A/N: This is it, the last chapter. Um, as it is the last chapter, it's much longer (as in possibly over 8 pages longer than Chapter 7, the previous longest chapter :p That would be 17 pages with size 10 Times New Roman. Pointless information) than the others. Actually, I did that by accident...
Anyway, a BIG thanks to my beta-reader The Infernal Jynk, as well as my old beta-reader Morwin Weird (my sistah, yo :p Okay, not really, but we had to play the Weird Sisters and... yeah...). I find it ironic that she's a fan of Evolution now AFTER I switched beta-readers. Hehe, she likes Scott and Kurt (and I believe her reaction when I showed her "Survival of the Fittest" was "You like him [Lance]?!" *g*).
Also, I would like to thank everyone for their reviews, which probably spurred me to write more of this fic. People are probably wondering why I'm making such a big deal about this, well it's because this is the first time I've EVER finished a multi-chapter story (and it's also the first time I've ever finished a non-parody fanfic), as I usually lose interest in my stories before I finish. So, this is a big milestone for me (maybe now I can finish that damn novel...).
Anyway, I'm keeping you from the fic if you're still reading this, so read on! Warning, there's a karaoke bar in this chapter *shudder*. I hope this chapter makes up for the utter crap that was Chapter 7. :D
It was always the same. Fire, stakes, nooses. Kill them any way possible. Screaming, curses, words that he knew but couldn't quite place. A language so familiar, but so foreign to him. Warm bodies huddled together as their family was lynched-- beaten, burned, or hung-- killed in the most convenient manners.
"I'll protect you."
Cursed vagrants and rogues. Kill them all. Backwards people attacking those who were different. He held onto his sister and pulled her closer to him.
"I'll protect you, Sister." He understood the words, even though he didn't know the language.
They closed in, shouting, jeering, and throwing rocks. He cried as he was struck on the back, and tightened his hold on his sister. Couldn't lose her. Couldn't let her get hurt. He braced himself for more pain as they moved in.
And that was when the cloaked figure arrived on the scene.
"You look like shit, Pietro," Todd observed with a slight grin.
"Wow. You look like you haven't slept in weeks," John noted as he looked up from the newspaper article he was reading, his voice a little concerned. "You feelin' okay?"
"Yeah. Fine," Pietro shrugged, poking his head into the refrigerator and looking around for some breakfast. "Where's the food?"
"Ask Blob. Wasn't it your turn to get groceries yesterday?" asked Todd.
"Oh... Forgot. I'll get to it today," Pietro murmured as he pulled an apple out of the fridge. "Where's Lance?"
"He went out," answered John , turning his attention back to the paper.
"Really? Taking the jeep for another joy ride?"
"You could say that. Hey, maybe you should go back to bed. You don't look too well."
"I don't need any more sleep," Pietro snapped, finishing off his apple and throwing the core away. "I'm fine. In fact, I'm better than fine. I just need to run around a bit. Being cooped up in this house is driving me crazy!" He quickly slipped on a pair of sneakers that was by the door. "I'll be back in a few hours."
He was gone as soon as the words left his mouth.
"I guess it's too late to tell him those were my shoes," John muttered after Pietro's flashy exit. He shrugged and went back to reading about the mutant controversy in Washington.
A short while later, the front door creaked open and Lance peeked in apprehensively.
"Hey, uh... is he awake yet?"
"Yeah. Awake and gone," Todd replied, hopping down from his chair. "What's up?"
"Did you get it?" John asked.
"No. Couldn't figure out his size," Lance answered with a scowl. He strolled into the kitchen and plopped down into the chair previously occupied by Todd. "He's so damn skinny! It's hard to find one in his size, especially when I don't know what his size is!"
"Should've just gone with my idea, man."
"Which bright idea would that be, John?" Lance retorted irritably.
"Just steal one of his shirts and a pair of his pants, and take 'em over to the place. I'm sure those stuffy pricks'll figure out what'll fit him."
"That's so crazy it just might work..." Lance said carefully, rubbing his chin in a way to emphasize just how thoughtful he was feeling.
"You think you'll have it in time?"
"Yeah. What about you, John? Did you ask Wanda yet?"
"Yup. Er, no. I mean-- kinda," he replied. "I sort of slipped the question ever so sneakily into a story I loaned her. And if that doesn't work, I have Plan B."
Lance nodded like it was quite a practical idea, whereas Todd blinked. The clothes idea and the story thing sounded like some of those stupid schemes that Lance was prone to creating. No wonder the two were such good friends... And they thought he was the idiot? Personally, he thought it would've been easier for both parties to just ask their respective dates instead of sneaking around and coming up with insane plans.
"You know what just occurred to me, Lance?" John said suddenly.
"We used to joke around about datin' twins together. And now we are, but not in the way I saw it happenin'." He laughed.
"I didn't even think about that. And you've been dating Wanda for how long now?"
"Well, if we're going by the beach date... three weeks, give or take some days. Tonight I'm gonna take her out to a karaoke bar."
"That's terrible! What did she ever do to you?"
"Hey! It'll be quite romantic! You wanna come with? We can double. You can watch me make an ass of myself."
"I don't think so," Lance answered, shaking his head. "Pietro and I on a date in a public place? I don't think that'll work quite yet. Especially with what I have in mind... Besides, I see you act like an ass all the time."
"You two can go as friends, then. Guys go to bars together as pals all the time. Come onnn," he whined. "I don't wanna do the song alone! It's a duet-- well, it doesn't have to be, but it sounds better as a duet!"
"Then make Wanda sing with you!"
"I'm goin' to be singin' the song to her, you great poof. It doesn't work that way if she's singin' it with me."
"Oh, all right. Fine. I'll try to talk Pietro into coming. What song is it, by the way?"
"An oldie, but a goodie. I'm sure you haven't heard it in years."
Todd watched the two with bafflement. Okay, so he lacked severely in the hygiene department, but how in the world could those two morons get dates, while he couldn't even get a girl to willingly stand within a five foot radius of him for more than ten minutes?!
It was a mystery that he was going to have to unravel on his own time.
"Shit! John's gonna kill me!" Pietro muttered as he walked into the mall rather awkwardly. His hair was ruffled, his clothes were a little dirty, and he just wore out the shoes he was wearing, finding out almost immediately after they fell apart that they weren't even his. So, dirty, messy, and shoeless, he journeyed to the mall in order to replace the sneakers he was no longer wearing.
I must look like some crazy runaway kid...
As he tried to find a shoe store, he noticed that many stiff older people were giving him strange looks and trying to stay out of his general path. People who recognized him from school just stared at him with confusion, before shrugging it off. After all, Pietro Maximoff or one of his stupid friends were always doing something horribly strange.
