WARNING: This story contains m/m themes, albeit nothing terribly huge. More than last time, less than next time, let's say. But hell, you're reading a set of stories in which one of the main characters is a gay man, so if you weren't ok with that, you probably wouldn't have made it this far anyhow...












Homecoming in the Closet

Wherein Jean-Paul has a stalker, and Pietro has to face facts

Telltale Quote: Don't start a catfight with me, Pietro. I still have your hair in my hands. --Jean-Paul Beaubier


Jean-Paul Beaubier sighed to himself as he watched Gina Della Rocca make a beeline for him in the cafeteria. Tall, pretty, not the quickest of cats, but marginally intelligent, the blonde cheerleader would make a great catch for any number of idiot breeder jocks in the room. The ones who would be spending the rest of their days in Bayville, coaching the foodball team and reliving past glories until whatever god they believed in finally saw fit to wipe them from the face of the planet.

He, however, was no breeder. Nor was he an idiot, or a jock (an athlete, of course, but a jock, never.)

So really, he wasn't that impressed.

He looked down hard into his food, and wondered where the fuck Pietro was. Or Wanda, for that matter. Or Jeanne-Marie or Rogue or anyone else would normally save him from such an uncomfortable situation as the one he was about to be put into.

Sometimes, it was a real bitch, being pretty.

And there she was, sliding her long legs under the table, and putting one of her sandaled feet against his. Leaning on one elbow prettily. Smiling at him.

Had she leared that from Jean Grey? He could've sworn he'd see the red-headed X-Man do the very same thing to Scott just the other day...

"Hello, Gina," he tried to smile, feeling extremely irritated. But he felt no need to cause a scene here in the cafeteria, and any sort of "slight" to Gina Della Rocca would no doubt do just that. The girl could bitch fight like a pro.

"Hey sexy."

He looked up at her now, hoping he didn't look quiet as exasperated as he felt. "And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this afternoon?"

Her foot slid up his leg, just a bit, and hooked under his knee.

He couldn't help it any more. He sighed, very loud.

Where the fuck was Pietro?

"Homecoming."

He blinked. "The game?" he hated, hated football. And football players. And cheerleaders, as of his first day at BHS.

"The dance," she stuck out a full bottom lip at him, obviously trying to be coy.

He just looked at her, no longer in the mood to humor her even marginally. She was not going to do what he thoguht she was... no way...

His eyes darted around the room quickly, caught his silver-haired best friend talking animatedly with a few girls across the room.

And he began to clench his teeth. Mother. Fucker.

Then he looked back at her, and forced a smile. Painfully. "Yes, won't be long now. Shame I can't dance."

I heard Kitty Pryde say you're a great dancer."

He suddenly wished he was a more powerful psi, just so he could give Kitty a mental kick in the ass.

"Got a date?"

Deep breath. Big lie. "Yes, actually."

Huge lie, in fact. He wouldn't be caught dead at the event. But telling her that would only encourage her to prod at him further. And at this point in time he was hardly in the mood to humor her further. He'd have to get snarky with her, and soon.

He caught sight of Jeanne-Marie, out of the corner of his eye... sitting down in a far corner with Roberto, heads leaning close, conspiratorially. Paying no attention at all to the distress signal he knew she could feel coming from him. Probably shut off, so he couldn't find out what she and Berto were up to...

Fuck.

"How about you?" He tried to sound pleasant. Like he really was interested in her conversation.

Like he didn't feel at all compelled to stab her with his plastic fork.

She furrowed her ivory brow at him, "No... not yet."

He took a bite of... whatever the hell the mystery meat was today, and shrugged. "Shouldn't take long, I'd think."

"Who are you going with?"

He nearly choked. But he thought fast, as usual. "Someone from the Institute."

Her foot unhooked from under his knee, blessedly, as Pietro appeared at his side. "Hey there, Gina, what's a pretty girl like you doing with a loser like this?"

She smiled at him, over the table, and gave a fake, hollow laugh. "Nice way to talk about your friends, Pietro.

"He knows I love him. What's up?" the arrogant fuck settled next to him, tray piled high with what the students generally termed "Space Meat." Hamburgers, in reality. But it was apparently a reference to some cartoon about a green alien trying to take over the Earth, and a NASA created meat substitute, made from napkins.

Jean-Paul had no idea. He generally tried to stay away from television, and the poison it spread that was known as "pop culture." Music aside, of course.

Gina shot him a quick glance, as she replied to Pietro, "Just saying hi to Mr. Popularity."

Pietro grabbed at his tray and prepared to stand. "Well, don't let me--"

Jean-Paul grabbed his leg under the table. Hard.

Pietro let out a little yelping sound, and his ass immediately hit the chair again, with a small thump.

"Thanks for stopping by Gina," Jean-Paul smiled at her sweetly, and squeezed Pietro one more time before letting go, digging his nails in as best he could, to make the implied threat even more serious.

Her brown eyes narrowed at him, thoughtfully, and her rosebud lips curved in a smile. "Later."

He watched her go, and heaved an immense sight of relief.

"Owwwww," Pietro began to whine as soon as she was out of hearing range. "You gave me a fucking charlie horse!"

Jean-Paul snapped his head around to look at his friend, "You ever try to fucking leave me with one of them again and I'll give you a lot more than that."

"What, a pretty girl? Jesus, JP, I know you're into guys, but I had no idea it was because you were scared of girls!"

He reached up and smacked the back of the other boy's head, ruffling his silver hair. "Don't push it. I mean vacuous cheerleaders who want me to take them to Homecoming."

Pietro's eyes popped and he turned a bit red, as he nearly choked on a carrot stick. "She asked you to Homecoming?" he coughed.

"Tried. Told her I had a date," he cracked open his caffeine free Coke (damn the X-men and their caffeine ban...) and took a long drink.

"You have a date?"

He rolled his eyes, "What, you're jealous?"

