Okay, so, I was set a challenge to write a song-fic that was actually good quality, wherein the lyrics actually had some relevance and were integral to the storyline.

But I discovered it was impossible.

So I wrote a Kyro instead! Enjoy!

Rogue and Bobby didn't look too disappointed with their sparring partners; you couldn't say the same for Kitty and John. It was with a raised eyebrow that Logan regarded them from the side of the danger room, more curious as to their progress than any of the other couples.

Their styles were so different – that was his main motive for pairing them together. Kitty had learnt technique and stealth from Logan himself, whereas John tended to go with his instincts and raw power. Both could learn a thing or two about appreciating the other's approaches.

At the other end of the huge hall, the two were warming up. Or rather, Kitty was stretching, as she had been taught, whereas John was absent-mindedly flicking his lighter on and off.

"Don't you do any limbering up?" Kitty frowned at him as she lifted her leg parallel to her body and hooked her knee behind her neck.

He let his eyes travel up her figure before he replied, satisfied when he caught her blushing and turning her head away.

"Thumb exercises," he flicked his lighter shut once more and pocketed it.

"Your thumb's not gonna be much help when you have to rely on hand-to-hand combat," she pointed out, referring to the topic of today's lesson which involved strictly no use of powers. She lowered her leg and bent to brush herself off. When she straightened up again, he was standing directly in front of her and she gave a start.

"Or in your case, hand-to-knee," and with that he gave her a patronising pat on the head.

For a moment it was all she could do to blink, and then she managed to squeeze through gritted teeth, "Was that a reference to my height?"

"Your diminutive height, kitten," he leant back against the wall, the picture of nonchalance.

"I may be short, but I'm still not going to sink to your level," she dropped into a fighting stance, bracing herself for any physical or verbal blows. "Come on then."

He grimaced slightly. "I can't believe I got stuck with you."

"What do you mean?" she kept her eyes on him warily as he walked in front of her, his movements slow and careless.

"I mean you're not exactly a challenge."

"Oh yeah?" now irritation spurred her onwards, and she flew at him, one long bare leg (she was wearing shorts) coming swiftly towards his head.

But his reflexes were good, and he met her leg with his arm – in a matter of seconds he had grabbed her calf and twisted her over onto her back.

But if his reflexes were good, hers were even better, although he would be hard pressed to admit it. The moment she hit the floor her other leg was out, catching him hard in the knee. Immediately he buckled over and was sent sprawling all over her in a less than dignified fashion.

"Ugh, get off of me!" Kitty scrambled out from underneath him, but took the opportunity before he had followed suit to slam her elbow down into his back, grounding him once again.

"You little—"

"You're right, I am little. A little girl! Didn't stop me from kicking your—"

Driven by frustration at his humiliation, John was able to force her back through sheer strength, pushing himself off the floor and getting to his feet. This time Kitty was less quick and he grabbed her by the collar of her white polo-shirt.

"Watch it, kid," he growled, and with that tossed her to the floor. Of course she rolled right back onto her feet, incorporating a little back-flip probably just to show off. When she landed upright again, half her hair had fallen out of her ponytail and hung across her face. She blew impatiently out of the corner of her mouth to get it out of the way of her eyes. There was something about the gesture he liked.

They stared at each other for another few seconds, six feet or so apart and both breathing heavily, forgetful of their setting.

Kitty made the first move again, darting at her opponent. Arms and legs were flying as they each attempted to strike and then parried each other's blows. Logan watched, mildly impressed and interested at the sight of muscle and stealth pitted against each other without any apparent superior.

It was one of those things though; whatever distracted her neither Logan nor John could say, but by chance he was able to get in a punch to Kitty's face. She was sent staggering backwards; she teetered for a bit on her heels, and then fell flat on the floor, clutching her cheek.

John let his arms drop, and his heart rate slow. Kitty meanwhile had struggled to a sitting position and let her now fully loosened hair veil her face.

"You asked for it," John mumbled, turning away from the girl he had just hit and any feelings of guilt which might accompany the sight of her.

"I know," she said softly, and then abruptly stopped, presumably because of the pain.

He glanced down, and she was such a pitiful sight – she looked about twelve just sitting there all sorry for herself – that he let out a long-suffering sigh, just for effect, and leaned down to help her.

Logan had to chuckle to himself in surprise as he saw Kitty take the boy's hand and, relying on the element of surprise, yank him face first down onto the floor.

John let out a cry of outrage as Kitty leapt up and regained her fighting stance. He rolled onto his back and stared at her. Fiercely he spat, "You fought dirty!"

"Damn right," she panted, trying bravely to look indifferent. In fact he could already see a violent bruise forming, and was met with a pang of guilt again. However this time the indignation outweighed it considerably.

"I'm not going easy on you any more, pretty Kitty," he sprang up and ran at her, shoulders squared. Kitty just had time to slip out of the way, but he span on the balls of his feet and charged at her again.