Pietro stopped and stared at the store he found himself standing before. Shoes galore. But what was he looking for? Were the shoes Sketchers? Or were they Vans? Or were they just some cheap brandless shoes? Crap! He couldn't remember!
He was even starting to forget what the damn things looked like.
"Okay, Pietro, think," he mumbled to himself, casually strolling into the place. Some people eyed him uneasily, which he found strange. What better place could a kid with no shoes be than a shoe store? They had no reason to stare at him funny! Maybe it was because he was talking to himself... "If I was a rich Australian guy, what would I wear? Oooh! Flip-flops!"
Oh, the tragedy of the easily distracted.
Pietro rushed over to the not-quite shoes and giggled. It wasn't that he was ever going to wear flip-flops, he just thought they were funny.
If he didn't look crazy before, he certainly did now, walking around talking to himself and giggling at footwear.
"Can I help you... sir?" an employee of the store inquired hesitantly, approaching him cautiously like he was a dog with rabies.
"Oh! Uh, yeah, I need expensive sneakers."
"What brand?" the man asked rather skeptically. Pietro didn't exactly look like the kind of guy who could afford much at the moment.
"Um... a good one?"
"I... see... Are you sure those flip-flops won't suffice?"
Hm, apparently the man wanted to get him out of there before he could threaten to attack people with plastic spoons or something crazy like that.
I don't look that insane... do I?
Pietro swiped some of his hair out of his face and shook his head. "I ruined a pair of my friend's shoes while jogging, and I need to replace them before he finds out."
"But you don't know what brand they are?"
"Nope." Pietro shook his head vibrantly. He was starting to feel extremely giddy. It was most likely because he stopped to get a coke before entering the mall, and now it was taking its affect. That was probably a mistake...
"Well, what did they look like?"
"I don't remember," Pietro giggled.
The man groaned. This was going to take a while. "You don't remember what the shoes looked like? Then how am I supposed to help you?"
"I haven't really thought of that," Pietro answered with a silly grin. Maybe Lance was right when he said I shouldn't have caffeine. "I guess I'll just get something for myself, then. Oh, and I'll get the flip-flops. Yeah. Maybe he won't notice that those aren't his real shoes..."
It was a significant amount of time later when Pietro finally decided on what he wanted. With his new purchases in hand (well, one in hand and the other on his feet), he strolled out of the store and wondered about his next destination.
Well, I have to get groceries. Or, I could use the remaining money and buy myself something nice! Or I could get Lance something-- naah, screw him. Hmm, I really wanna screw him. Stupid sexual tension.
His thoughts were bouncing around in a manner much akin to one of those crazy super-bouncy balls that he used to throw at people when he was a kid. Suddenly, however, all bouncing ceased as his eyes caught a familiar and unpleasant sight.
Why, oh why, do those stupid X-Men have to be here today? Of all the days, too, they had to pick the one where I'm not looking my Sunday best.
Pietro blinked at his own mental comment. That doesn't make too much sense, I don't even go to church, so I really don't have any reason to ever look my 'Sunday best'. Oh well.
He watched them discreetly, wondering how conspicuous he seemed standing right in front of the shoe store with a rigid look on his face. He then took notice that the male members of their team were missing.
Oh, wait, it's only the X-Chicks. Guess it's kind of a girls' night out thing-- sans night. This could be fun...
Throwing on a cocky demeanor, he strutted arrogantly up to the girls and threw his arm around Kitty's shoulders.
"Hey, there," he purred, receiving many deadly glares in return.
"Ew, like, get away from me, creep!" she squealed like a little girl who just found out that boys had the ever dangerous "cooties". Roughly, she pushed him away from her. How very rude of her.
"Hey, now, I'm just trying to be friendly, Kitty-cat."
"You? Friendly? Like, there's an oxymoron," the younger girl scoffed, rolling her eyes and pulling closer to her friends.
"What are you doing here, Pietro?" Jean asked in that "I'm trying to sound friendly and mature, but I really just want you to go the hell away" voice.
"Yeah, what do ya want from us?" Rogue questioned impatiently, crossing her arms over her chest and narrowing her eyes at him.
"What? Geez, get off of your high-horse. You think everything I do revolves around fighting you dorks?"
"Yes," was the collective reply.
"Well, it's not! I bought some shoes!" He brought up one foot and waggled it at them, attempting to balance on the other as he did. "See?"
"So, you, like, bugged us just to show off your new shoes?" asked Kitty skeptically and dryly.
"Nope. I bugged you just for the sake of bugging you," he grinned in return.
"Idiot," Rogue muttered, then motioned to her friends. "Come on, let's go."
The other two girls nodded and the trio started off, leaving Pietro grinning and trying to hold back laughter. Things were always funnier when hyperness and super-speed mixed. Then, an idea struck him and he quickly grabbed Rogue's arm.
"What the-- let me go before Ah take mah gloves off!"
"Take 'em off. Come on," he challenged. Oh yes, this'll work out perfectly. She absorbs my powers, she'll get my memories, and then maybe I could get her to tell me about what happened back in Europe. It had to be a surefire plan. Couldn't fail. Unless...
What if she gets my memories except for the ones about Europe? What if she refuses to tell me? What if I'm totally wrong about this whole thing?!
Too late. He already started, might as well finish it.
"Come on, Rogue," he said, pulling her closer to him. "I dare ya."
Green eyes pierced into his own, and she lifted a hand--
--and promptly slapped him.
"Ow! Hey!" he cried, letting her go and clutching his cheek with one hand. "That hurt!"
"You're a moron," she hissed, then turned and stormed away with her friends.
"Hell, it was worth a shot," he muttered to himself, before going to the exit. Time to get some groceries and keep his mind away from his lousy half-memories and dreams.
And he knew the perfect way to do it.
Have more caffeine.
"Sir, I don't quite understand what you want."
Pretentious prick. It wasn't that hard to understand, was it? He had a simple task for the man, and being humored and looked at like he was a total imbecile wasn't making him very happy. And he thought he'd made it clear before. "Okay. One more time. He's shorter than me. Taller than him. Got a slender build, and look, these are his clothes. The thing is, the sizes don't help because, well, you know these things are supposed to be kind of loose, but his clothes aren't. Do you need a picture to top it off? Taller than him--" He pointed a finger at Todd. "An' shorter than me. This isn't so hard!"
"So... you want me to find one in his size? Why don't you just tell me his size?"
"I thought we went through this."
"Sir, it would be the same size as his shirt and pants. What do you need my help for?" the salesman questioned in that prim, cultured voice of his.
"Because I don't think these sizes are right, especially if it's supposed to be kind of loose fitting! His clothes aren't loose fitting, so why would we use the same sizes?"
"It'd be easier if you just brought your friend to try one on."
