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Home Again
by DangerMouse
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Lance slowly walked into the kitchen, dropping his schoolbooks on the table as he did so. Taking a seat on one of the wobbly chairs surrounding the dilapidated piece of furniture, the earth-shaker leaned forward, resting his chin on his folded arms. He watched apathetically as a mouse scurried along the kitchen counter, sniffing at the empty food boxes scattered along its surface. Lance closed his eyes, trying to ignore the slight moldy odor that permeated the room, as well as the sound of many moving feet in the walls. A sudden movement of air brushed his hair to one side as he felt the residual warmth of a body moving behind his at a rapid speed.
"Hello, Pietro," Lance said, little emotion in his voice, not even bothering to open his eyes.
"Hey, Lance. Welcome home. How was school?" Lance opened his eyes at the sound of the refrigerator door opening, watching as his friend dug around inside, trying to find something still edible.
"All right," Lance replied, sitting up and leaning back in the chair, hooking his foot under the table to balance himself. "You should go and find out sometime."
Pietro gave him an odd look as he came over to the table and sat down across from Lance, a carton of take-out Chinese noodles in his hand, chopsticks in his mouth. "You know I can't manage to sit through the classes," Pietro told him, spitting the chopsticks into his hand and starting to rapidly eat his food. "My mind starts wandering, my eyes start darting around, and I am, quote, 'A distraction to students that are trying to learn,' unquote," the white haired youth said with a grin, mimicking the voice of his English teacher.
"What are you going to do if you don't graduate?" Lance persisted, leaning forward, tapping hard on the table.
"What am I going to do if I do graduate?" Pietro retorted, tossing the now empty food carton into a nearby trashcan. "It's not like I can focus on any particular job for any particular length of time."
"So, what, you going to go on stealing for the rest of your life?" Lance snapped. Pietro crossed his arms and frowned at his boyfriend.
"What's wrong with you?" he finally asked after a short moment. "You've been in a mood since you walked in this door. Did something happen at school?"
With a rush that startled Pietro, Lance stood up, yanking his school bag open. "Yeah. Something happened alright," he said shortly, finally ripping a crumbled sheet of paper from his bag. Screwing the sheet up into a ball, he threw it at Pietro, who caught it easily.
"What is this?" Pietro asked, smoothing out the paper, trying to read the crumpled text.
"It's a letter from my counselor," Lance said, his voice filled with anger. "I didn't get my scholarship."
Pietro read over the letter, then looked at his friend in shock. "This doesn't make any sense!" Pietro said, shaking his head in disbelief. "You're third in the class! You take honors classes! You got a 1570 on the SAT!!"
"And I have a disciplinary record," Lance growled, pacing the length of the kitchen with short, jerky steps. "They turned me down because of that." Pietro put down the paper and walked over to Lance, putting his hands on his shoulders, halting his movements.
"I'm so sorry," Pietro told him.
"Yeah, well that makes me feel a lot better," Lance replied sarcastically, knocking Pietro's hands away, blatantly ignoring his lover's hurt expression. "You might not give a fuck about anything, but without that money, I can't go to college. You know, college? That little place where people go to actually succeed in life?"
"Don't you talk to me like that," Pietro said, his eyebrows coming together in that angry expression Lance usually found somewhat endearing. Today, it just irritated him. "I'm not an idiot and you know it. I'm just trying to help."
"Well, you're not," Lance snapped, turning around, crossing his arms in a way that he hoped signaled to Pietro, 'Case Closed. No More Talking. Leave Me Alone.'
It didn't.
"There must be other scholarships you can apply for," Pietro continued, stepping forward, reaching out a hand to put on Lance's arm. "Maybe from Safe Space or the LBGSA?" Lance jerked out of Pietro's grip, spinning around and looking at him as though he had grown two heads.
"Are you insane?!?!" Lance yelled. Pietro recoiled away from his lover. Lance had never yelled at him before. "Yeah, Pietro. That's a great idea. Why don't I just out myself to the whole school? I mean, not only am I a fucking freak of nature, but I'm a faggot, too! That would be perfect. Just perfect!"
"And so what?" Pietro yelled back, his patience snapping. "You ARE gay - or at least bi! Believe me, I know. I was THERE last night, if you recall!"
Lance shook his head forcefully, as if trying to clear it. "This is all a mistake," he said firmly, grabbing his bag off the table, heading towards the stairs.
"'Mistake?'" Pietro repeated, his voice shaking with fury, following him to the second floor.. "What that hell is a 'mistake?'"
