AN: I don't own these characters. They belong to Marvel. This is merely written for enjoyment by someone who is doing this as a hobby and is not getting paid for it.
A Visit from Grandaddy Magneto
"Now my daughter has vanished—my son wants to kill me—and I can't say that I blame either of them. I have behaved unconscionably toward my family, taking for granted the very relationships I should have prized above all. I promise not to make the same mistake with you. You are my last hope of bringing my family back together and healing the wounds that have caused so many mutants and humans so much pain."
-Erik Magnus Lehnsherr (Magneto) The Children's Crusade #2
Billy had just finished eating breakfast—a simple meal of cereal, since he seemed to be the only one awake and/or present at Avengers Mansion on that particular morning, and he was too lazy to cook something for himself—and put his dishes in the sink, when he heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and a rustling of fabric.
He turned his head, prepared to call out a morning greeting to the entering Avenger, only to stop and stare when he saw who was standing there.
"What the—?!" he exclaimed, seeing there a strangely muscular figure dressed in a crimson suit and a violet cape standing there in the doorway, silver-white hair peeking out from under his helmet. "Magneto?!"
"I aim to earn the honor of being called 'Grandfather,'" Erik said, stepping into the room. "If you'll give me that chance."
"What are you doing here?!" Billy demanded, waving an arm to encompass the fact that they were in the middle of Avengers Mansion. "How did you even get in here without all the alarms going off?!"
"Though the alarm system is admirably advanced, it still relies on elements which are made of metal," Erik said smoothly. "And as I can manipulate all metal, it was child's play for me to make certain the intruder detectors and defense mechanisms did not react to my presence."
Billy glanced around the room. "Alright," he said, turning his gaze back to the former terrorist and crossing his arms. "That answers my second question. How about my first?"
"I wish to—" Erik started.
"OhheyMagneto'shereinAvengersMansion! Whatdoyaknow?" Tommy said, talking at superspeed pace and whizzing into the room, opening a cabinet, grabbing a bowl, opening another cabinet and taking out a box of cereal, pouring cereal into the bowl, putting the cereal away, opening the fridge and grabbing a jug of milk, pouring milk into the bowl with the cereal, then sticking the milk back in the fridge and opening a drawer to grab a spoon, closing the drawer and picking up the bowl of cereal, poising the spoon above it, all in less than a second.
"—reconcile—" Magneto continued.
"Somesuperheroesaregonnabepissed! Twowords:adamantiumclaws." Tommy stuck his spoon into his cereal and shoveled several spoonfuls into his mouth, chewing with lightning swiftness and swallowing with equally imperceptible speed, before adding: "ThoughIsupposesomeonewithametalskeletonwon'tposemuchofathreattoMister-I-Have-Magnetic-Powers-And-I-Wear-Purple-Underpants-On-The-Outside-Of-My-Red-Suit-And-I-Also-Wear-A-Bucket-On-My-Head."
"—with you—" Magneto said.
"Letmeguess," Tommy finished spooning the cereal into his mouth, then tipped the bowl up, draining the milk, before looking at Magneto and waving his metal spoon at the Master of Magnetism. "Youarestilltryingtoredeemyourselfandfixyourfucked-upfamily, soyou'restartingwithyourgrandsonsbecauseyou'vefuckedupourlivestheleast, amIrightoramIright?"
"—my grandsons—" Magneto went on.
"Blahblahblahyou'retryingtochangeandnotmakethesamemistakeswithusasyoudidwiththerestofyourfamily," Tommy spun the spoon between his fingers, rolling his green eyes.
"—in an effort—"
"LalayouwanttotakeaholidaytoEurope, maybethesouthofFrance, andtalkaboutit, dosomefamilybonding, yadayada.." Tommy dashed over to the sink, washing the bowl and the spoon, then running circles around the kitchen until they were dry, then sticking the bowl in the cabinet, but keeping the spoon. "Ormaybeyouactuallywantustouseourpowerstohelpyouachieveyourmonomaniacalgoalofmutantdominationoftheplanet, whatever, Idon'tcare, I'masociopathorsomethingapparently. ButIhaveabetteridea."
"—to heal our—" Magneto persevered on.
"Let'splayagame! Whatdoyasay?" Tommy dashed over to the utensil drawer and grabbed a couple more metal spoons, proceeding to juggle them while also skipping backwards in a circle around the table. "Agame? Familiesdothatsortofthingright? HonestlyIwouldn'treallyknow, butIsupposeneitherwouldyousowe'reallinthistogether."
"—familial relationships." Magneto finished. He stared at Tommy, the teenage kid who shared his and his son's silver-white hair, his son's superspeed, his mother's green eyes, and was right now a complete blur who was talking at such an incredible speed as to be absolutely and completely unintelligible. "I'm sorry, Thomas, were you saying something? I could not discern a word you were saying at that speed."
"Waitwereyousayingsomething? You'retalkingsoslowI'mhavingtroublefocusingmyearsfortheeternityittakesyoutofinishaword, muchlessasentence," Tommy said, shrugging, rolling his eyes, and giving an exasperated sigh in the timespan it would take anybody else to blink.
Erik blinked.
Then he turned his gaze to his much more comprehensible grandson, raising an eyebrow.
"I think he drank too much coffee again," Billy said, by way of explanation, shrugging. "Giving him a Starbucks gift card may not have been a particularly wise idea, but it sure has been amusing."
"Ididn'theara'No.' Youcoolwithagamethen? Awesome!Catch!" Tommy started throwing the metal spoons at Magneto.