"Yo, John, he's right," Todd agreed, eager to get out of the dull store. There was nothing there for him, anyway.
"He's not right! We can't bring him here, else it'll ruin whatever Lance has in mind!" the older boy retorted firmly, raising his voice just slightly.
"Sir, please calm down."
"Oh, drop the 'sir' crap already, you lousy wanker."
"Sir, I don't appreciate insults. If you really want me to help you, you should be more polite," the man replied too calmly for John's tastes.
"If you weren't so bloody stupid--"
"Again with the insults, sir."
"Oh, for Christ's sake!"
Pietro returned home balancing three grocery bags in his arms. He was greeted with the sounds of Metallica (blaring out from some room loud enough to fill the whole house) and the vacuum cleaner-- a horrible combination of noise, in his opinion.
"What the hell...?" he murmured, rushing to the kitchen and putting away the groceries in a matter of seconds. "What's going on?" he called, trying to raise his voice over the cacophony. "Hey!"
Though his voice was raised significantly, he still got no reply. Scowling, he stormed up the stairs and ran right into a vacuum cleaner wielding Lance. "Ack!"
"Ah! Oh, hey," Lance said loudly, turning off the machine.
The music was pounding into Pietro's skull by this point, and he covered his ears in hopes to protect his hearing. "Hey," he replied rather miserably.
"What's wrong?" Lance inquired, his voice straining to be heard above the clashing instruments.
"My head's going to explode."
"Oh, sorry." Lance walked into his room and shut the stereo off. "Better?"
"Ah-- yeah," Pietro said, adjusting to the newfound silence. "What's going on?"
"Well, I'm cleaning the place."
"You don't even clean your own room, Lance."
"Yeah, well," Lance shrugged, "this place is a sty. It was starting to get unbearable, even to a slob like me. Anyway, John and Toad are out on an errand and Freddy's... uh... I don't know where he is, so I thought I could use some music to keep me company."
"How can you listen to that and not go deaf?"
"I've built up an immunity. Oh, by the way, we're going out tonight."
"Huh?" a dumbfounded Pietro replied.
"We. Are. Going. Out," Lance repeated slowly.
"Oh-- uh-- why?" the still confused Pietro asked.
"Because I have to help John hit on your sister-- ow! Okay, wrong choice of words! Sorry!"
Pietro smirked at Lance, then returned to the conversation. "So, where are we going? I mean, you know, it'd be kind of weird to be out in public where people from school can--"
"Don't worry, it's not an actual 'date'-- for us, anyway. We're just going to go as 'friends'-- ah, is that okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Pietro shrugged carelessly. "But you still haven't told me where we're going."
"Oh, yeah, that. Er, we're kinda goingToAKaraokeBar," Lance mumbled quickly, hoping Pietro wouldn't catch what he was saying.
"No." Hm, apparently talking faster wasn't the smartest way to try to trick a speed demon.
"Oh, come on--"
"No way. A karaoke bar?! What's he smoking?!"
"I'll have to ask him that. He swears he's going to be doing something romantic. Come on, Pietro, at least you won't have to sing! I promised him that I'd sing with him, though, so..."
"So go with him. Why do I have to be there?"
"So that I don't become the third wheel."
"The Third Wheel. Sounds kind of like a new super-villain."
"Yes. He follows couples on dates and makes them feel really uncomfortable. You wouldn't want me to become him, would you?" Lance teased, slipping his arms around Pietro and forgetting about his vacuuming.
"I suppose not. Okay, fine, I'll go with you. But don't expect me not to hide in shame when you sing."
"Come to think of it, you've never heard me sing, have you?"
"Nope, and I don't want to. Considering your taste in music, I'd assume you're standards of good singing are pretty low."
"Ouch, Pietro," Lance said, feigning hurt. He released the smaller boy and grabbed the vacuum-cleaner again. "Care to help me finish cleaning?"
"Yeah, sure, lemme change first," Pietro replied as he walked into his room. "And clean up, though not necessarily in that order," he added. He peered into his closet and looked through his clothes. "Hey... my favorite shirt's missing!"
Lance quickly turned on the vacuum cleaner and pretended he didn't hear Pietro.
"Lance! Hey, do you know where my favorite shirt is?"
Lance whistled to himself, still playing deaf. Hurriedly, he finished up the hall and tried to get started on the stairs, when the extension cord tightened and pulled out of the outlet. "Crap!" he exclaimed, steadying himself so as to not fall down the stairs and injure himself.
"Lance?" Pietro poked his head out from his room and laughed, his shirt temporarily forgotten. "Geez, Lance, watch what you're doing." He went back into his room and changed into other clothes.
Lance sighed in relief and dragged the machine down the stairs to get started on the living room. A flash of white sped past him and he watched in amazement as the windows suddenly found themselves cleaner than they've ever been since the Brotherhood moved in.
"Aren't you lucky you have me?" Pietro purred in his ear before running into the kitchen to do the dishes.
"I'm the luckiest man alive," Lance chuckled, plugging in the vacuum cleaner and continuing the task at hand.
"I can't believe you dragged me here, Allerdyce," Wanda said playfully as her boyfriend pulled out a chair for her.
"I can't believe you actually agreed to come, luv. Here I thought I'd be stuck with just Lance and Pietro. Ever hear Lance sing?"
Wanda shook her head. "Thankfully, no. So, they're going to meet us here?"
"Yup," he affirmed, taking his own seat. He glanced over at the stage and scowled. "Bloody hell, that woman's warbling is gonna drive me mad. I hope she's almost done."
"My heart will go onnnnnnn!" was the response from the stage.
"Doesn't sound like it," Wanda answered with a grin.
"Damn. So, how'd you like my story?"
"It's great! I hope you can get it published." John scoffed in return. "Oh, come on, Allerdyce, you know you've got a talent. It was so beautiful. Well, all except for the last line... that didn't make much sense. I mean, 'Will you go to the prom with me?' in the Victorian era? That's a pretty big anachronism."
"Yeah, it was out of place, wasn't it?" he agreed in a slightly surly voice.
"Well, minds do tend to wander while writing, and the prom is coming up-- maybe you were just thinking about that when you were typing it up."
"I said 'gettin' warmer'. There's a method to my madness, luv."
"And here I thought everything you did was totally random." She leaned closer to him, smiling almost seductively. "So, the question-- was it for me?" she asked softly, her warm breath against his ear, her lips almost pressing against his skin.
It took all of his will power to turn his face to meet hers and not capture those tantalizing lips in his. "Maaaybe," he drawled teasingly.
"In that case, yes, I'll go to the prom with you, St. John Allerdyce."
"Knew you couldn't resist me." He pressed his lips against hers, then saw Lance and Pietro enter the building from behind Wanda.
