.
"Oh, guess what, guess what?" Kitty squealed happily, bounding into a certain fuzzy boy's room. She noted that said boy was laying peacefully on his bed, basking in the warmth of a non-required school day. She would've normally left him to sleep, but this news was too big, and she wanted to see the look on his face.
And she didn't have time for pity -- she had to wake almost all the X-men and tell them the . . . not quite good or bad news. Well, bad for Evan.
He was next on her list, Kitty vowed to herself.
"Good morning!" She said, throwing his curtains open dramatically and turning to see the result of this with a cheerful smile.
That seemed to do the trick. "Vhat?" Kurt asked shortly, his head still attached to his pillow, quite happily I might add. He wiggled for a moment, trying to escape the sun's unrelenting light.
"Scott just told me Pietro is awake!" She said, moving over to the side of his bed. She lined herself up with where she figured his head was most likely to appear after her next bit of news.
Kurt groaned for no other reason then to confirm he had heard what she said.
"And guess what else?" She was bursting with energy, and it startled Kurt, who didn't notice her moving to his side. "Oh, you'll, like, -never- guess this one!"
"Okay, I give up." He said flatly.
"He's -joining- the X-men!"
"Vhat?!" He shot up from the mattress, staring at Kitty, who was suppressing a giggle. "And exactly vhy are -you- so happy about this?"
"Well, it'll make Lance happy! Once he, like, gets over all that angsty stuff." She got up and turned on her heel, off to wake more of her teammates.
"Angsty isn't a word, Kitty." Kurt called after her, curling back up on his bed.
"Like -that's- the thing to be talking about!" She said, dismissing his comment with a flick of her wrist from the doorway. "But, I mean, think of all the stuff he knows!"
"Vhat do you mean?"
"Duh, Kurt." She said, rolling her eyes. "He's Magneto's -son!- He probably knows all sorts of stuff about, like their missions and other stuff."
Kurt, who's only goal was to get back to sleep and hopefully not have a strange dream concerning the news he had just heard, just shrugged, wiggling deeper into the sheets. He ignored Kitty's 'tsk' of disapproval easily as he slipped back into his dream world.
"Your brother is awake!" There was silence. This unnerved the girl, who had just previously be taking such joy out of her friend's similar reactions. Of course, she knew her friends and wasn't worried about getting impaled with something while around them. At least, not -by- them. "I just thought you, um, might want to know, you know?" She finished hesitantly.
"Yeah." Wanda said flatly, not tearing her gaze away from her oh-so-important bowl of ravioli as she walked from the kitchen and into the dinning hall. She pushed the more heated of the chunks of meat to the top, to cool them off. She hated burning her tongue.
Wanda resisted the urge, as always, to knock the overly elegant, stylish glass cups that sat on the table, waiting for drinks as simple as orange juice. This place could really get on someone's nerves, if you let it. She sat down at the table, ignoring the large glass plate, setting her plastic bowl on top of it.
"Are you gonna go, um, see him?" Kitty asked nervously, "And why are you eating ravioli? It's breakfast time."
Wanda finally looked up at the perky teen in disbelief over her last statement. After a moment, she rolled her eyes, "Kid, you lead a sheltered life."
"So . . . You're not gonna?" She asked, coming dangerously close to a pout.
"Not right now." She said. "Maybe after I finish this."
Kitty looked at the troubled girl with an expression that looked about at home on her face as a bright, glittery smile on Logan's.
Deep, thoughtful pondering.
Finally she shook her head, "I know you were worried about him, Miss I'm-So-Tough-I-Like-To-Pretend-I-Don't-Care-About-Anything-Except-I-Like-Totally-Do."
"And how would -you- know that?" Wanda scoffed giving the valley girl a look that wouldn't be described as welcoming. Unless you were confused or crazy. Then it might be described that way.
"You were in the infirmary, like, all last night." Kitty said. "And I've been in that place before. It's totally boring, so you -so- weren't there for the scenery."
