So, I got a bunch of requests for a Romy filled epilogue for Only The Good, but, awkwardly enough, the only thing that came out was John. So, I decided, instead of a Romy filled epilogue, how 'bout a Remy/John-Friendship prequel/companion piece? Like a Remro or, like, a Pyrit. OH, GOD YES! PYRIT! PYRITS FOR EVERYONE!
St. John Allerdyce flicked his lighter open and closed warily as he glanced around the room, observing his new 'coworkers' skeptically over the folders he was supposed to be reading.
The big Russian guy was sitting upright in his hard, metal chair, his sharp blue eyes trailing over one of the folders as a small frown turned down his lips. Actually, John had yet to see the giant not frowning, but he couldn't tell if it was because of who he was working for or who he was working against. John didn't know how Magneto had rallied this one into The Cause, but he was pretty sure he was the only one in the room Mags had needed to bust out of jail. Ruskie looked like he'd never spent a night in jail in his life.
John's eyes cut over to Sabretooth, who had introduced himself earlier by telling John that if he didn't stop fiddling with 'that goddamn lighter' the feral mutant would have approximately zero moral qualms with ripping John's throat out. The lighter fiddling had increased ten-fold after that. Mags wasn't about to let that overgrown tabby cat rip out anyones throat. Mags had plans for them or some shite like that. Sabretooth growled in the back of his throat as he turned a page in the folders.
John had to look away as Sabertooth held a paper -a picture of a gruff looking man with black hair, John noted- aloft and started tearing into it slowly, savoring the sound of tearing paper. Sabretooth started to salivate and John had to turn away before he got sick.
That's when he remembered that there was another bloke in the room. Bastard was so quiet it was easy as hell to just forget he existed. He wasn't sitting at the professional looking metal conference table like the rest of them. He was leaning against the back wall, unperturbed by the fact he hadn't even so much as shifted on his feet in over twenty minutes. He held the manila folders out in front of him so that John could see the 'X-men profiles' stamped across the front, his red on black eyes scanning over the page quickly underneath his shaggy brown hair.
John flicked his lighter closed.
"The hell did I tell you about that lighter?" Sabretooth snarled as he slammed his hands down on the table, causing the ribbons of once-was picture to jump and float back down to the metallic table.
"That you loved it when I flipped in open an' closed?" John asked cheekily, flicking it open once again for emphasis. And, to his surprise, there was a deep, rumbling sound from behind him. Almost a growl, but kinda choppy. He turned and found the tall bloke with the red eyes was chuckling.
At him? His joke?
"You little-!" Sabretooth started to roar.
"Calm down, Viccy." Red eyes' southern drawl interrupted with a snort as he folded the papers in his hands under his arm. "We don' need no blood shed 'fore we even get a chance t' square up with these X-hommes." He plucked his jacket off of the chair next to John as he strode towards the door. "Best you be careful, or Mags is gonna shorten up that leash of yours even more." He winked over at Sabretooth. And John had thought that he was the only one who called Magneto 'Mags' behind his back.
"And where the hell do you think you're going?" Sabretooth chose to ignore his words of warning.
"Out f'r a smoke." He shot a grin over his shoulder. "Think you can survive five minutes without me?" He asked mockingly.
Sabretooth only rumbled a little in the back of his throat with displeasure as Red eyes gave him a sarcastic two-fingered salute on his way out the door.
John watched as Sabretooth settled back into his seat restlessly, the growl in the back of his throat dying down to a low sneer as he continued his reading.
And then John flicked open his lighter.
"I'll kill you, firebug!" Sabretooth screamed as he pounced across the table, directly aimed at John's throat.
"Ah!" John squeaked, scrambling out of his chair and sprinting out of the door before Sabretooth had a chance to find out what, exactly, John tasted like. (John had always suspected he was delicious, but he didn't need Sabes to be aware of this fact) And John kept sprinting until he was shoulder-to-shoulder with Red eyes. "I think I'm gonna walk with you for a tick." He panted.
"No skin off my nose." He shrugged coolly and John had to wonder for a second how this one man could possibly contain that much cool.
"I' m Pyro, by the by." John introduced himself in a blur of words as he followed after his compatriot out onto one of the three terraces of the metal structure.