"Is this what you brought me here for?" she asked, pulling her mouth away from his just enough to speak.
"Nope," he answered, standing up. "I brought you here to embarrass you, sweet." He grinned at her, then bounded over to Lance, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him over to a man standing beside the stage, leaving a very confused Pietro and Wanda.
"That was..." Pietro started, but couldn't quite think of a word to say, as he stole John's seat.
"Our boyfriends are weird," Wanda sighed in return to her brother.
Pietro nodded a bit absently, his mind in many places at once. Mostly, he was thinking about his missing clothes. He also wondered how he was going to break it to John that he destroyed his shoes-- oh! but I bought you flip-flops to replace the probably expensive sneakers! Huh? Don't look at my feet. No, those aren't new shoes I'm wearing, what makes you think that?
Then there was his nightmare problem. So far, the only person who knew about it was Wanda, but she wasn't much help. She wasn't having the same problem, and there was nothing she could tell him about their pre-America years that he didn't already experience in deam-land. Her only advice was: "Sometimes repressed memories can be triggered later in life by people or events."
It was good to have a sister in psychology class.
"What do you think they're going to sing?" asked Wanda, bringing Pietro's attention back to the horrid little karaoke bar.
"Oh, I don't know. Lance doesn't even know, apparently." Pietro paused, then changed the subject as another thought crossed his mind. "He's been acting strange lately... I mean, more than he usually does. He's always going out now. Think he's having an affair?"
Wanda shook her head. "Why would he?"
"Because he's not getting any from me," Pietro shrugged. "Well, there was one time I launched myself at him... and then he turned me down!"
"I think Lance is just an erratic little nut. He's your perfect match."
"Ha, ha. Cute, sis. Oh, hey, they're getting on stage."
The twins turned their attention to the platform at the other end of the bar as John practically skipped onto the center and Lance trudged gloomily along behind him.
"I wonder what song he's going to try to embarrass me with," Wanda mused as she watched her boyfriend with dreamy eyes.
"This song is dedicated to the cute chick in the back-- I've always wanted to say that. Love ya, Wanda."
His sister flushed and covered her mouth with her hands-- either hiding her smile or trying to hold back a giggling fit-- while Pietro was hit with a tough realization.
We've been dating for two months now, and I've never told him-- well, he hasn't told me, either. What if he doesn't really feel that way about me? What if this is all just some "experiment" for him, and he's just going to go back to girls? What if-- Argh! Too many "what ifs"!
Pietro shook his head and focused back on the spectacle. As the song began, he almost immediately recognized it as "500 Miles" by the Proclaimers, a song he hadn't heard in a few years. John sang the song (better than Pietro had expected), adding in his own little comments here and there, while Lance attempted to do backup. Despite Pietro's expectations, Lance wasn't as horrendously terrible as everyone had given him credit for-- of course, at this point in the song, Lance's only job so far was to provide one word here or there. He allowed himself to grin, noticing how much fun the two on stage were having and the utter amusement his sister was deriving from the scene.
"If I get drunk, yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who gets drunk next to you.
And if I haver-- and you know I do that a lot-- yeah I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's haverin' to you!"
"Dear God," Wanda chuckled.
"I'm glad my boyfriend's not as crazy as yours."
By this point, it was Lance's turn to join in and do the chorus. Even though he was now throwing in more than one mere word, he still wasn't as bad as expected.
"But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
To fall down at your door!"
Pietro blinked. Maybe if I close my eyes and pretend it's just Lance singing, I could maybe feel like this song's actually for me. Wow, you're such a sentimental fool, Maximoff.
"--and if I grow old, well I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's growin' old with you."
Once again, he had to force himself to focus his attention back to the events going on onstage. He felt kind of stupid for taking the little song so seriously, when apparently no one else was. The other patrons seemed to enjoy watching the two on stage, and Wanda especially was having a good time. Of course, she had a right to, as the song was being sung to her.
The tune went on, and as it neared the end, Lance finally seemed to loosen up much more and started to (Dear God) get into it.
"--just to be the man who walked 1000 miles
to fall down at your do-o-or!"
As the 80's hit ended, the audience actually cheered, though Pietro wasn't sure if this was because: the two actually performed well (Naah), they were glad it ended (Possibly), or they simply enjoyed watching the boys act silly in front of a crowd (Most likely).
Allerdyce and Alvers jumped off of the stage and returned to their dates, both grinning stupidly.
Wanda rolled her eyes and hugged John. "That was the worst singing ever."
"Really?" Lance asked, an almost-genuine, but probably imaginary, tinge of hurt in his voice.
"Of course not. You've never heard Father sing."
"Magneto...?" Lance started with an absolute look of horror on his face.
"Sings...?" Pietro finished, an equally horrified expression gracing his features.
Wanda nodded, then put a finger to her lips. "Tell no one."
"I promise I won't tell if you find a way to keep these lips o' mine sealed," John said in a voice that could've easily been followed by: *nudge, nudge, wink, wink* "Say no more!"
"What a simple task. You really don't present me with very many challenges, Johnny," she cooed in return and promptly began to "seal his lips".
"Argh," Lance muttered (or it was something akin to that), catching Pietro's attention. He almost forgot that "Argh!" was Lance's special "thing"; it had been a while since Lance had randomly burst out with that exclamation. "C'mon," he instructed, tugging at Pietro's arm, "let's get some drinks so these lovebirds can be alone. By the way, anything with caffeine is out of the question!"
His mother was the first one killed. Well, the first one he noticed, anyway. She was beaten and then stoned to death. His father tried to protect as many people as possible, and was quickly lost in the flurry of screaming villagers and curses. Everyone was under attack; everyone was fair game.
As his grandmother helped him and his sister hide, she uttered the words:
"Jekh dilo kerel but dile hai but dile keren dilimata."
Whatever the hell that meant. He could hear her raspy voice, see the resolved look on her haggard old face, but he couldn't understand the words-- not anymore.
Still, he and his sister nodded fervently, hoping that if they were perhaps better children, their dear grandmother wouldn't leave them like their parents just had.
No such luck. With those last words and two final kisses, she turned and was out of their lives like the rest of their family. Now, they only had each other.
His sister's small hand clutched his tightly, and she whispered, "Pietro."
"Gah!" His eyes fluttered open, and he found himself staring directly up at Lance. A tired, messy haired, stubbly Lance. "Lance?" He sat up, clutching the cotton bed-sheet to his chest as he did, and stared at his boyfriend's face. "What's up?"
"Well, nothing, at first. Then you started thrashing. Then you kicked me off of the bed. Then you started mumbling in some crazy language. You didn't look like you were having sweet dreams... You okay?"