"You should have seen Spiderman's face when he found his room completely covered in Deadpool stuff!" Billy continued, grinning in mischievous delight at the memory. "Actually, I think Tommy caught it on video, so we can probably show you."
The master of Magnetism absentmindedly put up a hand, stopping the spoons in the air a good foot away from him. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Speedster plus coffee and a video camera equals: extremely annoyed Avengers," Billy nodded.
Tommy had the utensil drawer open, and was throwing every single metal spoon at Magneto. Then, when he ran out of spoons, he threw the forks. Then he threw the butter knives. Then, leaving the empty drawer open, he dashed over to the knife holder where the large and extremely sharp kitchen knives were kept, throwing those at his grandfather, too.
Magneto, of course, was completely untroubled by this. He seemed to hardly even be paying attention, all the metal objects simply pausing in the air before they hit him.
"I can imagine," Erik said dryly.
"In fact," Billy continued, smirking slightly as he regarded his grandfather, "the last time the Avengers were making bets about what would be the next menace to nearly destroy the world, more money was placed on a caffeinated Tommy than on you, Ultron, and Dr. Doom combined."
"He's that bad?" Magneto raised an unbelieving eyebrow.
"You have no idea," Billy smirked, brown eyes watching the magnetic wall of metal utensils that was forming around Magneto. "Although, you soon might get one."
"Howaboutthis?" Tommy said, appearing with Captain America's shield and throwing that as well, the vibranium disc flinging with lightning speed before being caught in the same magnetic field as all the other metal objects.
Magneto turned his gaze to the speedster, only then seeming to notice the large amount of metal that Tommy had thrown at him, and that he had been absentmindedly repelling. Along with all the kitchen utensils and Captain America's shield, there were a few chairs with metal legs, some of Clint's trick arrows (one of which had a green foam Hulk Fist on the end), a couple katanas that had probably been taken from Wolverine's room, and an Iron Man glove.
"Thomas," Magneto said, a silver-white eyebrow making a break for his hairline, "what, pray tell, are you attempting to accomplish?"
Instead or answering—or then again, maybe he did answer, but if he did he spoke too fast to be understood—Tommy disappeared from the room.
Good thing he had Billy to answer for him. "He's just pushing your buttons, seeing how easily you'll break under the pressure of being annoyed," the mage explained, having picked up this tidbit of wisdom from his ever-ridiculously-patient and ever-incredibly-understanding boyfriend, who, frankly, had to keep him from hexing his twin half the time.
Ping! Something hit Magneto's helmet.
"What—?" Magneto said, starting at the impact, however soft it was.
Billy tried to smother his grin, but it quickly ruptured into guffawing laughter.
Tommy was already rolling on the floor in a fit of giggles.
Because there stood Magneto, Master of Magnetism, former terrorist and supervillian, with a wall of metal objects held magnetically in the air next to him, and a plastic, suction-cup arrow sticking to the side of his helmet.
There was a moment where Erik just stood there, staring blankly at his grandsons, before he pulled off his helmet, staring at the plastic arrow sticking there. He glanced at the teens again. "I do not see what is so humorous," he admitted after a pause, narrowing gray eyes at them. "But if you were not my grandsons, I would make you pay for such blatant insolence."
"Oh yeah?" Tommy asked, forcibly slowing his speech from a caffeinated level of warp speed to one understandable by other humans (or mutants, as was the present case) and pushing himself up on his elbows to give his grandfather an arrogant, defiant look. "Give it your best shot, ya washed-out has-been!"
"Tommy!" Billy protested, laughter coming to an abrupt halt as he regarded his twin with wide brown eyes. "Are you trying to make him angry?!"
"What kind of a question is that, little bro? I thought you knew me better than that," Tommy smirked at his brother, from where he now stood leaning casually against the side of the doorframe, arms crossed, one knee bent up so that his foot rested flat against the wall. He gave Magneto his best, most derisive and infuriating smirk, the corner of his lips tilting up wryly and green eyes glittering. "So, what do ya say, Mags? You wanna show me what ya got?"
"If you insist," Magneto said graciously. He was still levitating the various metal utensils and weapons that Tommy had thrown at him, and now, with a simple gesture of his hand, sent all the metal flying back at the speedster.
Billy groaned, covering his face with his hands. "I can't watch," he muttered, even as he cracked his fingers apart and peeked through them.
Metallic objects were flying every which way throughout the room. Magneto was gesturing, Tommy was smoothly and easily dodging, and for some strange reason that Billy didn't comprehend, both of them were smiling slightly.
"Don't destroy the room!" Billy begged. "I only just fixed it after Tommy blew it up a week or so ago!"
However, the speed-demon and the Master of Magnetism didn't appear to hear him.
"Is that really all you've got, geriatric?" Tommy smirked, body twisting through the air as he avoided the metal projectiles, every movement graceful and precise. "I'm not impressed."
Magneto waved his arm, and as several large kitchen knives flew at Tommy, the speedster backflipped out of the way, proceeding to land with catlike agility—
Right onto the center of the underside of Captain America's shield, which had whizzed under his feet.
"That's more like it!" Tommy whooped, crouched down on the vibranium shield as it whirled around the room. "But can't this thing go any faster?! It's so slow I think I'm gonna be sick!"
Sighing in exasperation, Magneto turned to look at Billy, who had pressed himself up against the wall to avoid all the metal flying around.
"You're making me sick just watching you!" Billy grumbled, eyes trying to follow the shield-surfing speedster flying around and around the kitchen. He teased the idea through his mind of putting a stop to the chaos with a spell, but then decided he'd better let them hash things out. Best not to involve himself.
