------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, review, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again. Unfortunately, Pietro got to the mailbag before I could. Apologies in advance. He can be such a jerk sometimes. A flirtatious jerk at that.
Cheers.
Jack
------
My lack of mobility could be such a pain in the butt sometimes. Summers and the Doc (great name for a band) headed out to the police station without taking me along, despite the fact that it was my sister behind bars. Heck, I've had experience in being a felon. The very least they could do was take me along so I could give her advice on how to piss off the jailers and other inmates.
Actually, it's entirely possible I was still wanted for busting out of jail after the whole incident with Evan and the lockers. That might have been a good reason to leave me behind. The last thing I needed at this point of my life was to share a ten-by-ten cell with a three-hundred pound inmate by the name of 'Bubba.' At the risk of sounding like Kitty, it would, like, totally ruin my image.
Not that my reputation could possibly be tarnished any further, mind you.
Yeah, I had a few self-esteem issues. Sue me.
So instead of tagging along and being there for the only blood- relation I actually got along with I ended up pacing the hall of the boy's wing while waiting for them to get back. Sort of, anyway. Since I wasn't a self-propelled piece of machinery, Bobby was actually doing all the pacing for me. I was just along for the ride.
"How long are they going to be down there, anyway?" I grumbled. It had already been two hours. My patience, never a real strong trait to begin with, was rapidly wearing thin. I was pretty sure that we'd have heard if something bad had happened, but not positive.
"Too long," Bobby said from his position behind me. We made a U-turn at the head of the stairs and started back. I agreed with him wholeheartedly. Then he went on, "I hope she's all right."
Something in his voice made me tip my head back to look up at him. The movement made my head come to rest against his stomach and I was startled to feel the cold emanating from him. I motioned for him to stop and come around in front of me.
"What?" he asked. There wasn't any pretty way of doing this, so I just acted quickly. He yelped in surprised as I quickly lifted his long- sleeved t-shirt and laid the back of my hand against his belly. Holy crap! I jerked my hand back, but it was already tingling.
"Jeez, man. You feel like a freakin' Popsicle," I said, briskly rubbing my hands together to warm them. Bobby tucked his shirt back in and resumed pushing me up and down the hall.
"I'm nervous. My body heat dips when I get nervous."
"Gee, you think?"
I leaned my head back again, trying to ignore the cold, tingly feeling running down my scalp. "This have anything to do with my sister?" I asked innocently. Even if I hadn't noticed his hands suddenly clutch the handles of my chair, the fact that my head felt like it was going to freeze solid confirmed my suspicions. The drop in temperature around us was just frosting on the cake.
"Maybe."
"That's cool," I said. Bobby and Wanda. Wanda and Bobby. It didn't sound too weird, anyway. My chilly friend looked down at me, grinning suddenly. "Figure of speech, Iceman. Figure of speech."
"I know." He sighed. "I am worried about her, though."
"You asked her out yet?" I asked, trying to keep my own worry to a minimum by changing the subject. Slightly anyway.
"No. I was going to, but I haven't had the chance," he replied. "She keeps avoiding all of us."
"Well, I'm behind you a hundred percent, buddy."
He looked down at me again. "Really?"
"Sure," I said. Then I grinned evilly. "As her brother, however, I'll warn you in advance that if you ever make her cry I'm duty-bound to kick your ass."
"I don't think it's possible to make Wanda cry," Bobby said with a laugh. The temperature rose slightly. At least my breath wasn't coming out in fog anymore. That was always a plus. I had a flashback of the day my father put her in that institution.
"You'd be surprised."
After four hours, it was nearly midnight and there was still no sign of any of them. Bobby passed me off to Lance for the whole bedtime ritual. School nights sucked. I mean, if it weren't for the whole spinal injury, I could wake up two minutes before the first bell and still make it to school on time. These days I needed a considerably larger amount of time to get ready. So I ended up having to get to bed at what Hank termed a 'decent hour' and I called too freakin' early.
"You think something went wrong?" Lance asked.
I spat into the sink and inspected my teeth in the mirror. "I don't know. I hate to admit it, but I'm getting a little concerned. Come on, how bad did she waste the guy?"
"Very, I hope," he said darkly. I looked over at him, slightly alarmed. Lance rinsed his toothbrush and very nearly slammed it into the cabinet above the sink. I could tell he was doing his best to keep from smashing the glass with his fists. I reached out a tentative hand and touched his arm, which felt like stone under my fingers.
"Lance? You ok, man?" I asked, putting away my own utensils.
He looked down at my hand, which I carefully removed. "Yeah, I'm fine." He visibly relaxed. "Just wish I could have been there. I've got a few things to say to that creep myself." He cracked his knuckles and the sound echoed in the bathroom like a rifle report. I just bet he wanted to 'talk' to Duncan. With his hands, most likely, and I don't mean sign language.
"I know what you mean," I said as we rolled to my room. "I wouldn't mind giving him a good spanking myself." Lance fell silent behind me and I realized what I'd just said. "Uh, not like that." Do...not...blush...dammit. Luckily my room was only three doors down from the bathroom. No one could see the fact that I resembled a human turnip.
"Speaking of that," he said as he closed the door behind us. He parked me by the bed and lifted me easily onto the mattress. The guy could move a ton of rock in mild irritation so it always came as a bit of a surprise that he could be so gentle about it. Of course, I couldn't feel his hand under my knees. For all I knew, he was giving me Indian burns while doing so.
