Peter-Privilege
Peter Maximoff had had a couple of shitty days over the years. Really. But since joining the X-Men three years ago, life had been pretty good. Less… boring. Meandering. Useless.
Still, some days were shitty. Like going on a rescue mission and not being able to save everyone. That kind of shitty. He should have run back to the mansion. Maybe that would have given him some breathing room. Instead he had helped carry Storm and was now sitting next to her, helping her hold her probably broken right arm.
"You okay?", Storm asked, looking clammy and shaky.
"Been better. Why are you asking me? You're hurt. I was just… too slow."
"You weren't too slow, Peter. You saved 20 people. Without you, they'd all be dead."
"Yeah. And with me two of them are."
"Peter…"
He felt like running. Now. He was trapped. Trapped in a metal container. Move. Move. Move move move move.
"Home Sweet Home.", Raven sighed and Peter saw their descent outside. Everything in him SCREAMED to run away. But he was X-Men now and Storm was his friend. He'd take her to Hank. Then he'd run.
But after he handed over Storm, the Professor wanted to be briefed… "What went wrong, Peter?", he asked, and this time Peter DID take off.
He ran ran ran ran and didn't stop until the sun went down over North America, until midnight drew close, he could be sure most people would be asleep and he got hungry and… wanted food, his bed and his friends.
He dropped back to normal time in front of the huge door and sighed. Some lights were still on. He'd get an earful for sure. Trying to avoid everything and everyone, he slowly walked towards the kitchen, absolutely exhausted. Only to find his whole team sitting there, drinking Hot cocoa and… playing cards. The Professor was there, too. Sitting off to one side with something that DIDN'T look like cocoa and playing chess with…
"Dad?"
It was an interesting experience to see his father's furrowed brow smooth out. It was like his whole face shifted from grumpy asshole to someone prepared to teach you how to drive.
"Peter!", his Dad got up quickly, walked around the table and wordlessly pulled him into the tightest hug imaginable.
Not a greeting. Not a tiny little hug… this was arguably the safest, warmest and strongest hug Peter had ever gotten. He probably couldn't even move, if he tried… and he didn't try. Instead, he buried his face in his father's shoulder and just… let go. Distantly he could hear soft murmurings of "You're okay, You're home. I got you.", but honestly? He didn't care much. The hug and his father's weird, woodsy smell was enough. The man always smelled of a thunderstorm, freshly cut grass and wood. Might be the whole hippie commune thing he had going on.
When he let go, he became acutely aware of his whole team sitting there, trying to look at anything else.
"Eh… Hi Dad.", Peter mumbled, and Erik affectionately put one hand on the back of his neck.
"Hello, Peter. Do you want to have dinner in the kitchen or… up in your room? Last time I was here, you talked about getting a new shelf for your records. Did you do that?"
"I did, yeah. Wanna see?"
"Certainly.", Erik walked towards the oven and pulled a plate out they had obviously left there for warmth. It was a peter-sized heaping of meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and Peter was afraid this might be a dream.
With one last cautious look at his friends, Peter reached for his plate to carry it upstairs, with his cutlery floating on behind him.
Almost defiantly, Peter plopped down on his bed, expecting his Dad to say something about it (Because that was what parents did), but Erik just threw off his shoes and sat down on the other side of Peter's bed, like it was the most normal thing in the world. He had been in his room before, but Peter couldn't remember him ever sitting down.
"Did you just drop by?", he asked through a mouth of meatloaf, "Because I was planning on seeing you this Saturday."
"No. Storm called me, after you left here. She said, and I quote, 'We had a tough mission. Peter isn't hurt, but I think he could use a hug'. I waited a bit, because I hoped you might come to see me. When you didn't, I came here."
"She told on me. To my Dad."
"I wouldn't call it that. You aren't a child. You have every right to leave here and go wherever you want to. Your friends are still allowed to worry about you. So am I, for that matter."
"Mpf."
