Amorphous shadows stretched across the floor of the Inferno dance club, dim service lights replacing the bright neon colors that normally flooded the room. Last call had been hours ago. Drinkers and partiers had been ushered out the door and the last of the staff had closed up and went home. Now there was only a lone figure at the bar, his long black coat merging with the shadows on the ground.

Isaac, or Calcifer as he was now called around here, poured another shot of amber liquor into a glass and held it up. He looked at it with vague disinterest for a second, then took a sip. The liquid boiled instantly on his tongue, his body heat turning it to a cloudy vapor that was exhaled in a slow stream.

Calcifer set the glass down. He seemed to remember hearing once that evaporated alcohol got you drunk faster, but it just didn’t feel the same. Hard to enjoy a drink when it turned to literal smoke in your mouth. Not that it was any surprise; the pleasures of the world had always been something that had been denied him, burned away before he could enjoy them. Even now, with a steady income with Haven and a warm place to stay, life wasn’t really enjoyable, just tolerable.

He took another drink, this time breathing in the alcohol cloud. At least he could still get drunk.

“You know you’ve still got to pay for that,” Devon’s voice whispered through the darkness.

The last party goer of the evening – for surely Calcifer wasn’t here to have a good time – sauntered against the shadows. He was a contrast in starkest white pants and the short-sleeved, chest-hugging shirt to match. The service lights set his blue eyes shimmering like spotlights and they fell on only one person.

“Cal, what are you doing? We closed up hours ago. Shouldn’t you be home at the Foundry sulking or planning some new way to insult me?” Devon smirked, side stepping behind the bar. He leaned forward so his face was only a couple inches from Calcifer, grinning at the barfly, but stood up abruptly revealing the bottle of Grey Goose and the glass he’d been fetching out of sight. He poured himself a few fingers, added a couple ice cubes, and a dash of citrus cola before taking a long sip.

“Cherry Noir. Love this stuff,” he grinned as he spoke oh so cheerfully. “Delicious,” he licked his lips. “What’ve you got there? Bitterness and hatred?”

Calcifer looked up at Devon with his best Tommy Lee Jones scowl.

“Oh blow it out your a**, wind-boy. I work here, I can drink when I want.”

He emptied the glass with another puff of smoke and set it down, not bothering to re-fill it. No real point; if his boss was going to make small talk then all the alcohol in the world wouldn’t help.

“And it’s not like you have me chained to the Foundry like a dog. Or do you not want to be seen with me?”

The question wasn’t exactly fair. Calcifer knew that his activities at the off-site Haven location were kept at a distance for plausible deniability. Still, while it was one of the few places actually warm enough for his tastes, there wasn’t much going on there at the time. Truth is, he’d gotten bored and wandered over to the main site with vague plans of looking at the training facilities or something, but time had instead found him at the bar.

And now he had company. Yay.

“I see you like your drinks a little fruity, like your dates,” Calcifer said with a smirk. His eyes traveled from the drink to the man holding it. Devon certainly picked his outfits for their effectiveness. The thin white T-shirt enhanced rather than concealed, hugging the muscles of the toned chest underneath. The V-shape of the collar mirrored his cheek bones, and emphasized the piercing gaze set above them. Everything tailored to advertise.

The advantages of not having to worry about the cold or your own heat.

“Speaking of, shouldn’t you be dragging some boy-toy up to your penthouse by now? You’re certainly dressed for it.”

“Technically, you can’t drink at an establishment after serving hours,” Devon winced in play while nodding. “It’s a law or something,” he shrugged. “If you lived here, maybe, but you don’t because for some reason you prefer that big old sweaty foundry. I’m sure it’s just the heat,” he smirked.

“And yeah,” Devon sighed as he withdrew his cell phone from a pocket, “I’m trying to see to some company this evening but I don’t know.” He shrugged again and slid the phone away. “I’m not one for shallow, I prefer something far deeper. I’m sure you do too. Far, far deeper,” he chuckled and took another sip of his drink.

“And if cherry-flavored Grey Goose is fruity, then you need to relax your masculine machismo act. It’s okay, Cal, it’s vodka and you can like fruity drinks too. It doesn’t mean you’re not a man,” Devon nodded, a hand squeezing at his crotch. “I’m pretty sure that’s something else, but even then that’s if you go by gender binaries. I think you’re a better guy than that…” Devon’s blue eyes narrowed as he studied Cal.

