Author's Note: Because I didn't have enough fun with Gemini Reality, and because I discovered Rainrach's hilarious Magneto-as-a-Jewish-Stereotype comic strip on dA. All those who want to have a good laugh (especially those of us who have a good laugh at our Jewish family's expense) should check out "I'll Schmootz Ya In Yer Place." This is a Powerless AU that cannot, unfortunately, take place in SSP, because the family dynamics just don't work. It is a very similar reality to SSP, setting wise, though. I'm also sorry that I can't deliver the humor the way Rainrach can. I'm a drama angst writer, if no megalomaniacal villains are involved.
Pietro kicked open the door to The Backs, and stomped in, hands thrust deeply in his pockets. He continued muttering imprecations under his breath until he was stopped in the kitchen by the sight of David balancing beer cans on the table. The blond looked up, and waved. "Hey. What's got up your shorts?"
Pietro stalked over to the broken refrigerator, not answering until he had checked for something to drink. There was nothing. Slamming it bad-temperedly, he put on his best imitation of his mother's voice and collapsed into a chair. "Pietro, why aren't you studying? Your father is out working day and night so you can go to Hebrew school, and you don't study. What is wrong with you. And why did you let Wanda put the waffles in the toaster? Now go study. Anya can help you. But you shouldn't need it."
"What's so reprehensible about putting waffles in the toaster?" David wanted to know, once Pietro had wound down.
Pietro shot him a stormy look, and then sighed. "She forgot to take the plastic off. Again. What am I, her keeper? Why don't they get perfect Anya to watch over her if I'm so incompetent?"
David shrugged in sympathy. "Could be worse. I got home from school only to find out that Lucas got suspended again, and Jean got another A. And Ian was playing with matches. Luckily I managed to escape before Dad's wonderful students off loaded looking after Ian onto my shoulders."
"I'd switch looking after your little brother for getting nagged about my Talmud studies," Pietro replied. "And bringing home a nice Jewish girl. If Mom starts on that again I'm gonna throw things. Last time I said the only nice Jewish girl I knew was dating my friend, Anya started bringing over the younger sisters of her bestest friends."
"At least Wanda doesn't get into fights over Jean's affections," David muttered. "Actually, that could be pretty hot."
Pietro picked up one of the beer cans, and chucked it at his head. "That's disgusting, Xavier!"
"Hey, just saying. If she wasn't so gone in the head—Shutting up!" David scooted back in his chair as Pietro loomed threateningly over him.
"Damn straight," Pietro muttered. "I don't make sick allusions about Lucas, you don't make them about Wanda."
"You wouldn't, in any conceivable scenario, want to date my weirder half," David pointed out, popping open the can that had been flung at his head.
"I thought he was the evil twin," Pietro challenged.
David was busy wiping foam from his hand. "I liked that one until Summers started using it."
"Eww, Summers," Pietro agreed.
David nodded. "At least you don't have to live with him. I don't know which is worse, him or Jean. Mom's always on about how I should be nice to Scott and that irritating little brother of his because they're orphans. Wish I was a bloody orphan. Wish I was a single child and an orphan."
"I hear you," Pietro agreed solemnly. "Toss me one, would you?"
David complied. "And then there's star pupil Jean. Am I the only guy in my family who isn't falling all over her?! Even Ian likes her, and Ian bites people."
"She's got nothing on Anya," Pietro replied bitterly. "Pietro, why don't you study? At your age Anya always was studying. Why do you no longer practice the piano, Pietro? Anya always practices when she is home. Pietro, have you chosen which of your universities will be early decision? Why haven't you chosen any universities, Pietro? Anya already knew her top five by sophmore year. Now she's in Harvard. Are you going to Harvard? What are your plans for the future? Anya already knew she wanted to be a doctor at your age. Why don't you take better care of Wanda, Pietro? Anya always has to watch out for her. Anya speaks perfect Hebrew, Pietro. Anya went to Israel, Pietro. Anya, Anya, Anya!"
David rolled his eyes. He knew the rant well. "At least your parents want you to succeed. The only one my father cares about is Jean, and she isn't even related to me! When he isn't praising Jean he's lecturing me about not becoming like Lucas. If they really cared they'd get help for him, and get off my back."
"I had been noticing the back monkey was hiding behind your polo shirt," Pietro grinned, lifting his open can of beer. "Don't suppose you've got an appropriately Jewish girlfriend up your sleeve. That would distract my mother for at least three months."
"No luck. I know a French-Canadian Catholic," the son of the famous teacher suggested. He shrugged when Pietro shook his head. "You know, if you could arrange to get Lucas and Ian run over by snow plows, I wouldn't take it amiss. Maybe a few people would notice me in the confusion."
