"Disco Inferno"

Wearing a cap wasn't exactly the best disguise, especially at night, but Johnny hadn't cut his hair since his last break-up, and the blond coming out made him look more like Steve Rogers. Not what he was going for. Besides, if he caused another scandal attributed to Captain America, he'd get a lecture from Susan, which he didn't need. Or want.

"Okay," the bouncer said, jerking his thumb to let Johnny past.

Johnny trotted down the stairs to the newest club on the block. Disco wasn't exactly his thing… but maybe his soulmate liked it? Besides, there was always the risk of trouble in the first few days of a bar's opening, and Johnny liked to be near trouble. Either to be a part of it or fix it… he didn't care. With the Avengers around now, he had less to do in the way of superhero-ing, except for the rare times they bothered to ask the Fantastic Four for help, or didn't send them away saying 'We've got this covered'.

There were people at the bar, and the booths were already crowded. People were grooving on the dance floor on multi-coloured neon tiles, while an honest-to-God disco ball rotated above them. He smirked, and headed for the bar. Once he had a drink in hand, he'd consider his options. There were more women in the booths, more men at the bar, and a mix among the dancers.

"Burn, baby, burn, disco inferno," he sang along softly, waiting for the bartender to notice him.

"What can I get for ya?"

"A hurricane?"

"One hurricane. Anything else?"

"No, thanks." Johnny slid a hundred across to him. The bartender's jaw dropped. "Keep the change. Consider it a house-warming present."

"Thanks, man," he said. "That hurricane will be right with you."

"As strong as you can make it. I burn off alcohol easily."

While the barman was shaking the drink, Johnny watched. Could never be too careful. Besides, he hadn't decided what to do next. Find a booth packed with hot-looking women, pull out some cheesy moves on the dance floor, or maybe even chat someone up at the bar. He wouldn't have far to go.

The bartender placed the drink in front of Johnny, who took a sip. His eyes closed.

"Best. Hurricane. Ever," he said, and he grinned when the man smiled, obviously pleased with himself. "Thanks, man."

"Go enjoy yourself now."

"I will."

Johnny moved around the edge of the dance floor, searching for inspiration. He sipped at his cocktail, keeping the heat down so the drink would stay cold for longer. The Bee-Gees were singing – did this place just have the soundtrack for Saturday Night Fever on repeat? – and he couldn't help swaying his hips a little as he watched the dancers.

"You should be dancin', yeah." He walked closer to the booths. "Dancin', yeah."

He noticed a young man stalking away from a booth, leaving behind another man and a group of women all laughing. Johnny's lips twitched, and he wandered over to the table to find out what was going on. He was passing another when a woman snagged his sleeve.

"You don't wanna go there right now, honey," she said. "The dude just got burned."

"Literally?" Johnny asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Nah, but the other guy's a jackass," another girl piped up. "We heard them. They were being pretty harsh."

"Was he being a jackass?"

"Only as much as any guy hitting on a table of young women," the first one said. Johnny smiled sheepishly.

"One of us, huh?" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Thanks for the warning. Maybe I'll steer clear of them. I'd ask if I could join you but, hey, don't wanna be that guy."

"You're okay. Sit down."

"Wouldn't wanna make you uncomfortable," he said, raising a hand. "There isn't enough room. I'm happy to stand here and talk. Hell, I'll even keep my eyes above the neckline. Scout's promise."

"You'd better get another drink, then come join us."

"Yeah, I'll—"

"Think you can just make a fool outta me?"

Johnny swung around, and everyone look as the blond guy strode back towards the table. This was the trouble Johnny had been expecting, and he set his glass down as quietly, even though the music covered it pretty well.

"Look, dude, just go away and find someone else to practise your stupid pick-up lines on," the guy at the table said. The bimbos around him giggled, and Johnny found himself wondering why he'd gone for those sort of women in the past. Oh yeah. Sex.

