A/N: I'm most likely going to be swamped with school work in these next few weeks and I wanted to post something. This first part may be a bit nsfw? [Disclaimer:] I do not own anything connected with Marvel or Fox, just my OCs ]


Pietro shuts his eyes, allows his head to fall back, and moans. As the pressure quickly increases, his eyes squeeze shut, his bottom lip being bitten raw between his teeth. There's a open palm on his knee...and another one that has a tight hold around his most sensitive feature and gives him a good squeeze, forcing a sharp, shuttered gasp from him. He feels a moist, warm slide up the length, and then engulf him in a tight, wet embrace. His eyes fly open. He doesn't mean for those few choice words and sounds to bubble up from his throat then, but it just felt so damn

He wasn't even sure how he got here. It's dimly lit, he could make about his surroundings through his lustful haze. A vary of colored lights pulsed along the walls.

A flick of a wrist is given and he jolts; there's a tightness against his sensitive tip specifically and he sits straight up. A short cry slips out, tangled around another moan and he feels more hears another empty swallow that gives a tempting squeeze.

He's sweating too—or, at least he thinks so. He isn't quite sure of it all, actually; all of this seems off, feels a bit out of place.

Chest heaving in excitement, he looks down hearing another audible swallow; his legs are spread open at the edge of the bed, a foreign hand running up his inner thigh and—his pants aren't on, probably pooled around his ankles, or thrown somewhere in haste. He clears his throat in attention and the head between his legs bombs once, lifts. He's ready to question the actions that has led to this and why—

He looks down, opens his mouth to speak, and meets Rainy's smiling face. He's taken aback; his chest clenches and not in the more preferred, pleasurable way. For a second he becomes completely shocked and utterly terrified and freezes. He jolts back against the edge of the bed.

He isn't steady as he talks either. "Rainy!? What—-how—-what happ—-"

She cuts him off with a tug and another grin, stroking him with a tight fist before lowering her head again. And then he's engulfed in that slick compression of her full lips and this whole scenario feels like a phantom of a memory. Because this felt...different.

What was happening?

A free hand of his unclenches from his t-shirt to take hold of the dark hair below him. His his eyes squeeze shut again on reflex but this time he grimaces. "Rainy..." He wants to get her attention because there's so many questions making it way through his head. Why is she doing this? How did she get here? How did this happen? Were they intoxicated; and where were they? More importantly, why was she doing this?

Had he asked that already?

He fists her large dark curls, unintentionally guiding her up and down and back again. "Rainy," it mixes with a strained groan, his grimace appearing painful. "Rainy~ st-sto-op, stop..." There is another deep swallow, another twist of her hands where her mouth stops. And when she'll drag her lips back, her teeth grating up to the tip.

This is like the phantom of a memory

When he looks back down, her hair has turned into a more unkempt, bushy head of darker waves. Pietro isn't sure she had been wearing that red bandana in her hair either...

The room pulses and the fuzzy lights swirl around the room—gold, fuchsia, cyan, purple, green, insipid white. A detaching suction noise comes from below and he shutters violently.

Pietro watches as she lifts her head again—

"Why?" she retorts, but it isn't Rainy. "I thought you liked being treated like a hunk, dipstick."

Pietro can only watch in confused shock as Mckenzie has fabricated into her place, moistens her pink lips with her tongue before flicking kitten licks to his tip and giving one of her bratty smiles. And once more, his words are hard to form.

The last he's heard of Mckenzie, she had transferred to another school—but that too had been a rumor.

"...Kenzie...?"

She runs her left hand along his inner thighs, gathering heat to his nether region. "Relax, cutie," she slurs drunkly, her tongue sliding up the expanse length of his flesh, flicking out at the sensitive tip. Another smirk flashes. She's wearing large hooped earrings and he can smell the remnants of watermelon lipgloss. Her grip around him tightens and twists before working up a quick pace that forces his breathing to shallow and him fall back on his elbows. His eyes flutter close again, brows furrowing and confused. Her ministrations speed up until Pietro found the pressure rapidly building in his core and he releases a loud, needing groan. The last time this had happened was the last time he and Mckenzie had been close, during that house party, he remembers. But she had hatred him afterwards and avoided him at all costs.

He is totally baffled, yes, but this...her...this was just too...

