Disclaimer: Okay, to make up for the fact that I didn't put a disclaimer in my last entry, I have to put it now, only doubly nagging. I don't own X-men, I don't own Pyro(thought I kinda wish I did... ), and I don't own the X school, thought I would be FRIGGIN RICH IF I DID!!! Hahaha...
I repeat: I don't own X-men, I don't own Pyro(thought I kinda wish I did... ), and I don't own the X school, thought I would be FRIGGIN RICH IF I DID!!! Hahaha... KK, on with the story!
Summary: LOL Wow, I only got a couple of reviews, but that's ok! It looks like I've got at least a little bit of positive response from it. That's great. Ok, on with the story. Looks like Jonny has a date! Wee, our little Pyro's all grown up! kk, can't wait for it! Yay, alright... Now, let's get on with Pyro and Sherry's date! Whoo-hoo!
My Scarab Jewel
Chapter Two: Bohemian Rhapsody
John came out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. Bobby was across the room, lying on his bed and making tiny ice sculptures for no apparent reason. He made one of Rogue, one of a daisy, one of a stack of comic books, all that could fit in the palm of your hand. He looked up at John.
"So, big date, huh?"
He nodded, "Yeah, guess so..." He grabbed another towel and dried his hair with it. Pyro laughed slightly. "Actually, I'm kinda nervous about it."
"Nervous???" Bobby repeated in confusion. "Big bad Pyro nervous? How touching--oof!" He was cut off by a flying pillow to his face. They both laughed. "So, where you goin?"
"It's this artsy cafe on 6th and Park," he said, walking around in his boxers, going through his clothes and picking out random things. "Rogue asked around for me. She said it was a basement coffee shop where there were poetry readings and satar players and stuff... Real east-indies."
"Cool; so you gonna get her anything?"
"What do you mean?" John asked, putting on one of his good pairs of jeans, the pair with the chain dangling from his waist and attatching to his back pocket. He grabbed his Linkin Park wallet and put them in his pocket. "I mean, it's a first date..."
"Yeah, but, you said she was Egyptian, right?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, so?"
"So, I was in History today, and we're on Ancient Egypt. It said that Egyptian hospitality is extremely valued, so guests are always welcome. In return, the guest usually brings a small gift in thanks."
"But I'm not a guest!" said Pyro, searching through his shirts to find something semi-decent. "We're just going out to get some coffee, okay?"
"Dude, seriously--bring something, like a... I dunno, at least some flowers."
"But how do I know she's not allergic?"
Bobby sighed and grabbed one of his nice shirts, a forest-green button down. "Here, you can borrow this. And don't be a huge show off, alright?"
John put on a puppy-like pout. "Aww, but I'm so incredible..."
The door burst open, "Guys, Logan's coming!" said Andrew, a mutant who could make copies of himself. Pyro quickly ducked beneath the covers while Bobby threw an ice mist on his face to make him look like he was sweating, Andrew stood by the door. "Pyro's kinda sick, sir, I don' t think you wanna go in."
"I'll take my chances," said Logan, walking in. He saw Iceman standing over a very sick looking Pyro, who had used minimal fire power to give himself a fever. He walked over to the bed. "What happened to you?"
Bobby looked up. "I think he just overworked himself today." He leaned over Pyro, his pillow over his brow. "Dude, you think you wanna eat something?" He shook his head, mumbled something about a stomachache and pulled the covers over his head. Logan slapped his shoulder with the back of his hand. "Don't think this gets you out of tomorrow, alright?" Pyro gave a sweaty thumbs-up before his arm collapsed limply over the bedside.
Wolverine rolled his eyes. "Alright, everyone, down to dinner." He left, Bobby and Andrew following. As they were leaving, Pyro and Bobby gave a thumbs up to each other. Andrew made a few copies of himself and left one inside the room, littering all the others around the hallway so John could have a safe escape. After a few moments, one of Andrew's duplicates came out from under the bed. "Ok, he's downstairs," he said, seeing from his other copies' eyes.
Pyro got out of bed as Andrew took his shirt off, covered himself with water from one of Bobby's ice sculptures; Pyro gave him a slight fever. He wiped himself off and put Bobby's green shirt on. "Don't forget," Andrew said. "Be nice, huh?"
"Tch," he smirked. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."
"Oh, and don't foget the aftershave--Iceman's got some Oldspice in the bathroom."
"But I didn't shave..."
