Angelo & John | Late Monday Night (Backdated!)

[x-pyromania.livejournal.com]

"If you can't ignore an insult, top it; if you can't top it, laugh it off; and if you can't laugh it off, it's probably deserved." -J. Russell Lynes-

They had, miraculously, made it to San Antonio with no major disasters or ructions on the way, and Angelo and John were now sitting comfortably in a bar on the edge of town, having a well-deserved drink.

"We should find someplace to stay soon."

"What's wrong with your car?" John asked, raising his index finger to order another shot of whiskey before he turned around and gave Angelo a big grin. "I say we find the cheapest motel money can buy."

"You ever tried sleepin' in a convertible? Back seat's squished an' you have to sit up in the front seat. Cheap motel it is."

John nodded. He wasn't too fussed about sleep actually, and thought he could do without since Angelo tended to do most of the driving, but whatever. They didn't need to get into another argument on the last night of their trip.

"So, souvenir-wise," he glanced over at Angelo. "What'd you get?"

"Rodeo stuff, mostly. Toy cow for Rachel, T-shirts for everybody else. Don't worry, I didn't get any hats."

John snorted. The hats were the only thing he'd bothered to purchase. Everything else was just too damn expensive. "Check it out," he slipped a new lighter out of his jacket pocket. "Got it for less than ten bucks. It's pretty fucking cool." He snapped the lid open and whirred the thumb wheel for a flame.

"That is pretty nice", Angelo agreed, admiring it. "Didn't think you'd ever replace your old one."

"Nah, I'm not replacing it. This will work as a spare." There was no way he'd part with his old metallic Zippo. He'd had it with him for years. John toyed with the new cheap-o lighter, snapping it open and close, the click clacking of the lid was music to ears.

Angelo nodded. "Yeah, I figured. I know about stuff you don't want to lose - still, that's a good spare."

"Glad you think so, buddy. Now, feel free to fool around with it." He offered the lighter to Angelo, expecting him to take it. "Please tell me you're not afraid of a little fire?"

There had been a slight hesitation, but Angelo told himself firmly it was only a lighter and reached out for it. "Not a little fire, no."

"Oookay," John nodded, watching him. "Feel free to open the lid and maybe help light my cigarette." He slipped his pack of Lucky Strikes out of his pocket and placed it on the table. So much for quitting smoking.

"Only if I get one too." He reached for the cigarette packet, getting one out for John and then one for himself. A moment later, he flipped the lighter open, looking at the cigarettes rather than the flame as he lit them both.

John's little grin turned slightly mischievous as the flame shot out of the metallic device, burning huge and bright.

Angelo had jerked back reflexively and slammed his head on the back of the booth. He glared at John and called him something thoroughly obscene in Spanish.

"Oh, come on, you know for a fact that I wouldn't ever hurt you." John looked much too amused as he reached for the lighter and extracted a flame into the palm of his hand. "When are you gonna get over that whole incident at Xavier's?" He thought it was high time that Angelo did. "I almost died because of buckethead's lil' agenda but you don't see me quaking in my pants when I'm facing metal."

"When the therapy finally works", Angelo retorted. "You didn't nearly die of metal, whoever was behind the plans. An' don't flatter yourself, that was the second reason I got to be afraid of fire."

"You're seein' a what?" John asked, looking quite bug eyed at hearing that. "Jesus fucking christ, man... Look, that shit's obviously not working. You ever tried just facing your fears?"

"Been seein' a therapist for years, but not just about that", Angelo said with a shrug. "An' I walked into a burnin' buildin' in Prague. Didn't do much to help."

"Sucks to be you." He had no idea the guy was so full of... issues. "Hey. Think I'm in need of anger management classes?" John chuckled.

Angelo considered him half-seriously, then shook his head. "Anger management, nah. Impulse control, now..."

"Yeah, well..." John's attention was fully fixed on the two men sitting in the opposite booth. He could have sworn he heard them utter the words, mutant freaks or mutant fuckers. Whatever it was, they might have overstayed their visit in the cramped bar or overlooked the possible existence of a MUTANTS STAY OUT sign at the entrance.

"What the fuck you lookin' at, freak?" the burly looking man sneered in obvious contempt as he arched his head back, and John let out a derisive snort. "Nothing," he answered with a shake of his head. "Nothing but your ugly mug," John laughed, raising his shot glass at Angelo and he thumped his hand on the table, cheekily overdoing it for the sake of pissing the asshole off.