"Speaking of what?" I asked innocently.
He tossed my makeshift pajamas over to me. "I know we haven't talked much about the whole, um, Kurtboyfriendgaything." The last word came out in a rush, even for me. I managed to catch the first part of it, though, and nodded warily.
"Go on."
Lance gestured at the t-shirt with a raised eyebrow and I looked down. Oh, oops. I guess my laundry got mixed up with Kurt's again. Understandable. My wardrobe was almost entirely black and this was one of the few dark shirts the guy owned. Also one of the crudest.
"'Click here to see me naked?'" [1] Lance asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't even think about it."
He sat on the edge of the bed and turned slightly away as I started struggling into the sweatpants. I was starting to get the hang of it, but was still a little embarrassed by the idea of stripping down in front of people. I'm nowhere as prudish as, say, Summers but that doesn't mean I liked dangling my wares for the entire world to see. Um, so to speak. Man that sounded wrong.
"Anyway, you were going to say something about Kurt?"
"Yeah, sort of," he said, still turned away. I tapped him on the shoulder when I was done and we both lay back on the bed. He had to shuffle around a bit to keep from using me as a pillow. "Just wanted to tell you that I'm cool with it. Not, um, comfortable, but its ok with me, you know? It's not going to change anything between us, man."
Well, that was a relief. And here I'd thought that being dragged unceremoniously out of the closet by the biggest jerk - excuse me, I mean jock - in school would change things. Lance hadn't said too much in the few days since, and I guess I'd sort of worried about it.
"Thanks, Lance," I said. I meant it too.
"No problem, man. As long as you're happy, right?"
"I like your way of thinking."
He was quiet for a few minutes. I toyed with the forgotten t-shirt.
"Lance?" He grunted. I took that for a 'yes?' and went on: "What else is bothering you?"
He rolled over and pointed at my belly. "This, for one."
I looked down where he was pointing. The puncture wound had healed over and there was an angry red scar in its place. It looked like a zit, to be honest, but it would fade in time. I shook my head.
"It's all right. The Doc says the internal stuff was easy to fix. Even Hank says I'm doing--"
Lance cut me off. "Not the damn scar, you idiot. I mean this!" He poked me in the ribs, in the stomach. I must have looked confused. "There's hardly anything left of you!" He sounded genuinely ticked.
I tried to shrug it off. "I have a fast metabolism."
"Don't give me that crap, Pietro. I saw you at dinner tonight - you ate two slices of pizza and a half-dozen mushrooms you stole from Kurt's plate. That's hardly a meal for you, jackass. That's not even a light snack! You're starving yourself on purpose!"
And here I thought I'd been circumspect about it.
"I am not," I evaded. "I just haven't been hungry and you know I've always been this slender. You're blowing things out of proportion," I added. Oops. My mistake.
"Pietro," Lance said in the neutral tone he reserved for when he was really irked, "whatever your reason for doing this, it's wrong. It's screwed up and it's wrong."
He was starting to push my buttons. "I. Am. Fine. Lance," I said evenly. "Do me a favor and don't tell anyone about this, all right?"
"Like hell I won't," he said, standing. "I'm not gonna sit by and let you wither away, moron. You're my friend, Pietro, and friends don't do that."
I blinked. I guess I hadn't really thought about how this whole thing was affecting Lance. I think I've mentioned before that since Mystique had taken off he'd more or less taken charge of the rest of the Brotherhood. A sort of surrogate father, despite the fact that he was less than four years older than the youngest of us. Strange, but true. Under that sandpaper exterior was a guy who really cared about the rest of us and I hadn't thought about what this was doing to the poor guy.
I could take a lot of crap from a lot of people, but it was a lot harder to take it from a guy who'd been pretty much responsible for me for nearly a year. Jeez. As if I hadn't already had a lousy day.
"I didn't mean it like that, Lance."
He rolled his eyes. "Well, say what you mean. Sheesh." He shook a finger in my face. "And don't think I was kidding about telling the Doc that you're trying to starve to death, either. I swear, if you weren't so damn fragile right now I'd take you outside and thrash you."
"Let's hear it for small favors," I said wryly. He grinned at me and it was like the weight of the world came off my shoulders. "Sorry I snapped."
"No problem. You need any more help in here?"
I shrugged into the t-shirt and squirmed up the bed until I was more or less comfortable.
"Nah. Just hit the lights before you go. Good night," I said with a jaw-cracking yawn.
"Good night."
The lights went out and the room fell into darkness as he shut the door. I glanced at the clock on the bedside. 12:30 am. Great. I had to be up in less than six hours for school and I didn't feel like sleeping.
There's no way to sugar-coat this: the bed moved; I screamed. Loudly. And quite girlishly, much to my consternation. A hand clamped down on my mouth and I bit down hard. A moment later, my head whipped to one side. My cheek started to sting - ouch. I hate being slapped. I bruise so easily.
The light on the other side of the bed flipped on and I blinked, hissing at the sudden light. When I could see properly, I cast a sidelong look at my assailant.
"Wanda?"
"Dammit, Pietro," my sister said as she inspected her hand. "You nearly broke the skin, you nitwit."
