Title: Dance With Me Tonight

Author: IndigoNight

Summary: Peter hates bullies. When one night he accidentally discovers a certain fallen Angel being abused by some, will it be the start of something new for them both? Or will they be to shy to say anything?

Feedback: Yes please, yay reviews!

Pairing: PeterxWarren (Yes, I know it's a random pairing)

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or the characters I'm just borrowing them for fun.

Spoilers: Nope, not really

Warnings: Slash, don't like, don't read

Author's Note: Yet another story that Rayne dared me to do. Because, as some of you may have noticed, we have a bad habit of making Peter an ass in our fics, for no particular reason, he's just there, so we use him. So Rayne said to me the other day, "Indigo, I think its about time you wrote a fic where Peter was nice." So I sat down and that's what I did. It's a two shot. Here's part one. Please review!

Enjoy!

Peter slowed down to a quick walk as he checked his heart rate. He loved his late night jogs. Yawning a bit he clasped his hands over his head and leaned back, stretching. The sun had set long ago and all was quiet, for once, at Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters.

Peter had just decided to call it a night and go to bed, when he realized that all wasn't quiet after all. From around the corner of the mansion, soft thumps, cruel laughter, and faint cries floated to his ears.

Frowning he crept quietly toward the sounds, pressing himself into the shadows at the base of the wall, all of his senses on high alert. Peering around the corner he saw dimly in the shadows a young man, Avalanche, Peter thought he was called, laughing as he swung a punch at another boy, who desperately tried to defend himself.

He was small and lithe, with short spiky white blonde hair. He wore a worn pair of jeans and no shirt. But his most defining feature were the huge pearly wings sprouting from his back.

Worthington, Peter realized. Warren Worthington III had come to the school only a few months ago. He was shy and spoke little, seeming to be extremely anti-social, although that might have just been how extremely shy he was. And now he was getting the crap beat out of him.

Warren struggled, holding to a fumbling defensive stance as Avalanche made the ground rumble and shake beneath him, at the same time raining down a rapid tirade of punches to Warren's bare chest.

Then Warren gave up trying to defend himself and started to back away quickly, intending to run, but something stopped him. Peter blinked into the shadows but all he saw was a blur as something, or someone, shoved Warren roughly back toward Avalanche. So Warren changed tactics and with a powerful sweep of his huge wings he lifted off, making a break for the clear night sky. But again, something stopped him, sending him crashing back to earth, and once more directly into Avalanche's arms.

This time Peter, having expected it, was watching closely and caught a flash of Avalanche's cohort. Now that he knew all that he was dealing with, Peter strode boldly out of the shadows, his manner easy and relaxed even as his metallic inorganic armor began to creep over his skin.

"Hello, boys," he said amiably, his smile calm and mockingly friendly, "Can I play too?" And with that he shot his hand out and felt something solid connect with his now metallic fist.

"Shit!" Peter heard the curse, which followed the thud of a body hitting the ground and smiled cheerfully down at the pale blonde boy now sprawled at his feet.

"Evening, Quicksilver," Peter greeted him brightly, before carefully stepping over the still swearing blonde and advancing toward Avalanche who was backing away slowly, holding Warren in front of himself like a human shield and staring dumbly at the older mutant.

"Two on one?" Peter observed conversationally, "Now that's hardly fair, is it?" Lets even the odds, shall we?"

Avalanche said nothing, still backing wordlessly away from Peter. Warren too was staring dumbly up at Peter, his face impossible to read in the gloom, though his crystal blue eyes shone with something Peter couldn't quite name. Perhaps it was fear, perhaps anger, or confusion, whatever it was, it only made Peter take several more long, menacing strides toward the captive's tormentor.

"How about one on one?" Peter suggested, still keeping his voice light and friendly, though his voice was harder than his armor and his laced every sound with threat as he struggled to control his temper. As long as Avalanche had Warren for a shield, Peter was hesitant to strike, as his fists were longing to do, "Let go of Warren and we'll fight this out like real men, the two of us."

At last Avalanche managed to find a voice somewhere, and, to Peter's surprise, some balls. "Ah," Avalanche leered, his own voice taking on a friendly, laughing air as he pulled Warren closer, grinning, "Bird-boy and I were just becoming great friends, weren't we buddy?"

Warren's only response was a soft hiss, but whether he was responding to Avalanche's mocking tone or the fact that the other mutant had just forcefully applied pressure directly over some of the nastier looking bruises marring his chest, Peter couldn't tell.