"A brush-off I can take," the blond said. "It's your damn attitude that needs adjusting. I'm not so stupid I can't take a hint."

"Guys, let's keep it nice here, okay?" the barman called to them. Johnny noticed a flicker of light, and glanced at the blond's hand. A lighter, being flicked on and off. Shit. They were in a club. Alcohol, neon gas in the lights. Probably a hundred people down here, at least.

"You wanna see how I deal with people who piss me off?" the blond asked, raising the lighter.

Johnny was already running towards him when there was a surprise fireball. It exploded against his body, and he briefly mourned the fact that Jerry Lee Lewis wasn't being played. There were screams, and he knew his clothes – damn, that new jacket was awesome – were being burned away. The blond's eyes widened, and he backed off a step.

"You're on fire," he said dazedly.

Well, fuck.

"You shouldn't play with matches," Johnny said. "But I'm guessing this was the aim?"

"Um… oh."

Johnny let the flames die off, before reaching forward and snatching the lighter from Firebug Sam.

"Let's get you outta here before they call the police," he said, shoving the lighter into the pocket of his Fantastic Four uniform which, thank God, he was wearing out of habit.

"You're…"

"Yeah, we'll talk about that outside," Johnny said. He scowled over at the table of jerks. "I doubt you've learned your lesson, but just be grateful that someone was here to stop him tonight, `cause the next time you might not be so lucky."

There were some cheers and applause as Johnny led the guy out the front door, along the pavement, and then around the corner where it was darker. He lit one hand and used it to examine the man who was possibly his soulmate.

"It's not the first time someone's told me I'm on fire," he said. "It's a pretty common occurrence, or used to be."

"It's your soulmark."

"I'm Johnny Storm, also known as the Human Torch. I should probably have apologised to the others back there, for making them think they were about to see someone burn to death. But then they almost did." He narrowed his eyes. "Do you usually go about flaming people who hurt your feelings?"

"Trying not to make it a habit."

"Well, try harder. Do you know what a blaze like that could've done to a freakin' disco club? Gas in the lights, booze behind the bar, and it's partially underground. It's not like people could jump out windows to safety if there was a real fire, and no sprinklers started up when you flamed me, so I'm thinking that's something which needs to be looked at."

"Why'd you even bother to keep me outta trouble?" the blond asked.

"Because it's the kinda bone-headed thing I might've done when I was your age, and it's much better to be stopped from doing something bad than be punished after the event. If I didn't stop you… it'd just be downhill from there." He shook the guy's shoulders. "You need to sober up. How much have you had to drink?"

"…Not much."

"But enough?" He nodded, and Johnny sighed. "Let's get you home."

"But why would you care?"

"You might be my soulmate, dumbass!"

"I'm sure as hell not showing you my soulmark."

"Did I say your words or not?" Johnny said, glaring at the young man.

"You did."

"Then why—"

"Because they're on my dick."

"…Oh. Yeah, you don't wanna get arrested for exposure. That's not a good thing."

"So…" The blond cleared his throat and looked down at the ground. "Where's your soulmark?"

Johnny held out his right hand, displaying the words 'You're on fire' written across the middle. He smiled smugly when the blond's cheeks darkened to red.

"What's your name?" he asked softly.

"John Allerdyce."

"Huh. Good thing no one calls me John, or that'd just sound narcissistic. Don't think my sister won't comment on it, though. So. You have fire powers, too, don't you?"

John shrugged. "I've got the x-gene. I'm… a mutant. Just a little spark of fire is all it takes, and I can burn down entire buildings. Probably more, if I wanted to."

"Please don't do that, ever."

"`Kay. But… it's my writing. On your hand."

Johnny leaned closer to him. "I wouldn't mind seeing your soulmark, baby."

"Pyro. That's my… that's my mutant name."

"Superhero or supervillain?"

"Definitely not a hero," John muttered.

