Oh yeah, and this takes place after "Shadowed Past", and I'm going to disregard the events in "The Cauldron" (as I will for all of my fics).

Scott Summers hated Lance Alvers. Well, maybe he didn�t hate him, it was more of a strong, mutual disliking. He simply couldn�t stand the other boy, his supposed Brotherhood �counterpart�. He was cocky, rude, had no regard for rules, and worst yet... Scott had him in not one, not two, but three-- count �em-- three of his classes. He didn�t even know how that had happened, it was like Mystique had the sickest sense of humor in the world and thought it would be funny to see what wacky problems would arise if she arranged for Lance to invade his classes.

Scott sighed and stared at the back of Mr. Jameson�s balding head as the man recited another dull lecture and scrawled notes on the board at a speed that even Quicksilver probably couldn�t keep up with-- though that probably wasn�t true; Scott simply liked to think that in order to feel better about the fact that his hand was seriously starting to cramp from all of the writing.

Slowly, he shifted his red-tinted gaze over to Lance, who was too busy napping lightly to notice the disapproving gaze.

How could that delinquent�ve possibly made it into this class?! he wondered for about the hundredth time, as it was now a question that he found himself asking daily. From what he�d heard, the other mutant was barely even passing the class, and it was utterly ridiculous that he remained in AP US History instead of getting bumped down to average.

�So, who can answer the question? Mr. Alvers!� Mr. Jameson thundered, waking the boy up with a start.

�Huh?� he mumbled sleepily.

Scott groaned. The idiot. The answer is so obvious.

�How many people were killed in the Boston Massacre?�

�Uh... five?� Lance answered uncertainly, causing the teacher to frown tightly in disbelief.

�Why, yes. Lucky guess, Mr. Alvers. Now, who was leading the group of colonists that was fired at?� the slightly vindictive teacher tried, attempting to get Lance to screw up. Apparently, he disapproved of Lance being in the class about as much as Scott did.

�Um... George Washington.�

�So, essentially, you are saying that George Washington was killed in the Boston Massacre. Very intelligent answer, Mr. Alvers,� he remarked in a voice dripping with dry sarcasm. �If you weren�t sleeping so soundly in my class, you would�ve known that Crispus Attucks was the man who led the group of colonists, and was one of the five who were killed by the British.�

�Sorry, sir,� muttered the slightly peeved Lance. Normally, he would have more to add to the comment, but today it seemed like he was just too tired to care.

Thankfully, the bell cut off Mr. Jameson before he could continue his interrogation of Lance. The students shifted to stand, but were halted as he held up a hand and said, �Hold on, I haven�t dismissed you yet. Take one of the packets on that desk over there. It covers your newest project. Check the door to find out who I assigned as your partner. I�ll answer any questions you may have on Monday. I suggest you get together with your partner over the weekend.� A pause. �You�re dismissed.�

Hurriedly, the students flocked over to the desk bearing what would be their life for the next few weeks-- or months, depending on how long Mr. Jameson intended the assignment to be. Scott grabbed his own copy, then walked over to the door, scanning for his name and praying that his partner would be Paul.

His eyes skipped over the names of his classmates and came to a rest on �Scott Summers�. And then beside his name was...

Oh, God, no. Why? Why?!

Scott backed away from the door in partial shock and annoyance. Quickly, he approached Mr. Jameson�s desk and said: �Sir, what did I do to deserve that?�

�Well, Scott,� My. Jameson started, calling the boy by his first name, as he happened to favor him more than most of the students in his class, �You�re a good student. That�s why you need to help your fellow classmates. Mr. Alvers will probably fail the project without a responsible partner such as yourself.�

�But-- But, he�s--�

�I�m not discussing this with you, Scott,� he cut in calmly as his students filed out to go home. �Have a nice afternoon.�

�Yeah, you too,� Scott mumbled as he dejectedly grabbed his backpack and headed out.

Lance grabbed the doorknob and twisted it. He pushed. Nothing happened. Great. Jammed again.

�Damn it.� He pushed again, harder, applying more force to the stubborn door. Still no luck. Scowling, he pounded his fist against the sturdy old wood and shouted: �Hey, Pietro, open the door for me, will ya?�

No answer.