"Does he ever get tired—?" Erik asked, turning to raise an inquisitive eyebrow at his other grandson.
"Nope," Billy shooks his head. "He'll wear you out long before he gets so much as out of breath. You'd better just give up and humor him this victory."
"I heard that!" Tommy protested, only to be dumped unceremoniously to the floor as the vibranium shield unexpectedly flipped over. "Oy!"
Meanwhile the utensils whipped once more around the room before settling themselves back in their kitchen drawers, while the shield, katanas, and Iron Man glove landed gently upon the center of the dining table.
"Hey, Mags!" Tommy said, having dashed over to the utensil drawer, pulling it open and gesturing at the contents. "You got the spoon and knife sections mixed up! And you put them in backwards!"
"I was not aware that it mattered," Erik said dryly, even as Tommy quickly busied himself fixing the mistake, which took him less than a second. "There! That's better!" he declared, brushing his hands together and grinning at them both.
"Tommy has a very specific way of putting the dishes away," Billy explained, to Magneto's questioning look. "For example, he and I are always bickering over how to stack the different bowls."
"I see," Erik said.
"So, what's the plan, Mags?" Tommy asked, as he stood there by the door suddenly fiddling with a video camera. "When you came here with the intention of hanging out with your grandsons and being a good, benevolent grandfather, what was your conniving plot to pull that off?"
"I was hoping you two would have ideas," Erik said calmly, ignoring the verbal jabs.
"Oh, okay then." Tommy suddenly lifted the camera before him, pointing it at Magneto. "Saycheese!Orgiveusanevilgrin, whicheveryouprefer!"
"What—?" Magneto started, only to be cut off by a brilliant white light flashing in his face as the camera took his picture.
"Perfect!" Tommy said, examining the picture. "Anybodyevertellyouyou'rereallyphotogenic? YoulookwaybetterinphotosthanWolverinedoes. ForsomereasonWolverine'sfaceisalwaystwistedinthemostgrislysnarlinphotographs."
Erik blinked at him, not comprehending. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Ignore him," Billy said pointedly. "He's an indisputably insane. And also, I have an idea for what we can do."
"I'm listening," Erik said expectantly, turning away from the speedster to regard the brunette.
Billy grinned. "Let's go shopping at the mall!" he declared, turning to stare at his brother and cross his arms, just daring the speedster to argue. (Tommy loathed shopping—not the new clothes, but the long process of finding clothes and trying them on and modeling for people, and especially how torturously long Billy spent putting outfits together.)
"Only if we can get ice cream afterwards," Tommy said immediately.
Billy glared at him, eyebrows lowering. "You know—" he started, the rest of his sentence: 'that you're not allowed to have sugar, especially not after you drank coffee,' getting cut off by the speedster's interruption.
"Ah-ah! No ice cream, no shopping!" Tommy wagged his finger at his twin, smirking. He now had a camera bag tossed over his shoulder and was wearing a baseball cap pulled low over his white hair.
A moment's pause of consideration, before Billy huffed out: "Fine."
He and his twin were already wearing civilian clothes, but Erik was dressed in his purple and red Magneto get-up. Billy gave the former terrorist a Look.
"If we're going to the mall, you can't go out wearing something that conspicuously 'evil mutant,'" he said pointedly, waving a hand a magicking the Master of Magnetism into black collared t-shirt and khaki pants with a leather belt. "Don't worry, your Magneto suit and helmet are back in your quarters, wherever you're staying."
"Very well," Erik said, glancing at his new attire and giving it his approval with a nod, before turning to look seriously at the mage, insisting, "but I assure you that I am not 'evil.' I have only ever wanted what is best for mutantkind."
"You just went about it the wrong way," Billy pointed out.
"I am trying to redeem myself," Erik replied somewhat stiffly.
"Yeah? How's that working out for you?" Tommy inquired, a white eyebrow raising almost imperceptibly as he fiddled with a four-by-four rubik's cube he'd just snatched from one of Tony Stark's desks in the genius's workshop.
Magneto gave Tommy a glare, but the speedster just smirked back.
"I am trying," Erik said.
"Pshh," Tommy rolled his eyes, the colored squares on the cube blurring beneath his fingers, "you know what they say. Leopards can't change their spots or file down their fangs. Or whatever. Did you know that canines are omnivores, but felines are carnivores? At least, I think that's what I heard somewhere, or maybe I read that somewhere, I don't know. But I mean," he tossed the rubik's cube up in the air, catching it, tossing it again, catching it, rolling it across the table, "some things you can change, like hairstyles, but some things you can't change, like your bloodtype, and then there's always that 'blood is thicker than water' thing, so I guess—aha!" Tommy's eyes lit up as he spotted something, promptly dropping the cube and dashing into the other room, sliding underneath the coffee table.
Billy crinkled a brow as he tried to parse through that. "I think he might have just talked himself in a circle."
"Eureka!" Tommy cried, head poking out from beneath the coffee table, a can held in his raised hand. "I found the pepper spray! It was duct taped to the bottom of this table! I had wondered where Wolverine had hidden it... turns out that he really does not like this stuff." Tommy wriggled out from under the table, before dashing away with a grin on his face that was practically evil supervillain material. "I think Wolverine's room needs some air freshener!"
"Is he always like this?" Erik asked, appearing somewhat close to being alarmed.
"Always," Billy nodded. "Well..." he considered for a moment, "almost always, anyway. The only person he doesn't drive absolutely insane is Deadpool, and that's no doubt because Deadpool is already insane."