Pietro's eyes opens to his bed pillow on his left, a groan already leaving his mouth as he wakes. He has to lie there for a minute or so when it hits him that it had all—luckily—been a dream. The early rays of sunlight filter in through his high windows. His blankets are disheveled, he's lying on his back cornerwise, and one hand in a loose fist atop his bare chest.

It had all been a dream

He drags a hand down his face, and released a groan. What kind of odd dream had that been? Only when he drops his hand back to his mattress does he notice from the corner of his eye, out of all people his sister standing no more than two feet from his bed, jaw hanging open and eyes large. She continues staring at him with a look he can't really read but which isn't a pleasant one, he is certain.

And Pietro is mortified.

Wanda shrieks, calling him disgusting, gross, and any other offense she could manage to think of in shock as she steps forward and shoves him off the far end of his bed. And he's babbling out how she needs to learn to knock while hurrying to wrap his comforter around his waist and stand without tripping, calling out what she wouldn't see if she just minded her own business. He bunches most of the comforter in front of his rigid crotch.

By the time he's standing, having catching his feet in the blanket folds twice, Wanda is already rushing back up the basement stairs. He curses after her in Serbian, calling her a pervert, a peeping tom.

Before the door slams close, she hollers about not missing the school bus.

He ignores her, blowing a bit of hair out of his face.

The bedside alarm goes off. He speeds over with the blankets still around his waist and switches it off.

Pietro's face is turning pink and his ears are beet red. He runs a hand through his hair. He had forgotten that it was Monday and therefore school to resume.

He makes his way up the stairs and locks his door this time. His bedsprings give the tiniest of protests as he plops back down on the edge. He sighs. The school bus should be coming in twenty more minutes; Wanda had likely already eaten and ready to leave, their youngest sister at her school elementary school, and Marya at one of her two jobs since the early hours of this morning.

Pietro doesn't try to fix his bed hair. His bedside clock reads he now has nineteen minutes. The morning light dances in golden white. He peers under the blankets wrapped around his waist. He can do a lot in nineteen minutes and still make it on time...

. . .
. . .

The time is too early in the morning for comfort, and somewhere in late summer.

There are three high schools in the county, one on the North, East, and West side each. There's also seven McDonalds, eleven car washes, two malls, and a skate park and hokey rink that opens for public sometimes in winter whenever the owners feel up to it. The high school on the West side of town is where this takes place—in the line of traffic to the school is where Meisha bounces her knee nervously. She's looking out the car window and doesn't see her father studying her.

"You look nice today." He has been debating how to start, whether to start a greeting this morning.

She grumbles out a thanks, tightens her folded arms across her chest.

He pauses, tries again. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine." Her response is short.

He thumps his palm against the wheel. A vehicle nearby honks. Her father has a mustache that Pietro has told reminds him of a small brown broom.

"You seem rather excited to go back to school."

"Dad," her head swivels around. "I'm excited? Why would anyone be excited for school?" And her eyes roll.

"Because you've been antsy all morning. And ever since we returned from vacation. You're never like this."

Meisha gives an exaggerated groan and rolls her eyes back to the window. He reaches over to fix a bobby pin that hangs lose from under her braided bun.

"I'm not excited for school. I'm just..." She scratches at a chipping food stain left from breakfast.

I'm ready to get this over with

That I don't want to be late and risk loosing this place in this new group of people

That I want to get there so I can meet my friends, see Ronny and—

"Just?"

"Nothing." And she sighs.

She hears the heavy sigh he exhales through his nose and she has a sudden urge to question if he was ever going to shake that broom under his nose.

"What do you mean nothing...?"

"It's nothing, Dad." She flops against the seat as the traffic crawls forward. "I just...want to get to my friends. That's all."

He watches her begin to chip at the nail polish on her thumb. His wife had pointed out once over vacation about their daughter's sudden peaked interest in girly accessories. Her father shifts in his seat, resting an arm on the steering wheel.

"Say, how are those friends of yours? You haven't spoken about them at all much. They," he squints, "they haven't done anything...you know..." And he earns an almost shocked look from her. "They aren't being jerks, are they?" he saves himself.

"Not more than usual," she mutters. "And not those friends."

Of course he's shocked—she should have known.

"I just started talking to them and we hung out a bit over summer break, remember? That's why I can't be late."

"Do you really think it's that import—-"

"Yes it's that important, Dad. These people are...popular. Quite popular..." She sticks her head out the window to see ahead, and sees that the traffic has come to a standstill. "And I can't mess this up."