"Wanda! Jeez, girl! You should know better than to sneak up on me when I'm sleeping," I muttered, flopping back onto my pillows. I fought my breathing back under control. For a brief moment I fantasized about putting a lock on the door to my bedroom. I was well and truly getting tired of waking up with people in my bed. Well, Kurt aside of course.
No, don't go there. Just...don't.
"What on earth were you thinking?" I asked her. She blinked royal blue eyes at me and smiled. I mirrored her grin, literally. It's just one more quirk about us.
"I was thinking of you, goofball," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Why else would I beat the crap out of the captain of the varsity team?"
"Wanda," I said in all seriousness, "you'd beat the crap out of anyone just for a good laugh. Restraint isn't in your vocabulary. What the heck did you hit him with, anyway? Summers said the poor guy is in traction now."
She shrugged. "I hexed a park bench at him."
"That's it?"
"It was one of the cement ones."
Oh. "Ouchie," I cringed. "Remind me not to piss you off anytime soon. How'd you manage to escape from prison so quickly?" I glanced at the clock. 2:20 am. School was going to really suck tomorrow. With luck I'd be able to catnap between classes. Right. Stick to that story. "They let you out after eight hours?"
Wanda sighed. "Doctor MacTaggart posted bail. I've never seen her so mad, either."
"I can imagine." On impulse, I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Quit being such a stranger, Wanda. I've missed you." Where, you might ask, did this sudden display of affection come from? I'm not really sure. I think my father's visit might have had something to do with it. I just had this urgent need to mend my relationship with my sister. Naturally, this made her suspicious.
"Are you feeling all right, Pietro?" she asked. I didn't blame her. We'd had a less-than-stellar relationship up to this point. My sudden desire for her friendship and company probably came across as anywhere from slightly odd (me) to downright insane (her).
That's not too far off the mark, either. Wanda is certifiably nuts. She thinks I don't know about the medication she takes on a regular basis, but it's hard to keep secret from a guy who moves faster than most airplanes. I'd had the opportunity to go through her purse the other night during a commercial and found a wide variety of pills and what-have-you tucked away in there. When I say she's a loony tune, I'm not kidding.
"I'm feeling fine, Wanda," I said. Blink, blink. "Aside from the lack of lower-body response and the occasional phantom pain from this second bellybutton our father tried to install, that is." I flashed my most innocent smile her way. "I really do miss having a sister, that's all. I know we haven't gotten along much lately--"
"Try ever."
"--ever, but I want to change that. I want us to be a family again."
"You really mean it?" she asked, eyes wide. She looked happy. That was a good sign.
"Oh yeah. I mean it."
She considered that for a moment. "So no more secrets, right?"
My blood ran cold for just an instant. I had a pretty good idea where this was headed.
"What do you mean?" I hedged.
"Get with it, little brother." I hated being called that. She had a whole eleven minutes on me; not enough to be pulling the 'little' crap out and waving it in my face. "Scott told me in the car why Duncan decided to use your head for target practice." Her face darkened. "I wonder if I can sneak out to the hospital before dawn."
Wanda actually made a move for the door and I had to grab her with both hands to keep her with me. "I don't think that's a good idea," I said.
Her eyes smoldered, turning a deep, fiery purple before softening back to their normal rich blue. I swallowed. For a moment, I honestly thought she'd explode at me. I guess blood runs deeper than water, though.
Thankfully.
"You're right," she said carefully. Then she smacked me lightly. "So why didn't you tell me about your boyfriend, you little poofter?"
I coughed uncomfortably. "I'm still getting used to it myself, Wanda. And It hasn't exactly been easy to keep it under wraps around this place." I hung my head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Darn it.
"Tell me about it." She sighed and I felt her arms wrap around me. "It's ok, Pié," [2] she said, using my childhood nickname for the first time since, well, we were children. I hugged her back, tightly. My vision was going watery again. Crap. "It's ok," she repeated as I clung to her. "If you're happy, then I'm happy. That's all that matters, all right?"
"You seriously don't have a problem with Kurt?" I said. My voice cracked and I felt a tear run down my cheek. Bloody hell. I couldn't blame it on the painkillers I'd been popping like Reese's Pieces for the last two weeks either. My life had been a constant rollercoaster since waking up in the basement clinic and I just couldn't take the stress any more. Knowing Wanda was there for me as a sister, as a friend, was more than I could handle at the moment.
"Shhh," she said. Wetness hit my neck and I knew Wanda had started crying too. Must be a twin thing. "I like him. From what I've seen, he's a good influence on you, Pietro."
I couldn't say anything to that. We just sat there for several minutes, listening to the wind outside my window and rocking lightly back and forth. After a while I felt worn out and tired as all get out. I pulled away from Wanda, dashing my arm across my eyes and snorting. I hate crying. My sinuses always drain and it makes me sound horrid when I sniffle. Actually, it makes me sound a lot like Logan snoring. Pretty bad, anyway.
"We've got class in the morning," I said with a tentative smile. "You'd better get to bed. Oh, hey," I said quickly. "That reminds me. Bobby wants to ask you out, but he's too chicken to do it."
"I'll fix that," Wanda giggled and then she stood, flipping the light switch. I'd expected the room to fall into darkness, but the door was open and the hall light was flooding in. Oh, wonderful. We'd had an audience.
"How long have you been standing there, Logan?" my sister asked with a hint of irritation in her voice.