"You, me, everything," Lance replied, walking into the bedroom he and Pietro shared, grabbing some of his things and throwing them into his bag.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Pietro said, his voice still shaking, but this time with less fury and more fear.
"What it means is that I need to start thinking about MY future," he said, tossing his bag over his shoulder, jerking his thumb to his chest. "I need at least one thing that's normal in my life!"
"We are normal!" Pietro argued, blocking Lance from leaving the room. "We are two normal teenagers who happen to have mutant powers and enjoy an alternative life! It's normal for us!"
"You have a warped definition of normal," Lance said, rolling his eyes. He reached out and pushed Pietro to the side, heading back down the stairs, instinctively skipping over the creaky third step.
"Lance, stop!" Pietro shouted, speeding down the stairs and grabbing Lance's arm before he could walk out the kitchen door. "You can't leave!" he said, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "I thought I was a part of your future! How many times have you told me that?"
Lance pulled his arm out of Pietro's grip once again. "You thought wrong," he said softly, his voice hard. "I can't do anything about my mutant powers, but I can fix the rest of it. I have to move on with my life. I'm sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all.
Pietro took a step back, rapidly blinking his eyes, his hands in fists, muttering under his breath so fast, one word blended with another. "I can't believe you're saying these things to me," Lance was finally able to make out.
"If you were smart, you'd get on with your life as well," Lance replied. Without even uttering a goodbye, the brown-haired teen turned and walked out of the kitchen door, slamming it behind him. Pietro continued to walk backwards, stopping when his back hit the wall, his hands clenching and unclenching at blinding speeds, his breath coming in fast gasps.
"Jeez, what was all the racket?" Tabitha said, walking swiftly down the stairs. She looked over Pietro and his agitated state, frowning a little. "So, did you and Lance have a fight or something?" With a strangled sort of cry, Pietro zipped past her and up the stairs, slamming the door to his bedroom. Tabitha huffed, putting her hands on her hips.
"Boy, I wonder what his problem is," she muttered, then shrugged, and began to look for some food.
* * * * * *
It had been almost three hours since he had left the Brotherhood House. Lance sat down on a bus stop bench, stretching his sore legs in front of him. His shoulder was hurting from carrying all of his gear. Lance sighed.
So... now what?
Lance sprawled back on the bench like it was his own couch in his own house, scratching his head and looking out at the setting sun. He hadn't really thought this through. Lance knew he wasn't much of a planner. He had book smarts, no doubt. Give him a calculus problem and he knew just what to do. But plans? That was always attributed to Pietro's quick thinking.
Lance smiled, thinking about the younger mutant. Pietro liked to run scenarios in his head. He'd go over every plan and usually come up with one that was decent, if not always practical. Lance was good and bringing him down to earth, no pun intended. They made a good team.
Lance frowned suddenly, shaking his head. No! He couldn't think about that anymore. Lance knew he deserved more than living in a rat infested sinkhole, practically starving to death each day, wearing old clothes with holes, not getting to go to the school he wanted to, constantly fearing for his life. Pietro had been the only bright spot in a very, very dark place.
He needed to find a place full of light. A safe place, preferably with lots of food and a washing machine that worked. Some place like...
"The X-Geeks!" Lance said, sitting up suddenly, smacking his hand in his fist, startling the little old lady that had sat down next to him at some point. Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, Lance took of at a sprint towards the Xavier Mansion, smiling slightly. This was going to work! He could join their team! They would feed him, clothe him, send him to school, educate him, and more! His future would be very bright indeed!
... If only he could ignore the aching black hole in his heart.
* * * * * *
"Burn it all."
Pietro looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on the bed and gave Todd and wan smile. The toady teen hopped into the room, flopping on the bed across from Pietro, bouncing the large pile of clothes, posters, knick-knacks, and photographs that belonged to Lance.
"They're his things, Todd," Pietro said softly, his words slow and steady for a change. "I can't just burn them."
"Sure you can, yo," Todd replied with a toothy smile. "We'll take this crap out to the backyard, toss it in the trash can, douse it with some lighter fluid, drop in a match, and *poof!* No more Lance stuff cluttering up our house."
"And set the house on fire while we're at it? No, I don't think that's the best idea," Pietro said with a headshake.
"No, Frog is right," Tabitha said as she walked in the bedroom, also sitting on the bed. "It's a tradition upheld for generations by jilted women. The 'Hex-Your-Ex-Fest.'"
"I'm not a woman!" Pietro protested. Tabitha waved him off with a little *phith* noise.