"Peachy. Never been better," Pietro muttered.
Lance sighed and climbed back into bed, then wrapped his arms around the slender mutant's torso, pulling him closer. "You didn't sound peachy, and you don't look it either. Something's wrong."
"Drop it! I wanna go back to sleep."
"Uh uh. Not until you tell me what's been up with you this past week and a half. You look like you've been dragged through hell and back. You think I haven't noticed?"
Pietro tugged out of Lance's grasp and sank down onto the bed, rolling onto his side to avoid facing the dark-haired boy. He stared at the wall, trying to make out some of the band members on one of Lance's posters.
"Pietro?" Lance prodded, not content with leaving the conversation where it was. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. JustSomeStupidDreams," was the quick reply.
"Shouldn't you be getting some sleep?"
"Not until I know what's going on in your head."
"How sweet," Pietro retorted dryly.
"Yeah, well..." Lance put his arms around Pietro again and pulled him close, until their bodies were pressed together. "I love you."
Pietro drew in a sharp breath and said nothing.
"Pietro...? You heard me, right?"
"I-- yes..." he admitted rather reluctantly. The gentle, comforting grip on him loosened a little.
"And..." I want to say it. I wish I could. He opened his mouth to say more (Just say it. I love you. Fucking say it, Pietro!), to return the words (Come on, it's not so hard. I. Love. You. Say it.), but couldn't find the willpower to utter the words. "I-- I can't say that I love you, Lance."
Lance stared at the back of Pietro's head in a numb shock, then blinked and swallowed. "Okay," he said, more shakily than he would've preferred. "If that's how you feel." He removed his arms from Pietro's body and rolled onto his other side so that back was facing back. "'night, Pietro."
Pietro blinked rapidly, then swiped at his eyes with his arm. He never cried. Pietro Maximoff hadn't cried since he was separated from Wanda all those years ago-- or, at least, that's what he liked to believe. The truth was, he had cried many times after that, but not in recent years. How long had it been since he last cried? Fucking ages, he thought bitterly, closing his eyes. "Goodnight, Lance."
It was Friday. The Senior Prom would be on Saturday. Lance already had the tickets, the suit, and the full-proof plan-- now all he needed was his date. That would be the tough part, considering how he and Pietro had been avoiding each other like the plague over the past week.
Whether or not whatever was bothering Pietro before was still on his mind, he didn't know. He hadn't spoken more than four awkward words to the other boy since that night he so stupidly professed his love to someone who apparently didn't give a shit.
Lance snarled in frustration and slammed his fist against a nearby locker, almost immediately regretting his actions as pain flared up in his hand.
"Ah shit! Fuuuuck," he seethed, clutching his suffering hand.
"Hey, Alvers, what the hell are you doing to my locker?!"
Oops. He punched the wrong locker. "Oh, hey, Summers," he said, trying to put on a cool demeanor. "I was just venting-- hey, who are you taking to the prom?"
"That's none of your business," the other boy said crossly as he examined his locker.
"Ah ha! You couldn't get a date, could you?" Lance remarked triumphantly. Suddenly, his hand felt a lot better...
"No, that's not the case. It's Jean, not that it's any of your business, Alvers."
"Ah... ha! You couldn't get a date your age, could you?" Lance attempted.
Scott, content with the condition of his locker, arched his eyebrows in confusion. "Is something wrong? Your insults seem to be lamer than usual."
"No, it's just-- you-- ah-- you're a loser! Yeah! Stupid... loser!" Lance snapped, stalking away. Suddenly, his hand felt a lot worse...
He was on his way to his jeep, thankful that Pietro usually preferred to walk home. Sure, his being glad about it only made their rift a little larger, but it also meant not having to deal with that strange silence that was going on between him and Pietro.
Lance never expected things to end that way-- for them to just grow apart like that. He figured that when their time as a couple was up, they'd break it off in a loud, huge fight, not by simply saying "Good night."
A hand grabbed him by the shoulder, and he suddenly jumped.
"Jesus, Lance. Jumpy today?"
"Lousy day. Lousy week, John, you know that."
"I know," his friend said sympathetically, his hand still resting on Lance's shoulder. "Things'll get better if you just talk to him, you know."
"I tried. He's being all weird and quiet around me, in case you haven't noticed," Lance snapped in return.
"Okay, sorry. Hey, does this mean that Todd and I had to wait in that lousy store for nothin'?"
"I guess," Lance answered with a shrug. "If you can't get a refund, I'll pay you back."
"Oh, hell no. You don't know the shit I had to go through with that stupid clerk to get Speedy's suit! I don't care what it takes, you two are goin' to the bleedin' prom."
"I'm glad you're so concerned," Lance scoffed sarcastically as the two made their way to the parking lot.
"Anything for a friend." John stopped walking and said in a serious voice, "Hey, you know I really do care, right?"
"Yeah, I know," Lance replied, offering a half-smile. "Thanks."
"No problem. Now go mend that relationship of yours. I'll get Freddy and Todd and keep 'em preoccupied with somethin' so you two can be alone."
"Thanks-- hey, about Freddy... I haven't seen him around much lately. Think he's up to something?"
"Yeah, right, maybe he has a girlfriend," John laughed, shaking his head.
"Ha, yeah, that's a pretty ridiculous idea."
Freddy and Todd approached the spot where Lance's jeep once was and stood in shocked, angry disbelief.
"What the-- he did it again, yo! He just drove off without us!" Todd suddenly exploded angrily.
"We should stop relying on him for rides," Fred replied.
John, who was previously attempting to act totally shocked and casual at the same time said, "Oh well. Hey, let's go somewhere. Uh, like a buffet place, or somethin'," he said, eyeing Freddy. If he was going to pay for the guy to eat, he was at least going to go for an all-you-can-eat restaurant so that he wouldn't be completely broke on prom night. "It's on me."
"You were in on this!" Todd accused.
"Um... no, I wasn't!"
"Yeah, you were! Man, I can't believe this!"
Stupid insightful little toad... John scowled and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly. "Okay, maybe I was, but we're not going to the house for a while. Lance and Pietro need make-up time. So, do what you want, but goin' home's off-limits."
"Okay," Freddy said passively with a shrug. "I got somewhere to be, anyway." And with that, he plodded away from the Aussie and the quasi-amphibian boy.
"Okay, that's startin' to bother me. What is he up to?!" John said immediately upon Freddy's departure.
"I don't know, he won't tell me."
"Hmm... We should give him his privacy, right?"
Todd made a dismissive noise and said, "Screw privacy, man! Let's follow him!"
John looked at the scrawny mutant and grinned. "Don't have to tell me twice."
Chuckling sinisterly, the two boys began to sneakily follow Fred's trail.