The collision flung them both into the wall, faces centimetres apart. Kitty was pinned at John's eye-level, a significant height from the ground seeing as she was five feet to his five ten. His laboured, angry breathing filled her ears, the scent of his sweat her nose and his vibrant though narrowed green eyes, her vision.

"Got any dirty techniques to get out of this one?" he snarled, pressing his legs in between hers so that she didn't have the chance to knee him anywhere particularly painful.

Kitty stared at him, her mind racing. It was only a sparring session – but if she let him win now she would come away with more than a bruised face. He was so close the tips of their noses were touching.

It was slightly ironic that the only way to save her pride was to sacrifice it. Shutting her eyes against the room full of her classmates and the potential embarrassment, she kissed him hard.

John's eyes widened in complete disbelief, as did Logan's on the other side of the room. Nobody else had yet noticed, it seemed, and the rest of the students continued to spar.

He staggered back – it would have been Kitty's occasion to pull herself away and escape, but for some reason, she fastened her arms round his neck and her legs around his hips.

People started to realise something was up, then. Dozens of eyes bulged at the sight of Kitty Pryde, the wide-eyed darling ingénue of the institute, locking lips – and how! – with the resident bad boy.

If anyone was shocked it was John, and yet he found himself responding with formidable enthusiasm. His arms were round her waist and then they were up against the wall once again, writhing and kissing each other's cheeks and noses and necks —

"Break it up you two, this isn't playtime," John was peeled off of Kitty accompanied by a plunger-like sound, and she dropped to the floor on trembling legs.

John squirmed out of Logan's grasp and straightened his shirt, trying not to appear as flustered as he was and horribly aware of everyone in the room's eyes on him.

"I don't remember teachin' you that move, pumpkin," Logan fixed his stern gaze on Kitty, whose respiration was shallow and her cheeks flushed, even under the bright purple mark spreading across the left side of her face. John stared at her swollen lips and wondered how he had missed their appeal for so long…

"Who are you and what have you done with Kitty?" Jubilee gawked, somewhat breaking the ice. People began to talk amongst themselves and laugh with incredulity.

"I was just…" Kitty was now red as a tomato, and wringing her hands agitatedly.

"Well, I think we'll call this a day," Logan sighed, shaking his head. "Hit the showers everybody."

Kitty was only too glad to get away, and phased down through the floor before John or anyone else could grab hold of her.

Kitty poked her head literally through her door and was relieved to find the corridor empty. She had run straight from the danger room directly to her own room, choosing the lone shower in the girls' bathroom to the communal ones by the gym. She didn't really want to face her team-mates after the spectacle she had just made of herself… plus, she still didn't know how she felt about the whole situation.

She phased the rest of the way out of the bathroom, mentally processing where she was in the mansion in relation to her bedroom, that she might take the shortest and most private route there. Unfortunately in all directions – left, right, up and down – there seemed to be bedrooms which may well be occupied. The only choice was to follow this corridor and take the stairs like normal people.

She clutched the fluffy towel around her, cursing herself for forgetting that all her clothes were either in her room or the locker in the communal shower room.

With some quick calculations she figured that if she took the next right, there was a staircase that would lead her up to a floor with a closet that was directly beneath her room and she could phase up from inside there …

Unfortunately it was not to be, because on the first step she went face-first into somebody's hard, flat stomach, due to the fact that she had been concentrating on holding her towel securely to her with one hand, and her sweaty gym clothes with the other.

Of course it was John. Of course it was, with her luck.

And he was wearing that smirk of his. Argh.

"Oh, look who it is," he folded his arms and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Gonna jump me again?"

A thought crossed her mind that he had no reason to be in this part of the building at all, other than if he were looking for her, but she hadn't time to mull that over. She drew herself up to her full, unimposing height, and resented the fact that since he was stood two steps higher than her all she could really look at properly was his belt. She didn't exactly want to either.

"It was a means of distraction, Pyro, and it worked, didn't it? I won."

He gave a disinterested shrug and gazed somewhere over her head. "Distraction? Sure, sure, but I don't think I was the one distracted."

Kitty's cheeks flared (her bruise was a fine shade of blue but was less shiny since she had cooled it with water) and she made to brush past him in a huff, somehow uncomfortable with the thought of going straight through him and their being in each other for a moment.

Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate she wasn't sure, but it was certainly meaningful that she hadn't turned intangible, because it meant he was able to grab her by the arm and slam her into a wall for the third time that day.

She was just able to grab the towel and hold it closed over her before she lost all sensible thought, other than the feeling of the denim of his jeans rubbing against her bare, still slightly damp legs, and his mouth demanding from her own.

Her little squeak of surprise into his lips caused him to pull away, and he released his possessive hold on her hips.

Her spare hand (she had dropped her clothes) found the wall behind her for support and she stared up at him.

He ran a hand suavely through his faintly dishevelled hair, and looked rather pleased with himself.

"There. Now, I won."