�Come on, damn it! Open the door!�

�I don�t wanna get up,� came the reply, spoken at a speed that was unusually slow for the younger mutant (though quite normal for most people).

Lance ceased his knocking and sighed. �Fine,� he muttered, twisting the knob again and planting his foot against the lower part of the door. �If only Todd were here right now,� he said under his breath. The scrawny freshman and Freddy had decided to go out for some lunch (since the school�s version of lunch that day was some strange, mysterious substance that could barely pass as dog food), which was fine for Lance at the time. However, now he wished that either one of them were here, as Todd�s strong legs or Freddy�s... well, Freddy would�ve come in handy.

Oh well. He shrugged and then forcefully kicked the door, resulting in it finally yielding entry to the house. Lance let out a half-assed whoop of triumph and staggered into the house, dropping his backpack carelessly on the floor. Immediately, he found himself facing a choice. Should he just collapse onto the couch, or actually attempt to climb the stairs and get to his room?

Couchie. I want. Lance walked over to the couch, swaying from exhaustion, and then fell on top of... Pietro.

�Hey!�

�Gah!� Abruptly, he shot up and jumped off of the couch.

�Geez, Lance, if you really want me that bad, you could just ask,� Pietro joked, grinning at the sleepy boy. He didn�t look up to his normal, meticulously neat standards. The usually hyperactive sophomore was clad in a shirt a size or two too big for him (probably Lance�s), his hair was ruffled and sticking up in random directions, and he was paler than usual. Of course, he did have a fever of 102 last night...

�Eh, I�m tired. Forgot you�d be on the couch,� mumbled Lance as he chose to curl up on the recliner rather than tempt fate and try to climb up the stairs without falling asleep. �You feelin� okay today?�

Pietro shrugged and pulled his blanket up to his shoulders. �Better than last night. I think those daytime soaps bored the sickness out of me.� He paused, looking uncomfortable for a moment, then went on to say: �Thanks for helping me out last night.�

�No problem,� Lance yawned. �Just please don�t get sick like that again. I got caught sleeping in a couple of my classes today.�

�Hey, I didn�t ask you to watch over me like some overprotective mother after I lost that wonderful gourmet dinner all over the bathroom.�

�Yeah, well...� Lance closed his eyes and said in a low voice, �Don�t tell anyone, but I was worried, okay?�

�Aw, I knew you cared about me,� Pietro said with a small laugh.

�Care about you? I just didn�t want you to suddenly throw up all over the carpet,� Lance murmured in a sleep slurred voice.

Pietro rolled his eyes and settled in a more comfortable position. He had been on the couch nearly all day, alternating between sleeping and feeling excruciatingly warm and ill. His stomach felt more settled now, however, and he was all sleeped out. This left a not-so-sick Pietro with tons of energy and nothing to do. He didn�t really feel up to getting off of the couch, and his only company had just fallen asleep on the beaten old recliner. Pietro grabbed the remote and tapped it against the side of the couch for awhile, trying to release some of the energy in his body.

Well, that didn�t work.

He glanced at the clock on the VCR. Hmm... apparently it�s still 12:00, as it has been for the past five days.

Being that it was a Friday afternoon, and only about-- well, probably three in the afternoon, since that�s usually when Lance got home-- there was probably nothing on except for stuff like �Jerry Springer� and that �Buzz Lightyear� cartoon.

Deciding that he was more important than Lance�s much needed rest, Pietro spoke up. �Lance?�

Light snoring was Lance�s reply.

�Laaaance!�

�What?� came the exhausted mumble.

�Tell me a story. Pleeease?�

�You�re annoying when you�re sick.�

�Really? Last week you said I was always annoying.�

�Well, you�re even more annoying when you�re sick,� Lance said in a soft voice, indicating that he was going to be out like a light any second.

Oh, no, you don�t. Pietro frowned as Lance started to slip away to dream land. �I think I�m gonna puke...�

�What?!� Lance shot straight up and gave Pietro a startled, bewildered look. �Did you eat anything today?!�

�No, I just wanted to get your attention.�

If the remote was in Lance�s possession instead of Pietro�s, he would�ve flung the thing straight at the sick boy�s head. But, things being as they were, Lance could only imagine himself doing it. �Pietro, please let me sleep!�

�But I�m bored stiff! Can you at least stay awake until the others get home?�

An irritated sigh, a sign of resignation. Pietro grinned triumphantly. �Fine. What do you want to talk about?� Lance questioned in a very flat voice.