Pietro cackled evilly, "Fuck you!"

"No, you idiot, I do not have a date. As if I'd be caught dead at a school dance."

"Aww, I was gonna ask you," his friend sneered, looking remarkably like an imp.

Jean-Paul smacked him in the back of the head again, pretending he didn't notice the obvious subtext the conversation was picking up, and this time Pietro gave a little cry of protest. "Cute, Pietro. I told her I was going with someone from the Institute."

"Why didn't you just say no? I mean, you're Mister I don't care what anyone thinks about me. Just tell her you're gay and she'll fuck off." Pietro was back to cramming carrots into his mouth, and talking around them.

Jean-Paul had to look away, to keep his own lunch down. Why he was able to eat lunch sitting next to Maximoff every day, he wasn't quite sure. The guy's table manners were roughtly equivalent to Toad's... even if they were less obviously disgusting than swiping flies out of the air with his tongue. Luckily, however, Pietro was pretty enough to make up for it. That was probably what made it alright, in the end. "Because the reason I said no had nothing to do with being gay. And anyhow, I doubt that she'd understand. All she'd hear would be, "I don't want to," and the "because" would be summarily discarded, and the banshee wailing, scratching, and biting would ensue."

"True!" Pietro held up a carrot stick, as punctuation.

"What are you pouting for?" Wanda had come up before them now, and sat where Gina had been only moments ago.

"I do not pout," Jean-Paul made a horrible face at her.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"Hey, sis, why don't you go to homecoming with JP?"

Wanda looked across the table at her brother like he'd suddenly grown wings out of his forehead. "That's a joke right? As if I'd be caught dead near this place on that night."

"That's what I said," Jean-Paul poked at his mystery meat, somehow no longer hungry.


What did you say to Gina Della Rocca?" Rogue was at his arm as they met up as usual before their seventh period trig class.

"That I couldn't go to homecoming with her because I was already going with someone," he reported, getting a sinking sensation in his stomach. So that was Kitty, Amara, and now Rogue who'd been questioned. The only other girl at the Institute was his sister... "Marde, tell me you said you were going with me, Rogue."

She winced, teeth clenched. "Ah'm sorry, JP. Ah Didn't know ah was supposed to. If you'd said somethin'..."

He sighed. "Forget about it. I didn't think she'd actually check my story out. Honestly, who checks out a story? Who wants to know when they've been summarily rejected?"

"Narcissistic bitches?"

He kissed the top of her head, thankful that at least someone he knew understood. "I adore you, you know."

He sat staring at the teacher drawing on the blackboard, utterly incapacitated by the insanity of Gina Della Rocca. First off, he'd never shown any sort of interest, even friendly, in her. He didn't like her, in fact. Or any of her friends. Hardly his fault that they were interested in the new boy in town, was it? Probably thought he was cool because he was a mutant– dangerous or some other bullshit to that effect.

Well, alright. Perhaps he was a little. And not bad looking, he knew. But Christ.

Who fucking checks out a story?

The thought raced through his brain as the clock moved excruciatingly slowly. The minute the bell rang, he made his way outside, made certain no one was looking, and became an instant blur of super speed. Hoping to avoid contact with Gina, and the rest of the world, for at least a few hours.

Great, he had a stalker.


A knock on his door. "Jean-Paul, you have a visitor," came Jean's voice. She was in the house helping the Professor organize something or other that he, personally, couldn't give a flying fuck about, tonight.

He rolled over on his bed, half dressed in jeans and nothing else, hair pulled every which way from his exertions over the trig homework he had no idea how to finish. He hadn't heard a damn word in class today, after all. Rogue and Kitty were busy with Mr. Logan, so he'd decided to start it on his own and... god, he had no idea what was happening in that class. "Who is it?"

"She says her name is Gina?"

He rolled his eyes. Jesus. Christ. Stalker.

Figuring he'd better take care of it now, he hopped out of bed and grabbed his standard issue X sweat shirt, grumbling curses under his breath in his native tongue, and went out the door pulling it over his head. Jean was standing in the hall, looking at him apologetically. He shot her a sinister glare, in no mood to explain himself, and blew right past her, moving too fast for anyone to see, until he was at the foot of the stairs.

Gina was standing by the door, looking around, wide-eyed. When she looked up and saw him there, she jumped in surprise.

He just stared at her. "You wanted to see me?"

She took a step forward, but he came to meet her instead, not really wanting her to get any closer to anything that was his, or involved him even remotely. It was bad enough that she'd had the stupidity to come to the Institute to find him...

She recovered quickly from her surprise, and planted her hands firmly on her hips. "You lied to me," she tried to look angry. But she was obviously checking him out, so it was rather difficult for her to be all that intimidating, really.

He suddenly, surprisingly, felt a bit dirty, the way she was looking at him.

Well now. There was a first. Not that he'd never felt dirty, of course, but usually he quite enjoyed it.

"Cut right to the chase, don't you?" He wasn't bothered about humoring her in his own home. He could be a sarcastic prick all he wanted, on his own turf, where her tantrum would only get her kicked out.

"Why did you lie?"

He shook his head, and leaned up against the wall, near the door, unwilling to invite her into the sitting room– the one place Xavier didn't really mind random guests. She was not invited to stay. "What do you want me to say? No, I don't want to go with you?"

She finally looked him in the eye for an extended period of time, and attempted to stare him down. As if her skinny blond physique was going to make him afraid. "Why the hell wouldn't you want to go with me?" her lips were pressed thin, and her normally ivory face going a shocking pink sort of color, quickly. This was not a girl who was used to hearing no, obviously.

"Because I don't–," he stopped there, for a moment. He wanted to say, I don't like you. But when he actually looked at her... she did look a bit sad. And she was probably someone's sister, after all. He wouldn't want someone to treat Jeanne-Marie like shit, and Jeanne-Marie could certainly be... well, crazier than this. Perhaps Pietro had been on to something, with that whole gay idea. "I don't like girls."

