make up an excuse to give him a detention anyway, so there really was no point showing up.

Kicking every stone, twig and leaf in his path, John made his way down to the outskirts of the grounds, delving into his pockets to retrieve a pack of cigarettes and his precious lighter before slumping down against a tree. It wasn't that he had a problem with being gay – he had come to terms with that about five minutes after he decided he was. In fact it had proven rather handy. The male student population was so much easier to lead astray (and fool) than the female. Back in the days before John had been plucked off the streets of New York to enrol in Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, he had often found himself waking up in student digs. Hey, it was better than waking up in an alley. It wasn't that he looked old for his age but he acted old for his age, and sometimes that was enough. Of course, the fake ID always helped. As did the fact the male students were either drunk, stupid or both. Thankfully, they were normally too drunk to do anything by the time they got back to their apartments, after all, he wasn't really old enough to be pulling stunts like that now, let alone back then. John shook his head as he inhaled from his second cigarette. No wonder he had an attitude problem.

No, his current problem wasn't being attracted to another guy; his problem was being attracted to Bobby Drake. Hell, he was just coming to terms with being friends with the all-American, goodie-two-shoes, teachers pet, ridiculously nice, goddamn son of a bitch. John didn't have many friends. Ok, so John didn't really have any friends with the exception of Bobby. Sure kids were nice enough to him, but John could tell it was more out of fear – a desire to keep in the crazy pyromaniac's good books than genuinely being friendly. Bobby, however, was a genuine friend, and John had to reluctantly admit, he liked having the friendship. He didn't want to ruin it with this silly little infatuation.

It had all come about late one night in the TV room a couple of weeks ago. A bunch of them had been having a bit of a movie marathon and eventually the numbers had dwindled until it was just John and Bobby left. They had started the evening sitting on the sofa side by side and even as the seats around them had emptied, neither boy had bothered to move. As yet another movie had finished, John had made a grab for the remote the other side of Bobby, only to have the other boy try and wrestle it away from him. In their close proximity, the fight had been little more than the tangling of limbs. As Bobby had pushed John back against the armrest, bodies flush and faces barely apart, John had felt that flutter in his stomach. That flutter that was something akin to nausea but at the same time was not exactly unpleasant. In John's momentary distraction, Bobby had grabbed the remote and sat back up, a smug grin on his face. John had forced a smile back, untangling himself from the ice mutant and sitting back up, subtly shuffling over slightly to put some distance between them. After flicking channels for about five minutes and finding nothing of interest, Bobby decided it was time for bed. John mumbled a good night but stayed sitting, curling up as Bobby left, clutching his stomach as if in a vain attempt to make that flutter go away.

But it hadn't. It hadn't that night. It hadn't the next morning at breakfast. It hadn't the next evening as John had watched Bobby playing basketball. It still hadn't gone away.

"You know they'll make you die young, right?"

John didn't need to look up, he recognized that contemptuous, smug tone.

"That's the plan," John replied with an honesty that startled Scott, making him pause briefly before continuing;

"Detention, four O'clock," Scott took the brave – if not foolhardy – decision to reach out and take the half finished cigarette from John's hands, stubbing it out quickly on the ground before John had a chance to react. "Now get to your next class."

John glared venomously up at Summers before slowly climbing to his feet, shoving past the older mutant as he stomped back up to the mansion.

Indeed, today was definitely one of those days when it was a good thing for the entire mansion that John Allerdyce could not create his own fire...