�Weeeell...� Pietro thought back on the amazing events that occurred while he was home sick. �Did you know that Dr. Laura has her own TV show now? I just found that out today! And transvestites were on Maury today... Oh! And Emeril made some-- I don�t know what it was, but it looked good! Can you get me some crackers?�

�No.�

�Okay. How was school today?�

Lance arched an eyebrow, then shrugged slightly. �I don�t know. So-so. Got a project in history, I�m supposed to be partnered with--� Lance stopped mid-sentence. The information hadn�t clicked with him until just then, as his mind was so muddled. �No... it can�t be...�

�What?�

�Summers. I got paired with Summers,� Lance whispered.

Pietro snickered. Suddenly, the door burst open and Todd, huffing, stood in the doorway with Freddy behind him.

Yay!! Lance�s mind screamed ecstatically, recovering from the momentary shock of being partnered with his arch-nemesis. Before Pietro could protest, he ran up the stairs and to his room to enjoy a full afternoon of sleeping.

�We need to get that thing fixed, yo,� Todd mumbled, thrusting a thumb in the direction of the doorway.

Pietro nodded absently, sitting up to greet them. �Where were you guys?�

�Eatin� lunch at that new all-you-can-eat pizza place,� Freddy answered in a slightly glum voice.

�And you�re back so soon?�

�Well, when they found out that Freddy might put them outta business, they kicked us out,� Todd explained as he wandered into living room to watch some television. �Bet if we go by that place tomorrow, the signs won�t say �all you can eat� no more.�

�Okay-- hey! You�re tracking mud on the floor!� Pietro exclaimed, though he wasn�t about to do anything about it. Standing up was still not a very favorable option to him.

�So?�

Pietro shrugged. �I don�t know. Can you make me some soup?�

The amphibian-like mutant sighed and made his way into the kitchen, slouching more than usual and looking very unhappy about the task at hand. He grabbed a can of Campbell�s chicken noodle soup (wondering briefly why they changed their slogan from �Mmm, mmm better!� to �Mmm, mmm good!�), sliced through the top with a can opener, and unceremoniously dumped the contents into a bowl. A smirk slowly graced his features, and he--

�You�d better not spit in it!�

Todd swallowed and whined in defeat: �Aww, man! How would you know if I did, anyway?�

�I know these things,� Pietro retorted firmly.

Freddy, meanwhile, lumbered down the hall to his own room (which was downstairs because Mystique was afraid that he might get stuck in the rather narrow stairway).

�Can you get me some crackers while you�re there? Saltine, preferably, none of that Ritz crap.�

Todd shoved the bowl into the microwave and started the timer, then, gritting his teeth in annoyance, grabbed the box of crackers and hurled it over the counters and at Pietro�s head.

�Piece of advice, Toddy,� Pietro commented as he snatched the box before it collided with his head, �projectiles usually don�t work well on mutant speedsters.�

Todd grunted some rather unflattering words and ignored Pietro�s comment.

Kitty Pryde was in a state of horrified disbelief. There she was, a Friday evening, and she had nothing to do. Her homework was finished, she had no special projects to do, she had already completed her daily training in the Danger Room, and the others were already busy doing their own things.

Jean and Scott were gone, enjoying one of Duncan Matthew�s �No Freshmen� parties; Rogue and Kurt were having one of their bonding nights, so they were probably eating dinner somewhere or watching a movie; and Evan was at the park shooting hoops with some of this basketball team buddies. This left Kitty, who had turned down Kurt and Rogue�s invitation under the assumption that her homework would take all night to complete, all alone.

This, like, totally sucks!

Kitty frowned and stood up off of her bed, leaving her homework papers scattered and abandoned. There had to be something she could do on this ever open Friday night.

If only I had a boyfriend...