“Mmm, maybe not, whining and drinking alone while mocking me for my drink. The whiskey down here is for the front anyway,” Tempest smirked and rolled his eyes. “And I think you’d do better with…” He turned slowly, arching his back as he looked up and down the bar’s collection of liquor. “Ah,” he said, grabbing something.

A bottle of Midori set down on the bar as Devon turned back. “I think this is more your color,” Devon chuckled as he gently shook the green liquor. He grinned, taking out his cell phone and quickly texting the boy-toy – well, whatever toy – as he finished his cherry noir vodka. “Time for me to turn in. I’ve got some Inner Circle rum upstairs.”

His eyes went wide as his voice went mocking, “I might even drink it with pineapple or something. Oh no, what will the guys in the locker room think?” He laughed again, putting his back to Cal as he came back around the bar. The shadows beckoned him like an old friend.

They called out to Calcifer too.

Wow. Calcifer knew Devon was a flirt, but this… he looked at Devon with an incredulously raised eyebrow… this was just weird. And a little bit awkward. And- though this could be the alcohol talking- a little bit flattering. Yeah, it was definitely the alcohol, because instead of reaching across the bar and decking his boss, Calcifer just chuckled dryly.

“You must really be desperate.”

He looked back at his empty shot glass while Devon searched the shelf behind the bar. He didn’t do relationships. They never worked out; they never could work out. And he certainly wasn’t interested in anything with a guy.

A bottle of neon green liquid thunked on the bar. Calcifer almost snorted in disdain at the sight of it; like he’d ever drink that soda-pop s***.

“Save your patronizing for your customers,” Cal said, rolling his eyes. His words were more snarky than angered. “F*** off.”

Oddly enough, Devon did, though with the promise of better drinks up at the penthouse. Calcifer shook his head. Still flirting, though now at the level of “drinks back at my place.” That boy-toy must really not be working out.

Cal turned back to the bar. He eyed the bottle of whiskey – tastless s*** - and wondered about what kind of drinks Devon had saved for his “Inner Circle.” Eh, probably more fruity nonsense like the bottle of glow-stick liquid he’d shoved at Cal. Although… with rum the sugar might at least have a chance to caramelize before burning away…

Ah, f*** it.

“Fine, as long as I don’t have to pay for that, too,” Calcifer called after Devon, shuffling off of the bar stool. “And don’t get your hopes up, pretty boy, you’re not exactly my type.”

Devon ignored the comment of desperation. He wasn’t and in fact, the comment was a little more confusing than insulting. Desperate for the attention, someone to talk to, or maybe the drink? Whatever it was, he wondered if it was Cal feeling a bit desperate for companionship. Devon was merely having a good laugh…

He at least understood the patronizing.

The founder of Haven was already half way across the dance floor when Calcifer relented to the pressure and invited himself upstairs, but not without insulting Devon a bit more. He laughed and kept walking. “I’m sorry, who invited you?” There was humor in his tone, but maybe a little defensiveness too. “I don’t know what you’re hoping for, but I’m not the one telling me to f*** off and then suggesting I’ll drink their booze.”

It was hard to see him save for those damned blue eyes of his glowing even brighter than the white of his clothing catching at the corner’s service lights. He’d turned back around, “You know your attitude suggests you merely are trying to keep people at arm’s length for their protection and your guilt.” A few more steps and he was heading out, “But if you want to come up, fine. I can’t have you being a miserable sot emptying the bar and pissing Chief off.”

Calcifer strode into the darkness toward Devon, gaining confidence as he walked.

“Hey man, don’t advertise if you’re not offering,” he smirked. “Otherwise you sound like a prick.”

Shadows merged with the long, black coat and engulfed Cal as he neared his boss. The distance closed quickly as Devon stopped to give Cal a psych eval. Calcifer just ignored most of it an continued walking; you didn’t work for Haven without getting a full analysis from its founder every other minute.

But then Devon said it.

Calcifer scowled and quickened his pace. No one brought up his past, no matter how well they paid him. He cut around Devon as the weather mutant turned to leave, blocking the doorway.

“Alright, let’s get one thing straight you little-“ Cal grabbed the front of Devon’s shirt as he spoke and pulled.