"So what? You don't wanna go there smelling like a foot, do ya?" Pyro laughed. Was it everyone who knew about his date with Sherry? He jogged to the bathroom and put on some of the aftershave, and put on his socks and beige high-tops. "What?" he asked when he got a funny look from Andrew. "I like these shoes." He looked around, turned the lights off and closed the drapes. "Coast clear?"
"Yeah; go to the east wing, and wait for the other me, there, we're gonna make sure you're safe, alright?"
He nodded. "Okay, wish me luck..." He opened the door stealthily, Kitty--aka Shadowcat--was waiting for him. "Ready?" she asked, a little twinkle in her eye. Pyro nodded; Kitty had always had a crush on him, he knew that. So it was no wonder she was willing to help him. He figured that if she thought she was doing him a favor, he might consider her to be a girlfriend, now that he was looking and all...
Kitty took his hand and led him through the parts of the hallways with Security cameras, meeting the other parts of Multiply along the way, each of them were holding a different kind of flower. A daisy here, a cabbage rose there, a lily, a salvia, and a few hollyhocks, too. Even a strange, lily-like flower in such a vibrant red color it was shocking to see that it existed naturally. "You never know what kind of flower she'll like," said Multiply. He nodded in thanks to both of them as Kitty and he snuck out through the gates of the Institute. He gave Kitty a little peck on the forehead as thanks and rushed off down 5th avenue, which crossed streets with Park, a very full variety of flowers in hand.
Pyro glanced at his watch every block. "Damn, almost six thirty..."
"Hey--watch it!"
"Oof!" Pyro was knocked back against one of the shops as a kamikaze biker sped off, a trail of flower petals behind him. He looked down. "Fuck...!" He cursed as all the flowers he brought were now destroyed, all except for the strange, lily-like flower with bright colors. It stood from it's thick stem, the flower fluting out like a daffodil would, almost smiling at him.
"Hey, there you are!" He spun around at a female voice.
Sherry smiled, her teeth like pearls. "I've been looking for you..." The front half of her hair hung down in a long chocolate sheet decorated with several braids and gold beads, the back half was twisted up into an elegant bun. Her red dress was detailed with a strappy back and shoulder straps, as if they were twisted by a giant spider. She looked at the strange flower in his hand. "Hey... Is that an amarylis?"
He looked down at the flower. "Uh... Okay," he said, a bit nervous.
"Those are my favorite flowers in the world!" she said, taking it from his sweaty palm. "I especially love the red ones... How did you know?" He shrugged.
"A little birdy told me," he said. 'Okay, using old addages, bad move,' he thought. 'Well, may as well be polite tonight...' "Uhm..." He held out his arm. "Shall we?"
Sherry smiled, her lips shiny with a clear gloss. She took his arm. "You know," she commented while they walked across the street to the cafe. "You should wear green more often. It seems it turns you into more of a genlteman."
They both laughed a little as they entered the cafe. It was more of a big stairway, really, the entrance on the surface. It just led downstairs to a big basement. Various tables that were low to the ground littered the floor, pillows scattered all about. A few couches with Turkish designs were scattered about. A rail-thin woman with a shaven head sat on the stage in some yoga position playing a satar.
Okay, this is definately not my forte, thought John. He looked around, a bit nervous and hesitant about what to say. "Oh, look," he said as he pointed to the menu board over the counter. "They have capp-noo-see-no..."
Sherry laughed. She put her hands behind her back and rocked back and forth on her heels, her ankles tinkling with tiny silver bells. "I'd love a double decaf latte with skim milk..."
He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Clearly, you have knowledge of other worlds..."
"Okay, how bout you go get us a few pillows and I get the drinks? You seem like you'd be a Chai-tea latte kinda guy..." Pyro shrugged and looked around. There was a little round cherry wood table for two, with soft, squishy pillows next to each other. He looked around, not seeing many actual chairs and decided--hey, why not? He went over to the table and sat down on the pillow, squirming abit, trying to get comfortable, as he'd never really sat on the floor much before. The air was perfumed with incense and boiling water, the walls weren't really painted, rather than just covered with layers and layers of thick and beautiful silky fabrics, purples decorated with gold and silver thread. Sherry soon returned with two steaming cups and knelt down with ease on her own Turkish pillow.
Pyro pulled out his wallet. "How much did these cost?"
She shook her hand. "No, please, don't worry about it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, don't worry. I get 'em for dirt cheap, anyway." She sipped her latte, licking the foamy creaminess off her lips. "See all the drapes and stuff around here?" He nodded. "Well, I did them."
