WARNING: This story contains casual drug use and slashy themes. If such things offend you, you might want to skip this chapter!

(If you're like me, and that sounds like heaven, read on, by all means!)






Glass Onion

Wherein Jean-Paul teaches Pietro how to slow down.

Telltale Quote: Shouldn't be putting things in my face, Pietro. I have an oral fixation. –Jean-Paul Beaubier


"You've done this before, non?"

Pietro squirmed, not wanting to admit to his ignorance, but told the truth, anyhow. "Just once."

Jean-Paul nodded, tapping the side of the small glass pipe he was holding with his lighter. "Good. That means it'll hit you hard."

"Yeah… didn't do that much the first time."

"Didn't for me either."

"I heard that was a myth."

"Me too. But I'll go with experience, on this one."

Pietro shrugged. Made sense. Jean-Paul was pretty good at making sense, really. He peered into the bowl, extremely curious as to the process involved in the whole thing. Last time it had been a joint offered to him, in the bathroom at school. He'd accepted, and coughed, and felt a little light headed and tight-throated after a few drags. Other than that, nothing much.

But JP had assured him it would alleviate some of the stress of controlling his hyper systems, at least for a few hours, and that sounded good to him. So whatever.

"Why is it red?" He poked a finger at the thing, which contained a mash of mostly green dried leaves, dry unrecognizable bundles really, with some virulently red… hairs or something in it.

"Because it's good," JP told him, solemnly. "Trust me, mate, you'll thank me for this."

"You brought it from Canada?" Pietro raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, in my glove box. Don't know what the fuck I was thinking, but it worked."

"So… that means it's like two months old."

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes, "The shit keeps. And anyhow, I had it in the freezer. I know what I'm doing, Pietro."

Pietro wrinkled up his nose, unconvinced. "The freezer at the Institute?"

The other boy shrugged, "No one looks under the asparagus. Honestly, who the fuck would eat frozen asparagus anyhow?"

Pietro certainly had no idea.


It was amazing that he wasn't completely addicted to this shit. He leaned on Pietro, a warm figure beside him, and sighed in contentment. So lovely, to be at rest. To have time to concentrate on the sensations he took for granted every day. The softness of his shirt on his skin. The press of someone warm at his side. The way it felt to breathe, to feel air filling his lungs, like it was cleansing off the burn from the smoke he'd subjected them to. Every swallow, every blink, every change in the shadow and light in the room. Fascinating and beautiful.

"I feel a little dizzy…"

He looked over at his silver-haired friend, who was blinking slowly at the window, and recognized that look in his glazed eyes.

Slowly, he moved, pulling himself out of his state of complete rest, back against the bed, side against Pietro, and crawled to sit before the other boy. Jean-Paul mirrored his Indian-style position, and put his hands on Pietro's knees, which were touching his own. "Here, look at me. Just look at something stable, you'll feel better. You're thinking too much, man."

A lazy grin spread across Pietro's normally wicked looking face. And he looked very young, at that moment. "Not thinking enough."

"Concentrating too much on your body," Jean-Paul shook his head, grinning back. He'd never really noticed how funny his voice sounded, and it really made him want to laugh. "It makes you sick to your stomach, when it's so slow and deliberate. Sometimes, I watch trees. That helps."

Pietro giggled, "You watch trees?"

"Trees are very stable," He announced, with much sincerity. They were, after all. Any time he felt sick to his stomach, from concentrating too much on his heartbeat or his stomach turning when he got high, trees seemed to help.

Pietro giggled again, "Yeah, but you're not."

"More stable than you, mon ami," He felt himself smiling. He really didn't have complete control over his expression at the moment. He liked to think he usually did, but really… why did he bother with that anyhow? I mean, who cares, right? So what if people knew when he was happy or sad or—

"Yeah ok, you kinda are," the other boy cut into his thoughts. "Jean-Paul, you're a bad influence."

"Not me!" he objected, suddenly giving in to laughter, "I'm an X-Man! I'm the good guy here!"

"Good guy my ass. Dude… I'm fucked up," Pietro was laughing too now, covering his face.