The big man shrugged and stepped inside the room. "Since yer brother woke up half the hallway by screaming," Logan said, jerking his chin in my direction.
"Sorry about that," I mumbled, feeling my face flush scarlet.
Wanda patted my shoulder. "Good night, Pié," she said as she brushed past Logan. The big mutant watched her leave and then closed the door behind him. The room fell into blessed darkness. At least he couldn't see me blushing any more. Unless his nose could pick up the scent of my blood underneath my cheeks. No, that was just too weird. I hoped.
"What do you want, Logan?" I asked, suddenly tired.
"Just wanna make sure yer ok before I sack out."
"I'm fine!" I snorted again and the noise was way too loud in the quiet room. Damn. "Really," I added lamely.
Logan chuckled in the blackness of the room. I felt the hairs rise on the back of my arms and wished he wouldn't do that again. The man frightened me and for good reason. The guy was a cold-blooded killer who could scare half the populace with a well-placed glance.
"Sure you are." I didn't bother answering that, closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep instead. The chair next to the bed creaked. Guess that hadn't worked out too well, eh? I gave up and looked at the hulking shadow to my right.
"What?" I snapped.
"Ya want some advice, kiddo?"
From you? Hell no.
"Sure." Hey, I'm not stupid enough to say that to his face.
"Get yer thumb outta yer ass and tell the rest of the kids around here. Kurt's going through the same frustration that you are and it's eating him up."
That was news to me. It made sense, though. I sighed.
"You're probably right. It isn't fair for him, either."
"I know I'm right, spanky. The longer ya guys keep it close, the more yer gonna stress out about it. Sooner'r later one of ya's gonna crack."
"All right, all right," I said. I cave way too easily sometimes. "I'll talk to him about it tomorrow at school if I can find a chance. Maybe we'll just come out with it at dinner. Rent a billboard, even. Think Xavier'd mind if I rented spotlights for the occasion?"
"Don't get smart. I just don't want ya kids getting hurt," he said. There was an edge of humor in his voice. I really think I preferred the old Logan - you know, the one that cussed like a sailor, smoked incessantly and tried to gut anyone that came near him. The new, pseudo-friendly Logan was so far out of my experience I couldn't think straight.
You know what I mean.
"All right already. Jeez. Dinner, tomorrow. I promise."
Here's hoping Kurt was up to the idea.
------
To Be Continued.
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[1]: Yet another charming shirt from tshirthell.com.
[2]: I made this up out of whole cloth. Everyone else uses 'Tro' as a nickname and I wanted something different. 'Pi' or 'Pie' just look and sound weird when I mentally try them out. 'Pié' however works pretty well, I think. It's pronounced PEE-ay for those who have trouble with accented letters.
------
To Jack's Reviewers:
"Well, let's see. Dear Sailor X1: Personally, I could do a little less with the real world issues. Jack's been putting me through hell lately. I mean, come on; the guy made me go up against Sabretooth AND Magneto in two successive fics. What kind of rat does that sort of thing? He's evil, EVIL I tell you!"
"Ahem. Just answer the damn letter, Pietro."
"Sorry. Where was I? Oh, we forgive you for the Murdock thing. Could have happened to anyone. Keep an eye out for more Marvel comic cameos, though. YOU're sorry about my legs? Jeez, lady. How do you think I felt? I had my hopes up for a moment there. Sheesh. Anyway, the pigs business was another one of his supposedly witty attempts at humor."
"Pietro!"
"Oops. You still here? Um, yeah, I agree. I do need a hug. You volunteering, chickie?"
"That's it. I'm changing my e-mail password right now."
"Sissy. I'm just adding spice to your reader response section. Let's see: Xavier doesn't know that my old man stopped by to chat. I don't doubt that Doc or Hank will tell him, but I'm not planning to fill the guy in on the conversation. Magneto is a real pain to write, from what I've been told, but I think it sort of balanced out pretty well. The Wanda situation was long in coming."
"Yep. Figured tossing her butt in jail might explain why I haven't written her."
"And here I thought it's because you kept putting it off."
"I had your best health in mind."
"Right. Just like you did with that syringe from hell."
"The letters, please."
"Right. The next one is from Ultramatt17: The reference is from 'Clerks: The Cartoon,' but we're not sure of the exact episode. One of the early ones, anyway. I gotta ask: Jack's racking up a lot of brownie points. Any chance he'll be able to trade them in for something neat soon? Um, let's see. Yeah, Magneto is a bit of a prick, but I can see where he was coming from."
"Really?"
"Oh, hell no. Who am I kidding? Dad scares the living dookie out of me. Jamie's a sweet kid and I genuinely like him. I'm pretty sure between the two of us we can make life a living hell for the other new mutants."
"What are you looking at me like that for?"
"Hint, hint. More Jamie. It's been requested."
"I'll add him to the list of people to write more about. Get on with it."
"Gotcha. Where was I? Oh, yes. Don't mess with my sister. That's more common sense than anything else. I should note that you're running out of people to antagonize, Ultramatt17. First Ororo, now Wanda. Wait until Wolverine finally gets pissed off. It'll make that X2 movie look like a Boy Scout training film. That's the last letter! Can I do this next chapter too?"
"Over my dead body."
"You, sir, are no fun."
"Learn to live with it."