"Gambit." Red eyes nodded as he tapped out a cigarette from a pack and proceeded to pat himself down for a lighter.
"No worries," Pyro called, flicking open his lighter before sending a small, literal firebug over to the end of Gambit's cigarette.
"Merci." Gambit smirked crookedly at him. "That's a cute trick." He commented.
"Cuter that turning a pack of cards pink, I think." John snipped back. He didn't take kindly to people undermining his fire.
"Everyone's always on about the pink!" Gambit scoffed goodnaturedly as he took a drag on his cigarette and it was then that John really started to comprehend how smooth this guy was. He was a people person. He knew what to say and when to say. Skills that John had never really conquered.
"It's very immasculating." John snickered before he could even think to stop himself from insulting the only person in this entire metal dome who was willing to let him flit around like an idiot without shouting at him to shut up. Sometimes (all the times) John just blurted the first thing that came into his head.
Gambit only raised an eyebrow. Maybe it was because of John's lack of tact, maybe it was because the other man was honestly surprised he knew the word 'immasculating', more likely it was because Gambit reeked of masculinity and to imply otherwise was laughable in itself.
"Y' know those things 'll probably kill you one day." Pyro commented in what he hoped came off as offhandedly and gestured (perhaps a bit too wildly because Gambit raised his other eyebrow too) to the other man's cigarette, not noticing or caring that he sounded like he was babbling. He hated the silence almost as much as he hated the cold.
"I'm sure I'll die of unnatural causes long before these little bastards get the chance." Gambit chuckled as he watched John fidget. "That's why we're here, ain't it?"
"Whadduya mean?" John palmed his lighter.
"Mags found me attemptin' t' pinch the Hope Diamond f'r shits and giggles," Gambit shrugged. "'M bettin' he didn't find you makin' wishes in a field of dandelions."
"Jail, actually." John grinned manically. "Arson."
"'M shocked." Remy chuckled as he turned to lean against the railing, pulling out the folders from under his arm with the clear intent of reading them over once again, and, in effect, stranding John in silence.
The metallic clink shink clink shink clinkshinkclinkshink of John flicking his lighter opened and closed, waiting (and hoping a little bit) for Gambit to tell him to hush up. He didn't. The clinkshinkclinkshink got louder and faster as John attempted to keep the silence and discomfort he always felt when he was in one other person's company for an extended period of time at bay.
"Do you need me to talk?" Gambit asked without looking up from the papers in front of him.
"Yes, please." John gasped.
Gambit laughed softly to himself. "Had a cousin who was exactly the same way. Couldn't stand in a room with other people 'less somebody was talkin'."
"Don' mean to keep you from your work," John fidgeted. "Just can't stand bein' alone, and the Russian bloke don't talk much, and Sabes just wants ta gut me, and like hell Magneto would have a decent conversation with me, and I'm not about to read one of those stupid reports thingamahooeys-"
"You're babbling." Gambit observed.
"I do that when I'm uncomfortable." John admitted just to keep talking.
"So you're uncomfortable often, then?" Gambit laughed softly.
"All the time." John nodded wildly, his orange hair falling in front of his eyes before blurting the first thing that came to mind to get the conversation off himself. "You hum a lot." He blurted, doing absolutely nothing to alleviate the discomfort.
"Quoi?" Gambit looked a little taken aback by the suddenness of the comment.
"Mmhm." John was still nodding. "I don't think you notice you do it, but it's all the time. Like when you were workin' out in the gym and later when you were makin' food. It's mostly jazz, I think, but sometimes you hum-"
"Wait, you watched me make food?" Gambit's brow wrinkled and it just struck John how odd that sounded.
John was nodding again, because he couldn't seem to stop himself. "I was sorta hiding in the windowsill, 'cause I didn' know what I was gonna say to you, because the food smelled good, and I wanted some." He took a deep breath to continue the long-winded talking he was doing in marathon. "But I thought you wouldn't like it if you knew I 'eard you humming, 'cause you don't really seem like the type of guy 'ho'd want that sort of thing to be all out in the open, so I just waited 'til your back was turned and I stole the bowl."