After a while of inconspicuously trailing Freddy, the two were growing both bored and more curious about his plans. They were bored because whatever it was that Fred was planning was taking quite a while. First, he slowly made his way to a Burger King, where he ate for a while, making John and Todd realize how hungry they were. But, they couldn't eat due to their mission at hand.
After exhausting the employees but making the place significantly richer, he lumbered over to a park and picked a bunch of flowers. This seemingly "fruity" action confused the then sleepy mutants, making them more resolute on finding out his motive.
Finally, their hard work, patience, and boredom paid off as they found the Blob walking to a slightly suburban neighborhood, flowers in hand. He approached an average looking two-story house, and rang the doorbell.
A small, mousy-looking girl opened the door and beamed happily at the sight of the metabolically-challenged mutant, and she quickly ushered him inside. He seemed quite pleased by this, and the last thing the two saw before the door shut was Fred "the Blob" Dukes handing flowers to a delighted girl less than half his height.
"Well, I'll be damned," John muttered. "He really does have a girlfriend!"
"I know her! She's in my algebra class!" Todd exclaimed. "That's Amy Greene! She never talks to anyone, though..."
"Hm, I've seen her eatin' lunch alone a lot of times." John shrugged and thrust his hands in his pockets. "Well, that was dull. Let's go get somethin' to eat."
As the two boys trudged away, both wondered how the tiny, virtually friendless Amy Greene and the loud, crude Fred Dukes could've possibly gotten together.
As Todd and John experienced their misadventures in Freddy-Land, Lance apprehensively sat on the couch and watched the television on mute. He didn't care much for whatever the hell the hicks on Jerry Springer were currently babbling about-- all he cared about at the moment was getting things straight with Pietro. Everything was ready, now all he needed was Pietro.
Finally, the front door opened, and he found himself staring at his boyfriend.
"Hey. Took you a while," he greeted nervously, hoping his voice hadn't sounded forced.
"I know, but with you-- well, you know, walking's usually faster than that."
Pietro avoided looking at Lance and shrugged. "I wanted to take my time."
Lance stood up and approached Pietro. "Um... I left something for you-- in your room, that is. I left something for you in your room."
Pietro stared at Lance for a moment, then nodded. "All right." He walked around Lance and made his way up the stairs, stopping when he came to his doorway. Lance followed.
"That is..." Pietro walked into his room and stopped beside his bed. He brought his hand down on the suit that awaited him-- white, probably expensive-- and the ticket that lay on top of it. He caressed the fabric slowly, then said: "What's this for?"
"For the prom. I kinda figured you couldn't possibly turn me down if I just dropped it on you last minute," Lance answered, chuckling nervously. "So, you like? I had John and Todd pick it out, so I don't really know if it's your size or even good-- I mean, I went and just rented my own suit, but this was bought and--"
"You're babbling," Pietro cut in, smiling. He put the ticket in his pocket, then picked up the suit and hung it in his closet. "Of course I want to go with you. I'd hate to think about the havoc you'd wreak without me."
"'Want to' go, but aren't, huh," Lance grumbled dejectedly.
"Never said that, doofus. I want to go, of course, but what about--"
"Fuck everyone else!" Lance snarled. "This is about you and me having fun at the last dance of the year. Man, I fucking hate school dances, but I just want to do this so bad, you know? I just want to take you out, for once, in this freakin' area!"
Pietro stared at him with widened eyes, and Lance wondered then if he had paled or not. It was kind of hard to tell, considering how light Pietro's skin was in the first place. "Well, when you put it that way..."
"Yes?" Lance asked hopefully.
"Yeah, yes. A big 'yes'. ABigIWannaDoThisWithYouAndHopefullyWeCanFuckAfterwardsYes!" Pietro said quickly, grinning to himself as Lance tried to decipher his words.
"Um... okay," Lance replied with some perplexity as he gave up trying to translate "Pietro Speak". "I don't really have any more money, since I had to spend it on my own suit and the tickets-- and I had to borrow from John-- so... Um, we're just gonna take the jeep, is that okay?"
"Limousines are so overrated, anyway."
"I hope you think dinner's overrated, too, because I don't have enough to take us out, unless McDonalds is your kind of place for a romantic dinner."
"For you, I'll pretend that dinner's overrated, too. Maybe I can cook something, 'kay?"
Lance snatched Pietro in his arms and held him close, trying to catch up on their lost week. "'kay," he murmured contentedly in return, and that was it. Their week-long "argument" was at an end without them even mentioning it.
Things were always easier said than done. Pietro learned this his own way-- through mistakes and last-minute changes of mind. So far, the evening went on without a hitch. He had made steak, the easiest, non-microwaveable meal he could think of. Lance didn't seem to mind this (even though his was slightly charred), as a meal was a meal and also much better than anything they could've gotten at McDonalds or the Wal-Mart food court (which they had considered, though only briefly).
By the time they were finished eating dinner, it was 9:00, and the dance had already started an hour ago. Cursing, the two scrambled into Lance's jeep (which he thankfully no longer called Charlene) and sped over to the rather nice hotel where the Bayville High Senior Prom was being held.
All during the car ride, Pietro felt fine. And then, when Lance finally parked the vehicle, butterflies attacked his stomach in full-force. Oh yeah, things were definitely easier said than done.
I wanna go home. Wanna go home, make out with Lance, and possibly fuck. Don'tWannaBeHere. WannaBeAtHome! he thought frantically, completely ignoring Lance.
"Um, Pietro? Hey, Pietro!" Lance quickly shook the other boy, finally getting his attention. "We're here."
"I-- ah--" Pietro gulped, then nodded. Lance reeeeally looks nice tonight, he noted, observing how different the older boy looked when clad in a nice, simple black tux instead of his usual ensemble.
"Nervous? We don't have to go, you know," Lance offered, though he obviously didn't mean what he said. After all, everything was on him (and partially John, and even Mystique, though she didn't quite know it yet...) and they were already there. He held Pietro's hand, slipping fingers between fingers. "But you know I'm going to be right here with you. If anything bad happens, you know I'll--"
Pietro shushed him with a quick kiss and said "I know," as his confidence was restored. Okay, this is definitely easier said than done. Just think of this as a new challenge, Pietro. His little mental pep-talk was some help-- well, enough to get him out of the car. After that, he was practically dragged by Lance to the entrance. For once, Quicksilver had to try and keep up with someone else.
The man at the entrance looked at them funny, to which Lance responded with putting his arm around Pietro and growling: "We've got tickets."
Defensive much? Pietro thought with amusement, and tried to smile nicely at the perplexed, and also a little intimidated, man as Lance shoved the tickets into the man's hands. He was then dragged into the ballroom, where the rest of Bayville High's senior class (and their dates) were having a good time. "Lance, what's your hurry?!"