"Well, sometimes it's easier to be around someone when they're unconscious and not talking. Like you, for example." Wanda looked back to her steaming bowl of ravioli, content enough to ignore any further conversation Kitty wished to engage in.
But the girl didn't; simply making a sound of frustration before leaving the room.
Wanda was a little put off that the Ditz had known where she was last night-- she hated it when people monitored her actions without her permission, which probably steamed from a lifetime of being under constant, unending observation.
She wasn't even all that sure why she had gone to Pietro. Watching her brother while he slept was something she hadn't done for ages, but she had always enjoyed it. As a much younger girl, she used to get her fingers wet with ice cold water and touch whatever body part Pietro happened to have sticking out of the blankets -- it was almost always his legs, and watch him squirm in his sleep.
He was a 'heater,' wearing only boxers in the coldest nights of winter, his body creating a temperature that he hardly needed. A blanket was scarcely a necessity for Pietro. Or at least, he used to be.
He had been so cold in the infirmary …
Wanda shook it off. She didn't think dwelling on memories led to any sort of self-discovery, but perhaps madness. Wanda thought almost anything in excess lead to insanity, however.
But she really did wish for things to back to the way they were. Before either of them had any powers, before things got to complicated. Before their -father.-
"What did Summers want to talk to you about?" Lance was asking, his tone unguardedly dark. He gave the empty hall one more glance of distrust before turning to look at his . . . former friend? Rival? Were they really anything anymore?
Lance never really thought it necessary to put labels on things, and was out of practice when it came to gray areas. It was easy to brand Pietro as enemy, but he wanted to make sure he got it right.
"Just the average, 'Welcome to the X-Nerds, your life has now officially crossed into geekdom,' speech that you probably got." Pietro answered with a sort of smile that would tip anyone that knew him off that the last expression he wanted on his face was a smile.
"Man, you've been asleep for –days-, yo! What happened?" Todd asked, positioning himself in a very Todd-like stance; arms crossed, resting on the top of the back, while his feet pointed outwards, hunched over on the seat.
Pietro opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed to get stuck, his face suddenly shying away in pain. He cleared it abruptly with the cheery question, "Hey, where's Wanda?"
Lance scowled, ready to dish out a very cutting, cruel remark about how his sister had every right to be as far away from him as possible.
But . . .
Normally, (not that this situation happened all that often) he would've been angry, or at least held a grudge, but he really couldn't bring himself to. Either because of the threat Summers suddenly appeared to be, or how pathetic and sad Pietro looked while laying in bed, fidgeting incessantly with days of pent up energy, he just sighed deeply.
"She's upstairs, I think. Don't know if she knows you're awake yet."
"Right," He said in an unbelieving tone.
"So, you've joined us again?" Freddie asked, looking hopeful, and doing a piss poor job of trying to hide it.
"I'm not sure." Pietro said, and attempted to hold a breath, only to find his lungs impossibly weak and unable to perform this rather easy task. No real pain involved, just . . . nothing. Absolutely -nothing- happened, save his chest continuing to rise and fall. Complete vulnerability.
He waited patiently for the other shoe to drop. He knew they were mad at him-- they had to be. This was second time he had betrayed them, and in a way he didn't think he could forgive any of them for.
Not a simple line in the sand, but a definite line, hard and unwavering as any wall of concrete. He seriously doubted they'd let him pass through it as easily as stepping over a mark on the ground.
But as he looked up and met each of their gazes, he saw little or no anger. No resentment.
Was this some new form of torture the X-Geeks taught them?
Pietro swallowed, "So . . . lemme have it."
"What?" Todd asked, appearing confused.
"Come on, you all think I screwed up, are you just going to ignore it?" He said, sounding stiff.
Todd and Freddie exchanged a look, while Lance kept his gaze staring steadily forward, his expression was -there-, open and unhidden. It was just unreadable.