Her father nods. Popularity is almost like a hierarchy in a business. He remembers when his daughter has sat alone and crying because of the teasing and the self hating she harbored from that.

"Do you still talk to those guy friends you have? The other...mutants?"

She shakes her head. Peeking her head back out the window, she sees a few others exiting cars to get to the sidewalk—that was a pretty good idea. She unbuckles her seatbelt, tells that she is going to follow suite, given they were already along the side of the school. "It's...uh, it's complicated," she answers.

. . .
. . .

Wanda shuffles her backpack on her shoulder, and she shutters. She had been relieved, actually, when her brother hadn't rode the bus too that morning—she knew that he never would, but still. She needed time until she could look at him again...

She didn't think she could ever look at him the same again...

Wanda shutters again.

Pushing the red hood of her jacket back a little, she moves further through the mob of students in the hall. It has just been the end of summer break and she hadn't been able to get out much, having to babysit her younger sister. She couldn't count how many times she's blown Michelle off for broken plans until the girl too had left to visit family—part of Wanda's reasoning for never meeting up had been honest excuses, the other because of her poor trusting in others. Now, Wanda prays that she would be forgiven. And thus, as she approaches the room for her first class, she hears someone call her name. Michelle pushes off from the wall. Janae, another friend of Michelle's is at her side. Michelle motions Wanda closer, and of course she obeys.

"We were just talking about you," Michelle smiles and Wanda's eyes grow wide. Then, the girl switches her stance, crossing her arms and her mouth turns up. "What happened to you? We never hooked up. I thought you were one of us."

Wanda swallows, forces a grin. "Y-you know, I had been busy...I—-"

Janae mimics Michelle's stance. Though neither appeared menacing or threatening, it was confrontation and Wanda did not do well with confrontation.

"Yeah, you said you had to babysit," Wanda is interrupted. "And that your mom is strict..." Michelle looks Wanda over. "You aren't wearing that bracelet I gave you." She sounds slightly hurt, so Wanda stutters out an excuse.

"I—uh—I-I lost it. My brother stole it."

"I didn't know you had a brother." It's Janae who speaks up this time. She has golden studs in her ears that Wanda focuses on instead of her eyes.

"I..." Wanda licks her lips. "Uh..."

It was an agreement between the twins that they wouldn't verbally tell about their relation, unless students found out themselves via role call. Neither spoke about it, arrived and left school separately, and mingled with separate groups. It wasn't that either was embarrassed of the other—

"Who's your brother? Is he cute?" Janae smiles.

"Why haven't we met him?" Michelle lifts a shoulder, grinning cheekily. "Is he younger?"

"Um...so-something like that..."

Michelle snaps her fingers. "What's your last name again?" Then Wanda asks "why" so Michelle answers, "because we wanna see if we know him."

Wanda's eyes are still wide and she looks, worried, between the two. She doesn't respond at first, and only does after some coaxing, and then "Ma-Maximoff," is stuttered out. But she is quick to add that she can handle herself, that she is nothing like her brother, that she can be cool on her own. This makes Michelle smirk, raising an index finger under her chin.

Janae smacks the back of her palm on Michelle's bicep. "We don't know anyone with that name do we?"

"No. I can't think of anyone with that last name," Michelle shakes her head, buoyant afro sightly bouncing. She's wearing a calico patterned scarf, one end hanging over her shoulder.

It isn't that either twin is embarrassed about the other, but many in this school would twist their words and make them be.

"Say, Red, I kinda like you a bit more each time." Red is the nickname Michelle gave to the mutant. She adjusts her arms under her chest. "Do you think your mom will let you go out this Thursday?" And Wanda asks, still quite worried, "why thursday? That's a school night." Michelle coats her to calm. "Janae, me, and a few others have plans to go out to this concert that's going down that night. Thursday's the last day. But," a finger goes up, "we have to know if you're down...or not."

Wanda hates confrontation. A peacekeeper, she would rather avoid anything type of confrontation, tension, or interrogation if she could. It hadn't ever led to anything good; it has never led to anything good. The memory of the school restroom mirror shattering flashes across her mind and she hopes that luck isn't real.

"I'm down." It's spoken rather quickly and slightly unsure.