Her pale eyebrows drew down. "What does that mean, you don't like girls?"

He rolled his eyes. He'd have to remember to tell Pietro that he'd been right. Jean-Paul had known somehow, that she wouldn't be able to wrap her mind around the concept. "I'm gay. Homosexual. I'm attracted to men, not women. Get it?"

Brown eyes went wide, and the pink color in her face returned to something almost normal. She took a step back, and put a hand to her chest.

Oh yeah. Could've seen this one coming. Being a mutant is cool. But being gay? God, Beaubier, what a freak.

Talk about fucked priorities.

"Anyhow," he continued rolling his eyes, "You're a pretty girl, I'm sure any number of strapping young football players would love to have you along to the dance."

She just looked at him, and her lips went thin. "Are you lying again?"

He sighed. Holy fuck, she was stupid. "I assure you, I am gay. I'd love to give you a demonstration, but I'm currently unattached."

She bit her lip. "Oh."

"Satisfied?" Now can you stop stalking me?

She nodded, and her face flushed again. Now, she was quite clearly embarrassed. "I... I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he sighed, pushing off the wall with one foot, and starting toward the stairs again, "I'm not. I lied so as not to offend you, let's just leave it at that, hm?"

Again, she nodded.

"Lovely, Now, if you don't mind..." God, please leave. Just fucking leave.



The next day at school started out perfectly normal. Laughing with Jeanne-Marie in homeroom. Chemistry and German were suitably uneventful. He and Rogue managed to get in a group together, rather than being assigned to random classmates in lit. And Wanda and Jeanne-Marie kept him entertained throughout history.

At lunch, however, things started to get a little strange.

"Is it me, or is everyone who walks by us slowing down?" Roberto was asking, his dark eyes shifting uneasily.

Kitty shrugged. "Whatever. Probably just staring at the mutants having lunch."

"We should get you a sign, Freddy," Pietro snickered from beside him, "Do not feed the mutant."

The table, full of Brotherhood and X-Men, exclusively, laughed at that. Some gave disapproving stares, but most laughed.

It did seem that people were staring, however. It had happened purely by accident that they'd all ended up sitting together, at one of the larger tables. Usually they were broken up into smaller groups, but today Jean-Paul had needed to talk to Rogue about the trig homework, so he sat next to her, and she was across from Kitty, who was next to Lance. Pietro had sat next to Jean-Paul, as usual, Wanda across from them. Jeanne-Marie beside her, Roberto across from JM. Etc, etc, until the table was occupied entirely by mutants.

Old school segregation at its worst, really. It almost made him laugh.

Until he started to get the distinct feeling that they weren't just staring at the mutants.

They were staring at him.

Econ passed without incident, and they were doing archery in gym, so there wasn't much contact with anyone other than Freddy and Pietro, and only by choice, so he actually began to feel a little more at ease. Not that he cared, of course, if people really had been looking at him. Simply that he wasn't one for drama. He'd spent too many of his years before coming here in the public eye. These past months in Bayville had been quite a nice change for him– no cameras in his face, no image to live up to, just being a normal teenager. Well, as normal as possible, living at the Institute and being friends with Pietro Maximoff.

But it had always bothered him that people never seemed content to just... let him live.

It was probably nothing anyhow. Perhaps it had been just the freak table that had attracted all the attention. Perhaps it wasn't that little thing that was nagging at him in the back of his head. That he'd told one of the most gossipy, ridiculous girls in town that he was gay.

He really didn't mind. He had no intention of going into the closet. It simply was not his style, hiding, and he wasn't the least bit ashamed. If he had minded, he wouldn't have told Gina in the first place. And he knew that soon enough, if that was indeed the issue, it would become old news fast, and no one would care in a few days.

But in the meantime, it was going to be a real pain in the ass, walking around pretending not to notice that people were talking about him. He had a feeling he'd end up in several fights, in fact, if it came down to it. And then he'd have to deal with Xavier, that stupid fucking principal... he just didn't feel like spending the energy to get through it all.

If, of course, that's what all this was about. The staring.

Not that it was.

But it sure as fuck felt likely.

He was coming out of the locker rooms with Pietro after class, laughing and mocking the track coach, when he discovered that it was, indeed, the issue.

"Hey, fairy, maybe you should stay the hell out of the locker rooms."

Pietro raised an eyebrow when the voice echoed behind them, and looked over at him, smile suddenly gone.

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes. He wasn't terribly worried. He wasn't going to enjoy this, of course, but he could definitely handle it. At worst, he'd have to kick someone's ass. And really, that'd feel pretty good. He used to like fighting, in fact, once upon a time. Good stress relief.

"Let's go," Pietro nodded forward, his meaning clear. He wanted to run.

Jean-Paul shook his head, surprised. Pietro could've taken out anyone in their gym class, any ten people in their gym class, without breaking a sweat. With his hands tied behind his back. "What, you're scared?"

"Hear me, fairy?"

Again, he rolled his eyes, and turned to face the offenders. "I'll assume you're talking to me, since I'm the only one with the pointed ears here, non?"

And when he finished, he was shocked to see, out of the corner of his eyes, Pietro speed up and disappear.

Fuck.

Why that little fucking...

Just... fuck.

But the two boys were coming toward him now, one much bigger than Jean-Paul and taking up much of the claustrophobic hall between the locker rooms and the gymnasium. The other boy was thinner, one of the soccer players. He had no idea what either of their names were. And he really didn't give a fuck.

Before, he'd just been irritated.

Now, he was mad.

Fucking Pietro.

"Nothing to do with your ears, Frenchie. Everything to do with you being a fag," the soccer player sneered at him, squaring off eye to eye. Jean-Paul could see well enough that the boy was easily as big as he, but nowhere near as strong. Mutant powers aside, he probably could've handled them both, easily. The big one was too slow, and the little one too weak.