"You're close enough. Now, let's see..." She reached down and picked one of the photographs of Lance and Pietro - Lance standing next to the younger mutant, his arm protectively wrapped around his shoulder, Pietro cuddling into the older teen's chest.
"Cute," Tabitha said, handing the picture to Pietro, along with a pair of scissors. "Now cut."
Pietro frowned, looking down at the picture that had sat on Lance's night table for as long as he could remember. It had been taken not two weeks after they'd started seeing each other, on a bright, sunny Saturday in Central Park. Mystique had taken the Brotherhood, in a rare gesture of kindness, on a sort of city trip - Lance had been so excited, dragging Pietro from museum to historic landmark to store after store. Have spent a great deal of his childhood living in New York City, all of these things were sort of old hat to Pietro. But, seeing them again, through Lance's bright and curious eyes, had brought the city alive.
"STOP REMINICING!" Tabitha shouted at him, startling him out of his memories. "He dumped you, get it? He's a jerk and he left you! Now CUT IT UP!"
"She's right, yo," Todd said with a solemn nod. "You gotta get rid of this stuff and move on. It'll drive you nuts, otherwise."
Pietro nodded, taking a deep breath as he opened the scissors' blades and placed them along the imaginary line where Pietro stopped and Lance began. Closing his eyes, he swiftly shut the blades, listening to the tale-tell 'snick' with a sick stomach.
"Good job!" Tabitha said, laughing and clapping her hands. "Now we gotta figure out what to do with the rest of this stuff."
Without warning, a small gray cat streaked into the room and pounced on the bed, followed by a loud voice bellowing, "IGOR!"
Fred stomped into the room, and Igor immediately jumped into Todd's lap. "Sorry about that, guys," the large teenager said with a sheepish grin. "We just got back from the vet and I have to give Igor her hairball medicine." Freddy reached over and plucked the kitten out of Todd's lap, sitting her on his shoulder. "You should'a seen her, guys! She totally scratched up the vet tech's arm! It was great!" Fred laughed, then stopped, passing a critical eye over the scene before him.
"Uh... what'd I miss?" he asked, blinking in confusion at Lance's things and the cut-up picture. Tabitha took an excited breath to explain.
* * * * * *
"Here you are, Sir," Kitty said as she opened the door to the guest bedroom with a flourish. "Sorry there's no mints on your pillow, but I believe you'll find some gum under the chair." Lance walked into the room, trying to play it cool and not let his jaw hit the floor.
"Hey, not bad," he said, attempting to be nonchalant. "Of course, I'll have to grunge it up some before it feels like home." ~More like a lot,~ he amended in his thoughts. ~This isn't home. It's a just a room. A clean, decorated, scary room.~ He walked over to the large dresser, opening the top drawer and dumping the few belongings of his he managed to grab from the Brotherhood House when he left.
"There... all unpacked!" he told Kitty with what he hoped was a roguish grin. Kitty laughed.
"Well then, Welcome to Mutant Manor," she said with a bow. "Breakfast is at seven." The younger mutant turned to leave, but paused.
"Lance, look," she said walking back into the room. "I think it's cool you want to be an X-Man, really, but watch it! This place is no walk in the park and the other guys aren't going to cut you any slack."
~Since when has anybody cut me any slack,~ Lance thought.
"Huh. Come on," Lance said instead, flopping down in a comfortable looking chair near where he was standing. "I can handle it. How tough can it be?"
"Guess you'll see tomorrow," Kytty replied with a wink. "Have a good night!" Lance blinked as she walked straight through the door.
"Guess I shouldn't bother investing in a lock for my door," he mumbled, squirming in the chair. It had looked comfortable before he sat in it, but the performance of the piece of furniture was really quite a let down. It really wasn't him at all.
* * * * * *
Pietro rounded the corner in the school hallway, shoving past people who got in his way, ignoring their indignant shouts at being treated in such a fashion. Reaching the end of the hall, he collapsed against the door leading outside, sinking down to the floor and shielding his eyes with one hand against the morning sun streaming in through the tiny windows. A few minutes later, the boisterous voices of his friends reached him, echoing oddly in the rapidly emptying hallway.
"Man, we totally told him what was what," Todd said cheerfully, bouncing very high, tapping the ceiling with his hand each time.
"Right on!" Tabitha added, now standing over Pietro's slumped form. "Wasn't that, like, mega-cathartic?"
"Yeah, and it felt good, too," Fred added. Tabitha shot a glare at him, then rolled her eyes and turned her attention to Pietro. "Well, Speedy? We all bothered to get up before noon this morning and come to school to confront Lance for your benefit. Don't you got anything to say?"