"... You...did them? As in you made all of these?" Sherry laughed.
"Yeah, I did. I also painted the walls underneath that nice terracotta color. I love painting, but you kinda knew that. I also love to sew, and I can make my own clothes, too."
He blinked. He had never heard of someone who could do so much at once. Granted, he did live in a school where there was no time to learn how to paint or how to sew--fine arts were replaced with training, enhancement of their powers. He pointed to her red dress. "Did you make that?" She nodded, licking more latte foam from her lips. "That's incredible... How long did it take you?"
Sherry shrugged. "Two, maybe three weeks, I think."
"Two weeks to make a dress???" That seemed a little long to make a dress...
"Hey, gimme a break--I made the fabric, too."
He shook his head. "You made the fabric?" Okay, this was just far too impressive for one person alone.
"Yeah, I did. Uhm, since I'm the oldest, I get all the good stuff. I get first picks for my dowry." She laughed at the word. "My family is very old fashioned. For every rug that I weave, or all the clay and ceramic pots I make go to my dowry. I also get money and stuff. When I get married, it's kind of a package that comes with the marriage, y'know? So, when I was about four, my grandmother pulled me aside and said 'Don't rush outside, you can go anytime. Come, sit with me and I will teach you to weave beautiful cloth.' So, I started weaving. And, before you know it, I can sew, cook, weave, paint, throw pottery--"
"Throw pottery?" he asked, confused. Sherry laughed. "Yeah, that's what it's called when you make pottery. You know, with the spinning wheel and such?"
"Oh... yeah..." He looked away, off towards the stage. Okay, she's a power-woman. Now what? he thought. He was actually intimidated by someone, a human no less. "I also dance and play drums," she mentioned, sipping her latte. "You haven't touched your drink."
Pyro looked down, the cup still warm and steaming. "Well, I'm not sure quite...what it is, so..."
"Oh, come now, where's your sense of adventure? C'mon, Chai-tea lattes are really good. I think you'll like it." He shrugged and picked up the cup. "Okay, if you say so..." He took a sip of the steaming drink. It was a little strange, at first, but it had a strange kind of kick to it, a good one, of course. He looked at the cup. "Hmm, not bad, not bad at all..." She smiled.
"I told you so, didn't I?" He nodded and took another sip of the latte, the satar player stepping down from the stage and taking a bow. A young man with beatnick glasses and a pale face stepped up and began reading off a slip of paper.
"This poem is called The Produce Section," he said.
Sherry smiled. "I like this guy. He makes food into such a sensual art form..."
"Peaches, ripened in the sun,
Soft, juicy flesh tinted with a dull sheen
The scent, so sweet, so soft.
And you, nibbling at the skin
Juice on your lips, dripping onto the sunny grass
Grapes, plums red like gardenias
Breath, teeth and tongue fondling the tastes
Tastes of sweet and tart juices, dripping...
Drip, drip, drip..."
His words echoed around the shop, all ears around. He could see couples starting to kiss, as if aroused by the thought of thick juices from the fruits. John looked over to Sherry, her elbows on the table and her chin leaning on the back of her hand; her lips seemed to pucker, as if she were tasting the nectar of the peaches and plums mentioned in the man's words. His mouth began to water as she licked her lips, the long fingers of her free hand fondling the gold bangles around her wrist. He found himself unconciously leaning closer to her, he could smell that patchouli oil coming from her wrists and neck. His breath became shorter as he came closer, but he was soon inturrupted by a round of snaps in applause. He quickly leaned back to his original position.
What the fuck was that, he wondered.
"Hey," Sherry said. "You okay?"
He nodded. "Yeah, sure... Just the incense...kinda light-headed, huh?" She laughed. "So... Sherry..."
She laughed. "I know, I know, it's not Egyptian at all, is it?" Pyro shrugged. "Well, if you must know, my real name is Shaharazhad."
He blinked. "Shaharazhad?" he repeated. "That's really cool--I like that..." He shook his head, suddenly becoming lost in his thoughts. C'mon, Pyro, focus--you can't let her see you sweat... "So, what's your favorite book, movie, and song?" he asked, not quite knowing what else to say.
She thought for a moment. "Fried Green Tomatoes, "Fried Green Tomatoes," and--"
"Wait, "Fried Green Tomatoes?"" he asked. They both laughed.