Not that he was sure he could put his mutant abilities aside... but either way, he was now dying to fuck someone's day up. That dickhead had even called him French, which meant he now officially needed to stab him.

Pietro... that fucking spoiled brat! Running out on him like that. He could handle it, Pietro knew he could. But... that was hardly the point. Some fucking friend.

"First off, I'm not French, I'm Québécois." Jean-Paul hissed through his clenched teeth. "And second, I'll go wherever I please."

"We don't want some homo in the locker room staring at us all changing. I swear to god, if I catch you in there when I am–," the Huge Kid started.

The hilarity of the statement diffused some of Jean-Paul's anger instantly. Typical. How utterly fucking typical. "Trust me, I'll be on the other side of the room, if you're in there."

"That supposed to hurt my feelings?"

Jean-Paul shrugged, now actually laughing a bit, albeit bitterly. "Your words, mon ami, not mine."

The big kid made a fist, and stepped toward him once.

Jean-Paul instantly dropped into a defensive stance, legs apart, one arm held out in front of him, one held near his chest. He could feel his entire body getting ready, wanting to start that vibration in him, wanting to let go. Drawn tight, like a bow waiting to be released. And he growled at them, low in his chest. "You have no idea how much I'd love to kick your ass. Please, fucking hit me."

Soccer Boy grabbed his friend's arm, however, before he could get near. "Dude, he's one of those mutants."

Well shit. Northstar sighed, and stood up straight again, forcing his body to relax, to adopt a stance that would be less threatening, to tempt them into it. "Don't let it turn you off, boys. What, you're not scared of some fucking fairy, are you?" Oh god. Please let one of them try to hit me... Not as if they'd ever get close enough to him to connect, of course. But Jesus, he wanted an excuse to hurt someone, at that moment.

Huge Kid had death in his eyes. Without realizing, of course, that it would only be his own death, if anyone's. But soccer boy still held him back, and pointed one finger at Jean-Paul, in a sad attempt to be threatening. "Seriously man, we all know about you. Fucking fag."

"Oh, bravo, that was really painful," he sneered, still trying to egg them on, get them to attack him. "Excuse me while I go home and slit my wrists because some halfwit called me a fag. Jesus Christ, can't you come up with something a little more inventive, or has the American educational system truly failed you so completely?"

No matter what they said, it would mean nothing to Jean-Paul.

What meant something was that Pietro had bailed on him. And he wanted to choke someone. And since the silver-haired speedster was not present, anyone would do, really. And bigots were always a good target, since no one ever really missed them anyhow.

"If you weren't a fucking mutie–,"

But Huge Kid was cut off by a much huger figure– that of Fred Dukes. "You'd what?"

They turned, as one, to look at the Blob, who was coming down the hallway toward them all, eclipsing most of the light sources as he passed through the tight corridor.

The guy was a walking natural disaster, really.

"Got somethin' against mutants?"

They began backing up, and Jean-Paul was forced to do the same, to avoid contact with them.

"Nothin man," Soccer Boy stuttered. "Nothin against mutants! Just that this fucking faggot–,"

Freddy was growling now.

Jean-Paul was impressed. He'd never heard that before, from Fred. Quite scary, really.

"You're talkin' about my friend," Blob was rumbling, moving toward them faster and faster.

That impressed Jean-Paul even further. Heavily.

Even if he felt a simultaneous surge of disappointment. He still needed to hit someone, and the two assholes were now scampering around him, and down the corridor to freedom.

He stood watching them retreat, listlessly, while the gigantic shadow of Freddy loomed larger and larger over him, until he knew the other boy was just behind him. "That was nice of you, Fred."

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder. "No worries, JP."

"I could've handled it," he started walking, now that he'd done his civic duty and expressed his appreciation. And really, it had been extraordinarily cool of Fred.

Particularly considering that his own "best friend" (who, he was absolutely certain at this point, was a "fucking fairy" himself) had simply turned tail and run.

"I know. But you looked pretty mad. Was afraid you'd hurt them, and get thrown out of school or something."

Jean-Paul looked up at the boy, as they emerged from the corridor and started walking side by side to their next classes. "You're alright, aren't you?"

Freddy shrugged, but grinned hugely.

But Jean-Paul was almost instantly back to brooding. He was used to insults. They didn't affect him, so much. He'd grown a thick skin, living in the public eye in Canada. Insults, praise, none of it meant anything unless it came from someone important. That much, he knew.

But if he got his hands on Pietro Maximoff any time in the near future, he would make sure that fuckwit had trouble walking for the next few days.

Chrisse. What a fucking burn.


"Hey, JP!"

He was outside, walking slowly through the woods behind the Institute, where he usually went to think. Just to be alone. Just to think.

No, to brood, really.

Once again, trig class had been a bust, because he was so fucking pissed off. The more he thought it over, the more he wanted to kill Pietro. After all that bullshit, about them being friends. After all the fucking... flirting the guy did. He just left.

And now, he dared to turn up here, at his spot.

He supposed it was his own fault, for letting Pietro know this much about him, so that he knew where to find him.

But he didn't much care.

Jean-Paul ignored the silver haired boy pointedly, and started to walk back in the direction he'd come from, toward the far away house, intent on the sound of his feet crunching over the fallen leaves, or the smell of fall, or the sound of cars on the not-so-distant road. On anything but him.

If he looked at Pietro, he knew he'd have to hit him. He could feel it. He was already shaking inside.

"Oh, come on, you're not mad at me about that shit, are you?"

Jean-Paul tried very hard not to grind his teeth too loud.

It wasn't just that they were supposed to be friends, either. It was that Pietro was a fucking idiot, in general. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, the boy was gay. And he'd run, really, because he was scared.

