Super-Long A/N : hp80 and Inavia - we were all thinking how cute Peter and Tate meeting would be. So I did it. Anything to make me feel a bit better after "Requiescat" right? I am so, SO sorry about Constance's disgustingly inappropriate language. Sadly it's totally in her character, but please rest assured I'm cringing as I type her dialogue. I'm thinking probably a three-parter for this one.

POLLS : I am now working on : an AU with Nina at the Academy, and Peter in A:AoU rather than Pietro and Wanda, both of which take a lot more work than my other stuff, so may be posted and updated a lot more slowly than usual. In the meantime, there will be this and a few other little ideas.

Now finally - the actual fic:

1.

"How're you planning on playing this, anyway?" Peter tapped on the steering wheel in time to the music. Gave the younger boy beside him a look over the top of his shades, "Hi, I'm Leon, I used to talk to the dead people in your house. Mind if I come in so we can hook back up?"

"Actually that's exactly how I was planning to play it" Leon admitted, "Anyway, it's been ten years - maybe it's empty?"

Peter popped open the glove compartment and flipped a copy of the LA Times into Leon's lap, already folded open at a small story about a man and his maid apparently shooting one another in a murder-suicide pact. It was dated the previous week.

"Not unless they moved out real fast" he drawled, "I've kept an eye on the place, couldn't get it out of my head. It's occupied. Nice little family, apart from the Father who shot the maid and then himself"

Leon couldn't think of anything to say to that. Watched Peter drive a little longer, mouthing along to the words, keeping up his rhythmic tapping. He barely looked a day older than he had been when they'd met, though he'd grown his hair long now. Seemed to have gently tended away from his rock-and-roll years and towards a slightly Grungy style recently. At 37-looking-20 he could get away with it in a way that someone his age really shouldn't have been able to. Leon caught himself thinking what a shame it was that Peter was straight, getting married next year, and nearly twice his age, not for the first time either in general or on this particular car journey. Put those thoughts away with a little sigh, resumed his staring out of the window.

"Can we have something else on?" he said, "Something that's not all about death and drugs and stuff?"

"Dude, what's wrong with Nirvana? Anyway it's not about that, you're just not listening to the lyrics"

"I can't hear a word that guy's saying, that's why!"

Peter swerved into a gap between two parked cars, brought the car to a skidding halt that somehow ended up perfectly parallel-parked, carefully removed his shades and gave Leon a searching, solemn look

"Kurt Cobain was a genius, man" he told him, "And it's not his fault you can't tell what he's saying because you blasted out your eardrums with all that D&D crap"

"R&B" Leon corrected, "D&D is a game. You're starting to sound old, homie"

"I hate it when you talk ghetto" Peter muttered, "Anyway, move your fat ass, time to go see your old friends"

"My ass wouldn't be fat if it weren't for you!" Leon shouted at him as he strode off down the street, trotted to keep up with him. Peter smirked at him

"Oh sure, I *forced* you to always eat with me. I'd tell you to take a little responsibility but you'd just tell me I sound old again"

Leon bristled at him. Hated it when he was right, which was most of the time. Thought that if they were a couple, which people sometimes thought from how easy and tactile they were with one another, they'd be the kind who yelled at each other over the dishes every single night. Not much had changed about the house over the past decade. The hedges still trimmed to perfection, Victorian exterior still looking in beautiful condition. He supposed they must keep the house pretty neat given how often it changed hands. Less work for a realtor if it still looked in great shape when they next came to sell it. Intent on the front door, they hadn't noticed the woman relaxing on a lounger in what looked like a brand-new wood-panelled gazebo, but their attention had soon been drawn by her when she had called out, got up from her seat, and marched over still with a cocktail in her hand.

"Tate!" she snapped, a Southern twang immediately detectable in her voice, "What the heck have you done to your hair, boy?!"

Reaching out as though to stroke her hand through Peter's hair, looking puzzled when he dodged away and gave her a strange look, before her lipsticked mouth formed a littleOhhh of understanding, and she simpered in an embarrassed way

"Oh I do apologise" she smiled, "You look so much like my son, for a moment there I thought it was him, but I see now you're a little older. Do pardon my mistake. You're here to look around, I suppose?"

The two exchanged a look, before Leon had spotted the 'For Sale' sign on the front lawn that they had entirely overlooked before.

"Yes M'am" Peter said quickly, "Is it a convenient time?"

"Oh of course! Come on in, I'll fix you both a glass of lemonade. Unless you'd care to join me in somethin' stronger?" she gave them a predatory smile, "But where are my manners? I'm Mrs Constance Langdon, the lady of the house"

She offered a hand. Peter was not quite sure if he should kiss it or shake it, and by the time he had decided Leon had already jumped in with a gentle shake, introducing them both. She led them into the house, clittering along in impractical high heeled shoes, poised and proper but with an undeniable air of flirtation that made them both a little uncomfortable.

"Are you sure you don't mind, Mrs Langdon? We wouldn't want to intrude on –"

"Oh not at *all* boys," she smiled, "An' don't you be self-conscious now. I'm a woman of the world, I have no grudge against the coloureds or the queers. You're both perfectly welcome"

Letting her lead them into the kitchen, Peter hiked his eyebrows at an open-mouthed Leon, mouthed Yikes! at him. Followed the glamourous woman into the very familiar kitchen. It was oddly like stepping back in time ten years – only the cooking equipment was different, the décor was very much unchanged.

"Now, would you like me to give you a tour, or jus' look around for yourselves?" she asked, "You won't be putting me to any trouble at all either way"

"Actually, Mrs Langdon – if you wouldn't mind, Leon –" he indicated the younger boy – "Would like to have a look at the basement? He collects model trains, and he'd just *love* the space for it all to himself"

"What a charming hobby" Constance simpered again. It was already starting to get on Peter's nerves, "You go on down, honey. I'll take your – what do you two call each other? Partners? Boyfriends?..."

"Hubbies" Leon said, flashed Peter a grin.

"Well that's just cute as can be isn't it? I'll take your Hubby and show him around, and you go on and check out the lower floors, see if you can make space for your little choo-choos. How about that drink first?"

Agreeing, they let Constance clitter away to the larder and the refrigerator therein. Peter gave Leon a hard look and hissed

"Hubbies?!"

"Model trains, dude! I freakin' *owed* you one"

"Here you go, boys" Constance returned with two tall glasses, "I just made a pitcher of Long Island Iced Tea, and you simply must try some. It's wonderful in this weather"

The tea was strong, but delicious, and they were both thirsty after the long drive. Leon felt it go to his head almost immediately, was very glad that the relatively small amount of booze would in no way impede Peter from driving, finished it off probably a little quickly. Constance held the door for him to descend downstairs, gave him another of those too-wide too-flirty smiles

"Now you be careful down there," she warned sweetly, "People have been known to come a cropper. You just holler if you need anything"

She closed the door on him. Leon was glad he knew the way, as it left him in total darkness. Picked his way down the stairs from memory, feeling for his friends.