Jean-Paul had a long standing theory— and since he'd been getting high since he was roughly twelve years old he'd had plenty of time to develop it— that bud tended to make everyone more perceptive about the people around them. It wasn't so much that it made them smarter, because it clearly made him into a complete fuckwit. No one could argue with that. What it did was make him simple. Make him aware of only a few things around him, of a very finite list of information at once, rather than the droves of information that pummeled the senses normally. The list of things could change at random, of course, but while something was on that short list, it could be given a measure of attention he normally would not have been able to apply to just one thing when he wasn't utterly fucked up.

This was part of why he was very careful about who he got high with. If the wrong person was around, and they were on his list of things to notice, he might see something about them he didn't like, and it would disturb him. His addled brain would linger on this one disturbing quality and ruin his buzz in short order, making him mildly paranoid (though he usually had no issues with paranoia) and thoroughly pissed off. He had been concerned about it, with Pietro. He seemed the type that would radiate paranoia and irritation.

But he didn't. Looking at him now, completely focused on who he was, Jean-Paul could see that he was not really anything like what he'd originally thought. "You're very child-like, aren't you?"

Pietro laughed, and leaned back on the bed heavily, his knees pushing at Jean-Paul's. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, you're just… you're not how I thought you were."

The other boy seemed to consider this. "Probably not."

"When I'm high, I'm more perceptive, selectively. You know, I pull my head out of my own ass, pay attention to other people. You're actually alright, aren't you?" He felt almost guilty for being surprised about it. The guy was supposed to be his friend, after all, no matter what kind of asshole moves he'd pulled in the recent past. But this thing he was seeing now, as Pietro smiled at him, was really rather astounding. He just looked… sweet. Sure he was an arrogant, loudmouth fuck. But even the loudmouth act was part of it. He was a bratty kid. Really, he was just a child, inside. Like one of the Lost Boys from Peter Pan, or something. Someone's fucking Lost Boy, that was what Pietro reminded him of.

Which also explained the guy's lack of personal space issues. He was just… affectionate. Liked to be touched. Reassured by it. Like a kid. And there had been the book…

Funny, all this time with him, and he'd never really noticed.

"Don't tell anyone," Pietro whispered, leaning forward just a bit and looking around conspiratorially. "Only you know, ok? It's our secret."

Jean-Paul suddenly switched from pensive to amused, and started laughing at the look on his friend's face. "You're a fucking nutcase, Pietro."

"That's why you love me! I'd be boring otherwise. But dude…," he was staring hard at Jean-Paul now, "That silver streak in your hair, that's nuts… You'd look weird without it."

He nodded solemnly, "Yes, I would."

Pietro reached out, and poked him in the forehead with a strange, wavering sort of precision.

Jean-Paul blinked.

"Did that feel weird?"

Actually, it had. Didn't hurt, but felt rather intense. "Yes."

"My forehead… feels so weird." Pietro poked himself in the forehead now.

Jean-Paul collapsed into giggles instantly.


"Ok, so I see what you mean about being more perceptive," Pietro was saying, slumped down a little further against the bed, his legs now stretched out over his friend's, who was still facing him, Indian style. His right over Jean-Paul's left, and his left over Jean-Paul's right. He hadn't felt the motivation to actually move, more than to stretch his legs like that, in quite some time. Now that JP had calmed him down, he was actually enjoying it. It was nice, not to have to be perpetually slowing himself down, and for such a long period of time.

Not that he had any sense of time right now, but he knew it had to have been an hour or something, that they'd been sitting there talking and laughing… at a normal pace, but it felt slow. Like he was swimming through something. Like they were underwater.

"I feel so fucking smart right now. Like… all this shit that I never noticed."

Jean-Paul gave him another one of those wise nods he'd been throwing off, "Oui, uncanny isn't it?"

"Unnnnncanny," He agreed, poking at his friend's arm. Felt funny. Really hard, but kinda squishy. Like foam rubber or something. He'd never really thought about what people feel like before. Or what he felt like, really. He did find it hard to stay on one thing for too long, but while he was on that one thing… oh man was it cool.

"You're tickling me."

He stopped poking. "You're ticklish?"