Finally, Todd opened his mouth, "You did screw up, yo. Big time. And we were really pissed at ya, but…"
"You almost died, Pietro. You were really close." Lance suddenly burst out, unable to dance around any subject for long. Pietro stared at Lance in surprise, eyes wide as he continued, "I guess it helps put things in perspective."
"Besides," Freddie said. "I did something thinking, and I can kinda understand goin' with your dad. He's your dad; I think I'd go with mine, too, if I ever saw him. But you're back now, right?"
Pietro stared blankly forward, listening intently to the large boy's words, starting to feel a little dizzy. He glanced up at his teammates and sighed inwardly.
They were steadily moving slower and slower, their movements now looking unnecessarily thought out as they merely shuffled every so often or blinked.
This was the common reaction to the world around him once he started stressing. He had to calm down, "I'm not really--"
"Yes or no Pietro." Lance said coldly, sensing the continuing betrayal, his words annoyingly thick and gradual to the blonde, who's personal time was increasing hand in hand with his anxiety. He was growing oddly dizzy, too. He tried to shrug it off and focus.
To say 'No' would mean so many things. It would mean a place with his father. It would mean betrayal for a third, somehow even more unforgivable way then before. He sighed shakily. He was taking his time, not that meant much in this world. He found he was having to take his air in quiet gasps, his chest stuck in the time warp with the rest of the world . . .
Finally he nodded. "Yeah. I'm back." He said.
"Cool, yo!" Todd's excited flip off the chair and onto the ground looked all the more spectacular in Pietro's sluggish world. "I'm gonna go tell Wanda!"
Pietro blinked, watching as, impossibly, the room slowed down even -more,- his need for oxygen growing … there were black dots beginning to dance in front of him … This wasn't normal … this wasn't right … this had never happened …
Someone was making a sound, but he couldn't understand it, it was moving too slowly. Just a low, steady groan, shifting up and down in pitch at a rate that was too slothful for him to really notice-- it was Lance. He was saying something.
"What?" He gasped out, and it was obvious from the unchanging expression that Lance didn't, couldn't, register it yet. "What the hell? What's going on?" He breathed hopelessly, knowing the words would probably just be translated into a hum of noise that no one would be able to understand.
It seemed to take Lance half hour to get to the door, Freddie only shifting slightly where he stood, unable to do much of anything else.
'Fucking hell.' He thought to himself angrily.
This had to be one of the worst mornings of his life. Seriously.
Scott muttered to himself as he moved down the hall.
He really hoped this didn't become a habit-- he didn't like being used as a messenger boy. He was being stupid and petty, he knew, but he didn't care.
That look Lance shot him as he left; as if he was kicking Maximoff! They had just been -talking.- Not even that, really.
Lance was starting to grind his nerves in ways he really didn't think possible. He had decided to simply not be around the brunette, but now, he'd have to go and interrupt the great Brotherhood reunion. But, then again, maybe they'd be happy to hear Pietro's room was ready-- he didn't pretend to know how the Brotherhood thought.
But he knew they'd hate to see his face again. Sometimes, for being a mind reader, he thought Professor X was awfully thick.
He started down the stairs that led to infirmary, only to have a speeding body slam against his, without so much as a 'Excuse me.'
"Oaf!--" Scott stumbled backwards, grabbing frantically for his glasses, which, to his horror, started slipping down his nose. He regained his footing before glaring at the offensive boy. "Alvers, what's the--"
"There's something wrong with Pietro!" Lance cried, brushing past Scott without another word or glance, and down the hallway, most likely to go grab Mr. McCoy.
That caught Scott's attention. Well, curiosity more then anything else.
He started down the hall, his pace increasing just slightly.
Just like Pietro to attempted an even -more- spectacular entrance then he'd made already. Of course, the other was almost Lance's fault … huh. Who knew he had a flair for dramatics?
a.n: slow moving … i'm getting a little annoyed with how slowly it's moving … oh well. give review, get chapter. it's kind like the barter system. ^___^
"Oh, guess what, guess what?" Kitty squealed happily, bounding into a certain fuzzy boy's room. She noted that said boy was laying peacefully on his bed, basking in the warmth of a non-required school day. She would've normally left him to sleep, but this news was too big, and she wanted to see the look on his face.
