Here it is, the long awaited finale to More than Flames. I'm not very good at romance I'm afraid, but I think it turned out okay. This chapter is dedicated to Stacey in light of her birthday!! Happy 19th birthday!!!!!!
Nicodemus the Disclaimer: So... that's why you made me wear this dumb, pointy hat... shrugs Anyway, Taineyah does not own Wanda, Toad or Sinjin... What's a Sinjin...?
Taineyah: It's how Johnny pronounces his hame, doofus.
Nicodemus: rips off hat I'm not a doofus. Anyway, happy birthday Stacey!! Enjoy.
Flames and Magic
Hands shaking, St. John Allerdyce picked his recently published novel up off of the library shelf. Had anyone read it? Or had it just sat there and gathered dust, as he'd feared it might. Holding his breath, he flipped the book over to where the due dates got stamped on a sticker on the back. Three people had taken it out, the most recent having brought it back only the day before.
He let out his breath. He wanted to dance around and hoot, but he caught himself. That was not good library behaviour. He didn't want to be kicked out again. He wondered who had read the book, and what they'd thought of it. He looked at the front cover. The artwork was good. The artist had followed the concept art that John had had Piotr draw and the dark haired sorceress was surrounded by blue flames, her red-headed hero standing behind her with his arms protectively sheltering her from the sinister figure in the lower corner.
Finally, a thought occurred to Pyro. Maybe he could convince the librarian to look up the book on her computer and see who'd read it. It was worth a shot, at the least. Maybe he could find someone to talk to about his book and other story ideas he had.
He headed down the stairs to the information desk. The old librarian, the one who kept kicking him out, wasn't there, which explained why he was still in the building. He had full control over his fire and flicking his lighter couldn't possibly harm the books, whatever she said. It was the younger one on duty today, the one who giggled. Personally, St. John hated gigglers, but he might be able to use it to his advantage. He strode confidently, at least he hoped it was confidently, to the desk.
"Excuse me miss," he said, catching the librarian's attention. Bethany, that was her name, he remembered. She had a strange infatuation with his voice.
She giggled as she turned to him. "What can I do for you today, Johnny?"
He hated being called Johnny, but he grinned anyway. "I was wondering if you could help me find out who's taken out this book."
"Oh, I can't look it up, but I can tell you that I did. It's so beautiful. Are you interested in reading it? It's all about--"
"Bethany, I don't have to read it. I wrote it. I just wanted to see who's been reading my work is all." He hoped that his smile was charming and not murderous.
A tittering laugh emanated from her lips. "Oh Johnny, there's no way you wrote this. It's all about true love. I've never even seen you with a girl!"
So the girl'd been watching him. Charming. "Think about it, love. What's the name on my library card?"
"John Michael Allerdyce," she replied promptly, clearly having committed his vital statistics to memory. "But the man who wrote this is St. John Allerdyce."
The stupidity of flatscans never ceased to amaze St. John. This one seemed particularly stupid. "If you were a boy and your mother had had the stupid notion to name you Saint anything do you really think you'd own up to it in your regular life? The other boys made fun of me when I was a tyke, so I stopped using it."
She tilted her head to one side, thinking. He did have a point and he was cute. Maybe she could make an exception, just for him. Yes, she could do that, as long as she didn't tell him any addresses.
"Okay," she giggled, taking the book from him. "I won't give you anything except their names or I'll get in really big trouble and lose my job."
"We can dream," John muttered.
"What was that?" She looked up from her computer screen.
"That'd be like a bad dream," he said more loudly.
A few keystrokes later, she had the names in front of her. "Alrighty then... I was the first one to take it out. Bethany Hathaway. If you want, I can give you my number..."
John managed not to grimace. "It's quite alright."
She tittered again. "Maybe some other time. The next was Robert Kelly..."
John did grimace. Maybe he should let slip to the presses that St. John Allerdyce was a mutant... At least then the likes of Kelly would keep their bloody hands off his material! Two of the three people down so far and still no one he dared even think about talking to.
"And the last one is Wanda Maximoff. She brought it back yesterday. I think I'm going to take it out again..."
Bethany continued to ramble on, but St. John didn't hear any of it after "Wanda Maximoff." Wanda, the inspiration for his dark, angry sorceress, Mirala... She'd read his book. She'd read it. He did dance and holler this time and Bethany hushed him. She told him that the other librarian was only on her lunch and she'd be mad if she came in and "Johnny" was causing a ruckus again.
John walked dazedly out of the library. Wanda had read it. Had she liked it? His stomach churned as his heart sang. What if she'd recognised herself in it? Would she be angry? Everything seemed to make her angry.
He headed in the general direction of the Brotherhood Boarding House, not sure what he'd do when he got there. On his way, he spotted a book store. He stepped inside and there was a display rack with his book on it. Unthinkingly, he picked up a copy and headed to the register. There were pens for sale there and he chose an orange gel pen. He paid for his purchases, then went out front and sat down on a park bench across the street.
Gently, he opened the hardcover edition of his book. He smoothed out the black end page, contemplating his words. They had to be perfect. He could speak to her on paper, just as he did in his thoughts, even if he couldn't say a word to her in person. After a few long moments, he touched the pen to the paper.