Lance swerved around and caught Pietro around the waist. "I'm just in a crazy mood, I guess," he whispered in his date's ear as he began to move to the music that was currently playing. It was a fast number, one that Pietro found himself caught up in as he began to loosen up.
"Is anyone staring at us?" he asked warily as they danced.
"If they are, fuck 'em."
"With pleasure, Lance," Pietro grinned.
"Mm, but you're still my virgin, remember?" Lance purred, tightening his hold on the speedy mutant. "And tonight--"
"Tomorrow morning," Pietro corrected. "It'll be past midnight by the time we leave this place and--"
"Really?!" His excited exclamation caught a couple of looks, and some attention was finally spared for the two.
Then, those staring at the couple simply shrugged and went back to their dancing, though some were more reluctant to do so than others.
Pietro blinked. Lance didn't seem to notice.
"Really?" he asked again in a softer voice.
"Yes, really," Pietro affirmed, with a laugh. I bet his mind's gonna be on that for the rest of the night.
The song ended, and quickly the mood changed from upbeat to slow and romantic as the band on stage began a new tune. Lance immediately adjusted his speed, and Pietro in turn wrapped his arms around Lance's neck in a small hug.
"I like slow dances," he murmured to Lance. "They're probably the only thing I like slow..."
"Mm hm," the seismically-inclined mutant replied. "See, this wasn't so hard, was it?"
"Hm, you know what I've never done at a dance?"
"Aww, come on!"
"No grinding," Pietro repeated with a smirk. "We'll be doing enough of that laaaater," he said teasingly.
"Ain't love grand?" someone asked as they were approached by a particularly cheery couple.
"Fuck off, John," retorted Lance with a genuine smile.
"Hey, Pietro, like the suit. Aren't you glad I have such great taste, Lance?"
"I don't see you fucking off, John. By the way, Wanda, you look pretty. Too bad your date's such a dork."
"Oh, ouch. Your boyfriend's a real ass, you know, Pietro," John commented as Wanda said "Thanks" and returned the compliment to Lance.
"Huh?" Pietro shook away his happy trance and smiled at his sister and her boyfriend. "Yeaaah."
"Do you even know what we were talking about?"
Pietro shook his head. "Sorry, I was too wrapped up in Lance's neck. Thinking about kissing it and sucking it and--"
"All right, all right. Have fun, kiddies. Come on, Wanda, let's get some drinks."
"Sure," she laughed in return. "Good luck with Lance's neck, brother."
"Mmm, thanks, Pietro mumbled incoherently as he proceeded to begin his tasks involving Lance's neck.
"Oooh, that's-- ah. We're still-- ah-- at the dance-- mmm-- right?"
"Damn," cursed Lance. "Ahh, right there-- yeah-- that's niiiice."
Hickey-making's fun! Pietro thought with a giggle, bringing his face up to meet Lance's for another kiss, tongue (Batteries not) included.
As fun as dancing was, Pietro found himself quite enjoying the amazing feat known as "sitting". He leaned back in his seat, watching Lance dance with his sister and Allerdyce playfully attempting to coax Jean into dancing with him as Summers looked on with a very irked glare.
Pietro laughed at Summers' discomfort and stood up to get some drinks as the others danced (or tried to, anyway). He figured they'd probably wants some refreshments when the song was over, so he'd just go ahead and spare them the trouble of getting some.
The small group of people around the refreshments parted like the Red Sea as he approached, making him feel a little uncomfortable.
Idiot, he told himself. Why should I feel freaky? No one's done anything or even said anything bad to us this whole night. He looked at his watch. It was 11:10, which meant the dance would be over in about an hour. It'd be great if nothing bad happened this whole night...
Of course, he soon found out that was an impossibility as it was soon revealed to him that Duncan Matthews was standing right in front of the table.
"Hey, Maximoff, what the hell is a little faggot like you doing here?" he sneered.
"Getting drinks, Dunc," the sophomore retorted coldly.
"Here's a drink for ya," Duncan offered, flinging a drink at Pietro, who was suddenly very thankful for his powers as he easily sidestepped the projected liquid and watched it splash against one of Duncan's Neolithic friends.
"You need to work on your aim."
Lance, in a manner much akin to Lassie, sensed trouble and made his way to the scene. Pietro, ignoring this, was on Duncan in a flash, grabbing the older boy by the collar of his shirt. "Don't screw with me again, youGotThat,Duncan?"
"Couldn't quite hear you, freak," the football player snapped in reply, shoving the smaller teen back and into Lance.
"What's going on here?" Summers suddenly asked in that authoritarian voice of his as he arrived to the scene.
"Just showing that little fruit and his dumbass boyfriend that they're not welcome here," snarled Duncan. A couple other people spoke in agreement to his words-- people who previously didn't care at all that Lance and Pietro happened to be at the dance together. The ground began to shake following these words, tripping a few people here and there.
"What the hell?!"
"Lance, quit it," Pietro hissed.
Lance sighed and complied, clutching his head from the slight pain that was beginning to emerge from his powers. "I'm gonna kill him," he growled.
"No, you aren't," Pietro countered, then ran forward and punched the off-guard football player in the jaw, causing the blonde to stagger back. He then swiftly turned to Lance and said in a near shouting voice: "IKnewThisWasABadIdea!" before running out.
"God damn it!" Lance growled, staring after him.
"That's it, I'm gonna beat the shit out of that--" Duncan started, but couldn't finish due to Lance's hitting him roughly near the same spot Pietro had.
"You stupid fuck!" Lance spat, about to throw himself onto the other boy and beat at him, when he felt both Summers and John holding him back.
"You're gonna get in trouble, you idiot!" one of them said, though Lance wasn't sure which one because he was too busy seeing red.
"I don't care!"
"Oh, you moron!" John turned him around and smacked him across the face. "Go get Pietro before he does something stupid!"
"But what about--?"
"Someone else will deal with this loser, okay?" Scott answered, much to Lance's surprise.
He nodded at the two and said: "Thanks", then pushed past the crowd to catch Pietro.
Lance didn't have to run or search for long, as he found Pietro sitting sullenly in his jeep, his chin resting on his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. He was staring straight ahead, peering at the windshield with piercing blue eyes, and his jaw was clenched.
"I'm sorry, Pietro," he apologized softly, standing beside the jeep.
"It's not your fault-- well, actually, it is. It is your fault. I told you how I felt about going out in public, and you said to just 'fuck everyone else'."
"You know what my grandmother told me before she was probably torn apart by a bunch of pissed off villagers? I just figured it out. She told me 'One madman makes many madmen, and many madmen make madness'. She told me that in Romany, so up until today, I couldn't remember for the life of me what those words in that 'crazy language' I was dreaming about meant. I saw how those people inside were turning to Duncan's side so quickly, and I was afraid that they were going to finish off what those people back in that stupid little European village tried to start. Do you know how frightening that is?"