But Janae is smiling like a coyote now. "Ok then...you see that bimbette near the lockers? The one putting on lipstick like she's some important pop idol? Pull a little prank on her with...this." She holds out a packaged condom. And of course the other girl is quite flustered and questioning. "Don't worry. See? It's still closed. But those chicks are very modest. The one with the lipstick acts like she's the second coming of The Virgin Mary. A her pulling something like this out of her purse," Janae motions what's resting on the ground near the girl's shoe, "is sure to create a bit of a ruckus in their little "good girl" rep."

Michelle looks from Wanda and her friend.

Janae extends her hand. "You in, right?"

Silence.

"Red...?" Michelle didn't sound very certain either.

But she sucks in a breath, squares her shoulders, and musters the most confident, "I'm in," she could.

Janae smiles. Michelle doesn't.

The first bell, signaling for students to begin walking to class is about to ring, Michelle tells. Janae places the wrapped condom in Wanda's hand. "And don't forget: this Thursday."

But Wanda begins to stammer an excuse, one about her younger sister. Thus, Michelle interjects, "can't your brother just watch her?"

And Wanda pauses. When she speaks, her voice is very steady, almost serious. "No. No he can't. Not by himself." She glances in the direction of the girls who are maybe three years younger. She bumps into the one applying lipstick, her aim scrawling a thick red line across her cheek, and Wanda spills apologies. The two dark girls could see the condom fall from Wanda's grasp and into the girl's purse, the one with lipstick freezing in shock and her friends turning, aggressively accusing.

Michelle looks to her friend. She thinks that, maybe, she should have interjected.

Wanda is quite obviously terrified. One of the girls who has her brown hair in a short cut extends her finger to Wanda's shirt aggressively. There's a cup in her other hand, Wanda sees; the first is freaking out about the lipstick streak across her cheek.

THE FIRST STEP

Michelle and Janae hear abrupt shrieking, seeing the girl's tops bathed in watery pulp, and Wanda hurrying away.

. . .
. . .

It's hours later that Sherry emerges from math class with a grin on her face. The reason: she and her newest friend were getting along just well. That, and the fact that Rainy was too.

Rainy...

Sherry was glad that her friend claims to be feeling better from that sickness she's had since forever, but...Sherry can't deny that something seems off about her friend. Even as she sees the other stopped in the hall by two whom Sherry has seen in the gym—one of them that guy, Troy—she sees that there's something different about her. Maybe it was the summer—as it usually is—maybe she actually enjoyed the break this time, because there's a little something in her walk, the way she a grin flickers and dies, of how she seems to actually get annoyed as the two boys spoke.

Sherry is too far to hear Rainy's reply, but after her second response the boys' stances are no longer lax. Rainy's brows nit together and she crosses her arms. The second boy becomes defensive. Rainy pops her hip, gives some further remark. Sherry has been fixing an earring; Rainy walks away then.

Sherry is far off down the hall, so she doesn't see everything either. She doesn't quite see Rainy's gaze look beyond the boys in front of her. Sherry doesn't see that through passing others, Pietro falter in, headphones still on, alone in the hallway. The crowd parts in time for Sherry to see Troy lean in Rainy's space before she comments something that wipes away his predatory smirk. Rainy had met Pietro's heartily gaze, but was then interrupted by a quadruplet of loud blondes. When the group pass, he's already gone.


Sprightly, vibrant pompoms rustle and are thrown in the air. The school's cheerleading squad is a total of fourteen girls and two guys.

One is thrown in the air and is barely caught in time.

Their performance ends and the entire gym is forced to applaud. The performance is seconds over two minutes and is quite sorry quality in Pietro's opinion. Those beside him on the bleachers are clapping enthusiastically. He pulls his beanie hat further over his eyebrows and doesn't do a damn thing.

It is a pep rally this time, rather than a school-wide PSA like last year. On the floor, a dean takes the microphone and announces the next performance will be from the boys basketball team.

Needless to say, that was executed poorly as well.

Music blares from the speakers and then the school's mascot comes running out, tossing candy to the crowd. Beads are thrown out next. Beside him, Ronny mirrors his Pietro's bored expression. There are those around them who are sheering enthusiastically and others who are exchanging drugs behind them. Pietro's knee bounces, very tempted to turn around and make a purchase—lately it's been so hard for him to concentrate, and he isn't sure exactly when or why it started, but he is starting to think that it was around the beginning of summer when he had seen Rainy and her parents walk past his front yard. He tosses his head back, sighs, and Ronny raises an eyebrow. He asks what the matter was. Pietro tells that he hadn't been able to pull off that second prank he had been saving up for, and watches, disappointed, that he hadn't remembered to bleach the dean's clothes.

