A/N : Hahaha... sorry about the hiccups, CatGirl! Enjoy the silliness, and don't forget I'm still taking ideas for new stories! xx

2

"OK, if we're doing this, there are rules." Peter told his father sternly, slipped into his seat at a quiet table near the bar, "Rule one, if I get drunk then you have to make sure I eat something substantial before I go to bed, unless you want me to be really ill in the morning. Rule two, no vodka, it goes down way too easy, and Rule three, do *not* try to keep up with me"

Erik chuckled again, gave his son a pitying look

"Young man, I have drunk people three times your size under the table, I don't think I need warning"

"Fine, you wanna be plastered within the hour, go right ahead Dad. There are many good reasons why I don't usually drink, and one of the best is that it's hella expensive for whoever's buying"

"We'll just have to see, won't we? First round's mine"

"Whiskey," Peter said simply. "Jack, ideally"

"Ice? Mixer?"

"Just the bottle and a glass." He held his father's disbelieving look, "I'm saving you leg work, dude. I'm serious. Oh and you'll need this"

He fished in a coat pocket and handed Erik his driver's license, shrugged in response to the confused look. It was easy to forget, for those who had known him for many years, that he still looked barely legal to drink, and he was used by now to sending people to the bar with his ID, knowing he'd get carded and they'd only have to come back for it. The ring in its box was a hard, unignorable lump in his pocket, though thankfully he'd learned over many years of practice to control his nerves enough that he wouldn't be physically sick when he was wound up, it still wasn't a pleasant experience and he couldn't help but secretly agree with his father that this wasn't a conversation he wanted to have sober. Poured himself a glassful when Erik had arrived back at the table, ignored the look of astonishment.

"You cannot be serious" Erik said, "Peter, you're tiny. You can't possibly drink all that"

"I'm not going to bother takin' that as a challenge, because *I* know I can. Speedster metabolism, remember?"

"Yes, but surely –"

"Just drink," Peter murmured. Downed half the glassful. It had been a very long time between drinks, and he'd almost forgotten the intensely pleasurable flush of warmth that good whiskey brought with it. Finished the glass and immediately poured another, "So, proposing to Angie, how to do it without making an absolute idiot of myself, any ideas?"

Erik sipped his vodka, thought about it. Having got to know her over the past decade and even grown to love her himself, he was certain that Angela would not be happy with some extravagant romantic proposal. Definitely no rowboats on swan-covered lakes or five-star champagne dinner for her. Like Peter, she considered such things false and sickly, and would be happiest if it appeared spontaneous and real. The problem of course being that with Peter in such a state of nerves, it would need to be planned to the last detail before he could go through with it.

"Perhaps you could do it where you first met?" he suggested, "That's always a meaningful idea"

"Uh, yeah that would be the dining hall in the Academy for us. I'm not proposing with a hundred little kids watching"

"Yes, your students might find it quite the spectacle" Erik murmured back, "Not there, then. What about your first date?"

"Pizza Planet"

"Perhaps not" he sighed, gazed into his drink. Peter downed his third glassful of whiskey, "Are you genuinely not feeling that yet?"

"Nope. Give it another three I might be tipsy, after that it's a matter of maintenance"

They both drank in silence for a little while, Peter returning from getting his round with three drinks for Erik to stack up, not having much patience for waiting at bars, before sitting back down and saying quietly

"You do think she'll say yes, don't you? And that Max will agree?"

"Of course I do" Erik smiled gently at him, reached to lay a comforting hand on his arm, "She adores you, Peter, always has done. Nobody would put up with your nonsense for eleven years and not agree to marry you. And Max will be delighted"

"Would you, if someone like me wanted to marry Wanda or Lorna – or Nina?" the boy raised his eyebrows, gave Erik a searching look, "Because I'd freak, dude. I'd be like 'no way, get the hell away from my daughter you scum!' "

"You're not scum, and since they're your sisters I'd really rather not think about that" Erik told him, moved onto his second drink. Noticed when it was too late that Peter had racked up three doubles. So much for not keeping up with him, "If I were you, I'd just keep the ring on you and do it when the time and place feels right. Be spontaneous"

"But what do I *say*?!"

"Oh for heaven's sakes, do you want to practice on me?"

"We're in a bar in New York City, Dad. If I kneel and offer you a ring, someone's gonna think we're the most May-and-December relationship they've ever seen"

"Well, just practice the words then!"

Peter tried, he really did. Took a deep breath, tried several times to start a sentence, each time failing to get a single word out and at last simply picking up his drink and downing yet another two glassfuls in quick succession. He was starting to flush a little from the alcohol, a not unpleasant pink spreading over his cheekbones that the embarrassment and nerves wasn't helping one bit. Shook his head, frustrated at himself.

"I don't even know how to start this" he muttered angrily, "Really, I don't"

"You do love her, don't you boy? And you do want to spend the rest of your life with her?"

"Of course"

"Then you just start like that. Believe me, most girls won't care a damn what you say if you give them a Tiffany diamond afterwards. But I know you care very much about the impression, and admittedly Angela is not at all shallow or materialistic. You'll do it right, when the time comes"

"Is that your way of saying you have no idea?"

"Absolutely none" Erik agreed, "So in the meantime, I say we try to relax you about the idea and spend the evening together. There's no need to panic about something that's not happening yet, is there now?"

Peter smiled at last, seeing he was right. In truth he hadn't had a chance to just spend the evening with his father in a few months, and as such they had whiled away the rest of the bottle of whiskey chatting idly about not very much, enjoying one another's company, before at last deciding that they should return to Westchester when they had realised how late it was getting. Peter had a 9AM training session the next day, and Erik only hoped that Charles' open invitation to stay would still stand. He was in no fit state to drive home. Swaying slightly as he had risen to put his coat on, giving Peter a sideways glance

"Are you really not drunk?" he slurred, eyes a little out of focus. Peter thought about it

"I'd say I'm feeling the booze, but not drunk – too much time between shots for that. I am hungry though"

"Oh my dear boy," Erik chuckled, scooped him into an unsteady hug and patted his back too hard, "You really do never change, do you? We can pick you up something to soak up the booze on the way home"

As it had transpired, the offer of a room at the Mansion was not taken up. Having allowed Peter to make him a cup of tea before they turned in for the night, Erik had quite unexpectedly dozed off on the sofa. Peter had meant to wake him, move him upstairs, absolutely not to simply sit beside him to rest for a few minutes. After an entire bottle of whiskey and a couple of triple beefburgers he'd come over dozy himself, and before he knew it had laid his head on his father's shoulder and slipped off to sleep.