"Alright!" Tommy zipped back into the room, tugging on their sleeves like an cheeky child as he whined, "Are we going? Come on! Let's go! Are we going yet! Let's get this shopping over and done with so we can get ice cream! Isn't it so annoying how 'ice cream' is two words? You'd think it would be one word by now, but nooooo, it doesn't even have a hyphen! Hey, can we go now? Can we?"
Billy closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose, letting it out slowly.
"Yes, we're going," Erik told the impatient speedster.
"Awesome! Meet you at the mall!" Tommy grinned. "Try not to dawdle!"
And with that he was gone.
"We'd better not keep him waiting," Billy grumbled, rubbing his face with his hands. "Don't want him to get too bored and impatient and blow up the entire shopping plaza."
"Is the threat of him blowing up the mall a legit concern?" Erik inquired warily.
"You mean, am I being serious?" Billy asked as he let his hands fall from his face and looked at his grandfather. "I might be exaggerating slightly. He won't blow up the entire place. Just one or two of the stores—probably some of the fast food places; ironically enough, he hates fast food."
"Then by all means, let's not keep him waiting."
"Yeah yeah, I got it," Billy mumbled, before casting a spell to transport Magneto and himself to the nearest mall."
"There you are!" Tommy said as soon as they arrived, appearing in front of them. "I came here first, but when you weren't here, I checked the rest of the shopping complexes in New York, but when you guys weren't at any of those places either I came back here, and I was just about to leave and check the malls in Pennsylvania—"
"Okay, we got it," Billy interrupted, eyes rolling to give the ceiling an exasperated look. "But now we're here, and—"
"'Gullible' is written on the ceiling," Tommy told his twin sincerely.
"What?" Billy asked, brow crinkling, before he glanced up again, because Tommy had spoken quickly and all Billy had really been able to catch was that the speedster had said something about the ceiling.
"Got you!" Tommy crowed, dancing around and jabbing his brother in the ribs while he was at it. "Anyways, I'm going to go shoes shopping," he lifted a foot to show them the worn-out soles of his running shoes, the rubber of which was quite nearly gone, "but I'll catch up with you!"
Tommy walked away at a pace that would be considered speed-walking for a normal person, waving his fingers over his shoulder as he called, "Toodle-oo!"
Glancing around at the crowd of people thronging inside the building, Magneto seemed almost uncomfortable and unsure, despite the fact that his ramrod-straight posture, confident air, and gravitas never slackened or wavered. It was pretty obvious he didn't have much experience with the whole go-out-and-shop-and-hang-out thing.
Luckily for him, his grandson did have experience.
"Come on," Billy said, gesturing for Erik to follow him as he turned and started walking towards a clothing store. "Let's try some stuff on!"
"Joy," Erik said dryly as they entered the store. He was starting to think that maybe he was going to regret spending a day with his grandsons. One of them was crazier than he'd given the boy credit for, and the other was dragging him towards the men's section of a clothing store and scrutinizing him with a look that suggested he was going to make Erik try on a great number of outfits, and he knew he had the power to make Erik comply. How in the world was this going to end well?
Tommy didn't return until Billy had already picked out several outfits for Magneto, and now had the Master of Magnetism waiting outside the dressing rooms to give his opinion on the outfits Billy was modeling.
"That took a while," Erik remarked, as the white-haired boy leaned against the wall next to him.
"Yeah," Tommy shrugged, arms and ankles crossed, face tilted down to regard his new silver and green running shoes. "But I couldn't find any in this store that were the right color, so I ended up running to Oregon and buying a pair of shoes from a store over there."
Erik glanced down at his grandson's new shoes, noting that they matched the boy's superhero outfit. "Why Oregon?" he asked.
"Because it's on the other side of the country, so it would take longer and I wouldn't have to be tortured as long by Billy's shopaholicness," the speedster answered promptly. "Also," he grinned, lifting a foot to show his grandfather the sole of one of his shoes, which were already rather worn, "the run was a good way to break in my new pair of shoes."
Erik blinked. "Shopaholicness?" he inquired, brow furrowing slightly at the unfamiliar word.
"The quality of being a shopaholic," Tommy explained.
"Shopaholic?"
"One who is extremely or excessively fond of shopping."
"Ah. I see."
"Yeah."
They waited.
"That all the outfits Billy picked out for you?" Tommy asked, nodding at the clothes that were slung over one of Erik's arms.
"Indeed," Erik said, tone wry.
"So, now he's gotten to the part where he makes you judge the outfits he tries on, huh? How many has he gone through so far?"
"I thought keeping track would make the ordeal more frustrating, so I didn't."
"Smart. One would almost think you'd done this before, except it's obvious you haven't. Still, I'm surprised you haven't killed anyone yet," Tommy said, lips quirking as he pushed himself off the wall and started shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Well! I'm off to find a new ice cream shop that we haven't been to yet!" he declared. "Caaall me up when the shoppiiing ends," he sang to the tune of 'Wake Me Up When September Ends' by Green Day, before sticking his hands in his pockets and casually walking out of the store, humming to himself.
With impeccable timing Billy walked out of the dressing rooms at the exact moment his twin disappeared out the shop's door.
"Well?" he asked, spinning in a circle, showing off the black slacks, white collared shirt, and dark blue tie. He was looking for a new formal outfit to go on dates to nice restaurants with his boyfriend. "How does it look?"
Erik considered him thoughtfully. "I think the black collared shirt with the maroon tie suited you better."
"With black slacks?" Billy said skeptically, wrinkling his nose. "It was a little too dark, if you ask me."
"Try it with maroon slacks to match the tie," Erik suggested.
"Should I find some purple underwear to go over that?" Billy asked jokingly, a dark eyebrow raised as he loosened the blue tie, slipping it over his head.