Ronny rolls his shoulders. "Say, have you talked to Meisha? I haven't seen her since...is she okay?"

Pietro gives a nonchalant shrug. He hasn't, he tells. "She's probably with those people again, you know those..." He waves a hand in a general direction. "Yeah."

Far off near the top of the bleachers, Ronny could just make out the red of her hair. She's turned away, in a conversation with a few other girls, and—laughing!

Meisha has been purposely distancing herself from them since the week prior to Spirit Week last school year. Ronny thinks that it is because of their teasing. He hopes that it wasn't because of the teasing.

Ronny's shoulders slump. "You sure she's okay?"

"I dunno."

It had been her decision to reach out and distance herself from them, and it had been her decision to rarely pick up the phone all that summer. Ronny knew this, and he knew that Pietro did too.

Ronny takes on a look of worry.

On the inside-basketball court below, another administrator is reminding students that they could always come to the clinic for health or to vent. The nurse is an older woman with whiting hair and becomes frantic at the tiniest gash. She is usually visited because the clinic is a placeholder for medication.

Ronny barks a dry laugh at the mention of using the nurses as a makeshift psychiatrist office. Pietro smirks.

'As if they could help people like them.'

Silently, Ronny worries. The three of them had been together for as far back as he could remember; since the year prior to middle school. For Pietro, a few years after his family's arrival to America. Though Ronny is more pessimistic, he had made the exception for this—they were the only mutants (minus Wanda who was always a loner) and he had thought, hoped that they would stay together.

The school's mascot is standing off to the side of the bleachers and by the doors. Ronny taps Pietro's shoulder when he sees someone walk in, hood of a red jacket pulled up and approach the costume. Curious, both watch the person finger the costume to bend down as if to whisper something, and were stunned when the costume's head is swiped off, and the perpetrator sped back out the door. There were a few others who had also seen, who were whooping laughs, and at least one administrator. And of course, the remaining costume of the mascot fled after the thief.

The school dean who currently has the mic taps the top, and announces that there had been an inconvenience and the pep rally would have to be put on hold.

Across the court, Janae is laughing hysterically. She had been the one who concocted and initiated this second "prank," which Michelle is beginning to think is a unnecessary faux hazing process. Both she and Rainy watch Janae bent over her knees, their smiles fading. Michelle, being in the middle, smacks the other on the shoulder.

"What did you tell that girl?!"

Janae sits up, her mood changing at Michelle's hit. "Ow! What was that for? That hurt, y'know!"

"What did you tell Red?" Michelle is visibly growing upset.

Janae looks her up and down, almost sneering. "Calm down, Shell. I just told her a lil' joke. That's all. She said she was cool with it. Besides, I wanna see how tough she is."

Michelle did admit that it had been hilarious watching the headless mascot run out the double doors, the human head sticking out from the plush body. But now wasn't the time.

"Tell her what? This isn't some secret group! We didn't ever do stuff like this." Michelle's long fingernails are glossed over with a clear overcoat that is pointing at Janae. "That was over the top. You're gonna make her get life for this. Don't keep messing with her like this, Janae. Leave her alone."

From Rainy's position, she couldn't see Michelle's expression but she clearly saw Janae's change completely to where she is almost glowering at the other. There had never been much animosity between the two, and they were usually around one another—Janae is the more rambunctious one and Michelle the more reserved. In the bleachers, there are a people clambering to the exit to hurry after, and those who are readying to leave because the bell will sound.

"No. You gonna stop me?" And Rainy watches Janae's lips set and her eyes steel. "She doesn't belong to you, Shell. And it's funny to watch her!"

Judging by Michelle's silence, Rainy thinks she is either surprised or mirroring Janae's look.


A/N: I was going to add the last part to another chapter but it was short. Please forgive me for the long wait, again I'm SO SORRY. Also, I know this isn't the best chapter so the next one will be coming very soon. But this is still the beginning of this and it won't be long for Pietro/Rainy interaction especially. I'm currently working on the next chapter and a quick sequel to a x-men apocalypse-verse Pietro/Rainy short story. Feel free to shout at me and on tumblr.