And she didn't have time for pity -- she had to wake almost all the X-men and tell them the . . . not quite good or bad news. Well, bad for Evan.
He was next on her list, Kitty vowed to herself.
"Good morning!" She said, throwing his curtains open dramatically and turning to see the result of this with a cheerful smile.
That seemed to do the trick. "Vhat?" Kurt asked shortly, his head still attached to his pillow, quite happily I might add. He wiggled for a moment, trying to escape the sun's unrelenting light.
"Scott just told me Pietro is awake!" She said, moving over to the side of his bed. She lined herself up with where she figured his head was most likely to appear after her next bit of news.
Kurt groaned for no other reason then to confirm he had heard what she said.
"And guess what else?" She was bursting with energy, and it startled Kurt, who didn't notice her moving to his side. "Oh, you'll, like, -never- guess this one!"
"Okay, I give up." He said flatly.
"He's -joining- the X-men!"
"Vhat?!" He shot up from the mattress, staring at Kitty, who was suppressing a giggle. "And exactly vhy are -you- so happy about this?"
"Well, it'll make Lance happy! Once he, like, gets over all that angsty stuff." She got up and turned on her heel, off to wake more of her teammates.
"Angsty isn't a word, Kitty." Kurt called after her, curling back up on his bed.
"Like -that's- the thing to be talking about!" She said, dismissing his comment with a flick of her wrist from the doorway. "But, I mean, think of all the stuff he knows!"
"Vhat do you mean?"
"Duh, Kurt." She said, rolling her eyes. "He's Magneto's -son!- He probably knows all sorts of stuff about, like their missions and other stuff."
Kurt, who's only goal was to get back to sleep and hopefully not have a strange dream concerning the news he had just heard, just shrugged, wiggling deeper into the sheets. He ignored Kitty's 'tsk' of disapproval easily as he slipped back into his dream world.
"Your brother is awake!" There was silence. This unnerved the girl, who had just previously be taking such joy out of her friend's similar reactions. Of course, she knew her friends and wasn't worried about getting impaled with something while around them. At least, not -by- them. "I just thought you, um, might want to know, you know?" She finished hesitantly.
"Yeah." Wanda said flatly, not tearing her gaze away from her oh-so-important bowl of ravioli as she walked from the kitchen and into the dinning hall. She pushed the more heated of the chunks of meat to the top, to cool them off. She hated burning her tongue.
Wanda resisted the urge, as always, to knock the overly elegant, stylish glass cups that sat on the table, waiting for drinks as simple as orange juice. This place could really get on someone's nerves, if you let it. She sat down at the table, ignoring the large glass plate, setting her plastic bowl on top of it.
"Are you gonna go, um, see him?" Kitty asked nervously, "And why are you eating ravioli? It's breakfast time."
Wanda finally looked up at the perky teen in disbelief over her last statement. After a moment, she rolled her eyes, "Kid, you lead a sheltered life."
"So . . . You're not gonna?" She asked, coming dangerously close to a pout.
"Not right now." She said. "Maybe after I finish this."
Kitty looked at the troubled girl with an expression that looked about at home on her face as a bright, glittery smile on Logan's.
Deep, thoughtful pondering.
Finally she shook her head, "I know you were worried about him, Miss I'm-So-Tough-I-Like-To-Pretend-I-Don't-Care-About-Anything-Except-I-Like-Totally-Do."
"And how would -you- know that?" Wanda scoffed giving the valley girl a look that wouldn't be described as welcoming. Unless you were confused or crazy. Then it might be described that way.
"You were in the infirmary, like, all last night." Kitty said. "And I've been in that place before. It's totally boring, so you -so- weren't there for the scenery."