"Don't mock me!" Jean-Paul feigned irritation.

Pietro laughed at his face, screwed up like that, "You're such a girl," and sat up a bit straighter to poke him in the cheek.

Jean-Paul narrowed his eyes, turned his head, and bit Pietro's finger.

"Hey!" He started to jerk his finger away, but the other boy's teeth were clenched around it now, just above the second joint, and he'd have to scrape himself to pull it out. And he was laughing too hard at the innate weirdness of the situation to fight, anyhow. "Let me go!"

"Hassat seel?" Jean-Paul was obviously fighting laughter, but having better luck at controlling it than Pietro.

"Like you're biting me, man!" He giggled, wiggling the captive finger so it tapped against the roof of Jean-Paul's mouth.

Quickly, Jean-Paul's mouth collapsed around his finger. His pouty lips formed a seal, and his teeth let up, but his tongue pushed up now, soft and wet and trapping the finger against the top of his mouth.

Pietro felt his eyes go wide. His fingers were so sensitive, and he could… feel something. Jean-Paul's tongue curling around his finger. He could feel it with every nerve ending on his skin, individually.

He definitely could've rescued his finger out without injury now.

Only… he didn't much want to. He was fascinated by the way it felt. The way it made his blood suddenly seem warmer, like it was heating up to match the heat inside of the other boy, flooding through his body. He could feel it moving inside of him, like fire.

He tore his eyes from his friend's lips, and looked him in the eye.

Jean-Paul shook his head like a petulant child, letting him know that he would not be letting go, despite his earlier request. And sucked at his finger, like there was no way he was letting go, pulling it in further. Making some sort of vague suggestion of something very dirty.

Unh… that tongue… that could do some serious damage. Or, more appropriately, some seriously amazing shit.

Felt so good. Suggested things so much better. Jean-Paul's tongue moved now, the tip of it sliding up the underside of his finger, then back down, again, with obvious implications. One of those upswept eyebrows arched, as he stared Pietro down fearlessly. It wasn't that thing he usually did, where he tried to make people nervous. It was something else. Like he was interested in Pietro's reaction.

Pietro opened his mouth, to say something… anything…

And found that he, for once, had absolutely nothing to say.

Jean-Paul's lips parted now, and the pink tip of his tongue pushed between Pietro's finger and his own bottom teeth, pinning it against the top. Mesmerized, he watched as it slid down, and into the sensitive area between his fingers, massaging it slowly, leaving him wet there. He could feel the back of Jean-Paul's throat closing in as he sucked now, smooth and hot, his rough tongue gently pushing at his finger, his full lips just touching his hand, at his knuckles. He let his other fingers, at rest on Jean-Paul's face, brush him lightly, feeling the hard line of his cheekbone, then his jaw. Soft skin, hard lines. Something very intense coming off of him, something he couldn't quite articulate, in his mind. It made his stomach drop.

He leaned forward, without meaning to, watching him, thinking of nothing but the feeling of it and the heat in his blood and where it was rushing. For a moment, completely, utterly focused. Taken by sensation.

Jean-Paul reached up, put his hand around Pietro's wrist, and slowly pulled away from him, sucking at his fingertip one last time, and letting his tongue flick at it before releasing it, finally. His face was turned downward, and he looked up, intense blue eyes through thick black eyelashes.

"Feel that?" Was all he said, in a voice so low it was barely audible.

Sex. This guy, this man in front of him, his friend… he was just… sex. The sudden tug at his groin, when he spoke, that had been building the whole time, left no room for discussion. "I guess you're right," Pietro swallowed heavily managed to answer, swimming in that surreal high and a sudden lack of blood to his brain. "Everything feels pretty intense."

Expression undecipherable, JP nodded at him. Just watching with those icy eyes. Holding his wrist still, near to his lips. Radiating heat, through his hand, into Pietro.