Pietro looked up at the girl, still feeling miserable. "Thanks?" he offered lamely. Tabitha let out a long-suffering sigh, then dropped down to the floor next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"Your mind works faster than the rest of ours," she said softly, rubbing his neck. "You should be past this stage, man!"
"Stage?"
"Sure! The five stages of breaking up with your boyfriend. God, every girl knows them!"
"I'M NOT A GIRL!" Pietro shouted, ignoring the odd looks given to him by the few students still in the hallway.
"Like I said before, you're close enough," Tabitha said with a little shrug and a big smirk. Pietro sighed and buried his head in his knees, then mumbled something.
"What was that?" Tabitha asked.
"I asked," Pietro said, lifting his head, "'What are the five stages?'"
"Oh!" she said cheerfully, getting excited. "They're Denial, Depression, Anger, Spitefulness, and Acceptance. I fully expected you to be up to being spiteful by now."
"What's the diff between anger and spitefulness?" Todd asked, curious.
"Anger's when you're pissed," Tabitha said wickedly. "Spitefulness is when you do something about it."
"Like what?" intoned Fred.
"Like…" Tabitha paused, looking up at the ceiling, considering. "Like… spreading a nasty rumor about him, like he has rash or something. Or making illusions to piss-poor performance in bed. Or telling everyone he's gay… which really wouldn't work in this case."
Pietro bit back another sigh, then shook his head and stood up. "Guys, I appreciate all of this, but I don't want to do that to Lance." He reached down a hand and pulled Tabitha to her feet. "I think I'm just going to go home, eat something chocolate, and watch 'Steel Magnolias.'" That said, Pietro pushed open the door to leave the school, zipping out of sight, a trail of dust in his wake. Tabitha looked after him, smiling.
"Not a girl, my ass," she said, turning and giving a knowing wink to Todd and Fred. Fred chuckled, but Todd looked worriedly in the direction of his vanished friend.
"Stage Two?" he asked Tabitha.
"Stage Two," she replied. "What say we go catch a matinee and give the Road Runner some time to himself?" she asked, jerking a thumb in the direction of downtown. Fred grinned.
"Can we see that new horror film?" he asked.
"We can see whatever's playing in theater 8," she told him, hands on her hips. "That's the only theater with a door that has a blind spot on the security cameras."
"I hope it's the horror film," Fred murmured, then walked out the door. Tabitha started to follow. She paused when she saw Todd wasn't with them, turning to see him still standing in the school. "You coming, Frogger?"
"Nah," he said, looking down the hallway. "I think I'm gonna hang around here a bit longer."
"Whatever," she replied with a shrug, then took Fred's arm in her own. "Come on big guy, let's visit the movies!"
Todd smiled at Fred's confused look at having Tabitha hanging all over him, then turned and walked farther into the school. It was second period now. Todd scratched his head. Now then, what was his second period class again?
* * * * * * * *
Lunchtime couldn't come fast enough for Lance. His whole body was sore from the training sessions with the X-Men and his heart was sore from his argument with the Brotherhood. He couldn't get Pietro's calm voice out of his head, simply asking him if he was joining the X-Men – no anger, no accusations, no emotion what so ever.
He almost wished Pietro had yelled at him, thrown a punch at his face, told him what a terrible person he was and that he was making a terrible mistake. Pietro was many things, but cool and collected under pressure wasn't really one of them. For him to be so subdued… Lance didn't even want to think about what that meant. He could see the hurt hiding behind those eyes, even if he couldn't hear it in his voice; could feel the anguish and betrayal coming off of him in waves, even if Pietro never uttered a single accusatory word. His cool blue eyes gazed directly at him, not wavering for a second, his arms hanging stiffly at his side, not crossed over his chest or fidgeting in anyway.
Lance almost broke down and hugged him.
Snapping the pencil he was holding in half, Lance forcibly shoved that line of thinking out of his head. He couldn't go on like that. He needed this thing with the X-Men to work if he was ever going to make something of himself. He needed the money, the support, and the resources the X-Geeks offered. Pietro would never join them, so Pietro couldn't figure into his new life. That's the way it had to be.
So why did Lance feel like he was about to start crying like a baby in front of his entire World History class?
The bell rang and everyone started chatting and shuffling around. The teacher shouted out something about an assignment, but Lance didn't bother to write it down, not really caring at this point. Angrily, he shoved his books in his bag, barely blinking as some of the loose papers got smashed. He didn't even notice someone was talking to him until he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, startling him.