Wanda,
I wrote this book for you, my dark sorceress. You stole my heart with your magic and so I wrote Mirala and her hero as I wish we can be. If you don't return my feelings, I will understand and I will try to move on, despite the pain it will cause me. I wanted you to know how I feel, even though I haven't words enough to tell you.
Love always,
St. John Allerdyce
His hands shook as he recapped his pen. Had that been over the top? Yes, perhaps even cheesy, but it was in ink--he couldn't change it. How would she react when he gave it to her? Would she hex him? Or... No, he didn't dare even think about that possibility. There was no way it could happen.
He stood nervously and started back on his path towards the Brotherhood Boarding House.
Wanda Maximoff sat on the couch, grimacing at the television. She wasn't really interested in the true crime show that was blaring out, but if she took her eyes off of it for an instant, Todd would be all over her. She hated the little slimeball. One day she was going to hex his bad petnames uttering mouth permanently shut. Not today, though. She was in a somewhat charitable mood. She'd thought up a new way to kill her father.
There was a knock at the door and she turned her head, acknowedging the sound but unsure as to whether she should answer the door or not. Normally one of the boys did it, but she and Todd were the only ones home and he hated answering the door. Something about a glowing curtain and a Cajun or something.
The knocking sounded again and Todd had seemingly disappeared. Sighing, she went to the door, ready to kill whoever was interrupting her quiet afternoon. She flung it open, half expecting it to be her idiot twin. He kept forgetting his keys. Obviously, she'd gotten all the brains available at the time they were born.
She had her mouth open to yell at him when she saw who was there. It wasn't Pietro. It was someone she actually wanted to see, whether she'd ever admit it to someone or not. It was Pyro, her father's orange-haired lackey.
She stood there in silence, not knowing what to say. Should she threaten him? Should she ask his name? Should she close the door in his face? What did one do in a situation like this?
"Ummm.... Hi, Wanda," Pyro muttered nervously, looking at his feet. "This is for you."
He thrust a copy of her favourite book into her hands. How had he known? Was he a telepath like Xavier? What was going on?
"Thanks..." Just to be doing something, she opened up the front cover. The bright writing on the plain black paper caught her eye. As she scanned the inscription, her eyes grew wide. "You're... You're St. John Allerdyce?"
He shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant, but knowing that he was failing miserably. "Guilty as charged."
She blinked. "You've been following me for ages haven't..." She glanced back down at the note. "You wrote about me?" She was flattered.
"They say to write what you know... I knew what it was like to love the dark sorceress from afar." He dragged his toe across the welcome mat, not daring to look at her.
"And... That means... You... You love me?" Her mind was racing. Was her daydream coming true? Could he possibly love her?
He chanced a glance at her. She didn't look angry. More awestruck. He nodded, tongue-tied.
Say something, say something, say something, Pyro told himself. If you don't, you'll lose her.
He took her hand gently in his, carressing it and protecting it all at the same time. "Do you like it?"
She took a steadying breath. No one had ever touched her like that before. Her heart was racing and there was a pleasant twisting feeling in her stomach. She nodded.
"It was beautiful."
He smiled nervously and she loved the way the corner of his lip quivered.
Oh god, Wanda thought What am I supposed to do now?
He kissed her hand, brushing it ever so softly with his lips, happy that she wasn't resisting.
Maybe she's in shock. The thought occurred to him and his head spun. Maybe I shouldn't be doing this.
She stared at him wide-eyed as he gazed at her with orbs of cerulean blue. Damn her years in the asylum. She didn't know how she was supposed to respond. Wait... She'd seen this on tv once. What had the girl done? It had been a soap opera. She thought hard for a second before she remembered. There was no way she could do that! She couldn't say "I'm sorry, but I can't love you because I'm pregnant with my sister's husband's baby."
John started to release her hand. He'd been wrong. He'd made a fool of himself. She'd send him away now for sure.
Think Wanda, Think. He'll leave. You don't want him to leave! What else did people on tv do? Oh yeah...
Wanda tilted her face up towards his and slowly leaned in.
He watched as her eyes slid shut, then he closed his own and bent to meet her lips.
Wanda's eyes opened in shock. No wonder television characters seemed to enjoy this. It felt good! She molded her body gently against his as she felt his tongue prodding her lips, as though asking permission to enter.
What are you doing you idiot? John asked himself. You aren't Frenchie! You don't stick your tongue in her mouth the first- His thought was cut off when her lips parted to let him explore her mouth.
They held each other and the book toppled from Wanda's hand to the ground, the treasure forgotten in light of this new kind of wonder. Finally, they broke apart with a soft new kind of understanding dancing in their hearts. Wanda knew he wasn't fooling around with her and John knew she could never hate him.
John gulped, then opened his mouth. "Do you want to go for a walk or to get some coffee or something?"
She nodded once, slowly. "Maybe in a few minutes, but first..."
She pressed her lips to his again.
Thoughts, suggestions? Flames?? dreamy look Fire pretty....
Love,
Tainz