His lips had Quicksilver's complete and undivided attention again, however. He leaned closer to them, feeling like he was in slow motion, not even realizing what it meant. Somehow, he wasn't sure exactly, he leaned forward enough, they leaned forward enough, that their lips met. It was partly like meeting a brick wall—totally uncompromising and strong, and partly like falling into something soft—warm and just slightly yielding to fit him. The feelings didn't match up, but they were both part of the same thing, somehow. Instantly, their lips parted under each other, and Pietro found himself delving into his best friend's mouth somewhat greedily with his own tongue. The mouth that had held him fascinated for longer than he could remember anything holding his attention in a long time.

It was immediately a violent kiss, nothing sweet or careful about it. Just Pietro, running his tongue along the roof of Jean-Paul's mouth, obsessed with the wetness of it, the heat of it, the crush of JP's lips on his own. Nothing feminine about it, the way the other boy met him there, turning his head, pushing forward aggressively to take what he was offered. More dangerous. Demanding. Instantly hot and deep. Pietro had his eyes closed and couldn't think of what it meant, what they were doing. All he knew was that it was a hell of a rush, and Jean-Paul's mouth was so hot, and his tongue was so clever, and his lips were begging for this. It made Pietro's whole body so warm. His jeans too tight. His head felt like it was spinning because it just felt so good. Every single sensation, separate and singular, playing again and again through his addled brain. So good.

He was dying to get closer, to feel more. Wanted to reach out with his hands, but didn't know what to do. They were sitting too far apart. Jean-Paul's folded legs warm underneath him, his own legs thrown over them. Both of them leaning in, over Jean-Paul's lap. He could smell him, like clean and shampoo mixed with skin, taste him, like something smoky and wet and wonderful, feel him. But not enough. He started to push himself forward—

And Jean-Paul suddenly pulled back, just enough to part them. But not before closing his teeth down on Pietro's bottom lip, and pulling at it. Just a bit.

Holy fuck. Hot.

And then, they were looking at each other again, breathing hard.

There was absolutely no reality involved. Just the rushing of blood, his erection pushing at his now uncomfortable (or was it… more comfortable…?) jeans, and the look on Jean-Paul's face. And the feeling that he had to finish what he'd started because it felt so good. And his lips felt cold. Like he needed to do it again just to stay warm.

Jean-Paul took a deep breath, smooth face looking mildly stunned, but not too much. He was as fucked up as Pietro, after all. Then, very suddenly, it seemed, he was grinning lazily. "And there is today's lesson on how being high makes everything feel better!"

This sudden declaration snapped Pietro's concentration, which had still been focused mainly on the other boy's lips, instantly. And he was struck by the innate weirdness, and therefore hilarity of the situation. And started to giggle like a little girl.

Jean-Paul leaned back, heaving another deep breath and still grinning, supporting his weight with both of his arms, "Yeah, keep laughing. Just remember that tomorrow when you can't look me in the eye, mon ami."

Pietro had a sudden urge to stick his tongue out at his friend. So he did. Then said, "Don't be stupid. It was good!"

Cause… it was. Jesus, it was. Although it had left him with a somewhat problematic, and very telling bulge at his fly… it was good.

"Oh, I noticed. Think of it as an experiment. You'll feel better about it in the morning."

"You're an idiot," He informed the other boy. Like he was going to give a fuck about it later. Hell, who was he to deny himself something he wanted?!

And really… it was kind of a relief. Now that he'd done it… felt like that'd been waiting to happen for a long time, really.

But enough about that. That'd take like… so long to think through right then.

Jean-Paul nodded, the smile never leaving his face, but turning a bit smug. "So it would seem. Shouldn't be putting things in my face, Pietro. I have an oral fixation."

Pietro stared at him, mouth open. Unable to think of anything to say to that. But damn… sex. How had he never noticed before that Jean-Paul practically broadcasted sex. That was definitely something he would normally have picked up on, wasn't it?

Or maybe he only picked up on it when he was looking for it. Which he wouldn't normally have been doing, around a guy.

Maybe he should start. If it was going to feel like that.

"Fuck, I'm thirsty, man."

Pietro found that he was too. Good thing they had those water bottles… somewhere around here. "Way to think ahead, JP."