Ok, so Pietro had a reputation for liking women. And maybe he did. But come on. Jean-Paul had picked up on his vibe immediately. He'd held off judgment, decided it might just be wishful thinking. Maybe he just... had good taste. That was just a stereotype, after all. But all those times, when he'd caught Pietro looking at him, when he didn't think Jean-Paul would notice. All the times he'd picked up on something more in the flirting that they always passed off as jokes. And come on, that kiss, not even a month ago? Jesus, he'd had a tent in his jeans before their lips had come anywhere near each other.

If he wasn't gay, he was without question a serious switch-hitter. But what the hell. Man needs four dates in one night? Blames it on living too fast?

Yeah fucking right. Blame it on not being interested in any of them, more like it. How many nights had he and Pietro spent together now, just the two of them? The guy had seemed perfectly content then, hadn't he, with just one person?

Obvious. So fucking obvious. And Pietro was scared of it, and didn't want anyone else to know. And that's why he'd run. Didn't want to be seen with him, was afraid people would think he was "gay by association." He wasn't comfortable with himself yet, let alone with others knowing. Even if it was only suspicion.

Great. Everyone goes through it, when they realize they might be "different." The fear. He'd felt it. He'd seen it in Alex Summers not so long ago, in fact. But not everyone has to bail on their friends to get through it. Jean-Paul knew, from experience. And this was just getting fucking ridiculous.

"Ok, ok, but it's not like you needed me there, right? I mean, you probably just kicked their asses."

He felt one corner of his mouth twist upward in an involuntary sneer, and finally snarled at him, "Actually, Freddy came by and helped."

Pietro was positively bouncing next to him. "Freddy? What the fuck?"

"Yeah, he was afraid I'd kill someone."

"Oh," the other boy now sounded hesitant. Disappointed even, really.

Ashamed would be too much to hope for, probably.

But he couldn't resist rubbing it in further. "Said they should stop fucking with his friend."

"What friend?"

"Me."

A slight pause here, out of character for Quicksilver. Then another, "Oh."

Jean-Paul rolled his eyes, and kept walking, refusing to look at him. What an absolute twat. Forget it. Just fucking forget it. No one was cute enough to warrant this kind of treatment. Pietro absolutely did not deserve to have him. Not as a friend, not as anything.

"So... you are mad then?"

"Pietro, change your fucking code name to Captain Obvious, alright?"

"Whoa, no need for hostility there, partner."

"I'm not your fucking partner."

"Wanna be?"

"Toê êcrasse," he spat, unwilling to even speak to him so that he could understand. He figured the tone would speak for itself.

Pietro grabbed his arm now, and stopped walking.

Which, effectively, stopped Jean-Paul from walking.

"Look," Pietro shook his head, rolling his eyes, "I'm sorry, ok?"

Momentarily, Jean-Paul was stunned. Pietro had just said he was sorry.

But fuck that. Like that was all it was going to take. No, he had to make a stand, or he knew Pietro would forever think he could get away with treating him like this. And that was the kind of relationship, friendship or otherwise, that Jean-Paul Beaubier could do without. "Yeah, you sound like it."

"Whatdoyouwantmetosay?"

Jean-Paul just looked at him for a minute. Pietro had this sort of unconscious beauty about him, when he wasn't posing or pretending to look heroic. Something like a silver little god. Just the natural cockiness he had about him, something totally removed from his contrived arrogance– the effortless way he held his shoulders back, the sharp lines of his face, the streamlined angles of his body. He made pretty much everything look good, look easy, look like something to be coveted.

Normally, Jean-Paul liked it. Liked looking at him, liked admiring that in him.

But today, it only made him want to punch him in the nose. Hard. And repeatedly. Instead he fished for the answer he knew was there, looking for a reason. A reason he should remain friends with this guy. If he could admit the truth... maybe. "You can't say anything. It's too late, you've already shown what kind of friend you are, haven't you? Why would you run? It's not as if they could touch either of us."

Pietro suddenly let his eyes drop to the ground. "Uh... don'tknow."

Yeah. Didn't think so. Jean-Paul started to walk away again. "It's fine," he said, leaving Pietro behind him now. "I understand if you're embarrassed to be seen with me. God forbid you should befriend a gay man, since you're hardly a freak yourself, or anything. I mean, what if they thought you were like me?"

But Pietro suddenly flashed in front of him, and put one hand on his chest, effectively stopping him from moving forward once again.

Jean-Paul could easily have made it around him. Assuming Quicksilver felt like letting him. Or, he could've taken to the air, where Pietro wouldn't stand a chance at following him, if he didn't want him to.

Instead, he just looked at his friend, expectantly.

And tried not to think about why he wasn't simply flying away. Told himself it was just because he wanted to watch Pietro try and squirm his way out of this.

When really, he still wanted to be convinced.

"Ok, look. You're right, I freaked," Pietro admitted, now looking him in the eye, "I was a little confused, ok?"

Jean-Paul gave a short, bitter laugh. "Yes, well, you are one confused mutant, mon ami, so I really shouldn't be surprised by that, I suppose."

Pietro's brow furrowed, "What's that mean?"

"Forget it. Can I go now?"

"No. Not until you accept my apology and we go get some coffee."

"Forgive me if I don't exactly feel like spending quality time with someone who denies my friendship at the first sign of trouble."

Pietro sighed now, and his broad shoulders slumped, arms dropping to his side.

Jean-Paul pretended that the sight didn't tug at something inside of him. Just a little.

"I'm trying to apologize. Why are you being a dick?"

Little tug, now gone. Jean-Paul's anger returned, in full force. "Holy fuck, Pietro, just get out of my way and let me walk home in peace. Self absorbed sonofa–,"

"Oh yeah," Pietro's blue eyes flashed now, and his mouth curled up in a sarcastic smile, "You're one to talk, man. Fucking cover boy."

"Don't even start, you fuck. I'm not the one who–,"

But he didn't get to finish, because he found himself suddenly being pushed backward, quickly. So quickly that if he were anyone else, he wouldn't have known what was happening until it was over. His back hit the tree, and he found himself trapped between it, and Pietro.