"No," Lance answered honestly, "I can't say that I do..."
"Of course you can't! My whole life, even before my powers emerged, I've been a freak. I wasn't as accepted as Wanda was with the Roma because of my light hair and skin, even though I didn't realize that then, I know it now. And then, people who weren't Roma hated me because I was. And then, I was brought here under circumstances that I still can't remember, even though it seems like everything else is coming back to me-- and, as a child, I wasn't accepted because I couldn't speak English very well... AndThenIStartToLikeBoys. AndThenI'mAMutant. Why the hell can't I be normal?!"
"Because... you couldn't stand being 'normal'," Lance offered. He walked around to the other side of the jeep and got in. He wrapped one arm around Pietro and held him close, listening to the muffled sobs coming from the other boy. "Shh," he soothed. "It's okay. You don't have to worry about being normal when you're with me and the Brotherhood, you know. We're a family, and we don't give a damn about acting like perfect all-American shits. And forget everyone else. Let them act like close-minded pricks. You've always got me, Freddy, John, Todd, and your sister to back you up, you know. That's more than some people have..."
Pietro nodded in agreement, then shook his head and pulled away from Lance. He settled back in his seat and said, "Can we just go home now?"
Lance pulled out his key and stuck it in the ignition. "Sure."
It was nearly midnight by the time Lance pulled into the driveway. Pietro unbuckled his seatbelt, then exited car and slowly trudged to the house.
"Hey, Pietro, stop," Lance suddenly said.
Lance pointed at his watch, knowing full-well that Pietro couldn't see the time, and said: "It's about time for the last dance."
Lance nodded and stuck a CD in its player. Before the song could start, he hopped out of the jeep and took Pietro's hand. "May I have this dance?"
"You trying to be romantic, Alvers?" Pietro retorted, cocking an eyebrow. "Of course you can have this dance."
Lance pulled him onto the lawn as the song started with a couple of slow chords.
"I thought you didn't like this song," Pietro said as he recognized it.
"I didn't... until I heard it again, that is, and realized how much it described my feelings for you..."
"I could stay awake just to hear you breathing,
Watch you smile while you are sleeping,
While you're far away and dreaming.
I could spend my life in this sweet surrender,
I could stay lost in this moment forever,
Every moment I spend with you is a moment I treasure."
"I don't wanna miss a thing," Lance whispered in Pietro's ear. "I love you, and I don't care if you can't say the words back. I just wanted to tell you that... I love you."
"Lance," Pietro whispered, resting his head on the other boy's chest. "Thank you."
"I don't wanna close my eyes,
I don't wanna fall asleep,
'Cause I'd miss you, baby,
And I don't wanna miss a thing.
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream would never do,
I'd still miss you, baby,
And I don't wanna miss a thing." "No problem," Lance said simply, not sure what else to say. Pietro seemed content with this, and they continued to dance in relative silence, the song being the only thing they were hearing at the moment.
"Lying close to feeling your heart beating, "I don't wanna close my eyes. "I don't wanna miss one smile, "Don't wanna close my eyes, "I don't wanna close my eyes. "Don't wanna close my eyes,
And I'm wondering what you're dreaming,
Wondering if it's me you're seeing.
Then I kiss your eyes and thank God we're together,
And I just wanna stay with you
In this moment forever, forever and ever."
I don't wanna fall asleep,
'Cause I'd miss you, baby,
And I don't wanna miss a thing.
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream would never do,
I'd still miss you, baby,
And I don't wanna miss a thing."
I don't wanna miss one kiss.
Well, I just wanna be with you,
Right here with you, just like this.
I just wanna hold you close,
I feel your heart so close to mine,
And just stay here in this moment
For all the rest of time."
Don't wanna fall asleep,
'Cause I'd miss you, baby,
And I don't wanna miss a thing.
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream will never do,
'Cause I'd still miss you, baby,
And I don't wanna miss a thing."
I don't wanna fall asleep,
'Cause I'd miss you, baby,
And I don't wanna miss a thing.
'Cause even when I dream of you,
The sweetest dream would never do,
I'd still miss you, baby,
And I don't wanna miss a thing."
I don't wanna fall asleep, yeah,
I don't wanna miss a thing."
"I don't wanna close my eyes.
"I don't wanna miss one smile,
"Don't wanna close my eyes,
"Don't wanna close my eyes,
"Heh, sorry about that."
"It's okay," Pietro answered, smiling too. "Do you know what I want now?"
"I hope it's what I hope it is," Lance returned. The other boy swiftly grabbed him and kissed him forcefully. Woohoo-- Wait, do I have condoms-- ah, yes I do. Okay. Woohoo!
"But not right here," Lance whispered, leading Pietro into the house and upstairs to his room. The younger mutant immediately threw his jacket off and began unbuttoning his shirt. He stripped down to his boxers, as Lance did the same, then pulled the larger boy onto the bed with him and showered him with kisses.
"Thank God you move fast," Lance chuckled.
"Lance? I love you. Thought you should know that. I love you."
A/N: Hey, you made it this far! Okay, sorry if this chapter dragged, and sorry if some of the jokes didn't make any sense. That would be because they were probably some personal jokes between myself and my friends... or just myself. Karaoke Pyro, singing Magneto ("I admit that in the past I've been a nasty, they weren't kidding when they called me Mag-ne-to!"), flip-flops, Blob's secret girlfriend, and so forth are just some (or all) of them. Heheheee. Oh yeah, and look! Pietro and Lance finally have sex!
Oh yeah, and as for the Romany way back up in the story, I have no idea how accurate it was because I just snagged it from a nifty little website that you can find: here
Anyway, I've already started the sequel even though I told myself I'd take a break from writing first. x_X Apparently, I'm a big liar. Anywho, be sure to expect this: death (wait... yeah, I don't know. I can't remember right now), violence, betrayal (oooh), angsty fun, John FINALLY being able to call himself Pyro, Wanda FINALLY being able to call herself the Scarlet Witch, umm.... sex? (if I feel like writing a sex scene, that is, so don't hold your breath), the return of Blob's girlfriend, and more things that I can't think of right now/can't mention because they're spoilers. Man, I hate writing battle scenes, but I'm going to have to for this ~_~;; Ah, and here I go rambling again....
Wow, I just now realized I totally forgot to write in John's reaction to the flip-flops. Oh well, just picture this: A lot of screaming and Pietro chasing. There.
Uh, are you still reading this? Well, if you are, I guess I'll once again say thanks, and wow, this fic is actually over... Bye bye!