"But you're my soulmate, so hey, can't be all bad, right?" John snorted, and Johnny punched his arm lightly. "What'd you say to that group? Something about a pick-up line?"

"One of many I try on new people, to see whether they answer with 'You shouldn't play with matches'. Bad puns, really bad puns, but…"

"You were trying to find your soulmate," Johnny said, understanding. Before he became the Human Torch, he'd tried every kind of sport he could find that he excelled at, the kinda thing where people might say he was 'on fire'. Then he was blasted with super powers, years after he gained his soulmark, and it made more sense than anything else had before.

"I should've known it'd be someone like you," John said. "I couldn't burn you by accident."

"Well, you could, but it wouldn't hurt me."

He breathed out shakily, and Johnny pulled him closer. "I'm scared."

"You don't need to be scared, kid. You're with me."

"I nearly killed a lot of people tonight."

"We're hot-headed types. Literally. Shit." He laughed quietly. "Susie was hoping I'd find someone who'd keep me outta trouble. I have a feeling it's gonna end up being the opposite. I'm gonna have to be the responsible one."

"I'll try to behave," John promised.

"You know what'd make me happiest?" Johnny said, tipping his chin up. John's eyes dropped to his lips, and he licked them absently.

"What's that?" he asked.

"For you to be yourself. I won't know how to help you unless I know you."

John sighed. "Okay."

"You sound disappointed."

"I thought you wanted a kiss."

"Mmm. That, too."

Lying in blue sheets, legs tangled together, Johnny was mapping the freckles on John's stomach.

"Your brother's a genius," John said. "Seriously. I didn't know flameproof sheets like this actually existed."

"They decided it was for the best when I started having nightmares. I usually have to control myself even when it's just me and my hand. But… holy hellfire, if there were metal springs in this bed they would've melted last night."

"It's never been that intense for me, ever."

"Well, we are soulmates, babe," Johnny said, and he kissed John's neck. "But I know what you mean. Not having to hold back in case you consume someone… you were right. It was intense. And if you can still walk this morning then I haven't done my job."

"Is it your job to make me an invalid?"

"It's my job to wear you out with really great sex… and then get you breakfast in bed. Stay here."

"What?"

"I won't be long! I've made breakfast before."

When he left the bedroom, Johnny noticed that furniture and trinkets had been moved away from the door, and anywhere nearby. Ben looked pissed off.

"We could feel the heat from here," he said. "Had to move stuff before it began to melt, and Reed blasted the air-conditioning until it reached Arctic levels of freezing."

"Aw, did you crack under the pressure?" Johnny snarked. Ben flipped him the bird. "I'm gonna make breakfast for my soulmate, so if you'll excuse me."

"You? Make breakfast? Are you trying to kill him?"

"Hey, I make my own breakfast all the time, and I'm still here."

"You burn any toxins in your body," Reed said, walking past with his head stuck in a book. He glanced up at Johnny, brows furrowed. "Clearly your room isn't sufficiently heat-proof. I'll have a look at it later."

"Uh… thanks?"

Reed nodded shortly and continued on to his lab. Johnny shrugged, and got together the basics for breakfast. He could make toast. And coffee. And cereal. Wait. How did John take his coffee? What if he didn't drink it? What if he was allergic to something?

"Calm down," John said, rubbing Johnny's shoulder. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm supposed to be doing this for you," he said.

"It's not my birthday. Equal share of the labour. Now show me where the eggs are."

"Are you… gonna make an omelette?"

John sniggered. "I'm not that good. I'm making French Toast. Want some?"

"Yes, please!"

Okay, bad news. I've lost interest – and inspiration – in this series, so this is a wrap. It's appropriate that the last chapter was a ship requested by ozhawk, without whom this series wouldn't have happened.

It's been a lovely journey with all of you, and I hope to see you again someday. I don't know whether I'll be continuing the bonding scenes, either, but we'll see. Maybe if I'm bored or something.

Please review!