"Sorry about that," Jean said to him, giving him an oh-so-sweet smile that made bile crawl up Lance's throat. "You seemed to be in your own world there."
"Yeah, sorry," Lance murmured. "Just thinking about stuff."
"You want to eat with us at lunch?" she asked. By 'us,' Lance knew she meant with the X-Men that had lunch this period. They always ate together at one of the larger tables outside during nice weather. Lance often watched them from where he sat alone in the cafeteria, unless it was one of the days when Pietro would show up at the school and drag him into a janitor's closet and they would…
"Sounds great!" Lance said shakily, blushing lightly, tossing his bookbag over his shoulder. Jean's eyebrows rose alarmingly and she took a step back. "See you in a few, then!" he called to her, quickly moving out of the room, wanting to put as much room between him and the telepath as possible. Jean watched him go, jaw slack in shock.
"Wow," she finally said, then shook her head to clear it. "Wow."
* * * * * * * *
Lance rushed into the boy's bathroom, looking around quickly and feeling grateful when he discovered he was alone. He leaned his body on the nearest sink, resting his head against the mirror hanging over it. His thoughts... his thoughts about Pietro... How could his brain betray him like that? Thinking about those things around the telepath ranked right up there on dumbest things in the world to do, ever.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," he muttered, punctuating each self-rebuke with a bang of his forehead against the hard, glass surface.
"Pretty much, yo," came a steady voice behind him, shocking Lance to the core, his heart leaping into his throat as he spun around. Todd was giving him an even look from where he was perched on top of a stall door, his messy brown hair hanging in his eyes.
"Jesus, Tolensky, you trying to give me a heart attack?" Lance shouted, glaring at the toady-teen.
"It's on my to-do list, man," Todd replied, then dropped to the floor in front of the taller boy. "Right after 'smack you around' and 'push you under a fast moving truck.'"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I heard this all this morning," Lance said with a roll of his eyes, feeling his heart calm down. He leaned his back against the porcelain sink, crossing his arms across his chest, giving Todd a look of disdain.
"I don't think you did," Todd said, pulling himself up to his full height. "Do you know how much you're hurting him?"
Lance needed no clarification to understand the 'him' to whom Todd was referring. "It's not about him," Lance countered. Todd let out sound of disgust, shaking his head.
"The hell it isn't," he snapped. "And the X-Geeks? What are you thinking with that? You actually agree with the way they think?"
"What, that were all gonna live in peace and harmony someday, but only if we train ourselves really hard to kick ass in the mean-time?" Lance scoffed. "Not really."
"Then why the hell are you hanging with them, yo?" Todd nearly shouted, getting very agitated.
"They're a means to an end, man," Lance replied. "Nothing more, nothing less."
"And what end are you looking to get to, huh?" Todd said, shaking his head in irritation.
"A good one," Lance said hotly. Todd huffed, deciding he was through with the conversation.
"Better make sure you're on the right path then, man," he said, pushing past Lance out of the bathroom. He paused at the door, then looked back at his former team-member. "Once you get past a certain point, there ain't no going back, yo. You need to make sure you know exactly where you're going." Todd spun away and stalked out the door. Lance closed his eyes, rubbing his temples with his fingers. The school bell sounded loudly, signaling the start of lunch. His mind spinning with thoughts, Lance walked out after Todd, then turned and went outside to join the X-Men at their table.
* * * * * *
Pietro dabbed his eyes with a Kleenex as the ending credits of "Steel Magnolias" scrolled across the screen. Standing up, he picked up the long-empty carton of Double Fudge Chocolate Brownie and made his way slowly to the kitchen, disposing of the container in the trash and tossing the spoon in the sink. That taken care of, he trudged slowly up the stairs to his room. He opened the door, the room very dark, only a small amount of light drifting in through the ratty curtains covering the window. On the bed were Lance's things.
They hadn't burned them, as Todd suggested a few nights ago; Pietro wouldn't allow it. Wherever Lance was going with his life, Pietro thought he might need some of his things. Now, they were all piled in a large cardboard box., labeled "Lance's Stuff" in big black letters. On closer inspection, however, the "L" and the "a" in Lance had been crossed out with a pencil, a "P" and an "o" written above them in blocky handwriting. Pietro smiled. Who knew Freddy could be so clever?
Pietro glanced at the clock by the bed - it was already after five. That surprised the white-haired teen. He'd watched the movie three times in a row, fully expecting the rest of his housemates to burst in and make comments on his viewing choices. As it turned out, none of them had returned home yet, no doubt giving him some space. He appreciated the effort.