"Well, sometimes it's easier to be around someone when they're unconscious and not talking. Like you, for example." Wanda looked back to her steaming bowl of ravioli, content enough to ignore any further conversation Kitty wished to engage in.
But the girl didn't; simply making a sound of frustration before leaving the room.
Wanda was a little put off that the Ditz had known where she was last night-- she hated it when people monitored her actions without her permission, which probably steamed from a lifetime of being under constant, unending observation.
She wasn't even all that sure why she had gone to Pietro. Watching her brother while he slept was something she hadn't done for ages, but she had always enjoyed it. As a much younger girl, she used to get her fingers wet with ice cold water and touch whatever body part Pietro happened to have sticking out of the blankets -- it was almost always his legs, and watch him squirm in his sleep.
He was a 'heater,' wearing only boxers in the coldest nights of winter, his body creating a temperature that he hardly needed. A blanket was scarcely a necessity for Pietro. Or at least, he used to be.
He had been so cold in the infirmary …
Wanda shook it off. She didn't think dwelling on memories led to any sort of self-discovery, but perhaps madness. Wanda thought almost anything in excess lead to insanity, however.
But she really did wish for things to back to the way they were. Before either of them had any powers, before things got to complicated. Before their -father.-
"What did Summers want to talk to you about?" Lance was asking, his tone unguardedly dark. He gave the empty hall one more glance of distrust before turning to look at his . . . former friend? Rival? Were they really anything anymore?
Lance never really thought it necessary to put labels on things, and was out of practice when it came to gray areas. It was easy to brand Pietro as enemy, but he wanted to make sure he got it right.
"Just the average, 'Welcome to the X-Nerds, your life has now officially crossed into geekdom,' speech that you probably got." Pietro answered with a sort of smile that would tip anyone that knew him off that the last expression he wanted on his face was a smile.
"Man, you've been asleep for –days-, yo! What happened?" Todd asked, positioning himself in a very Todd-like stance; arms crossed, resting on the top of the back, while his feet pointed outwards, hunched over on the seat.
Pietro opened his mouth to speak, but it seemed to get stuck, his face suddenly shying away in pain. He cleared it abruptly with the cheery question, "Hey, where's Wanda?"
Lance scowled, ready to dish out a very cutting, cruel remark about how his sister had every right to be as far away from him as possible.
But . . .
Normally, (not that this situation happened all that often) he would've been angry, or at least held a grudge, but he really couldn't bring himself to. Either because of the threat Summers suddenly appeared to be, or how pathetic and sad Pietro looked while laying in bed, fidgeting incessantly with days of pent up energy, he just sighed deeply.
"She's upstairs, I think. Don't know if she knows you're awake yet."
"Right," He said in an unbelieving tone.
"So, you've joined us again?" Freddie asked, looking hopeful, and doing a piss poor job of trying to hide it.
"I'm not sure." Pietro said, and attempted to hold a breath, only to find his lungs impossibly weak and unable to perform this rather easy task. No real pain involved, just . . . nothing. Absolutely -nothing- happened, save his chest continuing to rise and fall. Complete vulnerability.
He waited patiently for the other shoe to drop. He knew they were mad at him-- they had to be. This was second time he had betrayed them, and in a way he didn't think he could forgive any of them for.
Not a simple line in the sand, but a definite line, hard and unwavering as any wall of concrete. He seriously doubted they'd let him pass through it as easily as stepping over a mark on the ground.
But as he looked up and met each of their gazes, he saw little or no anger. No resentment.
Was this some new form of torture the X-Geeks taught them?
Pietro swallowed, "So . . . lemme have it."
"What?" Todd asked, appearing confused.
"Come on, you all think I screwed up, are you just going to ignore it?" He said, sounding stiff.
Todd and Freddie exchanged a look, while Lance kept his gaze staring steadily forward, his expression was -there-, open and unhidden. It was just unreadable.