Jean-Paul had felt guilty, for about five minutes. He'd done it deliberately. Well, at least, once he'd had Pietro's finger in his mouth, he had. But his perverse curiosity, and the strange sensation of skin on his tongue, the taste of salt and Pietro, had been too much, in his utterly fascinated state. He just wanted to see what the other boy would do. If he made him feel good. He'd long had a sneaking suspicion that Pietro liked men, and him in particular, a little more that the silver-haired speedster let on. The clues were all there. The lack of personal space between the two of them, the flirting (which Pietro always started, aside from that first quick mind-fuck of a kiss ages ago,) the way he caught Pietro just looking at him sometimes.

Pietro's reaction was not entirely what he expected, however. Maybe something awkward, like a wide-eyed stare or a fight. Not such an extremely wet, aggressive, and… animal kiss.

Fuck, that was hot.

He had screwed himself on that one, though. Before, it'd been easy to resist, thinking that Pietro wouldn't be interested, or wasn't ready to be, and was probably too self-involved to be a good kisser anyhow.

Now that he knew differently, it was going to be a little more difficult. And Pietro would, no doubt, hate him tomorrow. He was painfully aware that most boys his age did not have his more… developed sense of self, particularly when it came to these things. He'd be lucky if his friend just let it drop and pretended it didn't happen, most likely.

Which was not Jean-Paul's style, and would irritate him immensely. He was not ashamed of anything he was. And never would be again.

And what he was, was extremely into Pietro Maximoff, at the moment.

Not to mention, still fucked up. Very fucked up. Which was helping him to get rid of the feeling that he'd just done a very bad thing, granted. But it was getting difficult to keep his heavy eyelids open, really. Felt like they had glue under them.

Which was a pretty funny thought, actually. And made him laugh aloud.

Pietro shot him a glare, camped out with a bag of chips not far from his own little area of junk food wreckage on the floor. Jean-Paul was presently licking the powder from a nearly polished off bag of Doritos off his own fingers, in fact. "What's so funny, man?" He whined.

"My eyelids… feels like they're glued down," he giggled, licking away happily. Normally, these things, this particular brand of chips, made him want to retch. But goddamn, he'd never noticed how much flavor was in one little chip. And so many little flavors, making up the one huge one! It was a miracle, really.

Made him thirstier though.

Fucking cotton mouth.

Pietro laughed at this, around a mouthful of his own chips. "Dude, my head is like… hard to hold up."

He nodded, "Yeah, that's what I mean. Fuck, these chips are so good. You have to have one."

His friend held out his arms and Jean-Paul threw him the bag… and watched it go right past Pietro's hands and into his lap.

They started giggling again.

When they finished, happily munching away once more like two bottomless pits, Pietro appeared to be having a thought. "So… all this time you've been hanging out with me, and you didn't really like me?"

Jean-Paul furrowed his brow, and swallowed a handful of M&Ms. Chocolate was so fucking good. So amazing, how it just melted in his mouth. God, that was brilliant. All that sweetness, covering his tongue. Pure genius. "No, I didn't say that."

"Yeah man," the other boy insisted, breaking there to take a long drink of water from his nearly-empty bottle. "You said that you never noticed that I was "alright" before. Remember?"

He paused, and considered. "I guess I did."

"So what? That's pretty shitty dude!"

Jean-Paul shook his head, trying hard to think of how to explain what he meant. But it seemed even harder than it had when he'd first had the epiphany about an hour ago. "No, I liked you before. I just mean… I didn't pay that much attention to you before, you know? Like… you're just this guy, who I wanted on, and who made me laugh."

Pietro made a disgusted expression, "I guess that should be flattering."

"Isn't it?"

"It should be. It would've been."

Oh great. Before he tried to make out with him. Nice one, Jean-Paul, you really fucked it this time. Good work, mon ami. "Doesn't matter. I thought about it before, after my birthday. And I noticed now, so I like you more."

"I like you more too," Pietro grinned wickedly.

Jean-Paul forced himself to remain cool. But he loved that expression on his friend's sharp features. It was like a dare. Like a challenge. Normally, he probably would've been purposely obtuse, denied all knowledge of what Pietro could mean by such a statement, and force him to say something uncomfortable, for his own personal amusement. He enjoyed being obtuse. But the weed had him in an honest place, as usual, and he felt too good, too happy stuffing sweet candy and salty chips into his mouth endlessly, to be bothered. "You just like my oral fixation."