Sighing heavily, Pietro picked up the box and zipped out of the house.
* * * * * *
Just like last time, it was no problem getting into the X-Men mansion. He could still easily out maneuver their security efforts, running across the grounds so quickly, he never even registered on the cameras. Some things had changed - there were a lot more kids on the grounds, very few he recognized. They weren't being careful about hiding their powers, either. Pietro noted a girl turning herself into a dog while another boy threw balls of ice he made in his hands for her to catch. Shaking his head in disdain, Pietro zipped through the front of the building, laughing silently as he realized the door wasn't even locked.
He paused in the foyer, blinking rapidly at the large space and the many hallways leading off in all directions. When he'd been on his mission for Mystique, he'd been given a floor plan and specific instructions on where to go. Now that he was in the heart of the Mutant Manor, he had no idea where to find Lance. Pietro frowned. Maybe he should have knocked. It turned out to be a moot point, anyway.
"What the... HEY! What are you doing here?"
Pietro spun around, face to face with a very angry blue mutant dressed in a pair of greasy overalls, a toolbox in hand.
"Good look for you, Cobain," he told Kurt, who glared fiercely at him.
"Shut up," he snapped, his accent very thick. "Get out."
"Sorry," Pietro replied. "Have to make a delivery. You understand."
"Oh, I think I understand perfectly, arschloch," Kurt spit out.
Pietro tilted his head to the side. "Well, that didn't sound very nice," he said, wishing he had taken German instead of Spanish.
"It wasn't, you--"
"Kurt? What's going...Hey! What are you doing here?" Pietro looked over Kurt's shoulder, seeing an annoyed looking Scott Summers and a very red-faced Jean Grey, the latter seeming to try to avoid looking at him at all costs.
"Probably up to no good," came a voice behind him. Turning, he saw Evan standing there, the spikes on his arms starting to peak out.
Pietro rolled his eyes. "Apparently I ran into cliché night at the mansion," he snipped, suddenly very tired.
"Why don't you run back out?" Scott said, adjusting his glasses in what he no doubt thought was a menacing way.
"Um," Jean said softly, still looking at the floor, "do you need to see Lance?" Scott spun around on her.
"Jean!" he protested. The redhead said nothing, instead, walking past him and Kurt to stand next to Pietro, still avoiding looking at him.
"Yes," Pietro replied, also ignoring Scott, ducking down, trying to meet Jean's eyes. She cleared her throat and looked at a spot on the wall.
"I mean, you're not here to, uhm, do anything, right?" she asked nervously. Pietro had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.
"Nooo..." he said as slowly as he could managed. "I'm just here to drop off some of his things he left at the House." Pietro hefted the heavy box for emphasis. Jean nodded, still red-faced. She walked past Evan, gesturing with her hand for Pietro to follow.
"I think he's in the study," she said, quickly walking off. Pietro shrugged and followed her, leaving three bewildered mutants in their wake.
* * * * * *
Lance rubbed his head, trying to concentrate on his math homework. It wasn't easy to find quiet in the mansion, not with so many kids running about. Currently, two of the younger mutants, whose names he didn't bother to remember, were trying out some aspects of their powers, which happened to be very, very loud. He snapped his second pencil of the day and twisted around in his seat, glaring at the young kids.
"Do you two mind keeping it down?" he snapped in his most civil voice. They gave him a "look," then preceded to ignore him and continue with their games. Lance groaned and turned back to the table, slamming his math book shut.
"Uh... Lance?" At the sound of his name, the teen looked over at the door, where an obviously embarrassed Jean stood. He restrained himself from groaning again, wishing he'd never had that talk with her after history class. She was probably wishing the same thing.
"Yes, Jean?" he said, also embarrassed. Behind him, the two younger mutants stopped whatever noise they were making, interested in this scene.
"You have a visitor," she said, stepping into the room and out of the way. Lance felt his breath leave him.
Pietro stood in the doorway, not looking at all out of place. He walked jauntily into the room, a large box balanced on one worn-jean-clad hip, dressed in the tight-fitting purple shirt Lanced loved so much. Pietro looked around in interest, his focus darting rapidly around the room, taking in every little detail. He looked tired though, and his eyes were a little red around the edges. Lance suspected he'd been crying. He felt his heart constrict.
"Pietro..." Lance began, taking a step forward, wondering in the back of his mind when he'd stood up.