"No, actually, it's "Hey Ya" by Outkast." This caused a total outburst of laughter on both parts. What a combination, John thought. Fried Green Tomatoes, a literary monument topped off by Outkast? I love it...
"So, Fried Green Tomatoes, huh? I guess you like to read, right?"
She nodded. "Yeah, well, I really try to read as much as I can. Reading is very intriguing. Intriguing, that's one of my words. Every day, I look up a new word in the dictionary and try to use it in every day life." She smiled at the look she was getting from John. "I'm trying to improve myself..."
"Wow..." Okay, this was just incredibly impressive. "That's really great... It's very...noble," he said, trying to compliment her as best as he could.
"Noble?" she asked in disbelief. "I can't believe you said that--noble is one of my words! It means, illustrious, famous, notable, of high birth, benevolent, or possessing outstanding qualities... Gosh, noble..." She laughed slightly.
John smiled. "Well, it really seems to fit you. Did you always like to read?"
Sherry shook her head, becoming suddenly quiet. "Um, no, actually... When I was a little kid, I hated reading."
"Not the bookish type?"
She looked up, smiling a little at his comment. "Well, you could say that. I'm dyslexic."
He suddenly stared at her, very surprised. A mental disease? Sherry? This doesn't seem to quite work... "So... Dyslexic, as in...the reading thing, or..."
"Yeah, I can't naturally read. See, Dyslexia is a very common mental condition which inhibits the clear distinction of graphic symbols--or letters. Sometimes, I can't tell the difference between a lower-case 'b,' and a lower-case 'd.' And sometimes, a word like 'now,' will look like the word 'won.' That's why I read, really. I kinda force myself to do it--it proves that a person with Dyslexia can read just like any other person. Don't you think so?" This was finished with a smile, and another sip of her latte.
Pyro sipped his chai-tea latte, processing all that she'd just said. A girl with Dyslexia who reads to improve herself. Not to mention that she forced herself every day with extra reading in the dictionary--with such tiny print, too.
"Wow, uh..." He trailed off. How do you respond to that? "I have to say, Sherry, I'm... I'm really impressed." They both laughed, John a little nervous about it. "I mean...just the whole Dyslexia thing and...with the dictionary, and the literature and...just--wow." They both smiled.
"Well, I'm certainly glad you think so, John. I really am flattered."
Sherry smiled. "Thanks for paying my cab fare..."
"It's alright..." He looked down at her hands, they seemed to shimmer with bronze. Her skin smelled so good, he could just very well become drunk with the scent. Her hands were warm and soft, yet were callused from weaving fabric and gripping her paintbrushes; he could still hear the music coming from inside the cafe as they stood together on the corner, the streetlights like spotlights. The crickets and homeless were their audience.
Her fringled bangs wafted in the wind. "Tonight was great, I had a really fun time with you."
John smiled back--not that sarcastic smirk that his alter ego Pyro would use, but a true smile; something that hadn't happened in quite some time. "I had a really fun time with you..." He trailed off, a yellow taxicab pulling up beside the corner. John opened the door and held Sherry's hand as she stepped off the curb; he reached over and handed a twenty dollar bill to the driver. She looked back and smiled at him.
"Thanks for the great time; I'd like to do it again some time."
"Yeah, me too..." He leaned in close to kiss her, Sherry moved away slightly. He tried once more, a litte more desperate to kiss her, but she put her fingers on his lips to stop him. She smirked. "John, never on a first date. But, I am flattered." She leaned close and gave him a hug and a tiny peck on the nose. She giggled and stepped into the cab with his help. "G'night, John."
He smiled again. "G'night, Sherry." He shut the door, and the cab sped off. She stuck her head out the window and waved goodbye; the cab swerved around the corner. A strangely large crow circled over head and landed on the streetlamp. Pyro looked up. "Hey, Cuervo..." The crow cawed and flew off back to the institute, Pyro following with the biggest smile he had had in years. That night, he had a dream that he was an Arabic theif who snuck into the palace of the Pharoh to whisk away the beautiful Princess Shaharazhad to live forever in the cave of the 40 thieves. And then he woke up. "... ... ... Aw, fuck..."
A/N: WOW!!! lol I must say I am very impressed with myself! So, our beautiful desert flower is dyslexic? What a twist... Pyro seems to be falling in love, don't you think? But what will his friends think? Will he get caught? Will he be forbidden to see her because she is a threat to the Xavier Institute's secrets? Ugh, the pressure is killing me. Thanks so much for the great responses! R&R plz!