DISCLAIMER: I do not hold ownership of X Men or any of the characters mentioned in this work of fiction, I am only using the ideas of them to fit in with a plot of my creation.

I don't own Cinnamon Grahams either!

The main purpose of this chapter is to show how the relationship is between John and Bobby at the moment, and the other character's reactions to John's return.

After 'interrogating' him as John had so dramatically put it, Storm had made arrangements to organise a supervisor for him. While she was doing this Logan had escorted him to the kitchen where he was able to quell his raging hunger. Though he hadn't admitted it before now, John was extremely hungry, and he didn't care if he looked like a poor, starved beggar right now as long as he could eat freely.

He was actually quite lucky that Wolverine and himself were the only ones present in the room, the reason being it was only now nearing 6:00am on a Saturday morning and the majority of students were still asleep. And what a shock it would be to walk into the kitchen for some breakfast, only to find a traitorous, fire-manipulator reacquainting himself with his old 'home'.

John grinned at the thought of the scenario behind his spoonful of Cinnamon Grahams. At seeing this Logan fixed his attention solely on him, "what the hell are you smirking at?" He inquired suspiciously.

"Woah! I'm just happy to finally get a little hospitality, living on the streets for weeks ain't exactly pretty you know? And anyway, how do you expect me to attempt to prove loyalty to you guys if you're going to be experiencing such major trust issues? I only grinned... Gee."

In an unexpected burst of anger, Logan immediately stood, and toppling his stool with the vigorous movement, reached forwards across the island surface and pulled the startled teenager forcefully by his collar towards him. The quick manoeuvre caused John to drop his spoon in shock, and after being tugged towards the enraged man his half-filled bowl of cereal had also been sent crashing to the tiled floor.

"Listen up, bub! I think anyone who's been subjected to a fucked-up, mutant terrorist trying to toast them, has every right to have 'trust issues'. The only person who needs to alter the way they are is you. It's your duty and your's alone to fix what you've destroyed, and I for one won't go out of my way to make it easier for you kid." Upon finishing his exclamation, Logan removed his hands from the now rather stretched T-shirt and made his way out of the room in a pissed off manner.

"Shit... nice going John, back for a few hours and you've already infuriated the animal!" John muttered to himself, glancing down at the ugly mess spread out on the floor. "I'd clean that up if I were you," a stern voice advised from the doorway.

Swirling around in surprise, courtesy of the spinning breakfast bar stool, John was met with the infamous Iceman... perfect. What was it with people scaring him like that lately? Quickly recovering, he shot out an automatic comeback at the good-natured teenager. "Ah, and here I thought mopping floors was your forte, you always were a bit of a Mommy's boy."

Satisfied with the angered glare he received, John rose and proceeded to locate the materials needed to go about getting rid of the remains of his breakfast. He reasoned with himself that if he was going to make a good impression, cleaning the mess that Wolverine was the causation of, would be a pretty good place to begin.

"They were crazy to welcome you back, you're a worthless piece of trash. They're blind if they think things can go back to the way the were – people like you never change," Bobby declared.

Pausing momentarily in his task John looked up at the tall figure, "people like me?"

"Hopeless nobodies, those who go about their lives in denial, you'll never fit in John. Everywhere you go you face rejection, no, you fear it. So you just get on with it, putting people down to give yourself a sense of importance and adopt a bad boy act. It's no surprise people hate your guts to be honest, and you know what? I see right through it. Right through you John."

"Nice speech frosty, you should really consider up taking therapy as a profession... seriously," John insisted dryly. "Now if you don't mind I'm quite busy, so why don't you run along and play 'Let's Be Celibates' with your South-end untouchable?"

Score! John could physically see the ice-creator's fists clench in controlled rage. God he'd missed winding Bobby up like this. "Rogue, I'll have you know, is as 'touchable' as ever! Maybe if you'd have stuck around instead of forming an alliance with that havoc-reeking, old man, you would be aware of that fact."

Was it just him... or did Bobby's voice lose the majority of it's maliciousness at the end there? He'd just pretend he hadn't noticed.

"And anyway," Bobby continued, "as much as I'd like to leave your sorry-ass here slaving over spilt milk and broken porcelain, I've been assigned the job of babysitting you. Damn it John, stop looking at me like that! You think I'm pleased with this situation any more than you are?"