The action was intended to be one of intimidation, bringing Devon down to a position of vulnerability beneath Calcifer’s glare. What he hadn’t accounted for, though, was the fact that Devon wasn’t “little” at all: he was actually the taller of the two. And he had a similar build, which put physics on his side. Instead of remaining still while Devon was pulled beneath him, Cal instead felt himself being pulled forward. The surprise jarred his already impaired balance, and he stumbled forward, bumping into Devon’s chest while still holding his shirt.

He looked up at the founder. “I mean… um… heh,” Cal gave a short chuckle as he met Devon’s piercing blue gaze. “See? I can get close. Satisfied?”

>> “Hey man, don’t advertise if you’re not offering,” he smirked. “Otherwise you sound like a prick.”

Or you want one…

But he didn’t say that. Devon chuckled at Cal’s attempt at mocking him. It was a thing they had, this back and forth. At least their working relationship had evolved beyond questioning each other’s trust. Well, that was more Calcifer anyway.

It appeared he’d struck another nerve though. Devon knew he’d been right before, down in that basement with the furnace. Well, the Furnace was guilty and he clearly hated Devon knew it. He was pissed off and his aggressive grab clarified that as if there was any mystery. What it also resolved was that Devon wasn’t a slouch. He may not have hit the weights every day, but he ran regularly and used the gym a couple times a week.

What was with guys trying to climb up him?

A surprised – and seemingly too intoxicated – Calcifer fell forward into him with surprise clear on his face. After the bumbled caress into his chest, Cal lingered holding his shirt and his gaze. Devon’s blue eyes didn’t let up. He’d become quite accustomed to gazing back in such willful exchanges and it was becoming second nature with the hot Furnace.

Calcifer thankfully disarmed his own rage, chuckled, and laughed it off. >> “See? I can get close. Satisfied?”

“Good,” Devon chuckled in return. “And you can remember I’ll always catch you when you fall.” He clapped both hands on the man’s shoulders and stepped away, grinning. He barely paid attention to the warmed areas of his shirt like an iron had been pressed deeply against him. The heat felt good.

Out into the lobby he strode, making his way to the residential elevators and then his private elevator where security stood even now. He pressed a button, passed his security card, and entered the elevator to type in his security code. You never knew what kind of shape shifters might be walking around after all.

“You coming, Cal?” he slowly waved his fingers, beckoning the man inside.

Oh god, that was awkward. Calcifer straightened himself and looked away, hoping his natural heat hid the blood rushing to his face after Devon’s comment.

It wasn’t as though he liked the weather mutant. Sure, Devon was good looking – even the most heterosexual guy could see that – and an incorrigible flirt, but Cal wasn’t gay. It was probably just the alcohol and the fact that it had been a long time since anyone had gotten friendly with him, which was for the best-

>>”You coming, Cal?”

Calcifer looked up. Devon was already at the elevator to the penthouse and beckoning.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on.” Cal hurried forward, then grimaced at his own choice of words. It’s just a figure of speech!

He rushed past the guards and whirled into the elevator, pressing the “Door Close” button in a rapid stutter. Graciously, the door obeyed, closing off the lobby and leaving Calcifer alone in the small compartment with Devon. He stood rigid, glancing down and to the side at the man next to him.

I’m only here for the rum.

Devon smirked at Cal’s comments, chuckling only briefly as the Furnace came in and hurriedly ushered the door closed. Someone was feeling their liquor and more than a little embarrassed, eh? Well, Devon supposed then it would be rude to push further on the history lesson.

By the time Cal’s eyes were looking down and to the side Devon had put his back to one wall and face Calcifer, grinning and pointedly looking to the man. “You know Cal, you need to relax. I know our run in started rather violently, but things are going well. We got your funds back, no one was hurt thankfully, and we resolved things with the police…” Devon bobbed his head from side to side, “With some political assistance, yeah. And now look.”

Devon spread his arms wide in welcome and greeting, though not without letting his thumbs trace over the top of his chest as he did so. “Now we’ve got this fine working relationship, an organization that can truly help people, and a cadre of well-trained folks dedicated to helping mutants however they need that help,” he smiled, “And you’re getting paid.”

The founder of Haven turned slowly, rolling his shoulders, arching as he flexed his arms. He glanced over his shoulder as the elevator reached the penthouse, “What’s not to like?”

The doors opened to the small marble inlaid entry before the elevator. The living room was open beyond with the buffet and the dining room table ahead. To their left were the sofas, chairs, mounted television, a comfortable sectional, a well-stocked bar, and a few out to the moonlit patio. Darkness had claimed the city outside but faint warm lights gave an eerie glow to the corners of the apartment.