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, review, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again. Unfortunately, Pietro got to the mailbag before I could. Apologies in advance. He can be such a jerk sometimes. A flirtatious jerk at that.
Cheers.
Jack
------
My lack of mobility could be such a pain in the butt sometimes. Summers and the Doc (great name for a band) headed out to the police station without taking me along, despite the fact that it was my sister behind bars. Heck, I've had experience in being a felon. The very least they could do was take me along so I could give her advice on how to piss off the jailers and other inmates.
Actually, it's entirely possible I was still wanted for busting out of jail after the whole incident with Evan and the lockers. That might have been a good reason to leave me behind. The last thing I needed at this point of my life was to share a ten-by-ten cell with a three-hundred pound inmate by the name of 'Bubba.' At the risk of sounding like Kitty, it would, like, totally ruin my image.
Not that my reputation could possibly be tarnished any further, mind you.
Yeah, I had a few self-esteem issues. Sue me.
So instead of tagging along and being there for the only blood- relation I actually got along with I ended up pacing the hall of the boy's wing while waiting for them to get back. Sort of, anyway. Since I wasn't a self-propelled piece of machinery, Bobby was actually doing all the pacing for me. I was just along for the ride.
"How long are they going to be down there, anyway?" I grumbled. It had already been two hours. My patience, never a real strong trait to begin with, was rapidly wearing thin. I was pretty sure that we'd have heard if something bad had happened, but not positive.
"Too long," Bobby said from his position behind me. We made a U-turn at the head of the stairs and started back. I agreed with him wholeheartedly. Then he went on, "I hope she's all right."
Something in his voice made me tip my head back to look up at him. The movement made my head come to rest against his stomach and I was startled to feel the cold emanating from him. I motioned for him to stop and come around in front of me.
"What?" he asked. There wasn't any pretty way of doing this, so I just acted quickly. He yelped in surprised as I quickly lifted his long- sleeved t-shirt and laid the back of my hand against his belly. Holy crap! I jerked my hand back, but it was already tingling.
"Jeez, man. You feel like a freakin' Popsicle," I said, briskly rubbing my hands together to warm them. Bobby tucked his shirt back in and resumed pushing me up and down the hall.
"I'm nervous. My body heat dips when I get nervous."
"Gee, you think?"
I leaned my head back again, trying to ignore the cold, tingly feeling running down my scalp. "This have anything to do with my sister?" I asked innocently. Even if I hadn't noticed his hands suddenly clutch the handles of my chair, the fact that my head felt like it was going to freeze solid confirmed my suspicions. The drop in temperature around us was just frosting on the cake.
"Maybe."
"That's cool," I said. Bobby and Wanda. Wanda and Bobby. It didn't sound too weird, anyway. My chilly friend looked down at me, grinning suddenly. "Figure of speech, Iceman. Figure of speech."
"I know." He sighed. "I am worried about her, though."
"You asked her out yet?" I asked, trying to keep my own worry to a minimum by changing the subject. Slightly anyway.
"No. I was going to, but I haven't had the chance," he replied. "She keeps avoiding all of us."
"Well, I'm behind you a hundred percent, buddy."
He looked down at me again. "Really?"
"Sure," I said. Then I grinned evilly. "As her brother, however, I'll warn you in advance that if you ever make her cry I'm duty-bound to kick your ass."
"I don't think it's possible to make Wanda cry," Bobby said with a laugh. The temperature rose slightly. At least my breath wasn't coming out in fog anymore. That was always a plus. I had a flashback of the day my father put her in that institution.
"You'd be surprised."
After four hours, it was nearly midnight and there was still no sign of any of them. Bobby passed me off to Lance for the whole bedtime ritual. School nights sucked. I mean, if it weren't for the whole spinal injury, I could wake up two minutes before the first bell and still make it to school on time. These days I needed a considerably larger amount of time to get ready. So I ended up having to get to bed at what Hank termed a 'decent hour' and I called too freakin' early.
"You think something went wrong?" Lance asked.
I spat into the sink and inspected my teeth in the mirror. "I don't know. I hate to admit it, but I'm getting a little concerned. Come on, how bad did she waste the guy?"
"Very, I hope," he said darkly. I looked over at him, slightly alarmed. Lance rinsed his toothbrush and very nearly slammed it into the cabinet above the sink. I could tell he was doing his best to keep from smashing the glass with his fists. I reached out a tentative hand and touched his arm, which felt like stone under my fingers.
"Lance? You ok, man?" I asked, putting away my own utensils.
He looked down at my hand, which I carefully removed. "Yeah, I'm fine." He visibly relaxed. "Just wish I could have been there. I've got a few things to say to that creep myself." He cracked his knuckles and the sound echoed in the bathroom like a rifle report. I just bet he wanted to 'talk' to Duncan. With his hands, most likely, and I don't mean sign language.
"I know what you mean," I said as we rolled to my room. "I wouldn't mind giving him a good spanking myself." Lance fell silent behind me and I realized what I'd just said. "Uh, not like that." Do...not...blush...dammit. Luckily my room was only three doors down from the bathroom. No one could see the fact that I resembled a human turnip.
"Speaking of that," he said as he closed the door behind us. He parked me by the bed and lifted me easily onto the mattress. The guy could move a ton of rock in mild irritation so it always came as a bit of a surprise that he could be so gentle about it. Of course, I couldn't feel his hand under my knees. For all I knew, he was giving me Indian burns while doing so.
