Disclaimer: Own Mel. That's it.

"So what's the big problem?" Pietro asked Mel as he wandered after the blonde. For a while Mel didn't answer, she just continued to walk back and forth between the speedster, her brows knitted together in a slight frown. "Earth to Mel!" Pietro waved his hand in front of Mel's face.

Mel jerked her head back startled. "Ahh!"

"Well?" Pietro raised an eyebrow.

"Aren't you hot?" Mel asked, avoiding the question.

Pietro looked down sceptically at his clothes. He was wearing a grey turtleneck under a dark greyish-black suede coat which reached to the back of his knees. His jeans poked out from the bottom. His hands were covered in red wool gloves, just to correspond with his red and white sneakers. "Mel, it's freezing out! Why the fuck would I be hot!?!"

"Right," Mel said, "of course. Why would you be hot? It's almost Christmas for fuck's sake."

"Exactly. Now tell me what the problem is."

Mel hugged her coat about herself, burying her chin in the cream faux fur that poked out the top. "I gotta babysit my Aunt's kid."

Pietro stared at her. "That's your big problem!?!"

"You don't know that little shit!" Mel burst out, "he's like a walking, talking babysitter destroyer! The only reason she ever goes out is cause my mom offers for me, and cause I'm family, I got an obligation."

"Why are you telling me this?" Pietro asked warily.

"Pietro. Friend. Help me?"

"How did I know this was going in this direction?"

"Because your smart and wonderful and going to say yes?" Mel fluttered her eyelashes.

"Well I have to agree with the smart and wonderful part," Pietro said, rising his chin and smiling arrogantly.

"And you'll help?"

"Perhaps."

Mel's mouth opened slightly. "Perhaps!?! Only perhaps!?!"

"Well, what do I get out of this? So far as I can see nothing. You gotta have a good offer if you're gonna get me to help you with a 'terror.' "

"He is a terror! Don't make it sound like he isn't! Okay, I'll, I'll be your slave for a day!"

Pietro rubbed his chin in thought. "An interesting proposition. I don't think anyone's ever offered me that before."

"Please help me," Mel shamelessly begged. "Look at this face. Can you say no to this face?" Mel made her bottom lip quiver.

"Aww fuck it!" Pietro relented, "how could I say no to that gorgeous face?"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Mel hugged Pietro tightly.

Laughing Pietro hugged Mel back whispering in her ear, "just don't forget, slave for a day." He grinned wolfishly.

Time to babysit

"Hello Melanie," the woman at the door smiled. She reminded Pietro of all the 'perfect wives' you see on tv. Her hair was pulled back into a French twist he thought it was called, and she wore a string of pearls, her pastel shift dress reaching to her knees. Actually, the whole house and front yard was like something out of tv. Perfect lawn, perfect white paint, perfect front door.....

'Any minute now a great big slobbery Golden Retriever called Buddy will come,' Pietro began to think, 'and then he'll - '

"Down Buddy down!" Mel's aunt scolded the retriever. Mel laughed and stroked the big dog's broad head. "You shouldn't encourage him," Mel's aunt sniffed.

'Oh god,' Pietro rolled his eyes.

"Who is this?" Mel's aunt asked, "I thought I told you not to bring your boyfriend Mel."

"He's not my boyfriend," Mel replied, not taking her eyes off the retriever.

"Mel dear," the aunt said, her tone straining to stay honey sweet but turning venomous, "Chester doesn't like strangers."

"Well the little turd can deal with it," Mel snapped, "I am not spending a whole evening with him alone. So either Pietro stays or you enjoy a nice night pretending you're watching the ballet."

"Well I never," Mel's aunt sniffed, "see, this is what happens when your mother doesn't take enough care of you. What on earth your father saw in her I'll never know."

"Hello darling."

Pietro, who had been patting Buddy on the head looked up to see a distinguished grey-haired man with square rimmed glasses walk in, fiddling with the tie at his neck. He had a slight accent, English Pietro decided.

"Uncle David!" Mel grinned, her voice filled with delight.

"Hello Melanie, how have you been?"

"Great," Mel grinned, "I hope you have a nice night."

"Oh we will," David smiled, "I know we can count on you. And who is this charming young man?"

"Pietro Maximoff at your service," Pietro extended a hand and smiled in a charming manner.

Uncle David took his hand and shook it warmly, "my, what an astute young man you are. I can tell you and Mel will be more than capable of looking after Chester."

"Shouldn't you be going?" Mel asked, looking at her watch, "your show starts at 6."

"Yes, we should," Mel's aunt, whom Pietro still didn't know the name of, said gruffly, "come along David. There's food in the refrigerator Melanie. Just don't eat all the chocolate like last time."