Erik narrowed his eyes at the boy, before a smirk tugged at a corner of his lips. "I see what you did there," he remarked dryly.
"Man, neither Tommy, The Most Annoying Person in the World, nor I have managed to get you angry yet!" Billy said thoughtfully as he regarded his grandfather. "Who are you and what have you done with Magneto?"
"I have killed for less," Erik agreed, holding mage's gaze unwaveringly. "But I am not so hotheaded as to be incensed by petty insults from the mouths of petulant teens. I am also a calmer and saner man than I once was."
"Hm." Billy regarded him for a moment. "The black shirt with maroon slacks, you say?"
Billy scrutinized his reflection in the mirror of the dressing room, brushing a hand back through his dark, unruly hair, before walking out to show Magneto, who nodded approvingly at the outfit.
"I think your boyfriend will find that quite fetching," he said. "If you straighten your tie, that is. Won't do to go around with it crooked like that."
"You actually have quite the fashion sense," Billy admitted, glancing down to straighten the maroon tie. "You know, for a supervillain, who wears maroon tights and a purple cape." He glanced up at Erik sharply, accusing, "Hey, that's why you said you liked the maroon tie and slacks, isn't it? 'Cause it matches your outfit!"
"It does not match my outfit," Erik said as he raised his chin, tone somewhat haughty. "Your shirt is black, not purple. Also, I prefer the term 'violet,' to 'purple.' It is a much more dignified name for a color, don't you think?"
Billy rolled his brown eyes. "'Maroon and violet.' Whatever. Still, I think you should ditch the garish color scheme. Go with black and/or white. Gives a much more distinguished look. There's a reason that 'black tie' outfits are for semi-formal events, and 'white tie' outfits are for the most formal occasions." He looked at his grandfather seriously, crossing his arms. "No offense, but the bright red and purple outfit makes you look kind of ridiculous. Not that you don't pull off the colors, but it makes you seem less threatening, and more like a second-rate, wannabe villain."
"I will take that into consideration," Erik said.
"Also," Billy added, tone still completely sincere, "you should tell your son that blue is a much better color on him than green is."
"Perhaps you should tell him," Eriks suggested wryly. "I have a feeling he would not appreciate such a comment coming from me. And he seems to like you."
Before Billy could answer, a shout came from across the store.
"Heeeey!" Tommy called, waving at them exuberantly as he crossed the floor at a brisk but human pace, coming up to them. "Are you two done yet?" He glanced at his twin, who was still wearing the slacks, collared shirt and tie. "Looks good. You should buy it. Then we should get out of here. I found a great ice cream place. All organic, and it uses like real fruit and chocolate and stuff, and it's got cool flavors, like vanilla honey lavender. Also, it's not the super sugary stuff, so I shouldn't go insane or anything! Of course, it's in another state, but that shouldn't pose a problem, with our particular talents."
"Right," Billy said, already turning to head back to the changing rooms and get dressed back into his own clothes.
"Hey, Mags!" Tommy said brightly, turning to his grandfather.
"Please don't call me that."
"So, Mags," Tommy said, completely ignoring what Erik had said, "can you give us a ride sometime? You know, with that floating thing you do with your magnetic powers?" The speedster grinned and bounced on the balls of his feet. "Also, could you steal a baseball stadium?"
Gray eyes blinked. "What?" Erik asked, brow furrowing.
"You know, a baseball stadium? Could you steal one and float it through the air stick it in the backyard of Avengers Mansion? That would be awesome! You could do that, right? Don't baseball stadiums have metal in them?"
"Why would you want to a baseball stadium?" Erik asked, deflecting the boy's questions with one of his own.
"Why wouldn't I?" Tommy said, making a 'come on' gesture as if everybody wanted their own baseball stadiums in their backyards and Erik should know that. "Ooh, could I hang out in the seating area while you float it over the city? It would be like flying in a boat, except better, 'cause it would be a stadium! How strong are your powers? Could you carry multiple baseball stadiums at once? Hey, does that person have car keys in their purse?" Tommy suddenly pointed to another guy shopping in the store.
"Yes," Erik answered, blinking.
"Can you tell if they go to a nice car?" Tommy inquired curiously.
Erik narrowed his eyes at his grandson.
"What?" Tommy asked indignantly, raising his palms. "I'm not gonna steal it or anything! Like I would steal a car." He rolled his green eyes, exclaiming, "They're so unbearable slow! Besides, I don't even know how to drive! Billy does, but I don't, and Billy would never steal a car. Unless he had a really good reason, like, to run over a bunch of zombies with, or something. He's too much of a good guy, y'know?"
"You don't know how to drive?"
"Of course not!" Tommy scoffed. "Why would I need to know how to drive a car when I can run infinitely faster? Billy made me ride a bus with him once. It was awful. The things don't even move, practically! Speaking of moving," he added, as Billy came out of the dressing rooms holding the outfit he was going to buy, "let's pay for this stuff and get a move on! Or don't pay for it, I don't really care, I just want ice cream! Which still should totally be one word."
"Patience," Erik chided as the headed over to the cash register to stand in line.
"Patience?!" Tommy exclaimed, gesturing extravagantly and indignantly, eyes wide. "Patience?! Who the hell do you think you're talking to?!"
"He's worse at patience than Wolverine is," Billy supplied, even as he gave an exasperated sigh and glared at his antsy twin.
"Of course I'm worse!" Tommy declared. "Wolverine is the best he is at what he does, right? But!" He left, grabbing a scarf from the other side of the store, before returning wearing it, the whole thing done so quickly that it appeared as if the scarf had suddenly materialized around his neck. "I'm faster!"