"Speaking of what?" I asked innocently.
He tossed my makeshift pajamas over to me. "I know we haven't talked much about the whole, um, Kurtboyfriendgaything." The last word came out in a rush, even for me. I managed to catch the first part of it, though, and nodded warily.
"Go on."
Lance gestured at the t-shirt with a raised eyebrow and I looked down. Oh, oops. I guess my laundry got mixed up with Kurt's again. Understandable. My wardrobe was almost entirely black and this was one of the few dark shirts the guy owned. Also one of the crudest.
"'Click here to see me naked?'" [1] Lance asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Don't even think about it."
He sat on the edge of the bed and turned slightly away as I started struggling into the sweatpants. I was starting to get the hang of it, but was still a little embarrassed by the idea of stripping down in front of people. I'm nowhere as prudish as, say, Summers but that doesn't mean I liked dangling my wares for the entire world to see. Um, so to speak. Man that sounded wrong.
"Anyway, you were going to say something about Kurt?"
"Yeah, sort of," he said, still turned away. I tapped him on the shoulder when I was done and we both lay back on the bed. He had to shuffle around a bit to keep from using me as a pillow. "Just wanted to tell you that I'm cool with it. Not, um, comfortable, but its ok with me, you know? It's not going to change anything between us, man."
Well, that was a relief. And here I'd thought that being dragged unceremoniously out of the closet by the biggest jerk - excuse me, I mean jock - in school would change things. Lance hadn't said too much in the few days since, and I guess I'd sort of worried about it.
"Thanks, Lance," I said. I meant it too.
"No problem, man. As long as you're happy, right?"
"I like your way of thinking."
He was quiet for a few minutes. I toyed with the forgotten t-shirt.
"Lance?" He grunted. I took that for a 'yes?' and went on: "What else is bothering you?"
He rolled over and pointed at my belly. "This, for one."
I looked down where he was pointing. The puncture wound had healed over and there was an angry red scar in its place. It looked like a zit, to be honest, but it would fade in time. I shook my head.
"It's all right. The Doc says the internal stuff was easy to fix. Even Hank says I'm doing--"
Lance cut me off. "Not the damn scar, you idiot. I mean this!" He poked me in the ribs, in the stomach. I must have looked confused. "There's hardly anything left of you!" He sounded genuinely ticked.
I tried to shrug it off. "I have a fast metabolism."
"Don't give me that crap, Pietro. I saw you at dinner tonight - you ate two slices of pizza and a half-dozen mushrooms you stole from Kurt's plate. That's hardly a meal for you, jackass. That's not even a light snack! You're starving yourself on purpose!"
And here I thought I'd been circumspect about it.
"I am not," I evaded. "I just haven't been hungry and you know I've always been this slender. You're blowing things out of proportion," I added. Oops. My mistake.
"Pietro," Lance said in the neutral tone he reserved for when he was really irked, "whatever your reason for doing this, it's wrong. It's screwed up and it's wrong."
He was starting to push my buttons. "I. Am. Fine. Lance," I said evenly. "Do me a favor and don't tell anyone about this, all right?"
"Like hell I won't," he said, standing. "I'm not gonna sit by and let you wither away, moron. You're my friend, Pietro, and friends don't do that."
I blinked. I guess I hadn't really thought about how this whole thing was affecting Lance. I think I've mentioned before that since Mystique had taken off he'd more or less taken charge of the rest of the Brotherhood. A sort of surrogate father, despite the fact that he was less than four years older than the youngest of us. Strange, but true. Under that sandpaper exterior was a guy who really cared about the rest of us and I hadn't thought about what this was doing to the poor guy.
I could take a lot of crap from a lot of people, but it was a lot harder to take it from a guy who'd been pretty much responsible for me for nearly a year. Jeez. As if I hadn't already had a lousy day.
"I didn't mean it like that, Lance."
He rolled his eyes. "Well, say what you mean. Sheesh." He shook a finger in my face. "And don't think I was kidding about telling the Doc that you're trying to starve to death, either. I swear, if you weren't so damn fragile right now I'd take you outside and thrash you."
"Let's hear it for small favors," I said wryly. He grinned at me and it was like the weight of the world came off my shoulders. "Sorry I snapped."
"No problem. You need any more help in here?"
I shrugged into the t-shirt and squirmed up the bed until I was more or less comfortable.
"Nah. Just hit the lights before you go. Good night," I said with a jaw-cracking yawn.
"Good night."
The lights went out and the room fell into darkness as he shut the door. I glanced at the clock on the bedside. 12:30 am. Great. I had to be up in less than six hours for school and I didn't feel like sleeping.
There's no way to sugar-coat this: the bed moved; I screamed. Loudly. And quite girlishly, much to my consternation. A hand clamped down on my mouth and I bit down hard. A moment later, my head whipped to one side. My cheek started to sting - ouch. I hate being slapped. I bruise so easily.
The light on the other side of the bed flipped on and I blinked, hissing at the sudden light. When I could see properly, I cast a sidelong look at my assailant.
"Wanda?"
"Dammit, Pietro," my sister said as she inspected her hand. "You nearly broke the skin, you nitwit."