Angelo was sitting up, on edge, but he couldn't help laughing as he shook his head at John. It wasn't as if they were in any danger they couldn't get out of. He downed his own drink in one.

By now the two men had got out of their booth and were standing with their arms crossed over their chests, and boy, did they look angry. Were they seriously looking for a fight? John managed a grin at them. "Mm. Tweedledee and Tweedledum," he sucked on the last of his cigarette, deciding to recycle an old trick from a long time ago, and a large flame shot out from the end of his cigarette butt, landing close to the man's feet.

"What the fuck?!"

"... Yeah, I know." John stubbed his cigarette out and blew the smoke off to the side. "Was totally aimin' for your head."

That got a growl and the man lunged at him, only to come up against a strip of elastic skin stretched across his path, attached to the side of another booth. "Uh-uh. He's an asshole but only I get to hit him."

"Oh, really?" The larger, more sinister looking man pulled a gun out of his jacket pocket and aimed it at Angelo, causing a slight panic as those in the bar started making a beeline for the door. "I suggest you back off, and get the fuck out of here before I decide to pull the trigger," he warned, waving the gun between Angelo and John as he spoke. "Go back to whatever hole you monsters crawled out of or I will blow a hole in that pasty lookin' face of yours."

"Y'know, I don't think you will", Angelo said calmly, looking to his companion. "Firebug? Try not to kill him."

"Quit calling me that," John muttered under his breath, scowling a little before his facial expression changed into one of plain amusement. He was half hoping the man would shoot just so he could try out his new trick. Or what he thought was his new trick; melting bullets.

"I said, get the fuck out, you freaks!" The man's hands were shaking. It was obvious that he wasn't too keen on shooting two kids in a bar, not in a town this small, where everybody knew his name; Ted Malone. Ted's hesitation gave John the opportunity to act and he flicked his lighter and threw his firing arm out, building a wall of fire between them. Ted fired his gun, more out of shock than out of a need to protect himself and his buddy, and the bullet ricocheted off the wall and missed Angelo's ear by a hair's breadth. The fire died down for a moment as John lost his focus on it but built up again when the bar, with it's massive collection of liquor, started to catch on fire.

Angelo had ducked instinctively at the bullet's whistle past his ear, but he straightened up now and stared at the bar. "...John? Unless you can make that go out, I think maybe it's time we were somewhere else."

Good idea. There was no way he could put that shit out and survive being shot at. He could already hear the wailing of sirens close by. Ted seemed to grow a brain and managed to pull his friend by the arm before making a quick exit. John was about to do the same with Angelo when two cops burst in through the back door, aiming pistols at them.

"Put your hands behind your head! I said, hands behind your head! You! Put down your weapon!"

John had a what-the-fuck look on his face as he glanced over at Angelo but he dropped his cheap-o lighter, for once glad he hadn't made use of his favorite Zippo. "Look, this is all a big-- Ow!" He cringed in pain as the officer twisted his arm from behind him and forced him onto his knees.

"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law." The second officer cuffed Angelo, looking a bit disgusted by the color of the boy's skin, but he kept his hold on him and pushed him out of the door. It sure as hell wasn't safe inside. "You have the right to the presence of an attorney--" John shot Angelo an almost apologetic look. They were going to be in so much trouble with Nathan. "If you cannot afford an attorney, you have the right to have an attorney appointed for you prior to questioning."

Angelo was, typically, muttering Spanish obscenities under his breath, but he didn't struggle against the cop. No point. "We'll get our own lawyer. You'll just have to wait for him to come from New York."

"Well, then you two can have fun spending the night behind bars. Now get inside." The officer was more than a little rough with Angelo. It probably had to do with the fact that it was rather obvious that the kid was a mutant. John shifted in his seat before letting out a long, drawn out sigh. "Great." He just hoped he wasn't about to lose his job because of this.

Angelo was used to treatment like that from the police, although much less since he'd come east, and he yanked away to sit in the car without 'help'. "It'll be okay. Nate'll get us out."

"Yeah, he'll get us out after he chews my ear off."

"An' you think I'll get away clear if you don't?"

"Duh?" He rolled his eyes. "Nathan's not gonna say shit to you." It was his own damn fault anyways. "You're like teacher's pet, except we're not in high school."

"Hey! Shut the fuck up you two." Woody, cop #01 was not about to tolerate them having a conversation in his car. "You'll have the time and the space to argue back at the station." And with that, he shoved a plain doughnut into his mouth and started the engine.

"We've got one hell of a case here, buddy." Norm placed his hat back on as he slipped into the passenger seat. "You boys are in big trouble."