Billy slapped his own face with his hand. "Tommy, what did you hear me say?"
"I dunno," Tommy shrugged, batting at the ends of the scarf that hung from around his neck. "Something about 'worse' and 'Wolverine' and 'he,' which I'm assuming was referring to me." One of his feet was tapping at superspeed. "I hate lines," he complained. "They're so straight and slow and boring. Hey, grandpa, can you buy me this scarf?" He held up one side of it. "I've grown somewhat attached in the last hour we've been standing here in this ridiculous line."
Erik raised a white eybrow at the orange and pink striped scarf Tommy was wearing. "Are you sure?" he inquired skeptically. "Those don't appear to be your colors."
Glancing back down at the scarf, Tommy said, "Oh, you're right." The next moment the scarf was gone. "It's not cold enough for scarves, anyway." He tapped his foot some more, crossing his arms, before throwing them up in exasperation. "Ugh! People! Some of us are actually trying to live, and not turn into fucking zombies!" Before either his twin or his grandfather could say anything, he quickly amended, "Sorry—futzing zombies—but seriously! It's going to be like Warm Bodies! Which is a well-written book, by the way, Billy I think you should read it, it's kind of a romance novel, you'll like it."
"What?" Billy said halfheartedly, having hardly been able to catch any of that.
"Will this line futzing move already?!" Tommy whined.
"What's the camera for?" Billy inquired, nodding at the camera back that was still tossed over Tommy's chest, hoping to distract the speedster from his whining.
"In case something interesting happens," Tommy said, smiling and patting the camera bag. "Like, you know, Mags here goes on a killing spree. Or you go all Wanda and change reality. If the world is usually people's oysters, it's your ball of clay, right? Can you make it possible for me to run up a rainbow?"
Billy raised his dark eyebrows in disbelief. "A rainbow?"
"Why not?" Tommy asked him, spotting a quarter on the ground and snatching it up, weaving it between his fingers. "Rainbows are totally manly now, right? Doesn't Thor use a rainbow bridge to get to Asgard? And Thor's like the epitome of manliness, isn't he? I mean, have you seen the size of his arms! They're thicker around than my thighs!"
His twin just stared at him. "I think you've been spending too much time hanging out with Deadpool," Billy monotoned.
"Wade's a great conversationalist," Tommy commented, placing the quarter on his bent elbow then flipping his arm down to catch the quarter in the air. This movement repeated as he continued, "But no, I haven't been talking to him recently. He's been busy. Something about vampires, I think?" Tommy shrugged, before widening his eyes as the quarter zipped away from him, hovering over Erik's open palm.
"Oy! Mags! I was entertaining myself with that!" Tommy complained, crossing his arms and glaring.
Holding up a bag full of the clothes with his other hand, Erik said, "While you were talking, I purchased these garments. We may go get ice cream now."
"Alright! Let's get out of here!" Tommy declared, hitching up a leg as he prepared to take off.
"Not so fast!" Billy placed a hand on his soldier. "No using our powers blatantly in public, remember?"
"Powers? What powers? It's not my fault the rest of the world—except for Uncle Pete, of course—is so slow!" Tommy huffed.
Then something abruptly blew up in a loud, fiery, searing explosion.
"It wasn't me!" Tommy cried, from where he was standing obscured by all the dust and smoke that now permeated the air. He coughed violently. "I swear it! Not my fault!"
"Everybody put your hands up or we'll shoot!" called a voice as a swarm of armed and masked agents in green suits with yellow gloves and straps stormed into the store through the gaping hole that had been blown in the outside wall, raising their guns.
"Those are HYDRA agents," Billy said as the smoke cleared, having pressed up next to his twin.
"The hell?! This is a clothing store!" Tommy exclaimed. "What does HYDRA want with a clothing store?"
"Uh, boss?" one of the HYDRA agents whispered to the guy in front. "Why are we invading a clothing store?"
"Um," the 'boss' said, pulling a slip of paper from one of his pouches and reading it. "I wrote down the address of the place we were supposed to storm." He pointed his gun at one of the terrified shoppers who was cowering behind a rack of sports coats. "You! What's the address of this place?"
"I d-don't know!" the terrified man stammered. "I-I honestly don't know!"
"Ah well," the HYDRA agent said, waving his gun indifferently, "we've already broken in, so we might as well just rob this place."
There was a powerful breeze, and suddenly all the agents' guns were gone from their hands.
"Sorry, but we can't allow you to do that!" Speed declared, now standing in front of them the green-clad agents, his arms full of their weapons. "It's kind of against the Avengers Code of Conduct."
"HYDRA Escape Code 139282!" an agent cried. "TACTICAL RETREAT!"
But as the agents turned, the guns rose out of Speed's arms, circling the agents, and causing them to gulp, backing into a huddle like a colony of penguins.
The guns cocked audibly.
"If we're gonna kill them, you should let me vaporize them with my hyperkinetic vibrations," Speed offered the tall, muscular, white-haired man that walked up next to him. "It's less bloody and messy than shooting them."
"What? Tommy no!" Wiccan said, grabbing the speedster's arm. "We're not killing anybody!"
"I could just say that Magneto here coerced me into doing it," Speed pointed out as he gestured at Erik.
"That's Magneto?" one of the agents gasped.
"We're doomed!" another sobbed.
"Please don't kill me!" an agent begged, dropping to his knees. "I have children and a wife at home! Of course, HYDRA doesn't give me much time to see them, but the money I earn still goes to support them!"