"Wanda! Jeez, girl! You should know better than to sneak up on me when I'm sleeping," I muttered, flopping back onto my pillows. I fought my breathing back under control. For a brief moment I fantasized about putting a lock on the door to my bedroom. I was well and truly getting tired of waking up with people in my bed. Well, Kurt aside of course.
No, don't go there. Just...don't.
"What on earth were you thinking?" I asked her. She blinked royal blue eyes at me and smiled. I mirrored her grin, literally. It's just one more quirk about us.
"I was thinking of you, goofball," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Why else would I beat the crap out of the captain of the varsity team?"
"Wanda," I said in all seriousness, "you'd beat the crap out of anyone just for a good laugh. Restraint isn't in your vocabulary. What the heck did you hit him with, anyway? Summers said the poor guy is in traction now."
She shrugged. "I hexed a park bench at him."
"That's it?"
"It was one of the cement ones."
Oh. "Ouchie," I cringed. "Remind me not to piss you off anytime soon. How'd you manage to escape from prison so quickly?" I glanced at the clock. 2:20 am. School was going to really suck tomorrow. With luck I'd be able to catnap between classes. Right. Stick to that story. "They let you out after eight hours?"
Wanda sighed. "Doctor MacTaggart posted bail. I've never seen her so mad, either."
"I can imagine." On impulse, I took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Quit being such a stranger, Wanda. I've missed you." Where, you might ask, did this sudden display of affection come from? I'm not really sure. I think my father's visit might have had something to do with it. I just had this urgent need to mend my relationship with my sister. Naturally, this made her suspicious.
"Are you feeling all right, Pietro?" she asked. I didn't blame her. We'd had a less-than-stellar relationship up to this point. My sudden desire for her friendship and company probably came across as anywhere from slightly odd (me) to downright insane (her).
That's not too far off the mark, either. Wanda is certifiably nuts. She thinks I don't know about the medication she takes on a regular basis, but it's hard to keep secret from a guy who moves faster than most airplanes. I'd had the opportunity to go through her purse the other night during a commercial and found a wide variety of pills and what-have-you tucked away in there. When I say she's a loony tune, I'm not kidding.
"I'm feeling fine, Wanda," I said. Blink, blink. "Aside from the lack of lower-body response and the occasional phantom pain from this second bellybutton our father tried to install, that is." I flashed my most innocent smile her way. "I really do miss having a sister, that's all. I know we haven't gotten along much lately--"
"Try ever."
"--ever, but I want to change that. I want us to be a family again."
"You really mean it?" she asked, eyes wide. She looked happy. That was a good sign.
"Oh yeah. I mean it."
She considered that for a moment. "So no more secrets, right?"
My blood ran cold for just an instant. I had a pretty good idea where this was headed.
"What do you mean?" I hedged.
"Get with it, little brother." I hated being called that. She had a whole eleven minutes on me; not enough to be pulling the 'little' crap out and waving it in my face. "Scott told me in the car why Duncan decided to use your head for target practice." Her face darkened. "I wonder if I can sneak out to the hospital before dawn."
Wanda actually made a move for the door and I had to grab her with both hands to keep her with me. "I don't think that's a good idea," I said.
Her eyes smoldered, turning a deep, fiery purple before softening back to their normal rich blue. I swallowed. For a moment, I honestly thought she'd explode at me. I guess blood runs deeper than water, though.
Thankfully.
"You're right," she said carefully. Then she smacked me lightly. "So why didn't you tell me about your boyfriend, you little poofter?"
I coughed uncomfortably. "I'm still getting used to it myself, Wanda. And It hasn't exactly been easy to keep it under wraps around this place." I hung my head, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Darn it.
"Tell me about it." She sighed and I felt her arms wrap around me. "It's ok, Pié," [2] she said, using my childhood nickname for the first time since, well, we were children. I hugged her back, tightly. My vision was going watery again. Crap. "It's ok," she repeated as I clung to her. "If you're happy, then I'm happy. That's all that matters, all right?"
"You seriously don't have a problem with Kurt?" I said. My voice cracked and I felt a tear run down my cheek. Bloody hell. I couldn't blame it on the painkillers I'd been popping like Reese's Pieces for the last two weeks either. My life had been a constant rollercoaster since waking up in the basement clinic and I just couldn't take the stress any more. Knowing Wanda was there for me as a sister, as a friend, was more than I could handle at the moment.
"Shhh," she said. Wetness hit my neck and I knew Wanda had started crying too. Must be a twin thing. "I like him. From what I've seen, he's a good influence on you, Pietro."
I couldn't say anything to that. We just sat there for several minutes, listening to the wind outside my window and rocking lightly back and forth. After a while I felt worn out and tired as all get out. I pulled away from Wanda, dashing my arm across my eyes and snorting. I hate crying. My sinuses always drain and it makes me sound horrid when I sniffle. Actually, it makes me sound a lot like Logan snoring. Pretty bad, anyway.
"We've got class in the morning," I said with a tentative smile. "You'd better get to bed. Oh, hey," I said quickly. "That reminds me. Bobby wants to ask you out, but he's too chicken to do it."
"I'll fix that," Wanda giggled and then she stood, flipping the light switch. I'd expected the room to fall into darkness, but the door was open and the hall light was flooding in. Oh, wonderful. We'd had an audience.
"How long have you been standing there, Logan?" my sister asked with a hint of irritation in her voice.