"I'll... leave you two to it..." Jean began, somehow now on the other side of the room and ushering the two younger kids out. She paused, looking back at both of them. "Not to it, though," she said hastily. "Don't do anything, okay?"
"Thanks Jean," Lance said shortly. He heard the redhead leave and the door close behind her. Pietro and Lance stood silently, looking at each other. Finally, Pietro took a deep breath, stepping forward.
"I brought the rest of your things," he said simply, putting the box down on a near-by coffee table. Lance took a few steps forward, looking down at the box. Then he looked back at Pietro.
"Thanks." Pietro nodded.
"I'll leave, now," he said, starting to turn away.
"Wait!" Lance said suddenly, reaching out and grabbing the shorter mutant's arm. Pietro glared down at the hand restraining him, then yanked his arm out of Lance's grip, backing away.
"You don't have the right to touch me anymore," Pietro told him quietly, his voice filled with hurt and anger.
"I'm sorry," Lance began, sheepishly. "It's just... just..."
"Just what?" snapped Pietro. Lance started to reply, then stopped, unsure of what to say. Pietro sniffed. "You don't even know, do you?" he said harshly, shaking his head. Again, Lance opened his mouth to reply, but Pietro cut him off. "Don't say anything," the younger mutant said shortly. "You've said more than enough already. How long are you going to live like this Lance? What can you possibly be thinking? I can't figure you out anymore!"
"I'm making the right choice," Lance said finally, with a conviction he hardly felt. Pietro gave a small, bitter laugh.
"You really think that, don't you?" he said with a dark grin. "You think that living a lie like this is the right choice, that you can hide what you really are from the world, from these people? Red already knows, you know. Even I'm not so slow as to not pick up on that."
"Can't you see why I'm doing this? Don't you want me to be successful? To be happy?"
"Are you happy?" Pietro asked him, his face growing somber. "You really don't look happy to me."
"I will be," Lance told him.
"Sure," Pietro said with a shrug. "You'll marry that Kitty brat, make your 2.3 mutant babies, build a nice, white picket fence around a cottage somewhere out in the country, the whole time jacking off in the shower, wishing your wife wasn't a wife at all, hiding your dirty little secret like it's a porno mag under your mattress, is that it?"
"Stop it!" Lance yelled, angry, hating hearing Pietro talk in such a vulgar manner. His Pietro would never talk like that.
"Why, is it embarrassing you?" Pietro asked. "You're obviously ashamed of me, so I guess that's understandable."
"I was never ashamed of you," Lance said emphatically. "I swear..."
"Really," Pietro said, obvious disbelief in his voice, crossing his arms over his chest.
"It has nothing to do with you," Lance assured him, trying to make him understand. "It's just something I have to do! Something has to be status quo in my life! I don't have a choice about the powers, but I do have a choice about this!"
"You think it's a choice?" Pietro cried, looking at him with absolute shock. "Do you think I choose to be the way I am? Don't you think I know that this is going to make my life even harder than it already is? Nobody would live this way if it were a choice, Lance!"
"I didn't mean it like..."
"It's not fair!" Pietro finally shouted, shaking. "It's not fair to you, it's not fair to me, and it's certainly not fair to whatever girl you decide fits into the realm of your so-called 'status-quo' life!"
"So I'll screw up my life a little more!" Lance yelled back. "What the hell difference does it make to you anymore anyway?"
"Because..." Pietro paused, looking down at the floor, rubbing a hand over his eyes quickly. "Because I love you, you idiot," he finished softly, looking back up at Lance. "For all the terrible things you've said to all of us, to me, for everything dumb-ass thing you're doing now, I still love you. I hate you, too, but I do still love you. I can't help it."
Lance stared at his former lover and teammate, again feeling that urge to hug him close. Finally he swallowed loudly. "I don't have anything to say to that," he told Pietro honestly. The younger mutant nodded sadly.
"That's okay," he told Lance. "Like I said earlier, you've already said more than enough today, I think. That's all of your stuff." Pietro nodded down to the box. "I've done what I came here to do. Now, I really am going to leave." Lance nodded once, and Pietro was suddenly gone, a blur in the air, a breeze in the wind, the door slamming shut before it opened. Lance rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying hard not to start crying. He looked down at the box, feeling a little grin tug at his lips.
"'Ponce's Stuff,'" he whispered, noticing Freddy's handwriting. How remarkably clever of him. Lance sifted through the contents of the box, realizing with a heavy heart that everything of his was indeed inside the cardboard fortress. He felt his heart skip a beat as his fingers brushed over a waxy piece of paper. Pulling it out, he saw a picture of himself staring back at him, a warm smile on his face, his arm wrapped around nothing. Where the person he'd spent that wonderful day with in Central Park should have been was a clean cut, Lance's left arm missing out of the photograph.