John did not reply, instead he ignored Bobby and emptied the contents of the dustpan he was using into the silver bin on the far left side of the kitchen. Then after shuffling to replace the item into the cupboard, resumed his place by the counter. An uncomfortable silence remained for a few minutes later. And as Bobby held his position in the doorway, John tapped his fingers rhythmically against the side.

"Alright, let's cut the shit yeah? What the hell is the plan?" John gave in first, unable to stand the awkwardness much longer and never a great lover of silences – more so this type.

"Fine, here's the deal. For the moment you are under no circumstances to be left alone, and you will not be allowed to have in your possession, or be near, any source of flame. Understood?"

John nodded with a semi-scowl, but still couldn't prevent his disobedient head from turning ever so slightly in the direction of the unprotected cooker. Following this motion, Bobby began to warn the ex-student of Xavier's. "Don't even bother Pyro, I'll have you frozen in place before you even so much as take a step towards it."

There was something different with Bobby's voice, John noticed. It was almost as though he had grown up, matured. He was no longer the carefree teenager, but one burdened with responsibility, John could certainly see him as 'Mr. Bobby Summers'.

All John gave in response to Bobby's threat was the narrowing of his eyes and the typical curling of his lip, he always did that when people got to him. "I wasn't going to. Now who's genius idea was it to match you up with me? We're not exactly the best of chums right now..."

"Ororo's actually. She figured that as my powers are pretty much the opposite of yours, they are able to neutralise them most effectively. And naturally if anyone comes close to understanding you, I know you best, I did room with you for a good few years. Do you really need to bother asking why?" He asked.

With a shrug John pulled himself up onto the polished counter and returned his stare to the boy stood rigidly in front of him. If there was ever a time for some kind of reconciliation, now was suited finely for it.

"Look... I know you're still pretty fucked off about me leaving you guys, but you have to see things from my point of view. I'd like it a lot if we could simply forget it ever happened and, I can't believe I'm saying this but, move on?" John looked vaguely hopeful.

"It's not that simple damn it! You just disappeared, left us, left me. You didn't even say goodbye, John, and to think I actually fooled myself into believing you would return for months, I was such a fool. Though I should thank you, I'm not the same naïve boy I used to be any more. You have a lot of broken relationships to repair John."Bobby informed with sadness evident in his tone, "now you can do yourself some good by getting out of here before any of the kids see you and by helping me move your old bed into my new room."

Nodding unhappily John hopped off the counter and tiredly followed Bobby out of the kitchen and into the corridor. He had only just begun to realise how achy his body actually was, once he'd gotten some sleep he was definitely jumping into Bobby's bathtub.

Oh yes... Bobby. He'd forgotten that he had his personal assistant wherever he went. No worries, Bobby would probably enjoy the sight anyway. However, words could not describe the excitement John felt with the knowledge that he was going to be spending so much time with his old best friend.

The idea almost, topped the thought of being thrown from the observatory only to be impaled on Wolverine's blood-thirsty claws. Oh joy!

After a long struggle and a wide variety of vulgar language (mostly on John's part), between them the two boys had eventually managed to complete the extremely difficult task of getting the single, wooden bed into Bobby's room.

At present John was sorting through his old clothes in the attempt of finding something more suitable to wear, after all Wolverine had literally destroyed the elastic in this one and inserted a permanent crease into the fabric. And Bobby, well he was just staring at him intently. Christ, did he think John was going to pull a lighter out of nowhere? Unless...

"All of your old lighters were confiscated."

Bobby can read minds now?! "Clever thinking." He supplied. "Though it's not as though I would have set the place on fire, you guys don't give me half of the credit I deserve. All I want is to feel some fire, manipulate it into any form I like and let it dance around my fingers..." John stared transfixed at his hand, as though he were performing the action of controlling the flame.

"You people have taken away the only thing that I have ever truly been able to rely on," John's eyes darkened as his hand clenched tightly, "why would you do that?"

"Why did you leave in the first place?" Bobby countered.
Just as John was about to reply there was a soft knock on the door, and then without waiting for any sort of response, the interrupter entered the room. If the atmosphere was tense before, then John had no idea how to describe it in words now.

"Marie." Bobby greeted in surprise. The look in his eyes was all that John required to know that the girl had not yet been informed of his return. So wiping the stunned look off his face, he put on a fake grin and shot out a brief, "hey" in her direction.

"What the hell is he doing here?!" She demanded of Bobby with tears of hatred springing to her eyes, the emotion in them was so raw that if she hadn't have taken the pathetic cure, John would have been fearing for his life right now. He'd made a huge mistake in judgement through assuming he was safe.