"It's a bonus. Dude, you're a fucking tease."

He laughed. He'd actually heard those words before, but only from people who were trying to…

Get something from him.

Wait… had he fucked this?

"I always liked you, you know," Pietro appeared to be miffed that Jean-Paul had no good answer for this.

"You liked that I can put up with your shit, that I presented a challenge, and that I'm rich and famous. Or that I was, anyhow," but he was still laughing, uncaring. He honestly did like Pietro better, now that he could see this child-like thing in him. Made the whining and the trouble making appear perfectly sensible. How else would he be?

Pietro shrugged, slowly, and swallowed another handful of Doritos. "Yeah, but you're funny. I mean, you have a personality too."

"Yeah, imagine that," he was still laughing, inexplicably.

"Seriously, man. I wouldn't have been so upset about saying all that shit to you, before your birthday, if I didn't like you."

Jean-Paul stopped laughing at that, and considered it seriously. He may have had a point. "And it wouldn't have bothered me, if I didn't like you. You see?"

This seemed to satisfy his friend sufficiently. "Jean-Paul: more than just the Token Asshole."

"Don't let it get around. I won't tell your secret if you don't tell mine."

"To the grave, brother."

"Man, you turn into a hippy when you're fucked up," Jean-Paul cackled gleefully, putting down the junk food and sprawling out on the ground, suddenly taken by an urge to not have to hold his own head up. And god, the floor. Looked so comfortable.

"You're the one talking about hugging trees," Pietro was still munching, loudly.

"Watching trees, Maximoff."

"Big difference!"

He was considering how to reply properly when he noticed the door swinging open. "What the hell are you guys doing in here? It smells like—,"

Lance was standing in the doorway with Kitty when he picked his head up off the ground enough to see something other than Pietro's ceiling.

Pietro waved, lazily. "Hey guys. Want some chips?"

He then looked over at Jean-Paul, that horrible wicked look on his face again, eyebrows drawn down, million-dollar grin plastered across his face. And they both cracked up completely.

"Oh my god, you guys are…"

Pietro managed to give Kitty a thumbs up, "Fucked up!"

This only made Jean-Paul laugh harder. His sides were starting to hurt, almost as if they'd split. He wondered momentarily if that was a real possibility. Could he laugh himself to death?

"Jesus," Lance was saying, shaking his head in wonder, "This is why we don't have any food!"

"We'll go shopping tomorrow man," Jean-Paul promised, through peals of laughter. "Want some? There's still some…"

Pietro turned the Doritos bag upside down in one hand… and nothing fell out.

He felt for the bag of potato chips… nothing there either.

Their eyes met, and it seemed like they would be a pile of giggles again at any moment. But then they both looked, simultaneously, at the bemused couple staring at them.

"Well, I can get you high, if it's any consolation," Jean-Paul finally offered.









++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

AN: OK, this time I do it right. First of all, I'd repost that last chapter and correct what I said... but that would take forever, for reasons I don't feel like bitching about atm. So allow me to say right here and now, that the Beaubier sketches are linked in my profile. For some unknown reason FF.Net denied me linkage, so whatever. Second, I hope y'all enjoyed this, because it's the chapter that spawned this entire fluffy sequel. I wrote this first, out of all the stories done, and still to come, and I still think it's my favorite.

And now, onto the huge ass AN I promised. Oh, aren't you just overjoyed?

TKD- Wow! You felt for Pietro! /dance! No seriously, thanks for that. I was hoping it didn't sound like I was trying to cop out of him being an asshole. The thing is, I like him because he's an asshole, so I'd hate to gloss over that fact. Glad you're enjoying it, thanks so much for the reviews!

The Rogue Witch- Would they let Jean in...? No, Probably not. But in my kinder, gentler world... I'mma say they did. Cause it pleases me to imagine sending her far away. I'm only keeping her close now so I can torture her later... Ok no, not really. But now that I mention it, that doesn't sound like such a bad idea...