"Come on now," Peter cautioned, continuing to advance, "No need for anyone to get hurt really, so why don't you just leave him and get out of my sight, before I really loose my temper, since you're so obviously not interested in a fair fight." In truth, at the moment Peter wanted nothing better than a fight. His palms positively burned to punch the daylights out of Avalanche, but Warren was in the way, and he'd gotten into enough trouble for fighting at school in the past to make him cautious, even if in this case he felt he was perfectly justified.

Avalanche backed himself into a wall, and having no place else to retreat to, stood there blinking at Peter for a long minute, looking conflicted. But in the end he seemed to decide that he valued his face more than his pride, and roughly shoving Warren to the side, made a break for it.

Peter watched him go, considering giving chase and teaching the bully a lesson, but a soft curse from behind him made him decide to do it later.

"You alright?" he asked, turning and extending a hand down to help Warren up from where he had fallen in the damp grass, his armor receding.

Warren blinked at him, then pulled himself to his feet, pointedly ignoring Peter's hand as he muttered a short, "Fine."

"Whoa," Peter said, laughing slightly as Warren stumbled and he caught the winged mutant's arm, steadying him. But Warren shied away from the touch, absently wiping at the blood flowing openly from his nose.

"We should probably go get you cleaned up," Peter said. Warren showed no indication of moving, so Peter had no choice but to impatiently begin to steer him inside, "Come on, I know where Hank keeps the Band-Aids," he attempted to lighten the mood. Warren said nothing, but he didn't resist either.

Peter led him into the small school medical clinic and flipped on the light switch. Hank, who usually reigned in this room, had long since retired to bed, and Peter didn't think Warren was hurt enough to merit waking him up.

With a little prompting Warren settled on the edge of one of the clinic cots while Peter gathered the things he would need to clean the winged mutant up. Returning Peter pulled over a metal folding chair and settled into it as he began to gently wipe away the blood covering Warren's upper lip and jaw, thankful that the blood had at last stopped flowing.

Now that they were under the glaring light of the clinic Peter was able to see the full rainbow of bruises across Warren's chest, arms, and face. "Wow," he whistled softly in amazement, "What'd you do to piss them off this much?" he asked.

Warren snorted. "I am the son of the biggest public mutant hater in the world," he answered bitterly, "Do I really have to actually do anything to earn their hate?"

Peter was taken aback by the frank answer, and lower his eyes once more to his work, muttering, "Its still not right. It's not like you picked your parents."

"Do you really think they care?" It was a rhetorical question, and Peter didn't have an answer anyway, so once more they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

Peter did his best to be gentle as he washed away the blood, sweat, dirt, and bits of grass that clung to Warren's bare chest, but he could feel the winged mutant tense under his touch anyway. At some point Warren even began to tremble a little. Feeling this, Peter drew back quickly, apologizing.

"Its nothing," Warren told him briskly, though his jaw was carefully knotted.

"I'm almost done," Peter promised, trying to finish as quickly as possible.

"Thank you," Warren mutter, after several long minutes of tense silence. He tried to say the words calmly, to sound removed, a bit stiff even, anything but the meek, hurt whisper that came from between his lips anyway. "I did not expect any help."

"Anybody would have done it," Peter said, carefully keeping his eyes averted from Warren's face as a blush crept unbidden into his cheeks.

"Doubt it," Warren snorted, and despite himself his voice trembled a little.

Peter glanced up at the tone, and froze, astonished to find a single tear slowly working its way down Warren's cut cheek. Hastily Warren brushed it away, sniffing and staring determinedly at the opposite wall. That left Peter completely at a loss as to what to do or say. So, he hastily set about putting everything back where he'd found it, his mind frantically casting for a lighter subject.

Just as he'd finished and turned back to face the other mutant he found one, "It's not so bad," he commented lightly, "I doubt anyone will even notice at the dance tomorrow."

Yes, the dance. After many long months of pleading from the older students, Storm had at last relented and agreed to having a soft of spring fling dance.

"Of course no one will notice," Warren said calmly, though bitterness crept into his voice, "I won't be there."

"How can you not be going?" Peter demanded, surprised. The school had been a buzz with nothing else for a month.

"Well," Warren started, his voice falsely pensive, as though he was actually considering the question, "I don't know about you, but standing in some hot, sweaty, extremely crowded room with painfully loud music and drinking watery lemonade really just isn't my cup of tea. And its not like I have a date, or even some friends to share it with. I'd probably just end up trapped in some corner listening to Storm lecture all night."

"Well, when you put it that way…" Peter was forced to admit, "But I don't have a date and I'm still going. There's got to be someone else without a date who'll want to dance with me."

"You have fun with that," Warren told him coldly, standing and heading toward the door, moving carefully and hiding a wince, "If you need me I'll be several miles straight up from here." And with that he hurried out, leaving a troubled Peter to watch him go.

To Be Continued...