As soon as Bobby had begun to explain, Rogue had turned to the dressing table behind her and grabbed the nearest thing she could find – an alarm clock. Unfortunately for John, with the unexpectedness of the violent attack and his added lethargy he was unable to move out of the way in time. The medium-sized, plastic electronic hit him squarely on the left side of his face, just below his eye.

"Fucking hell!" He yelled, his face contorted in pain, "are you trying to bloody kill me?!" He knew the injury he'd sustained wasn't that bad, but the blood beginning to gather on his hands still disturbed him. The sight of anyone else's had never bothered him in the slightest, though he always seemed to over-dramatise things when it was his own.

Bobby had leapt to his feet the moment he had realised Marie's intentions and was now restraining her from inflicting any further damage. "You deserve everything you get you heartless bastard!" She cried.

Tears were streaming freely down her face now, and in John's opinion her behaviour was totally unnecessary, he hadn't even done anything to her personally. He'd tried to burn Bobby alive but the guy hadn't started throwing spoons at him in the kitchen earlier, what was her fucking problem?

Girls were so damn emotional.

Bobby's attempts at offering some kind of comfort were in vain as she continued to verbally abuse John, who was still at the moment cringing from the stinging of his cheekbone. Bobby's eyes darted between the two people as he tried to decide how to go about resolving the confrontation.

"How could you do it? You destroyed that building, what about the people in it? People like me, you don't care about anyone but yourself!" She exclaimed in disgust, "and as long as you're staying in this school John, you better just stay the hell away from me." With one last disbelieving shake of her head, Marie released herself from Bobby's hold and pushed her way out of the room.

"Oh God," John whispered, his voice shaking as he felt the warm, sticky blood begin to trickle down his arm. Bobby rushed over, (yes, rushed over!) and knelt down next to John on the floor. "Come on, get up." He commanded authoritatively, whilst trying to keep the concern from his voice. He didn't care about this person, not anymore. He couldn't after what he'd done.

He lifted the smaller teenager from the floor and began to support him as they steadily moved towards the on-suite bathroom. This gave him the opportunity to actually feel how thin John had become since leaving, he must have lost over a stone, and he was never extraordinary heavy to begin with.

"Ow man, get the fuck off me!" John hissed as Bobby removed his hands from the wound. It was about four centimetres in length and a single centimetre deep, pretty nasty. "Wow, she really threw that thing hard didn't she?"

"Just... just fix it please, stop it, it keeps bleeding!" John was beginning to panic now, he couldn't control it, why? He had a scratch on his face and he was on the verge of tears!

Only just remembering John's dislike of the sight of his own blood, Bobby mentally kicked himself and quickly moved across the fairly decent-sized bathroom in search of the first-aid kit. After knocking a few things out of the way he caught sight of the object of his desire, and pulled it out of the pale cabinet.

"Here," he murmured after dampening a cloth and proceeding to freeze it partially, "hold this to it for a minute." While John was doing as he was told, Bobby was rummaging through the case looking for a suitable sized band aid to cover the cut. "So, you got what you deserved eh?"

"Shut the fuck up Bobby."

"Fair enough..." Gesturing for the brunette to drop the cloth he squinted to examine the minor cut and surrounding bruising, "well it's not fatal, not exactly attractive either though." Then gently placing the plaster below the boy's eye, he began shoving the original contents of the box back away and returned it to it's cabinet.

"You feeling okay then? I don't like the fact that she aimed for your head man. I don't particularly like you right now, but that was dangerous."

"No I'm not Bobby, I have a terrible fucking headache, my face feels like it's been hit with a mallet, my body is aching all over and I'm just tired. So just stop acting like you care, yeah?" John suggested.

"I'm going to bed, I don't give a shit if it's already morning." He stated, moving from the edge of the bathtub and back into the bedroom. He said nothing else as he collapsed onto the covers and closed his eyes to block out the light.

Observant as ever, Bobby took note of this and in result closed the curtains over. "Are you sleeping in your clothes?" No reply. "Fine then, suit yourself. I'm going to get a shower, can I trust you not to set my room alight?"

A grunt was the only acknowledgement Bobby got, and giving in he grabbed some clothes to wear and entered the bathroom. This day was beginning to stress him out already.

More coming soon! Shorter chapters equals faster posting :)

Please review if you have the time and I hope you're all enjoying the story so far.

Until next time!