"So… I see your new shelf is already operational. What new music do you have for me today?"
The thing was: Erik didn't know much about music. So somewhere along the way, it had become Peter's mission in life to change that. He was the reason Erik even had a cassette recorder. And his own shelf, mostly filled by mixtapes Peter brought along on every visit.
So Peter reached for the cassette he had planned to bring along that Saturday and then, while eating, rambled on about new releases, groundbreaking collaborations and amazing new finds until the sun began to rise. And the whole time Erik sat there, snacked on peanuts and listened attentively. Like his son was telling him the most interesting story on Earth.
It was a bit strange to wake up around noon and find his father asleep next to him. The man was just lying there, not even covered in one of Peter's many blankets, just in his normal clothes. On his back, looking like a corpse ready for viewing. Damn, he was such a weird little man. Well, not actually little… but weird.
Peter got up and dressed in seconds, jumping out of the open window rather than open the door and risking waking the guy. He looked like he could do with some sleep. The day was nice, the weather even nicer, so everyone was mingling around outside. Someone had carried tables and food outside, leading to a weird little buffet of sorts, which suited Peter just fine. He reached for a plate and some bread, when he was all but accosted by his teammates.
"Morning!", Storm smiled at him, her arm in a cast, "How did you sleep?"
"Pretty well.", Peter shrugged. And he had. He always slept well, when his Dad was around. The man had enough of a threatening aura to even keep nightmares in check.
"Nice!"
"Thank you, by the way, for calling my Dad. You were right. I needed a hug.", Peter admitted grudgingly. Did he want to tell his friends that? No. Would he rather they do it again, if he needed it? Yes. Swallow that pride, Maximoff, swallow it whole.
"It looked like a good hug.", Kurt told him wistfully.
"Yeah. I felt better from watching it alone.", Storm agreed.
"Dad hugs are the best.", Scott looked pretty sad… Jean didn't say a thing, and Peter looked between his four friends. Was he the only… no, Scott had a Dad! Yeah. A Dad who was far away and who he probably hadn't seen in a while. The others? Oh dear. Not too long ago he'd been the guy without a Dad, and now he was the odd one out…
"You know, I'm sure if you told him you had a bad day, Erik would totally give you a good hug. He is excellent at hugging."
Kurt actually took a step back.
"I don't think so, Peter.", Storm looked at him like he had lost his mind.
"Why not?"
"Because he is Magneto and I've seen him try to rip the world apart?"
"Ey, you were on his team. You came around! So did he. Before you, I might add."
"That's not the point."
"Then what exactly is the point?!", Honestly? Peter was getting mad. Really mad. His Dad was a pretty cool guy. Maybe a bit intense, but he'd had a tough life, so HIS FRIENDS shouldn't hold that against him.
"He is different with you, because he's your father and he loves you.", Jean spoke up for the first time, "He gives hugs and listens to YOU. Because he loves YOU. Not us."
"Nah, you just don't know him enough."
"Yeah, and I don't think he is interested in getting to know us. Why would he? We don't mean anything to him.", Kurt explained, and Peter didn't know what to do with that. They were wrong. He knew they were wrong. People weren't THAT different depending on who they were talking to, were they? If Erik didn't know they were related, he's still like him, right? He might not listen to SO much Pink Floyd with him, but he'd still… be nice, right? He'd still care? Even a little?
Upsetting line of thought.
Conversation slowed down afterward, and Peter found himself a park bench to have lunch on. Storm didn't have a family. Neither did Kurt. Had Kurt ever even gotten a good hug? A hug that made you feel really safe? A hug that told you, 'No matter what, I got you'?
Two hours later Peter was still sitting outside, his Walkman on and contemplating the kind of man his father was, when Erik emerged from the house, filling his own plate and (not spotting Peter) sitting down next to a very pleased looking Professor. Those two, seriously. The Professor, Peter realized suddenly, would have been on his side. The Professor believed his Dad was a good guy, too.