"Bye," Mel said, trying to shut the door on her aunt.

"Chester's in his room!" the aunt managed to fit in before the door shut.

"Thank god," Mel said, "I thought we'd never get rid of the witch."

"I take it you two don't get on."

Mel looked at him as if he'd just grown two heads. "I'm glad you're here to tell me these things."

Pietro poked his tongue out as he pulled off his gloves. "No need to be rude."

"Sorry," Mel sighed, pulling off her coat, "I'm a little edgy."

"I can see that, "Pietro said, pulling off his jacket and hanging it up next to Mel's.

"I suppose we better find Chester," Mel sighed, "come on Buddy." The Golden Retriever lurched to his feet and followed the two teenagers down into the large living room.

"I was meaning to say this," Pietro said, his eyes roving over the well kept house, "but Chester? Sounds like the name you'd give a cat."

"A weird name for a psychotic kid," Mel said, peeking behind the couch, "Chester fits."

"Didn't your aunt say he was in his room?" Pietro asked, watching as Mel whipped open a closet.

"Ha!" Mel barked out the laugh, "he won't be in his room anymore. He knows we're alone. He can smell fear."

"But; I'm not afraid," Pietro raised a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"You will be," Mel said, "oh, you will be."

A sudden whoop filled the air, followed by a small child's voice singing out, "Mel has a boyfriend! Mel has a boyfriend!"

"Where are you you little shit!?!" Mel yelled up at the balcony above. The house had one of those open hallways at the top of it's stairs. The kind with doors on one side and a view of the room below on the other.

"DIE! DIE! DIE!" A barrage of plastic arrows rained down on Mel and Pietro. Pietro caught a glimpse of a brown mop of hair and a fake eagle's feather before the kid disappeared from sight.

Mel yelped as an arrow hit her in the butt. From up above the familiar 'Indian war cry' could be heard. Pietro threw up an arm to ward off another rain of arrows, the sucker tipped missiles falling harmlessly onto the plush carpet.

"I said to get your stupid un-Indian ass down here!" Mel yelled again.

Pietro grinned, and called up, "I would be careful if I were you! I heard that there's a mass murderer in the neighbourhood and he really hates American Indians."

Chester's head popped up over the banister. The child's face had a mischievous elf like quality, his mop of brown hair falling down over his forehead and stopping just below his eyebrows. A small feather head-dress sat on his head, his slightly chubby cheeks painted with red and yellow war paint. "No there isn't." The child's voice was full of contempt.

"Believe what you want," Pietro shrugged, "but if I hear a heavy footstep on the front porch I'm not telling him that you aren't here! Unless you wanna come down and take off those incriminating objects."

For a moment Chester wavered, then he hung his head dejectedly and stomped down the stairs.

"Pietro how did you do that? "Mel gasped.

"Magic," Pietro grinned, holding out his hands for the bow and arrows, and the feather head-dress. "The blow dart too," the New Yorker demanded. The child pursed his lips angrily but passed it over.

"There's not really a mass murderer," Chester said, though it sounded as if he was trying to convince himself rather than disagree with Pietro.

"Like I said," Pietro shrugged, placing the weapons on top of a closet, "you can believe what you want; but I have to say, you made the right choice Chester. Mel said you were smart, guess he was right."

"She didn't say I was smart," Chester said, turning brown eyes to his cousin, "did she?"

"Yep," Pietro nodded, "she said I should watch out around you cause you were really smart and might trick me into doing something nasty. You wouldn't do something like that? Would you Chester?"

Chester smirked and shook his head, gazing up at Pietro innocently. "Never."

"Good," Pietro smiled, "cause if you ever did do something nasty to me, you might find yourself tied up outside with a note asking the murderer to take you away."

"You're not allowed to do that," Chester said knowingly, sticking out his chin, "my mom said to tell her if Mel did anything nasty to me."

"That bitch!" Mel growled, "how dare she!?! I'm not a bad person! Am I?"

"Yes," Chester smirked.

"Why you little," Mel growled, reaching for the self confident child.

"Control Mel. Control," Pietro warned, placing a hand on the blonde's arm.

"I. Want to kill him," Mel growled.

"Kill him after, that way, we get paid first."

"You're not allowed to kill me, that would make you a bad babysitter," Chester poked out his tongue.

"I am a bad babysitter!" Mel snapped, "and if you don't like it go play under the sink."

"She's not all sane," Pietro whispered to Chester, "she is a bad babysitter and if you aren't good, she might posses Buddy and get him to kill you so that it doesn't look like it was her fault at all!"