Gambit didn't look as disconcerted as John expected him to. In fact, he looked a little amused."You coulda just asked."
John shrugged, wracking his brains for something else to say that didn't make him sound like a psychopath.
Gambit chuckled, obviously sensing his source of distress and did John a favor by starting up a new leg of conversation all on his own. "D'ya think her hair is real?" He flashed John the picture clipped to the folder he had been reading over.
John plucked up the picture and inspected it for himself. The girl was pretty, with pale skin and dazzling green eyes, but Gambit was right, the most interesting part of her was her hair. The majority of her shoulder length locks were what John would have described as an almost cherry wood color, and the two startling white streaks that framed her pale features.
Cherry wood. That was good. That was really good.
John shoved the picture back at Gambit before he could forget and went rooting through his pockets until he located his notepad and pen. He whipped them both out and scribbled down 'Shoulder length locks of hair tumbled around her face, colored with the natural shine of cherry wood' He added a period with a satisfied flourish and looked up to find Gambit staring at him weirdly.
It was then he realized that whipping out a notepad when asked about a girl's hair wasn't really the appropriate response.
"Oh…uh…I dunno. Maybe she dyes the front 'r sumthin'." John attempted to discreetly shove the notepad back in his pocket.
"Nu uh uh." Gambit tutted, swiping the notepad before Johncould even notice his hand was empty. "No way you're gettin' away with a stunt like that scot free." He dodged John as he went after the book, mortified by the words in there.
"No! Wait! Give it back!" John pleaded. No one ever read anything he wrote.
"Pyro, these are pretty good." Gambit looked a little stunned as he leafed through some of the pages. " 'His shoulders were wide enough one might have associated him with a steel ox, or, at the very least, a metallic Herculean Hero.'" He quoted, obviously impressed. "Is that Pete? That's mas bien." Gambit complimented.
"Yeah. Thanks. Can I have it back now?" John asked fretfully.
He knew the exact moment Gambit found the one John had scribbled down about him because he stopped smiling and his brow crinkled a little bit.
'His black eyes sharply cut across the room, not missing a single secret the walls had to offer and he puts a rapidly shrinking cigarette back to his lips. The tip smoulders and so do his eyes. He steps back into the shadows and he's camouflaged in Satan's color pallet.'
John took the opportunity to snatch back his notepad and blushed furiously. "Sorry." He mumbled into his chin. "People don't usually read my stuff."
"You write more?"Gambit asked.
"Stories and stuff." John nodded clumsily. "When I think of good words or descriptions, I scribble 'em down in my notepad." He shrugged, trying to play it off like he wasn't mortified. "It's just a hobby though."
Gambit shrugged. "Maybe y' could do more. Y'r good, and y' can't be a villain-for-hire forever, now can y'?" He shoots John an encouraging smile.
Maybe Gambit only said it because it was the right thing to say at the right time, but that really only made it more impressive in John's eyes.
"My name's actually St. John." John blurted because he doesn't know how to say the right things at the right time. He just knew what he wanted to say and he knew how to open his mouth. And he knew that no one had ever complimented him on his writing before, let alone told him to try to go farther with it.
Gambit laughed. "I know."
John feels his brow crinkle.
"Y' wrote it on the tag in the back of y' t-shirt." Gambit explained.
John reached around the back of his neck and felt around until he realized that his tag was sticking out. "Oh."
"The name's Remy." Gambit grinned as he stuck the smoldering half a cigarette behind his ear and offered John his hand in proper introduction.
John took the hand and shook it enthusiastically.
"Tell me, John," Remy grinned as he made a deck of cards appear in his hand. "You up for a game 'fore we kick a bunch of teenagers' asses?"
"I don't know how ta play." John admitted bashfully.
Remy looked scandalized. "Nothin'?"
"Well," John was sure he was blushing again. "My da tried ta teach me how to play Go Fish when I was five, but he got frustrated real easy and I'm not a real fast learner…" He trailed off and Remy caught his drift.
They were both quiet for a minute.
"I'll teach y' how t' play Go Fish, if y' want."
D'aaw. Johnny boy, I love ya'. LONG LIVE BROMANCES.