"Dad!", he appeared by their side. The Professor dropped an Éclair he had been eating. Gotcha! His Dad looked unfazed. Mh.
"Hello, Peter. Thank you for letting me sleep in."
"Oh, any day! So… I have a question. You give good hugs. That's not a question. It's a fact. I just wanted to make that clear. The others said they felt better just SEEING you hug me, so you give good hugs. Right, Professor?"
They both turned to look at a rapidly blinking Xavier. He did that a lot, the blinking, when Peter was around.
"I'm not... I don't think I ever got a hug from your father, Peter."
"That's… concerning. And it doesn't really make me more confident in my theory."
"Oooookay, what theory? Peter, please take a step back and try again. You lost me somewhere.", his Dad looked pretty confused, Peter wasn't sure why. Was there a reason to be confused about a simple fact? Or was it about him and the Professor never hugging? Because he had really thought… well. Alright, start again.
"So is that, like, a me and you thing? Is this… I don't know… Peter-Privilege? Do I get a good Dad-Hug, because I am, you know, your kid?"
"I'm not sure if I understand what exactly it is you are asking me?", Erik looked so honestly confused, Peter went over the whole conversation again. Hadn't he been clear? Certainly felt like he had been… Fine.
"Kurt doesn't have a family. If Kurt had a bad day and really needed a good hug, would you hug him, or is that something only I get?"
The Professor laughed out loud. Erik threw him a withering glare.
"Peter… Kurt jumps every time I even get near him. When I got here yesterday, I said 'Hello' and he accidentally teleported into his room."
"Yeah, because he doesn't really know you. That's not my question."
"I don't make a habit of hugging people that are terrified of me."
"But what if he weren't terrified of you?"
"Hypothetically?"
"Yes!"
"If Kurt had a bad day and needed a hug… and wanted a hug… from me, then I would give him a hug, yes."
"I knew it! But like… would you do it, because he needs a hug or because he is my friend. Like… would you do it just because, or for me, you know?"
"I'm not sure I'd even know Kurt without you."
"But that's not the point!"
"I am incredibly confused by whatever the point actually is."
"Peter wants to know, if you are the kind of person that would hug a young man in need or if you just do it for him.", Xavier explained patiently.
"Yeah. That's what I've been saying! If you didn't know I was your son and you came here… and you like… know me? From the Prison Break and all that. Would you talk to me? Would you give me a hug, if I needed it? If I looked sad?"
"I would think you probably wouldn't WANT me to talk to you or hug you, honestly. I don't have the kind of reputation that lends itself to comfort."
"But that's the point!"
"Do you want to have that kind of reputation, my friend?", Xavier asked, a smile on his face.
"I want people to know I will break them in half if they cross me."
Peter groaned.
"That's not what Peter meant. Or I, for that matter. Your own people, Erik. Not a potential threat."
"I would give Kurt a hug.", Erik relented, "If he needed one, I would give him a hug."
"But because you care or because he is my friend?"
"Ah. I honestly don't know. Every time I look at him, I see someone that is important to you. The both of you. So he is important to me. I don't know how to separate that."
Honestly? Fair enough.
"Okay. I'll take it."
"Is this why we are having this conversation? Does Kurt really need a hug?"
"Possibly. I don't know. He's pretty scared of you. It's the principle of the matter."
"I am so confused."
Still, half an hour later Peter returned from the bathroom to spot his Dad walking over to where Kurt and Storm were sitting on blankets, reading books in companionable silence. The moment Erik came closer, Kurt jumped up as if he had to stand to attention. Peter couldn't really hear what was being said, but they talked for a good five minutes, before Erik opened his arms and hugged a pretty perplexed looking Kurt. The poor guy looked terrified for about 30 seconds, before (just like Peter had) he closed his eyes and let Erik pull him closer.
They were right. It DID look like a pretty good hug, even from the outside.