"You can't kill me!" another agent said, even as he quaked in fear. "My pal Deadpool will avenge me! (At least, I think...) Also, I'm not evil! I only joined HYDRA for the dental plan!" He sniffed and rubbed at his nose. "Turns out the dental plan actually sucks..."
"Bob?!" Speed asked, eyebrows raised as he looked at the nondescript HYDRA agent. "What the hell are you doing here?!"
"Um, my job?" Bob answered.
"You know this man?" Erik asked his grandson, turning his head to look at his grandson disbelievingly. When he turned his head, a couple of the agents moved to make a break for it, but the floating guns swerved to point directly at them, and they immediately froze.
"He's Deadpool's friend," Tommy shrugged. "I met him once."
"We are not killing these men," Billy said severely, eyes glowing bright blue as glared at the former terrorist after he'd seen the triggers of the guns twitch slightly.
"Oh thank you!" Bob exclaimed happily.
"We are, however, going to restrain them and turn them over to the police," Billy continued.
"Aww," an agent sighed, somewhat sarcastically. "And here I thought you'd actually let us go scot-free."
This agent was promptly jabbed in the ribs by another man. "Shut up! You're just going to make it worse!"
"At least in prison there's free food," Bob pointed out, adding optimistically, "maybe they have better donuts than HYDRA provides."
"HYDRA doesn't provide donuts," someone else said.
"Exactly," Bob replied.
Ignoring this inane conversation, Erik turned to his dark-haired grandson, saying, "And how, do you propose, we restrain these men?"
"Like this," Wiccan said, raising his hands, which were now glowing blue with his mutant hex power, and reciting a spell under his breath.
Ropes appeared out of thin air and tied themselves around the HYDRA agents.
"Now somebody just needs to call the cops," Billy said, the glow in his eyes fading till they were once more his usual warm brown.
"I don't have a phone," Tommy said immediately.
"You," Erik said, turning to the woman behind the cash register, who flinched back beneath the counter. "Do you have a phone?"
The woman nodded.
"The pull it out and call 911," Erik ordered, his voice offering no option for refusal, and she immediately did so. "And for God's sake, woman, get out from under that desk. You are no longer in any danger."
"I don't think that's helping," Tommy offered.
"I don't think that is, either," Billy said.
None of the civilians came out of their hiding places.
"Maybe if you got rid of the guns?" Tommy suggested to the Master of Magnetism.
Erik waved a hand, and the guns began dismantling themselves, falling to the ground in scattered piles of useless pieces of metal.
Some of the shoppers just stayed in their hiding spots, but some got up and hurriedly left the ruined store.
As soon as the sound of sirens was audible in the distance, Tommy turned to his family, saying, "Can we go get ice cream now?"
A few hours later...
"Hey! Spiderman the Man!"
Peter Parker glanced down at the floor from where he was crawling along the ceiling of Avengers Mansion, to see the upside-down face of none other than a grinning Tommy Sheperd—or rather, Tommy Maximoff, as he now insisted on being called. Apparently he'd completely embraced his spiritual family as his own.
"Hi Speed," Peter said, biting back a groan. This kid was unbearable. "What's up?"
"You are," Tommy said immediately. "But enough with idle small talk. I know how you used to be a photographer for The Daily Bugle, and I was wondering if you'd take a look at some photos I've taken and give me some constructive criticisms."
"Sure thing, kid," Peter said, dropping down and twisting in the air to land lithely on the floor in a spiderlike crouch, before standing. He was going to cross over to Speed, but found that the speedster had already sped over to him and handed him the camera.
Peter clicked through the photos, eyes widening behind his spider-mask.
Photo #1: Wolverine snarling.
Photo #2: Wolverine snarling and lunging towards the camera.
Photo #3: A close-up of Wolverine's teeth, the incisors of which were especially sharp and pointed.
Photo #4: The back of Wolverine's head as he slashed at the wall that had probably been behind the photographer.
Photo #5: Magneto looking incredibly confused.
Photo #6: Crater Lake, in Crater Lake National Park, Oregon.
Photos #7-10: A bunch of HYDRA agents in a partially demolished clothing store, at first looking confident, then confused, then nervous, then terrified as floating guns surrounded them.
Photo #11: Wiccan with his eyes and hands glowing blue.
Photos #12-15: Magneto and Wiccan wearing civilian clothes and sitting in an ice cream shop, Wiccan with scoops of chocolate and strawberry, Magneto with a large scoop of what looked like vanilla with pieces of lavender in it, one picture of them glaring at the camera, one with them licking their ice cream cones, one with them with ice cream mustaches, and another with Magneto looking down at the ice cream that had dripped from the bottom of the cone onto his pants while Wiccan snickered.
Photo #16: A selfie of Speed, who had squeezed himself between Magneto and Wiccan in the ice cream shop.
Photo #17: Magneto floating in the air, though still wearing civilian clothes.
Photos #18-20: Wild, blurry photos of Magneto, sky, and the tops of skyscrapers.
"What's with these?" Peter asked, gesturing to indicate the last three photos.
"Oh," Speed waved a hand, "Magneto was floating away with his magnetic powers, so I jumped up and grabbed his foot, while still holding the camera, and accidentally pressed the snap-a-photo button a few times."
"Why would you want to hang on to Magneto's foot while he was flying?" Peter said, part question and part exclamation, looking at the teen as if he was crazy or suicidal, or possibly both.
Tommy gave an insouciant shrug. "He'd stolen my quarter, and he wasn't giving it back."
"Right," Peter muttered, shaking his head and deciding to let it go, clicking to the next photo.