Bodily.

He could've escaped easily. Slid out of the other boy's grip with no problem at all. Levitated straight upward, and left Quicksilver with nothing to grab on to this time.

His mind knew that, of course. But the rest of him was far too enthralled with the feeling of Pietro's lean, long body holding him against the tree trunk. And Pietro's eyes, inches from his own, staring him down.

He opened his mouth, however, to ask just what the fuck the silver-haired boy thought he was doing, just for appearances' sake.

And was immediately stopped when Pietro's lips were suddenly covering his own.

Instinctively, he closed his eyes. And fought not to kiss back.

But really, who was he kidding? After only a moment, he let his lips, then teeth part to allow Pietro's tongue inside his mouth. And in another moment, he found himself ardently returning the gesture. Only this time, he wasn't fucked up. This time, he knew what he was doing, and so did Pietro. Pietro's hands were all over him, quickly, running down his arms, then brushing his face, then in his hair. Hooking into the belt loop of his jeans. Pulling down on them, just a little.

It was breathless, because it was unexpected. And it was anything but gentle. Pietro dove into him like he would try and run away, licking the roof of his mouth, sucking Jean-Paul's tongue into his mouth. Jean-Paul, momentarily unaware of how ridiculous it was that he should be kissing Pietro at this moment, broke the kiss and bit at his friend's full lower lip, and Pietro pushed against him eagerly, already half hard in his jeans.

Yeah, figures that he was quick. Suited him, really.

And the way he was impatiently pulling at Jean-Paul's clothes, pushing his hips against him like that, was definitely fucking hot. So very like him. To want it now. Fast.

He slid his hands up Pietro's chest, appreciatively. He may have looked thin, but it was only because he couldn't hold body fat, with his metabolism. Every muscle there was as well defined and as strong as his own, just flatter, leaner. He put his hands in Pietro's soft hair...

And suddenly jerked him backwards, as he remembered what it was they'd been fighting about just a moment ago.

Pietro just looked at him, breathing hard, still pushing against him with his entire front. Shamelessly, beautifully aroused. Lips still parted, and pink from their hurried crush.

Fuck. God-fucking-dammit.

No. No way. He had to do this. He couldn't let him get away with this, the devil. No.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Pietro leaned on him heavily.

Jean-Paul fought not to groan, as he felt the other boy's erection push against his leg now. It made him a bit dizzy really. Or maybe that was just the blood rushing out of his brain, straight to his groin.

Oh Jesus. So fast. So impatient. Fuck.

"Fastest route," Pietro breathed, hot on Jean-Paul's cheek now, "from one point to another?"

Jean-Paul blinked, trying to retain his sanity. Difficult, with Pietro's lips getting closer to his ear, his entire body, warm and hard and greedy, against him. "A straight line."

"Point A– Jean-Paul bitching me out. Point B– Jean-Paul being quiet. The long way," Pietro brought one hand back up to the other boy's face now, traced his jaw line on one side, as his lips pushed against the pointed ear on the other side, "would be to stand here and argue with you until you're happy again. The straight line would be to kiss you," and he rolled his hips forward, just a bit, so that it strategically increased the pressure between the two of them, caused both of them to release heavy breaths, almost at the same moment.

"Don't–," he started to protest, albeit halfheartedly.

But he was stopped by Pietro's mouth again, and a hot rush of wet and warm and hands all over him, fast and aggressive and oh god so fucking good.

No. God no, not now. He couldn't get away with this. But it felt... so good.

Jean-Paul shifted now, so fast anyone else wouldn't have known what he was doing until it was over. Quicksilver, however, knew. And let him do it. And therefore, ended up with their positions reversed, Pietro's back to the tree, Jean-Paul pressing in on him, now in control.

At least, comparatively.

"Don't start a fucking catfight with me, Pietro," he snarled, trying to start breathing normal again, unable to tear himself too far from the warmth and just the feeling of the other boy's body. But he had to do this. He had to prove his point. Had to. "I still have your hair in my hands, remember," and he tightened his grip on the silvery hair a little, making his threat clear.

Pietro smirked at him, the picture of pretty evil. "It's ok, Jean-Paul. I like having my hair pulled."

Unh. Jean-Paul felt his knees go a little weak at that, and a brilliant, dizzying tug at his groin as another rush of blood completed his arousal. Oh Jesus. Oh, that horrible fucking...

Pietro went for his mouth again, like he needed it to breathe. This time sliding his hands into Jean-Paul's back pockets insidiously, pushing against him with an unabashed, maddening need for instant gratification.

Jean-Paul let it happen, for a moment, a bit drunk on him. To go from staring at the guy every day, from torturing himself over him for months, to suddenly being wrapped up in him, in his arms, against his body, in his mouth, was a rather dizzying transition when it happened so fast. And really, he deserved to enjoy it. The smell of fall and skin and Pietro's clean sweater. Their spit and his tongue and his lips. So soft, so violent. The way he pushed against him, the way he seemed to feel absolutely no embarrassment about going after what he wanted, about feeling good, about the heat and the sex radiating off of him in waves.

But Jean-Paul pulled back, and Pietro was staring at him again, open mouthed and panting and...

Fuck.

No way. Don't let him do this.

He separated his chest from Pietro's, just a bit, so that he could look him in the eye without having to feel his hot breath on him. And stared him down.

"Feels like you don't mind pulling hair either. That works out," the silver-haired him pushed at him again with his hips, making it perfectly obvious that he felt, and liked the feeling of the hardness now pushing at Jean-Paul's fly.

Slowly, trying to breathe normally (difficult when it was so hot there, pushed against him like that, feeling Pietro grinding against him, oh fuck, fuck, fuck,) Jean-Paul nodded. "Yeah, that's what that means. And you know what else it means?"