Chester gulped. "I think I'll go to bed."

"Good idea," Pietro nodded. "Don't come down after 7:00, that's when I turn into a boy eating werewolf." A little boy has never moved faster.

"Heh, heh," Pietro shook his head, "kids. They're so gullible. It's okay Mel, you can come out from behind the sofa now."

"Very funny," Mel said dryly, giving Pietro a glare, for she hadn't been behind the sofa at all.

"They got food?" Pietro asked, zipping into the kitchen, "I'll make smoothies!"

11:00

"I feel sick," Mel moaned, "you were right, coke and rum may go together, but smoothie and rum most definitely does not."

"Told ya," Pietro said, finishing off his smoothie.

"What time is it?" Mel asked.

"11."

Mel barely covered a yawn, "I think I'll go to sleep now. It's so - " She didn't get to finish her sentence.

Pietro frowned. That wasn't the Mel he knew. A sudden scuffle followed by a thump could be heard upstairs. Pietro moved into the kitchen and looked at the assorted ingredients spread out in front of himself. It had to be in the rum. That had been the only thing Mel had had and he hadn't. Pietro picked up the rum and sniffed it warily. He couldn't smell anything. The speedster placed the rum back on the shiny blue bench top and began to walk back into the living room. Halfway across the floor the speedster stepped on something. Pietro looked down and picked up the cardboard box. The box read, sleeping pills, for quicker relief to night time sufferers.

"Mystery solved then," Pietro threw the box over his shoulder, "that kid's smart. Oh, well time for operation scare care."

Pietro looked up into the tree planted so conveniently outside Chester's bedroom window. The speedster had raided Mel's aunt's make up drawers, and was now a whole new mutant. The New Yorker had painted dark purple and black circles around his eyes, which made the brilliant blue of his irises stand out even more. A wig of black hair had been pulled over his white and a vivid red 'scar' was across the speedster's left cheek.

Pietro grinned and began to climb the tree. It didn't take long for the speedster to reach the branch opposite Chester's window. Pietro grinned evilly, rubbing his hands together in glee, much like a mad scientist.

Chester was busy putting together a werewolf catching device when a small, scratch scratch, could be heard from the window. Just a twig, Chester decided, settling back to work. But the scratching came again, followed by a low moan. Chester gulped. The scratching came once more, sounding like a knife being pulled across the window pane. Then a deep voice said,

"Little boy, little boy, can't I come in?"

Chester shrieked. He thought the white-haired teenager had been lying when he said there was a mass murderer.

Chester rushed downstairs, shaking Mel hard as she lay, dead to the world, on the sofa. "Mel wake up!" Chester pleaded, the mass murderer is trying to get in my window! He wants to kill me!"

Mel didn't move. Chester looked about wildly, looking for the white-haired guy his cousin had bought with her. He was nowhere to be seen. Chester glanced at the clock. "Oh no! It's 11:15! He's a werewolf now!" Just then a heavy footstep could be heard on the front porch. Chester screamed and raced back to his room. The heavy footfalls were coming up the stairs now. Chester whimpered and huddled in the corner. Why hadn't Buddy stopped the murderer? Maybe the murderer had killed Buddy! Chester blinked away hot tears.

The footsteps were outside his door now. Oh, if only he hadn't given Mel those sleeping pills! Then she could have saved him! The door began to open..........

Suddenly a low growl was heard and the sounds of a fight echoed through the house. Snarling and barking could be heard and then - silence. The door opened to reveal...........

"Pietro!" Chester laughed as the white-haired teenager came in sight, "it's you!" The tiny brown-haired child ran to Pietro hugging him tight. Behind Pietro was Buddy, a stupid, happy dog grin on his face. Chester looked up at Pietro, his eyes wide. "What happened?"

"I fought the murderer off with my werewolf powers of course," Pietro said, as if it was something he did every day.

"So he's gone?" Chester asked, still hugging Pietro.

"Yep. I whipped his ass good. Now you better go to sleep, it's way past your bed time."

"Yes Sir!" Chester grinned, trotting off to his bedroom.

12:30

Pietro had fallen asleep next to Mel by the time Mel's relatives arrived back home. He woke to Mel's uncle shaking him gently and telling him they could drive home now.

"How did it go?"

"Piece of cake," Pietro grinned, taking the money for Mel and opening the door to his Porsche so that Mel's uncle could slip Mel into the passenger's seat.

"You mean you had no trouble?" Mel's uncle seemed genuinely startled.

"No. No trouble," Pietro grinned, "no trouble at all."

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Mwahahahahaha! Mel's day as Pietro's slave is coming!