Kitty sighed dreamily, her gaze settling on the posters that adorned some of her wall (well, the Rogue-approved ones, anyway, as the others had to be taken down after Rogue threatened to do some horrible things to them).

�Oh, Lance, if only,� she said wistfully to her N*SYNC poster. She blinked. �Lance?! Oh my God! Ew!� she exclaimed with disgust as she realized her favorite teen-idol shared the same name as that boneheaded Brotherhood jerk.

Kitty needed romance. Kitty needed excitement. Kitty did not need Lance Alvers in her head. She knew the perfect way to take care of those three things: watch a movie. Watch a nice, romantic, exciting movie.

But, what�s out now? she asked herself, then relayed a mental list of movies to her head. �Tomb Raider�, but ick, that�s, like, a total guy movie. �Evolution�, but that looks so stupid! There�s �Shrek�, but that�s gonna be filled with screaming kids. Same for �Atlantis�. And I�ve already seen �A Knight�s Tale� twice! So, what else is there?

Oh, I know! �Moulin Rouge�! I heard it was, like, totally romantic!

Yes, that�s what she needed. A nice, long, romantic movie that-- bonus, bonus!-- starred the ever-fine Ewan McGregor.

Giggling with glee, she grabbed her purse and headed out to the movie theater.

Pietro was totally pissed off. How could they do this to him?! Him! It didn�t make any sense at all! Oh, sure, Lance made up some excuses, but he was sure that was all just a ploy to ditch him.

�You�ve still got a fever, you can�t go out!�

Yeah, sure, Lance, he retorted to the memory with a scoff. You don�t know yet what sick is! came another thought, this time of the vengeful variety. He wasn�t sure how that would work as a threat... Maybe I should cough on his pillow...

Pietro shook his head at his own suggestion. Maybe that would be a little too mean. Besides, if he got Lance sick, then he�d have to stay up all night aiding the ill.

I�ll show them! I�ll go out, too, and have fun without �em! And I won�t get even sicker in the process, so there! I�ll show Lance!

Pietro nodded in affirmation. Now, what to do? It had been a while since he had seen a movie, what with school and harassing the X-Men and all. Plus, that�s where the others went, anyway, so it�d be a perfect opportunity to show them that he could do anything they did, even while (NOT) sick.

Kicking his blanket off and leaning over the coffee table, he grabbed the newspaper and skipped over to the entertainment section. It was then that the fault in his plan dawned on him.

Hm... if I go to the same movie as Lance, then he�ll just send me home. But I want to go to the movies! Maybe, I�ll go to a different one, then mock them later when... uh... I come home and say �Ha! I was out at the movies and didn�t die from my stupid not-even-a-real-threat-to-myself virus!�

�Yeaaaah,� he whispered to himself, grinning, then turned his attention back to the newspaper. Okay, what would they be watching? �Tomb Raider�, most likely, but then again, Todd had expressed some interest in �Evolution�... �Shrek� might actually be where they�re at, but maybe not... Oh well, I don�t wanna be in stuck in a theater filled with screaming kids. Same for �Atlantis�. And there�s no way in hell I�m seeing �A Knight�s Tale�... So, what else is there?

Oh, I know! �Moulin Rouge�! I heard it was pretty good, and Lance and the guys definitely won�t be there. There�s no way they�d go to a musical romance! Haha! And I won�t have to deal with screaming children!

Yes, that�s what he needed. A movie that the Brotherhood and screaming children would avoid. Plus, he could tolerate all of the singing and romance crap because-- bonus, bonus!-- a really hot Nicole Kidman would be starring in the flick.

Pietro glanced at the times and nodded once more. Excellent. The next showing was in 20 minutes, which gave him more than enough time to clean himself up and go to the theater.

Chuckling at his own genius (Ha ha! I�m going against your tyrannical �For your own good� orders, Lance, what are you gonna do about it? Huh? Nothin�, that�s what!), Pietro got up from the couch and ran to the bathroom to clean up.

After an entire day of being cooped up in the house, Pietro was really looking forward to this.

A/N: I can't believe I titled this fic after a song. Oh well! Erm... yeah... I really don't have anymore notes for this fic, except that I didn't plan it out before I wrote it, so I don't know what's happening next. I don't even know what Scott and Lance's project is!!