Pivotal
by Charli J
John says, "This--"
The flame sparks just in front of Bobby, flickering brilliantly between his eyes, taunting him. He raises his fingers and pinches the fire, freezing it and then lifting his eyelids to see John's face.
Smirking, John snaps the lighter shut and tosses it onto one of the beds.
"This is what I meant," John finishes.
Bobby blinks. "What?"
And it isn't like John didn't just explain the entire theory to him: polar opposites, nemeses. "You've seen the movies, you've heard the stories," John had said, punctuating certain words with the clicks and tricks. Bobby isn't particularly sure he believes in any of it, but he appreciates the way John moderates his voice when making a point, the effective pauses too. John knows how to work someone.
John takes matches from his pocket, breaking one from the book and striking it. He holds the match to his lips and breathes in slowly. One second the match is burning, then it isn't. Bobby watches John's chest for a moment--can tell he's stopped breathing.
Bobby touches John's cheeks with his fingertips. He guides John's faces forward cautiously and concentrates on sending chills surging from his fingertips. Bobby leans forward, brushes his lips against John's own and John exhales in a stream of scorching heat.
It lasts all of five seconds. Push and pull--
And Bobby has--
There's never been so many different things working--
He distinctly thinks, opposing forces, and pulls back. Bobby smoothes his hand over John's forearm. John breathes shallowly, says, "You could fucking destroy me," and Bobby understands entirely.
He looks at John's face. Fingerprints glitter on John's cheeks, melting a little, water trickling down his skin. Bobby catches the glint of similar bits of ice in John's eyelashes when he blinks.
Bobby reaches forward again.
by Charli J
John says, "This--"
The flame sparks just in front of Bobby, flickering brilliantly between his eyes, taunting him. He raises his fingers and pinches the fire, freezing it and then lifting his eyelids to see John's face.
Smirking, John snaps the lighter shut and tosses it onto one of the beds.
"This is what I meant," John finishes.
Bobby blinks. "What?"
And it isn't like John didn't just explain the entire theory to him: polar opposites, nemeses. "You've seen the movies, you've heard the stories," John had said, punctuating certain words with the clicks and tricks. Bobby isn't particularly sure he believes in any of it, but he appreciates the way John moderates his voice when making a point, the effective pauses too. John knows how to work someone.
John takes matches from his pocket, breaking one from the book and striking it. He holds the match to his lips and breathes in slowly. One second the match is burning, then it isn't. Bobby watches John's chest for a moment--can tell he's stopped breathing.
Bobby touches John's cheeks with his fingertips. He guides John's faces forward cautiously and concentrates on sending chills surging from his fingertips. Bobby leans forward, brushes his lips against John's own and John exhales in a stream of scorching heat.
It lasts all of five seconds. Push and pull--
And Bobby has--
There's never been so many different things working--
He distinctly thinks, opposing forces, and pulls back. Bobby smoothes his hand over John's forearm. John breathes shallowly, says, "You could fucking destroy me," and Bobby understands entirely.
He looks at John's face. Fingerprints glitter on John's cheeks, melting a little, water trickling down his skin. Bobby catches the glint of similar bits of ice in John's eyelashes when he blinks.
Bobby reaches forward again.