Pietro grinned, slid his hands around to the front of Jean-Paul's pants now, with lightning speed, two warm fingers on each hand hooked under his jeans, into the waistband of his underwear, against his hot skin. "That you want me."

Arrogant fucking prick. God, he loved it. "Yeah, that's right." But now, it was his turn. One handed, he traced a line down Pietro's hard, flat stomach, over his sweater, then pushed up inside, flattened his palm against the flushed, smooth skin underneath. Ah goddamn. He wanted to taste that. He remembered it perfectly, sucking on Pietro's finger like that. The salt of him. Sacre mere. "I like men, Pietro. And I like you." Everything was quiet now, and he kept his voice low, mostly just so he could keep a hold on it. Pietro's fingers against his skin and his own hand on Pietro's stomach were not doing much to alleviate his sudden blood flow diversion issue. But he slowly, deliberately, traced his fingers over the other boy's navel, through the thin line of soft, pale hair that trailed downward from it, slid them down over his fly, and undid the first two buttons there, one handed. Never taking his eyes off Pietro's.

Ah, now he had him.

Pietro swallowed hard, and his body jerked, just a little, mouth still slightly open.

Oh Jesus. Too easy. Oh god, the things he could do to him...

No. Just. Wait.

"So... I'm going to bet...," he continued, sliding his hand, palm turned inward still, down the front of Pietro's jeans, covering his erection completely through the cotton of his shorts, pushing at him just so, down, then up. Just a little.

The reaction was suitably brilliant, as Pietro suddenly leaned forward and buried his face in Jean-Paul's neck, groaning just a little. Like he'd never felt something that hurt so bad, felt so good, in his entire life. A little sound. But it said a hell of a lot.

Jean-Paul smiled, and leaned his head away from his friend, opening his neck further to the quick kisses Pietro was covering him with. Impossibly quick. He slid his other hand up the other boy's stomach, and around to his side, just enjoying the feeling of him, exposing a pale stretch of his stomach to the fall chill.

Pietro really didn't seem to mind. Still felt hot. Goddamn, he was on fire.

"... that this," he lifted up, then pressed in on Pietro again, in his jeans, rocking his body just enough that it was horribly gratifying, "means that you like me too, don't you?"

"Mmmmhmmm," was the answer, from his neck.

Felt good. Really fucking good, the way Pietro was kissing him. Those fast, but extraordinarily deep, open mouth kisses all over his neck. Teeth scraping at him, waking up nerves he'd forgotten he had a long time ago, waking up his entire body. Hot blood rushing, all to the same place.

He didn't move too much. Just enough to make Pietro crazy. Ah fuck, what a rush, feeling him like this. The shape of his cock through his shorts, the heat it gave off, the way it pushed against his hand when he made even the slightest move...

Right. The lesson. Jesus, this was getting harder and harder.

"So... that makes you a fucking fairy, doesn't it?" He purposefully used the exact words the jocks had thrown at him today in the hallway. Fucking fairy.

Pietro stopped kissing him, and stood up a little straighter, arms around Jean-Paul's shoulders, leaning on him heavily. But his hips moved slightly, pushing himself against Jean-Paul's hand with that beguiling impatience, that ridiculously fucking hot need in him. "So fucking what?" he muttered, into the darker boy's ear.

Jean-Paul slid his hand out of Pietro's pants, silently, and started to re-button them. Where he got the willpower to do such a thing, he wasn't even certain. Because all he wanted to do was taste him. So bad.

Fuck, so bad that it hurt. Actually, physically, hurt.

A wordless, yet again, strangely articulate sound escaped Pietro now. Something between extreme disappointment, and maddening urgency.

Right into Jean-Paul's ear.

Before he could stop himself, he let out a harsh breath, at the sound of it. Jesus, Pietro was beautiful.

But he leaned hard against him now, having replaced every article of clothing just as he found it, pushing him against the tree, and then leaned back again. He held Pietro's shoulders away from him with both hands, and looked him in the eye. He felt his own erection jump again, demanding, as he watched those dark blue eyes for just a moment, heavy lidded, glazed from being drunk on him. Just as Jean-Paul knew his own must look.

He took a deep breath, and prepared himself. Because this was really starting to suck.

"Seems to me, cher Pietro, that last time you thought something would make you look like a fucking fairy, you ran away from it."

"Oh... you have to be fucking kidding me, Jean-Paul...," there was something desperate in his friend's dark eyes now, like he'd say anything, do anything...

Ah. He could have so much fun with this one.

But he shook his head. Now that he'd started, gotten away from that mouth, from that body, just a little, he remembered all too well why he had to do this. "No. Doesn't work like this. I don't want a fucking boyfriend, not you, not anyone. That's not what this is about. But if you think you can act like a shit, fucking desert me, then get what you want anyhow, you are in for some serious disappointment. You do realize that you just left me standing there a few hours ago with two people who hated me because I prefer kissing men to women, and now you're standing here making out with me, right? I mean, you do see the irony here? Your brain goes at light speed, so please tell me–,"

"Igetit," Pietro rolled his eyes now, and his shoulders slumped.

"And by the way, you are a fucking fairy," he threw in, for good measure. No time like the present, after all. "In case you were wondering, let me clear up the mystery for you. This," he pointed downward now, between them, "it means you're gay."

"Maybe I just want you."

Ah goddamn that sounded good, coming out of his mouth like that. But he continued, on a roll. "Yeah, and maybe my name is Mary, but either way, you're fooling yourself. Don't think I haven't noticed. I mean, of all the people–,"

Somehow, Pietro managed to slump in on himself even further. "Alright, alright, I want to fuck you, I get it! Jesus, feel better now that I said it?"

Actually, yes he did. In fact, he would've been positively joyful to hear it, if he wasn't still so irritated about the earlier events of the day. "I'll feel better when you grow a fucking backbone some day."

"Look, I told you, I was confused."