Pietro shook his head. "I may be willing to do a lot of things, but murder isn't one of them."
"I probably wouldn't be able to stomach it, either," David Xavier sighed. "So, we can't fix each other's lives. Man, what's the point of being best friends with you?"
"No point. You're right. I should look into finding material gain, seeing as you're pretty useless, buddy," Pietro agreed.
They drank their beers in silence, as the derelict room darkened with the early winter sunset. Lance was working tonight, and they hadn't seen much of him since he'd started dating Kitty, either. Todd was serving detention all this week, and Freddy had disappeared since a disastrous encounter with Jean. Rogue was still grounded from a fight she had gotten in with Fred as part of the disastrous encounter.
"Want to go see if it's snowed enough for us to chuck snowballs at cars from the overpass?" Pietro finally suggested.
"Sounds like a good way to cause just the right amount of trouble," David grinned.
He held out his hand, and Pietro pulled him from the rickety wooden chair. The contact was brief, lasting only long enough for both of them to put their half-empty cans back with the rest of the beer tower. Pietro had kept his light coat on, but David had to find his gloves once again. They trooped outside, their breath billowing together on the freezing air. It was more the walk that David was looking for, now that the traditional complaints were out of the way.
"Do you—I mean, have you heard anything about Lucas trying stuff? Stronger than weed, I mean," he finally asked.
Pietro shook his head, shrugging. "No, but I don't hang with his crowd. We'd have to ask Rogue. Has he been acting odd? Odder than usual, I mean."
"Not really," David shook his head. "I just get worried, sometimes. Dad's a total alarmist, of course, but Lucas is kinda getting out of hand," he paused nervously, before trying to laugh it off. "I just come here to hang when I get tired of how wonderful all of Dad's students are. Lucas gets more suspensions. In fact, I've come up with a formula. Lucas' success rate is inversely proportional to Scott's."
Pietro laughed. "You're such a dork. I really shouldn't hang with you. It's bad for the image."
They walked along in silence for a few more seconds, before beginning to ascend the hill that would lead to the overpass. David waited for Pietro to slip on some ice, before bringing up the topic again. "They're planning on sending Lucas to his godmother."
"Doesn't she live in Scotland?" the Lensherr boy asked, gripping a telephone pole tightly.
David nodded. "Yeah. I heard Mom and Dad talking about it this afternoon, before I left. They aren't certain, but a fresh start with Auntie Moira might be the best. For him and me."
Pietro looked shocked. "You, too?"
"No," David kicked a chunk of dirty snow and ice that had been sprayed onto the sidewalk by a passing car.
His friend shrugged, not seeing a problem. "Well, that's alright then."
David sent a frosty glare Pietro's way. "No, it isn't! God, Pietro, what would you do if your parents decided to lock Wanda up?!"
Pietro looked away. "Some days, I wonder why they haven't," he said in a small voice.
"How can you say that, man? She's your sister!" David yelled.
This put the Lensherr twin on the defensive. "You've seen her when she's mad, Dave! She tried to attack you with a spork, for crying out loud. Amazingly enough, I'm not a huge fan of wondering when she'll start listening to the voices in her head. She tells me really freaky things, sometimes, and then expects me to act as though it's normal to want to burn her own fingers off! You've got to feel that way about Ian sometimes."
David kicked another piece of hardened slush. "No. Well, yes. Sometimes. But not normally. And Lucas is my twin, Pietro. We've never been apart, and I don't really want to be. He's an annoying git most of the time, but he's part of me, too. I'm really worried about him."
Pietro sighed. "Most days, I know exactly what you mean. Just, what goes on with Wanda is difficult."
"Understatement of the century, there," David agreed.
"And I am sorry about this thing with Lucas," Pietro added, as they came to the top of the hill and began to walk on the verge of the overpass. "Maybe he'll shape up with Scotland looming in the future?"
David looked at Pietro sideways. "This is the same Lucas we're talking about? My strange twin who likes Gothic rock, Jean Grey, and making my parents have heart attacks if anyone steals his spotlight? If anything, he'll try to leave with a bang."
"I'll look for explosions in the papers," Pietro promised, leaning on the metal barrier between the edge of the overpass and painful death.
Cars rushed below them. There was not enough snow around to chuck at them, but neither Pietro or David felt like leaving yet. The dying sun headed west, and their breath streamed in the windless air, mingling at the edges. Pietro wondered yet again if he should tell David to go hang Lucas, and just be himself. But that was probably as bad an idea as telling his parents the reason he would never be bringing home a perfect Jewish girlfriend. Worse, maybe. His parents would still love him. David would probably never speak to him again. Some things were too good to give up.
Thank you very much for reading, and if you've got a suggestion on what might be done to tighten up the conclusion, I'd appreciate it.
~ MF