PeaunutBaby- *hands you more Pietro and JP* Anyhow, about the Parliaments. My boyfriend and I have a classification system for people, and it's totally based on what they smoke. Punk ass little white kids, like me-- Camels. Snotty yuppie wanna-bes like him-- Parliaments. Never thought of it as... that but I can see how it works. Since our classification system is inherently brilliant, and all. And well, hope this is close enough to smut to satisfy... at least for a few chapters. ;)

Shaman Dani- Thank you for being patient with my lack of response, darling. I too adore the New Mutants, and the "younger" kids, and wanted to use a lot of them. We'll be seeing more, by and by, because I just can't help myself. I'm glad you approve of the pace at which our speedsters are moving. It's clear that I've wanted to hook them up from the beginning of Relativity... but sometimes, anticipation is the best thing of all, really.

SilverCaladan- I have a feeling I've already discussed your comments with you somewhere along the line... but thanks for the reviews, the idea help (if you get sick of me bouncing crap off you, just let me know mwahaha) and your honesty. Will Pietro and Wanda ever talk about it... erm... stick around for the next edition of Beaubier's Fumbling Attemtps at Evo-fic! It promises to be very Maximoff-y!

Guidi- Hello and lovely to meet you! I find it very irksome that JP and JM tended to just be... devices in Marvelverse. A message about inclusion or a stereotype of a French Canadian. They have great potential, and all I can do is try to eke some of that out. I'm glad you've approved, thus far. As for Evo Pietro making sense... he rarely does. It's almost as if they wanted to change his character halfway through, but it was too late. Or something to that effect. But I'm glad my explanation works for you. Works for me, and seems to be working for JP ;) As for the shopping with the girls... you know I'd already sent this chapter off to Sue for beta reading, at the same time I sent the last one... but I could do a little sidebar fic about the shopping trip... that could prove awfully fun. Let me sleep on that a bit, and don't be surprised if the idea gets used!

Fata Morgana- Hell, I'm not even happy that I'm keeping Jean around! Haha, no seriously, glad you are happy about it. About the French thing-- that was particularly daft of me, considering that I know I've used ma in the past properly (I think he called her ma souer in one of my 616 fics. Is that right?)... and hell if I knew about the amie thing. I was just being lame, and I'm lucky you were there to catch me! And seriously... it would've been hilarious if I'd had JM sock Pietro when she came with the jellybeans. ;)

Risty- I'm a huge Lance/Kitty fan too. I think they're great for each other, honestly. I really don't like Scott, as a general rule, but I do like Evo Scott, for reasons I can't sort out. Still, I gotta go with the flow. And the idea of JP and him in some kind of weird friendship (it's like the kind you don't admit to your other friends you have) really entertains me. Jean... Jean I hate. I hate reading her, writing her, everything. I have no idea why I torture myself. Like you, I fear that I don't much care for her because she reminds me a bit much of me.

Akuma no Tsubasa- Thank you for the French help! Feel free any time to fix that for me. I think I sorted out the problem, but god only knows. I took German, Spanish, Nepali, Sanskrit... and I can do Hindi in a pinch, but holy god French confuses me. I hope that was enough suffering for our JP and Pietro for you, but I have a limited patience with internal monologue, so I only drug it out a few chapters. And yay! I made the favorites list! *hug* As for the bitch-Jean being over the top, I was talking to a friend the other day, and we decided that Evo Jean is even worse than canon Jean. So I just let loose. Sorry if that was distracting but... yeah I just figured that was exactly what I would do, in her situation. And I'm a horrible bitch. ;)

Krac- Haha. She makes such a great fag hag. Nice to meet you and thanks for the review!

Jacob- Wow... what a lovely review! Thank you so much for your encouragement. Particularly glad that you enjoy Scott and Wanda-- to be honest, they are two of my favorites to write. Wanda is definitely my favorite Evolution character, and Scott is a surprise. In the sense that I really never expected to like him. And I do. Hope you enjoy the rest, and glad you are enjoying.



The next chapters may be slower in coming, due to technical difficulties. But hopefully, we'll be up and running by the middle of the week. Much love -Beaubier-