Two

The thing about having a paranoid criminal for a father who doesn't know he's your father is that there aren't a whole lot of heads ups before you inevitably end up crashing into him in the hallway.

Charles tries his best, to his credit. He would often slip an "I can do that after my chess game with Erik tomorrow" or a "once I get a spare room for Erik cleaned out" into the conversation when Peter would enter the room so he could keep his guard up for the next few days. It's one step short of pulling Peter aside and saying hey, I used my mind-reading powers to find out your biggest secret, but the subtle warnings are nice and Charles isn't a snitch, so Peter doesn't really mind.

Peter almost wonders if Charles hadn't warned him this time on purpose.

It's Erik's fault, really. Peter's always careful to watch out for people when running in the halls because getting him to agree to not run in the halls at all is an endeavor Charles had quickly found pointless. The chair moving by itself across the floor definitely isn't a person, and it doesn't even register to Peter that it's moving until his foot catches around the leg and he trips into the seat.

He lets out a very undignified yelp as he struggles to regain his balance on the moving chair. Just as he secures himself by digging his fingernails into the cushion, he finds himself looking up at the back of none other than Magneto himself.

He can only sit and stare as Magneto whips around and looks down at him, stopping short from sitting down in the chair he most certainly used his magic magnet powers to bring to himself. His eyebrows shoot up as he takes in the sight of Peter before him, his expression shifting from startled to more than slightly judgmental in a heartbeat. Peter's silver hair is dangling in front of his goggles and his legs are partly raised in the air, a picture of beauty and grace.

And Peter should definitely get into the habit of thinking before he speaks because his mind goes blank and it just… slips… out-

"Hey, dad."

Oh shit.

Peter tries to conceal his heart attack as Magneto's eyebrows somehow go even higher.

"What?"

Fast brain, fast brain, don't be slow now- "Godammit," Peter groans, smacking his palm against his forehead and running it down his face. "I called Raven 'mom' yesterday, too. Charles'll be grandpa tomorrow, just you wait."

And thank God because the corner of Magneto's mouth twitches upward after a moment, allowing Peter to breathe a silent sigh of relief. The man steps to the side, giving Peter room to place his feet on the floor. "The baldness doesn't help, does it?" he says, a humorous light in his eye that lets Peter know he's in the clear.

"He looks like Mr. Clean," Peter says with a huff. His pounding heart is beginning to slow and he's pretty sure his stumble isn't the main reason behind it.

Magneto grabs a chair adjacent to Peter's and sits down at the table, reaching for a glass of water and a plate with a sandwich on it that Peter hadn't noticed. And of course he has to levitate the chair across the room for him to sit in instead of simply sitting in the closer seat in the first place.

Peter realizes he had accidentally voiced this thought a second later when Magneto replies with a shrug. "That's where I usually sit," he explains with a nod to Peter's chair.

Peter sniffs. "You have a spot?"

"Not at the moment," Magneto says, shooting Peter a pointed look. "Have you never been told to watch where you're going?"

"I watch for people. Furniture tends to be stationary."

Magneto considers this then dips his head, conceding to Peter's point. He grabs the glass and takes a long sip of water, and this is probably Peter's cue to leave, but he just numbly sits and watches as the water disappears down his throat. He looks to Peter, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"Where were you off to in such a hurry?" he asks, which is probably Magneto for why are you still here?

Peter shrugs helplessly. "I- Just off I guess, I dunno." It comes out more mumbly than he would've liked it to.

To his surprise, Magneto nods. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to use your powers. It's not just a tool; it's yours. You can use it however and whenever you want."

That's definitely not something Charles would preach, he knows, but Peter can't help but nod along at the conviction in Magneto's words and the intensity of his gaze. His eyes are a light mixture of green and blue and gray, nearly uniform in color and glinting like steel. Not like Peter's. Peter's are a dark brown that almost appear black when away from direct light. They don't match his mom's either, a warm swirl of green and chocolate that seem like a different ratio every time he notices them. His mom's parents eyes had been shades of hazel too. Maybe he'd gotten his dark eyes from Magneto's side. Could his grandparents have had eyes like his?

Maybe Peter would've gotten Magneto's hair if it hadn't been for his mutation turning it silver. It's an auburn speckled with gray at the temples, a color that Peter had wished he had at one point when his mutation first manifested. Maybe if they had the same hair color, Magneto would know, and Peter wouldn't have to keep picking at the I tell him, I tell him not petals.

Regardless, Magneto knows something's up by how long Peter's been staring. He rests his elbows on the table and leans forward, narrowing those steely eyes. "Are you all right?"

Peter blinks and nods stiffly. "Oh, I'm grand."

Magneto lowers his chin and gives him a doubtful look. He opens his mouth to comment, but Peter speeds out of the room before he can let anything else slip.