Finally, Todd opened his mouth, "You did screw up, yo. Big time. And we were really pissed at ya, but…"
"You almost died, Pietro. You were really close." Lance suddenly burst out, unable to dance around any subject for long. Pietro stared at Lance in surprise, eyes wide as he continued, "I guess it helps put things in perspective."
"Besides," Freddie said. "I did something thinking, and I can kinda understand goin' with your dad. He's your dad; I think I'd go with mine, too, if I ever saw him. But you're back now, right?"
Pietro stared blankly forward, listening intently to the large boy's words, starting to feel a little dizzy. He glanced up at his teammates and sighed inwardly.
They were steadily moving slower and slower, their movements now looking unnecessarily thought out as they merely shuffled every so often or blinked.
This was the common reaction to the world around him once he started stressing. He had to calm down, "I'm not really--"
"Yes or no Pietro." Lance said coldly, sensing the continuing betrayal, his words annoyingly thick and gradual to the blonde, who's personal time was increasing hand in hand with his anxiety. He was growing oddly dizzy, too. He tried to shrug it off and focus.
To say 'No' would mean so many things. It would mean a place with his father. It would mean betrayal for a third, somehow even more unforgivable way then before. He sighed shakily. He was taking his time, not that meant much in this world. He found he was having to take his air in quiet gasps, his chest stuck in the time warp with the rest of the world . . .
Finally he nodded. "Yeah. I'm back." He said.
"Cool, yo!" Todd's excited flip off the chair and onto the ground looked all the more spectacular in Pietro's sluggish world. "I'm gonna go tell Wanda!"
Pietro blinked, watching as, impossibly, the room slowed down even -more,- his need for oxygen growing … there were black dots beginning to dance in front of him … This wasn't normal … this wasn't right … this had never happened …
Someone was making a sound, but he couldn't understand it, it was moving too slowly. Just a low, steady groan, shifting up and down in pitch at a rate that was too slothful for him to really notice-- it was Lance. He was saying something.
"What?" He gasped out, and it was obvious from the unchanging expression that Lance didn't, couldn't, register it yet. "What the hell? What's going on?" He breathed hopelessly, knowing the words would probably just be translated into a hum of noise that no one would be able to understand.
It seemed to take Lance half hour to get to the door, Freddie only shifting slightly where he stood, unable to do much of anything else.
'Fucking hell.' He thought to himself angrily.
This had to be one of the worst mornings of his life. Seriously.
Scott muttered to himself as he moved down the hall.
He really hoped this didn't become a habit-- he didn't like being used as a messenger boy. He was being stupid and petty, he knew, but he didn't care.
That look Lance shot him as he left; as if he was kicking Maximoff! They had just been -talking.- Not even that, really.
Lance was starting to grind his nerves in ways he really didn't think possible. He had decided to simply not be around the brunette, but now, he'd have to go and interrupt the great Brotherhood reunion. But, then again, maybe they'd be happy to hear Pietro's room was ready-- he didn't pretend to know how the Brotherhood thought.
But he knew they'd hate to see his face again. Sometimes, for being a mind reader, he thought Professor X was awfully thick.
He started down the stairs that led to infirmary, only to have a speeding body slam against his, without so much as a 'Excuse me.'
"Oaf!--" Scott stumbled backwards, grabbing frantically for his glasses, which, to his horror, started slipping down his nose. He regained his footing before glaring at the offensive boy. "Alvers, what's the--"
"There's something wrong with Pietro!" Lance cried, brushing past Scott without another word or glance, and down the hallway, most likely to go grab Mr. McCoy.
That caught Scott's attention. Well, curiosity more then anything else.
He started down the hall, his pace increasing just slightly.
Just like Pietro to attempted an even -more- spectacular entrance then he'd made already. Of course, the other was almost Lance's fault … huh. Who knew he had a flair for dramatics?
a.n: slow moving … i'm getting a little annoyed with how slowly it's moving … oh well. give review, get chapter. it's kind like the barter system. ^___^