The big man shrugged and stepped inside the room. "Since yer brother woke up half the hallway by screaming," Logan said, jerking his chin in my direction.
"Sorry about that," I mumbled, feeling my face flush scarlet.
Wanda patted my shoulder. "Good night, Pié," she said as she brushed past Logan. The big mutant watched her leave and then closed the door behind him. The room fell into blessed darkness. At least he couldn't see me blushing any more. Unless his nose could pick up the scent of my blood underneath my cheeks. No, that was just too weird. I hoped.
"What do you want, Logan?" I asked, suddenly tired.
"Just wanna make sure yer ok before I sack out."
"I'm fine!" I snorted again and the noise was way too loud in the quiet room. Damn. "Really," I added lamely.
Logan chuckled in the blackness of the room. I felt the hairs rise on the back of my arms and wished he wouldn't do that again. The man frightened me and for good reason. The guy was a cold-blooded killer who could scare half the populace with a well-placed glance.
"Sure you are." I didn't bother answering that, closing my eyes and pretending to be asleep instead. The chair next to the bed creaked. Guess that hadn't worked out too well, eh? I gave up and looked at the hulking shadow to my right.
"What?" I snapped.
"Ya want some advice, kiddo?"
From you? Hell no.
"Sure." Hey, I'm not stupid enough to say that to his face.
"Get yer thumb outta yer ass and tell the rest of the kids around here. Kurt's going through the same frustration that you are and it's eating him up."
That was news to me. It made sense, though. I sighed.
"You're probably right. It isn't fair for him, either."
"I know I'm right, spanky. The longer ya guys keep it close, the more yer gonna stress out about it. Sooner'r later one of ya's gonna crack."
"All right, all right," I said. I cave way too easily sometimes. "I'll talk to him about it tomorrow at school if I can find a chance. Maybe we'll just come out with it at dinner. Rent a billboard, even. Think Xavier'd mind if I rented spotlights for the occasion?"
"Don't get smart. I just don't want ya kids getting hurt," he said. There was an edge of humor in his voice. I really think I preferred the old Logan - you know, the one that cussed like a sailor, smoked incessantly and tried to gut anyone that came near him. The new, pseudo-friendly Logan was so far out of my experience I couldn't think straight.
You know what I mean.
"All right already. Jeez. Dinner, tomorrow. I promise."
Here's hoping Kurt was up to the idea.
------
To Be Continued.
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[1]: Yet another charming shirt from tshirthell.com.
[2]: I made this up out of whole cloth. Everyone else uses 'Tro' as a nickname and I wanted something different. 'Pi' or 'Pie' just look and sound weird when I mentally try them out. 'Pié' however works pretty well, I think. It's pronounced PEE-ay for those who have trouble with accented letters.
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To Jack's Reviewers:
"Well, let's see. Dear Sailor X1: Personally, I could do a little less with the real world issues. Jack's been putting me through hell lately. I mean, come on; the guy made me go up against Sabretooth AND Magneto in two successive fics. What kind of rat does that sort of thing? He's evil, EVIL I tell you!"
"Ahem. Just answer the damn letter, Pietro."
"Sorry. Where was I? Oh, we forgive you for the Murdock thing. Could have happened to anyone. Keep an eye out for more Marvel comic cameos, though. YOU're sorry about my legs? Jeez, lady. How do you think I felt? I had my hopes up for a moment there. Sheesh. Anyway, the pigs business was another one of his supposedly witty attempts at humor."
"Pietro!"
"Oops. You still here? Um, yeah, I agree. I do need a hug. You volunteering, chickie?"
"That's it. I'm changing my e-mail password right now."
"Sissy. I'm just adding spice to your reader response section. Let's see: Xavier doesn't know that my old man stopped by to chat. I don't doubt that Doc or Hank will tell him, but I'm not planning to fill the guy in on the conversation. Magneto is a real pain to write, from what I've been told, but I think it sort of balanced out pretty well. The Wanda situation was long in coming."
"Yep. Figured tossing her butt in jail might explain why I haven't written her."
"And here I thought it's because you kept putting it off."
"I had your best health in mind."
"Right. Just like you did with that syringe from hell."
"The letters, please."
"Right. The next one is from Ultramatt17: The reference is from 'Clerks: The Cartoon,' but we're not sure of the exact episode. One of the early ones, anyway. I gotta ask: Jack's racking up a lot of brownie points. Any chance he'll be able to trade them in for something neat soon? Um, let's see. Yeah, Magneto is a bit of a prick, but I can see where he was coming from."
"Really?"
"Oh, hell no. Who am I kidding? Dad scares the living dookie out of me. Jamie's a sweet kid and I genuinely like him. I'm pretty sure between the two of us we can make life a living hell for the other new mutants."
"What are you looking at me like that for?"
"Hint, hint. More Jamie. It's been requested."
"I'll add him to the list of people to write more about. Get on with it."
"Gotcha. Where was I? Oh, yes. Don't mess with my sister. That's more common sense than anything else. I should note that you're running out of people to antagonize, Ultramatt17. First Ororo, now Wanda. Wait until Wolverine finally gets pissed off. It'll make that X2 movie look like a Boy Scout training film. That's the last letter! Can I do this next chapter too?"
"Over my dead body."
"You, sir, are no fun."
"Learn to live with it."