“I think I’ve got to get out of this make-appearances-at-your-own-club attire,” he called. “Go ahead and check out the bar. The private cabinet isn’t locked either,” he gestured. Devon strode casually to the right where the kitchen was, but he didn’t enter, proceeding toward the double doors at the back. “Pour me something too!” he shouted as the doors shut behind him.

“Yeah, sure.” Calcifer shuffled in place, trying not to notice Devon’s obvious flexing. Truth was, he didn’t really care that much about all the “good” he was supposedly doing now with Haven. He was only concerned about that last part: he was getting paid. That and his new living quarters at the perpetually heated foundry made this one of the best deals he’d had.

The alcohol was nice, too.

The elevator doors opened and Cal followed Devon out into the opulent penthouse living room. He looked around at the extravagant furnishings and gave a low whistle. “Dude, save some money for the rest of us.”

Cal wandered over to the bar Devon had indicated. “Yeah, you go ahead and get comfortable,” he scoffed at the socialite’s comment, though not without a slight twinge of nervousness. He shrugged it away, shedding his own coat and draping it over a nearby chair.

The main bar was obviously for chumps; Calcifer went straight for the private cabinet. Why pass up on the opportunity? And it wasn’t like Devon wouldn’t be getting some, too. He opened the cabinet door and scanned it contents with an amateur eye, eventually picking out some expensive-looking rum. He returned to the island counter and poured two glasses.

The rum, he had to admit, wasn’t all that bad. The alcohol evaporated in his mouth, of course, but there was enough of a sugary taste to make it enjoyable. He finished his glass then poured another, carrying it with him as he left the kitchen and wandered into the living room.

“Hey, Cheekbones! You done changing into your evening gown yet?” He took a sip as he looked around then empty living space. Then something caught his eye. There was a strange, blue glow coming from under the doors at the back. Cal stared at them for a moment, then walked forward and slid one of the doors open.

“Okay, now what?”

The patio was lit by flickering ghosts of blue. It was the shifting, glittering light of illuminated water in the dark. Both sets of sliding doors offered the glow of azure beyond their faint shimmering curtains. Beyond the patio was lit only at the hot tub. The rest of the lights were still out but one could make out the concealing potted plants on either side, the sit down furniture and layback chairs. Another set of double doors led into another room on the opposite side of the patio.

They likely weren’t of much attention considering Devon’s movement from the right pulled eyes. His eyes mirrored the luminescent hot tub and the speedo swimsuit he wore matched his hair and the darkness, a pitch black. He had a set of doors into his bedroom as well. He grinned at Calcifer curiosity eyes and beckoned outside.

“You have a drink for me, right?” he asked innocently. “I figured the hot tub would be more comfortable for you. I wouldn’t mind a relaxing soak anyway, besides it’s a nice night.” The young entrepreneur grinned. “It can function as a pool or a hot tub. Pretty useful, right?” His bare feet trod over to the entry steps.

He bent down and slid his hand across its surface. “Yeah, warm. It’ll get hotter though,” Devon nodded. “Sounds great, right?” still asking, still confirming as if a little nervous of Cal’s response. Maybe Devon wasn’t so sure.

Right?

For a minute, Calcifer just stared. He had half expected some kind of shenanigan from Devon, but a speedo? Wow. It…. didn’t conceal much. He was a little concerned that Devon had chosen the revealing swimwear to drink with him, but much more concerned at how he noticed just how well it suited the man. Cal had been able to tell that there was a toned body underneath Devon’s tight shirt before, but actually seeing it…

“Oh, um… yeah. Here.” Cal said, absent-mindedly handing his drink to Devon. Then he came to his senses and silently cursed himself for the mistake. Devon’s drink was back in the kitchen! He should get it himself! But it would be too awkward to take it back now. Besides, Devon had made another comment he needed to correct.

“Comfortable? That?” Calcifer pointed at the bubbling pool. “You may as well ask me to jump into a tub of ice.”

Still Devon went on, saying how it would get hotter (oh, god, was that a innuendo?) and how it would be great. Cal sighed and removed his gloves.

“Look, that thing will get up to… what? 100 degrees?” He held up a hand. “I’m at 170 right now, and I’m not even trying.” He shrugged and pulled off his hoodie. “Buuut, since you went to all the trouble of getting… um… undressed, I guess I’ll play along.” Cal’s shirt, boots, and pants came off with practiced motions. His eyes were on the ground as his hands went to the hem of his boxers.

