I don't own X-men: Evolution

How long they stood there, Amara didn't know. The rain kept pouring, unheeded and disregarded by both teens standing in the middle of the trees, soaking them both to the bone, even penetrating Pyro's jacket.

Amara was first to come back to her senses, opening her eyes wide as she realized what she was doing. She struggled against John's tight embrace, trying as hard as she could to break free, but every time she wriggled he just pulled her closer. Her cheeks burned as she realized how much of their bodies were touching—it was doubtful that a passerby would be able to tell where Amara started and John left off.

Time for some of that Danger Room knowledge to be put to practical use.

Amara removed her hands from Pyro's chest and slowly traced her way up his neck so that she was embracing him. She then slowly, even lazily, drew her arm back, balling her hand into a fist. In one swift motion, she decked him on the cheek, effectively breaking the liplock that he held her in while rendering him momentarily unconscious.

He fell backwards, his unconscious embrace pulling her on top of him to the forest floor. Luckily, he managed to miss any large roots.

Amara instantly squirmed her way out of St John's arms: the punch she had given him, while forceful, was not meant to put him to sleep for long. She could have hit Pyro on the temple, but Amara wasn't ready to face the consequences if she hit too hard and killed him. She managed to get herself into a kneeling position before his arm shot out and grabbed her wrist.

"Now wot was that for?" Pyro turned his head groggily towards the girl he held by the wrist.

"For not letting me go. What was that for?" She demanded, referring to the kiss.

He yanked on her wrist, flipping her sideways and down so that she lay on her back beside him; in the same motion he levered himself upright and to the side so that he half sat, his hands on either side of her head, bending about a foot over her face.

"Don't tell me that you didn't loike it, sheila." His voice was husky, and she shivered, as much from being wet and cold from the effect he had on her.

"Tell me one good reason why I shouldn't have Logan castrate you." She whispered up to him fiercely.

Now it was Pyro's turn to shudder. If the sheila really was that mad at him...he wouldn't put it past Wolverine either. The man had morals, but barely; certainly not when his students were threatened. And the last time that he had had a run-in with the Canadian Pyro had definitely come out the worse.

"You wouldn't."

"I won't...if." She let the sentence hang.

"If wot?"

"If you leave me alone after this! I won't tell Logan as long as you just quit...bothering me!" She really wasn't sure of what term to give whatever Pyro had been doing to her. Stalking, perhaps.

"Okay then, a deal's a deal." He let go of her wrist and grabbed her hand. "Let's shake on it, shall we?" He solemnly shook her hand, then let it go.

"Good, now can you get off of me?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"No."

"What?!"

"I said, 'no'. You said 'leave me alone AFTER this.' That means I should just enjoy this while I can." He smirked at her, helpless rage flitting across her features. "And don't even think of tellin' yer Wolverine. We shook on it, remember?"

She scowled up at him, and he smiled. She looked cute when she did that. It was so much fun to piss her off, just to see her reactions. And the means to the end weren't so bad either. Speaking of which...

"Now where were we?"

"Ah-ah-ah-ah, wait just a second, pyro-boy." Amara held her hand over his mouth, which had been rapidly descending down to her level. "Why do you keep kissing me? Is it just because you're bored? Are you actually interested in me, or am I just a cheap thrill? If you want one of those, go find some other girl. I'm not interested...I don't even like you. You're my enemy for shit's sake! Why are you kissing me?"

Pyro waggled his eyebrows at her and kissed her palm. Instantly she drew her hand back, and he grinned. "Koind of hard to answer when me mouth is blocked off. I don't suppose I could just avoid the question and get back to the kissing?"

One look at her steely expression gave him his answer. He sighed. "Alroight. To tell ya the truth, I really have no oidea. You're fun, interesting, easy to piss off and you have a killer power. I'm in love with the flame, I really am, so I suppose I'm in love with you as well." He grinned at her happily.

"Oh." Amara hadn't really considered that before. He was in love with her? They barely knew each other!

"Um, can you get off me now?"

John rolled his eyes, exasperated. "I already told you, no. Well, I can get off you, but I don't want to."

"Why not? I'm getting wet, and it's really cold."

"You're getting wet, eh?" Thunder rumbled in the distance as the rain pounded down even harder. "Wonder how that's happening?"

"Rrrrgh..." Amara could barely keep her eyes open; the rain got into them and stung. Pyro levered himself upwards a little bit; his arms were getting sore from supporting his torso over hers. He looked down and smiled. Her white t-shirt was completely soaked through. Best not to mention that to her now.

"Pyro...make up your mind! Surely you don't want to just sit here all day, so why don't you let me go and we can just go our separate ways?" She saw him looking discreetly down at her front. Pervert.

"You're perfectly roight, 'Mara. I don't wanna sit here all day. But I have something more interesting in mind than just walking home." His eyes glinted.

Amara was about to make another sarcastic reply when he lowered himself beside her; putting one hand under her back, he flipped her over and closer to him, catching her lips in his.

Pyro was now flat on his back, enthusiastically kissing Amara, who was situated on top of him. Oh brother...she thought, before he deepened the kiss and all thoughts flew out of her mind.
A/N: Pyro is a dog! Poor Amara's reasoning doesn't stand a chance against his psychotic will! I have no idea why Pyro's turning out this way...meh, whatever. Yes, I know the chapter's short, but it needs to be cut off there. Dramaticness and all that rot. And YAY! for indenting!