Photo #21: Magneto wearing his suit and helmet, only instead of maroon and violet, it was mostly white, with black lines reaching from the shoulders to the inner thighs, and around the top of the boots, with an X-Men belt, and the torso piece a vest rather than long-sleeved. And he of course had a cape, which was all white.
"When Billy magicked Erik his Magneto outfit back, he thought it fit to fix the color scheme," Tommy explained, before Peter could even ask. "Erik wanted him to switch the black and the white, but Billy said that that would be too dark, especially since Erik's trying to play the hero now. Then I told Erik that he could wear the mostly black with a little bit of white version when he went back to playing supervillain again, and that he could go back to the red and purple one when he decided to become a circus performer. Billy said that white was Erik's color, and that it went with his hair. Then I offered to shave Erik's hair off for him, if he wanted the white to not look as good on him. He denied my gracious offer."
"What a surprise," Peter said sarcastically.
"I know right!" Tommy said, gesturing with a hand. "I told him I'd make it nice and quick and clean, and I wouldn't cut him, and I'd had practice, but he still said no!"
"You've had practice shaving people's hair off?" Peter asked as he looked at the teen, voice filled with a mixture of dubiousness and a slight trace of dread.
"Yeah, on Wolverine," Tommy shrugged. Then he grinned and nudged Spiderman in the shoulder eagerly, nodding at the camera, saying, "Come on, next picture!"
Peter sighed and clicked the Next button.
Photo #22: A family portrait of Magneto, Wiccan, Speed, the Scarlet Witch, and Quicksilver, looking solemn, happy, mischievously gleeful, content, and peeved, respectively.
"How'd you get Pietro and Wanda into this?" Peter asked.
"Wanda was easy, we just told her we wanted to take a family portrait," Tommy grinned. "And then, once you have Wanda on your side, you just need her to talk to her brother. He'll do just about anything for her."
Peter looked at the picture again. "You know, this is definitely the best photo you've taken," he said, glancing over at the teen. "It's the only one that's not blurry."
"I set the camera on a conveniently placed bench and set the timer on that one," Tommy said, scratching at the back of his neck. "I'm not sure I like taking photos, honestly. The lag after you press the button while you have to wait for the thing to snap the photo is really annoying."
"You'd be a fine photographer, if you'd just hold the camera still while you took the pictures," Peter told him, handing him back the camera. "Your composition is pretty good. Keep practicing, I'm sure you'll get better."
Tommy beamed at him. "You think so?" he asked, green eyes wide. "Awesome! Thanks, Spidey! Saycheese!"
There was a flash of white light in Peter's face as the camera snapped his picture, before the young speedster ran off, whooping loudly.
"Aww, come on!" Peter called after the boy, using his webbing to swing through the hallway after him. "I know that picture you took of me was blurry! Come back here and take a better one! Also, so I can kick your ass and take you down a couple pegs!"
Suddenly a loud, furious, bestial roar reverberated through the mansion.
"SPEED!" Wolverine roared, tearing down the stairs with his eyes red and streaming. "I KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO SPRAYED MY ROOM WITH PEPPER SPRAY! C'MERE SO I CAN STAB YA IN THE EYES AND SHOW YA WHAT IT FEELS LIKE!"
Spiderman leaped up and clung to the ceiling as the feral mutant tore past beneath him.
"You know what?" Peter said to the empty hallway, "My priorities have changed. I'm actually rather hungry. I think I'll go get lunch. Somewhere far away from this crazy house." He pulled a StarkPhone from a concealed pocket in his spidersuit. "JARVIS? What's a good restaurant on the opposite side of New York City? Preferably one without a record of being destroyed by supervillains. Actually, I'm in the mood for a fight. Make that a good restaurant with a history of being demolished by supervillains."
In another room, Erik was teaching Billy to play chess.
Or rather, had been teaching Billy to play chess, before a green and silver blur rushed in like a wind and nearly knocked over the game board. Luckily, the pieces were metal, so Erik was able to keep them from getting blown off.
"Help me, bro!" Tommy said, ducking behind his brother. "Wolverine's trying to kill me!"
"Again?" Billy asked, sighing in exasperation and rolling his eyes, looking at his grandfather with an expression that made it apparent that Wolverine trying to kill Speed was a fairly common occurrence.
"Yup," Logan answered, stalking into the doorway, teeth bared in a snarl, eyes red and watery, giving him a crazed look.
"Grandpa!" Tommy exclaimed, dashing to hide behind the Master of Magnetism, "Don't let the guy with a metal skeleton stab me!"
Logan's glare had been firmly fixed on the speedster, but now he blinked, seeming to notice that Magneto was there. He growled furiously, eyes narrowing. "Erik!" he barked, "I told you ta leave these kids alone!"
"They're my grandsons," Erik said calmly as he leaned back in his chair. "I will see no harm come to them."
Wolverine growled, adamantium claws sliding out from between his knuckles.
Erik's steely eyes hardened and his chin lifted.
Grinning, Tommy took out his camera, preparing to take a video.
Bill facepalmed, groaning. "My family, ladies and gentlemen. Where's my boyfriend when I need him?"
THE END.
AN: How Bob, Agent of HYDRA, made a guest appearance, but Teddy didn't, I have no idea. Oh well. Next YA fic I write will have Teddy in it, because I love him. I'm just no good at romancey stuff, and I wanted this to be about Mangeto and his grandsons. Also, my explanation for Magneto's costume changes (it was all Billy's fault!). And how he ended up bald (it was all Tommy's fault!).
I got a little carried away. My Tommy is crazy. I think this might have nearly strayed into the area of crack. I regret nothing.