“Though I’m afraid I didn’t come prepared to spend the night swimming with the cover model of playgirl.”

The boxers hit the ground. Cal straightened and faced Devon, nude, and paused. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being seen naked, that was something he was used to by now. Hell, it wasn’t even the first time he’d spoken with Devon while in the buff. But the context this time made it seem…. weird.

Calcifer pushed the thought aside. “But if you want a hot tub, we’re going to do it my way.”

Heat flooded Cal’s body, banishing the cold of the night air. It was hardly a burn, barely even glowing, but it would be enough. Cal turned and stepped into the pool, the water boiling at his touch. He continued, steam rising around him, until he was waist-deep. Then he turned to Devon.

“This is a hot tub,” he said with a smirk. "If you think you can handle it."

Devon’s eyes widened as Cal pushed the drink to his hand. It looked like it had had a few sips taken already. There was that and Calcifer didn’t have another in his hand. He forgot didn’t he? Well that was Cal and his consideration of others for you. He didn’t care about anyone else, seemingly couldn’t afford – despite all the money – to care about anyone else. It was the burnt out part of his past…

“Thanks,” Devon grinned and threw back the whole glass, or what remained of it. His doctor would be furious with all the drinking tonight but Devon knew tomorrow would be yoga and water and stretching. Don’t forget your medication, stay hydrated, blah blah blah… Sometimes he wondered what a cut-loose Devon would be like.

>> “You may as well ask me to jump into a tub of ice.”

“Oh,” Devon frowned, “Right. Sorry I forget how hot you are.” And with that cue the undressing. Cal didn’t care much and made sure to throw in a mocking joke at his expense while he was at it. Hoodie, shirt, shoes, and of course there were boxers, fingers tucked at the waistband.

“I’ll go get us new drinks,” Devon said gently, turning for the door.

>> “But if you want a hot tub, we’re going to do it my way.”

“Yeah,“ Devon said as he looked over his shoulder, “Whatever you need-“ His eyes fell on the now nude Calcifer and his words caught in his throat. Silence was not common for Devon but when it took him, it was a powerful moment. In went the Furnace and up came the heat along with pretty much everything else…

>> “This is a hot tub,” he said with a smirk. “If you think you can handle it.”

“I have before after all,” the laughter came too quickly.

Devon swallowed uncomfortably, glad he was facing the other direction and now the steam was casting a fog around the patio. In to the living room he went and thankfully hid behind the bar. He fetched the rum, ice, and another glass while at the private cabinet. He regained his composure and relaxed, his stress and frustration no longer visible – he checked – before heading back outside.

It was a mist-cloaked area now and Devon came over to Calcifer to hand him the drink, “Try not to melt the glass would you.” His eyes shifted to twin pools of darkness, kicking up the coolness of the air to help him handle the barely increased heat that Cal required. The steam rose exponentially over the next few moments while Devon ensure he’d stabilized the air around him to a comfortable level. The younger man was lost in the fog until a few small splashed heralded his arrival into the water.

“Sorry for all the fog and mist, trying to make sure you don’t boil me in my own hot tub,” he laughed. “The water’s hot, but great. How’s the drink?”

Calcifer watched Devon walk back inside, feeling mildly insulted and – surprisingly – a little disappointed. Going to “get new drinks.” Yeah. He knew an excuse when he heard one. Still, he was surprised that it affected him. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure what he had expected to happen with the whole “hot” tub stunt anyway. It wasn’t like someone else, even a fellow mutant, could be comfortable at his temperatures. History had taught him that all too forcefully.

On top of everything, it was taking energy to burn. Normally this temperature would be easy to hold almost indefinitely, but the water was sapping the heat away almost as fast as he could generate it. He was just about to get out of the water when Devon returned, handed him a drink, and got in the water.

>>”The water’s hot, but great. How’s the drink?”

“It’s, um…. it’s great.” Cal stammered. Devon had gotten into the water. He’d called it great. He wasn’t screaming or jumping out of the hot tub with scalded skin. Instead, he was making small talk. As though he was comfortable.

Calcifer stared at the weather mutant, letting himself dwell on Devon’s bright blue eyes. He was the only thing visible in the dense cloud of steam and mist rising from the hot tub, cutting off the cityscape and enveloping the two mutants in their own private world.

“It’s a lot better than I thought it’d be.”