"I know. I remember confused," he admitted. "But it doesn't mean I have to let you treat me like shit. So suck it up. I'm not saying you need to go and announce to the world, hey, I'm queer, ok? I'm just saying that it's really not too much to ask that you stand next to me when shit like that happens. You know, a little help? And I don't mean that in a damsel in distress way, so don't even start smirking."

Too late. Pietro had already started.

He continued anyhow, "Just be a goddamn friend."

"Then I get to make out with you?"

"Pietro...," Jean-Paul shook his head, stepping back further now, painfully, but knowing he had to, to drive the point home, "I could make you cry if I wanted to. In fact, I think I just might."

Pietro raised an eyebrow, and the smirk turned into a full-on million dollar grin.

"But grow the fuck up. And make sure you're willing to accept it, if someone finds you out. I'm not about to head into the closet. Not for you, not for anyone. And I'm not about to listen to you deny it, if someone asks."

Eyes looking a little clearer, despite the still obvious bulge at his jeans, Pietro nodded, thoughtfully.

"Those are my terms. Can't handle it, that's fine. We carry on lighting things on fire and causing trouble, like before. But no more of this... whatever the hell this was. Because it'll make me hate you. So think it through before you attack me again."

"Fuck you, you liked it."

"You think? Again, with the Captain Obvious."

"Look, come home with me."

Oh god. He wanted nothing, absolutely nothing more than to agree to that instantly. To fucking run the whole way there. That skin. That mouth. Jesus.

His voice caught in his throat, but he forced the words out, "Thought it through so fast, have you?"

"Like I can fucking think right now."

Jean-Paul considered this. Looked Pietro over once. Twice.

"I can make it up to you, if you come home with me," Pietro was grinning, with that odd combination of innocence and evil that only he could manage.

At that, Jean-Paul smiled. Fuck if he knew if Pietro could be trusted on this. But really, there was only one way to find out. "Yeah... alright."

He'd made his point, after all. And hell, he was only human.


to be continued in the next chapter







WARNING: DO NOT CLICK ON THE NEXT CHAPTER IF YOU DON'T WANT SMUT










AN: I'm not kidding. Don ask if y'don want t'know, as Gambit once said. Cause it's getting hot up in here.

First off, let me respond to the general "That's so not canon" feeling from the last chapter. Yes. I realize that both of the Summers boys are as straight as they come. I've watched Bobby suffer thanks to Alex over and over. I know.

Which is exactly why I want him to be gay. To clear the way for Drake. ;)

No, seriously. Evo!Alex has very little to do with 616!Alex thus far, in the show itself. Please, don't take it as a lack of knowledge on my part. I do read comics. The difference is what makes it fun for me. I know that y'all have expressed the same feeling-- it's weird, but it works. But I just want to make it clear that yes, I realize Havok is far from gay. I chose him because I felt I had the most flexibility working with him. And I like him. He's cute, funny, and super cool in Evo. And honestly... he's kinda lame atm in Uncanny. Soap. Opera. Queen. So I figured I'd throw him a bone.

And anyhow, I was really mean to him in my last 616 fic, and had him and JP fighting a lot. So I wanted to have them make nice, for once.

Second, this chapter was divided into two so that those of you who aren't interested in the smuttier aspects of JP/Pietro could avoid it entirely. Yeah, you'll miss some character development if you don't read it, but I'm sure you'll recover. So feel free to skip it, if you don't like the idea of m/m action.

Should you prefer m/f action, just hang on. The next Evo-fic will have it in spades. In the mean time, love your speedsters. Cause the next Evo-fic won't happen till I get the oncoming 616 wave out of my system ;)

That said:

Caliente: I too adore Sam, and am itching to tell about the ideas I have for him... looks like I just need to write faster! As for present-day comics, for X-Books I read Uncanny and Xtreme religiously. I read a lot of other Marvel books, but those are the X related ones. And I have been, on and off, for about ten years I guess. I choose my X-Books based on who is on the team. My favorites are Gambit, Nightcrawler, and Northstar, in that order, followed by Iceman and Angel. So those are the books I buy at the moment. I'm mainly a Spider-Man fan, to be honest, but I've made it my business to keep track of the X world as best I can! I definitely don't know everything, not even close, but I pick my battles! And yeah, Rogue absorbed JP in an AF/XM crossover ages ago, and it's assumed that she absorbed his "secrets" as well. Though it was pretty obvious, even before he "came out," if you ask me. Which is why I did things the way I did in Relativity, actually. Sort of the Evo version of it, I hoped!

Akuma no Tsubasa: Evo!Alex's laid back persona is precisely what made him a prime candidate. That and I was amused by the fact that Scott is unlikely friends with JP, in my little Evoverse. That's really cute, however, that you have faith in my writing to make it all better. You're far too kind, to say such a thing! And yes... Berzerker in 616 can be forgotten as far as I'm concerned (though I don't mind the Morlock connection!)

Fata Morgana: Saving the Raymonde thing. Might want it later. Depends on how far I go with this Evo thing. Yeah, Austen is using him as their token PC mutant atm. But he could be so much more, if they'd let him. The point I wanted to make is that he's not ashamed, but he's not defined by the fact that he's gay. It shouldn't be ignored, but it's not everything about him. As to why it sometimes doesn't show the chapters, it usually takes a few hours to show up on my info page that I've posted more. God knows why. FF.n hates me. Thanks for the review!

Risty: The fucking with Scott's mind could be awfully cool with Gay!Alex. Wouldn't that be fun? And Ray... he's my type. Love the punk-ass hair and attitude. If he got himself a tattoo or three... mmmm. I think it might've been Shaman Dani's Circle of Death thing that I saw them paired in... but I'm not entirely certain... And I'm glad you felt that I got Alex right, on the reluctance/embarassment issue. Means a lot to me!

All that said, on to the smut... should you choose to accept it.