Marvel owns the X-men, no profit is to be made from this work.

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"Oh, for heavens sake! Please tell me you're not doing what I think you are doing?"

Striking his best James Bond, Pietro gave a shrug and admired himself in his off the rack suit.

"I thought this was what you did to make sure a suit fits?"

The tie sucked, the collar was too tight, but...he looked good, or at least that was the impression he got from the cute twenty-something saleslady as she stole a peek at him. Catching her eye, she was not the least bit shy as she smiled at him. A smirk and a wink that had never failed him once remained true, entranced by her lips as she mouthed her phone number. With his head for math, it was one Pietro wasn't about to forget anytime soon.

"What do you got against Bond, anyway?" Pietro hadn't met anyone who didn't have their own favourite, and his was Craig.

"...I've done things in my life I don't need to be reminded of, and James Bond shits on the very movies that are such very painful reminders of the choices I've made."

"You were seriously a spy?" It made sense, Dad had said he'd been in prison after all.

"More than just myself."

"Who?" You couldn't just tease something like that.

And there was the grin he now hated, the one he saw in the mirror all too often. It was Dad being a smug prick.

"You ever shoot anyone?" Fuck, there he was feeling ten all over again asking one of Mom's now very ex-boyfriends that same question.

"I've been shot at." Dad confessed, busying himself with checking over the cut of the suit, tugging at the fabric with idle fingers and distracted eyes.

"And?"

"You and I, we're not the sort of men who worry about dodging a bullet, we stop them. So why don't you let me give you one piece of painful advice, just so you don't make my mistake. If anyone ever points a gun at you...or someone you hold very dear, you make sure they never have the chance to pull the trigger."

It wasn't the way he said it, or even the pain that stunk of regret that silenced every curious question or smart ass remark Pietro had on the tip of his tongue. No, looking up to Dad, it was the unshed tears that clouded his eyes that stole away his very breath. It was an unexpected mule kick to the chest, one that filled his heart with an unwelcome ache.

"Me and Lee do movie nights, got any spy flicks you'd recommend?"

"On nights I'm feeling suitably dark, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy hasn't yet failed to fill me with a sense of regret. But if you're looking for a classic, you can't go wrong with The Day of the Jackal."

"...was that the one with Bruce Willis in it?"

"Pietro...Pete, don't go adding to your sins. Now, why don't we see about go getting your trousers hemmed, and just perhaps a haircut for that matter?"

"You're not cutting my hair!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, you'll be going to the same barber that Charles and I frequent."

"...maybe I should have taken detention with Logan."

"You're saying dinner with Charles and I will be something so horrible you'd rather do time with Logan?"

"...fine, but only if I can bring Lee along. I mean, she was there with me, so she might as well get a seat at the table."

Busy brooding about just how much it was going to suck going to the kind of dinner that required a suit, Pietro didn't notice the return of that smug smirk he hated. He was too busy figuring out just how he was gonna tell Lee she was gonna be his plus one.

"Then we're agreed."

"I'd call entrapment on this kind of bullshit, but I get the feeling my lawyer would be telling me to plead the Fifth. Heh, but at least I can trust Lee to order the most expensive dessert they got."

It might not be Redbull, but Jubilee on a sugar kick was a scarey thing to see...

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