Lance swallowed hard and blinked several times, then slipped the picture into his back pocket and hoisted up the box. He left the study and headed back to his room, steadfastly ignoring some of the odd looks of his new housemates who had undoubtedly overheard pieces of the conversation. Reaching his bedroom, he dropped the box on the floor and crawled into bed, not even bothering to change out of his tank top and jeans before falling fast asleep.
* * * * * *
It was dark by the time Lance made it back to the Brotherhood House, his box under his arm, every muscle in his body protesting the long walk. He looked at the old, dilapidated house, leaning slightly on its faulty foundation, a far cry from the splendor he'd just left behind. As a strong wind blew across his face and the house made a mildly alarming creaking noise, and Lance couldn't help but smile.
Home at last.
He'd hoped he would still be welcome, though he doubted it.
The front door was unlocked when he pushed on it after climbing the creaking steps to the porch, a warm light from the living room barely hitting him as he entered the hallway, then turned towards the kitchen. Freddy was in there humming to himself as he made a monstrous sandwich, Igor watching with interest from where she was perched on his shoulder. He stopped when he saw Lance, his eyes growing dark.
"What are you doing here?" he asked angrily. "I thought you were too good for us."
Lance dropped the box onto the island in the kitchen, then sighed. "I'm not."
"Fred..." Both boys looked over at the staircase where Pietro was standing arms crossed as usual, watching Lance with unreadable eyes. The giant took the hint and started to make his way back to the living room, cat on one shoulder, sandwich in one hand. He stopped, looking back at the pair.
"Just say the word, Pietro," Fred told him, "and I'll get the others and we'll beat him up for you."
"I'll keep that in mind," Pietro said with a slight smile. Freddy nodded and ambled away, no doubt going to tell the others about the little drama about to unfold in their kitchen. Pietro walked down the rest of the stairs, coming to stand across from Lance, the kitchen island separating them.
"What happened?" he asked simply. Lance frowned.
"You were all right," he replied. "They would never accept me. That, and I found out I could never accept them."
"Why?" Pietro asked. "I thought they were what you wanted."
"I didn't know what I wanted," Lance said easily. "Still don't actually, with one exception."
"Oh?"
"I want you," Lance said. "I want you, I want Todd, I want Freddy and Igor, heck, I even want Tabitha. I want this house, I want this life, I want to be where I belong." Lance sighed, trying to remember the speech he had made up on the long walk back here, but gave up and decided to wing it. "None of it was right for me," he continued. "Sitting in that mansion, eating catered food, sleeping on a really great bed, all those opportunities around me - it meant nothing. You guys... you believe me, you believe in me. You've never made me feel like I was unworthy of you, never made me feel like I didn't belong, never made me feel like I unable to achieve anything I wanted. You know who I am - my dark sides, my light, what I'm capable of, and more importantly, what I'm not capable of. You accept me for who and what I am, no questions asked. I don't know how I could have thought that wasn't enough."
Pietro said nothing, seemingly waiting for Lance to continue.
"I want to come back," Lance finally said. "I'd like another chance to make everything right again, if you'll have me."
Pietro nodded, thinking a moment before replying. "I believe in more than one chance at everything in life," he began. "We're all here on our second or third chance to get things right." He looked around the House and gave a small smile. "I know it isn't much and I know it isn't everything we were promised, but somehow..."
"It's more," Lance finished. Pietro nodded again, walking around the island, standing in front of Lance. He took his hand in his own.
"I need time," he told the older teen, who squeezed Pietro's hand in a gesture of understanding. "You hurt me."
"I know," Lance replied. "I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for it. Bad day or not, there was no excuse."
"No, there wasn't," Pietro agreed, "but you'll forgive yourself.... after I forgive you. " Pietro paused again, as if gathering his thoughts. "But it's going to take time."
"I can wait," Lance promised. Pietro gave him a small smile.
"I know you can," he said. Releasing Lance's hand, he picked up the box off the island and handed back to the taller boy. "For now," Pietro said slowly, "we still have space in the attic."
Lance smiled, taking the box. "Sounds fine." He and Pietro started towards the stairs. Lance accidentally stepped on the third step and it let out a groan that echoed throughout the House. He grinned at Pietro. "It's great to be home again," he said.
Pietro smiled back. "It really is," he replied, squeezing Lance's upper arm. "It really is great."
~The End~