Notes: *nervous grin* Eheh...okay, I’m a crazed anime fan (read: OTAKU) who has a strange obsession with yaoi/slash, yuri/femslash, and a vicious hatred towards Mary Sues. This is my first X-men: Evolution fic, though I’ve been liberally drooling over Lance and Pietro for, like, two weeks by now lol (Just ask Michiko XD I’m obsessed!) Um, already, anyway...
This is my FIRST Evo fic...and, uh, it’s fluff lol. I was originally planning this way angsty fic where Pietro almost dies, but I figured that the research was too much work. Anyway...

The idea of PIETRANCE came about while Michiko and I were chatting on AIM ^^ We were trying to figure out a way to make a shortcut for Lance/Pietro, like they do in Digimon (like, there’re two characters so they mix the names together; example: Taichi + Yamato = Taito.) And we came up with Pietrance, which I commented that it sounded like some “strange new happy drug” ^^ Anyhow...and thus, a fic was born...

-- scene change
blah thoughts
“blah” human-speak XP

WARNING: This fic was written while on a caffeine-high. If it stops being funny and just starts being plain weird, complaints to the coffee-vending machine can be sent to...some address or other.

--

Pietro was bored. This, by all means, was not a good thing. When he was bored, he got hyper. When he was hyper, he got strange, scary, and often talked at 892 miles per hour. It was, in fact, on this slightly cloudy day with a slight chance of rain, that Pietro Maximoff was indeed...bored. In turn, his usual energy reserves overflowed, a mushroom cloud emerged, and the mushy blob that was his brain had a nuclear meltdown.

It was a dark day for the Brotherhood of Mutants.

--

“Lance?”

“What?”

“I’m bored.”

“Okay.”

“Lance!”

“What?!”

“I _said_ that I’m bored!”

“So?”

“I’m _bored_!”

Lance Alvers glowered darkly at the fidgety silver-haired boy. The bundle of nervous energy that was Pietro was attempting to glare, but only succeeded in affecting a look that was similar to that of a sulky three-year-old that didn’t get to go on the merry-go-round. He thought about placating his friend, but, instead, decided to do what any teenage boy would do instead.

He turned back to his computer, lazily backhanding Pietro on his way around.

“Ouch! Lannnnce...!!!”

If Pietro wasn’t going to stop whining, he’d have to throw the speedster out.

“Laaaaance...”

The lawn was just begging to have someone thrown on it...after all, it hadn’t been abused since last week, when Freddy had thrown Daniels out, who later became stuck when one of his spikes wouldn’t disengage with the garage door OR his neck.

Who’d want to have a spike in their neck anyways? He looked like some pitiful rendition of Frankenstein. That was really fun...laughing at people always makes me feel better. Maybe we should go and hotwire Summers’s car. Then we could laugh at him.

Then, abruptly, Lance realized he had been rambling. He was roused out of his thoughts by the incessant noise that was Pietro, who looked like he was enjoying the many different ways he’d found to enunciate his friend’s name.

“LannnnNNNNnnnnnnNNNnnnnce...”

I’m going to hurt him.

“LannnnnnnnNnnnnnnnnnCCCCCeeeee...”

I’m going to really, really hurt him.

“LAAAAAAAnnnnc--”

“What is it?!!”

Pietro found himself face-to-face with an extremely pissed-off mutant. Oops.

“I’m bored,” He tried smiling cutely. That always seemed to work. Pietro grinned as adorably as he could and blinked slowly.

Damn. He’s impervious to my cuteness. Uh...oh shit.

“Um...why are we going towards the window?”

--

“You bastard! I hope you know that after I get out, you’re going to pay! I MEAN IT! Just because you’re sexy doesn’t mean that I’ll show any mercy. LANCE!! LANCE, I’m talking to you! Don’t turn away! Ooooh, I’ll show you. I HAVE MYSTERIOUS POWERS, you know!!! I can annoy the hell out of you!!!--I’m also faster than a speeding bullet. But that’s beside the point. It’s also kind of unoriginal. But I’m much cooler than Superman. Is there some kind of rule for people who go really, really, really fast? I’mNotSureButThere’sNoWayThatI’mGoingToWearMyUnderwearOnTheOutside!--LANCE! You can’t leave me here. LANCE!!! I’m your boyfriend! You HAVE to let me out!!! Grr...you’re SO sleeping on the couch. I’ll take the “sexual” out of “homosexual...” I SWEAR I WILL!!! ...LANNNNNNNCE!!!!”

Lance grinned and turned away from his bedroom window. He had an oh-so-lovely vantage view of the lamppost out front, which had one extremely irked Pietro duct taped to it. His mission was done. Now, back to his “research”...(1)

--

Pietro scowled. The nerve of that jackass...he’s SO not getting any! It had taken him roughly half an hour to get out of his pseudo-mummification, and a duct taped Pietro was _not_ a happy Pietro. He wandered into the living room, mourning the undignified fashion in how he escaped, namely causing enough friction between his rapidly wiggling body and the really icky gluey tape so that the metallicy substance spontaneously combusted. Well...okay, he hadn’t _really_ gotten out that way...but it was still tragic; Todd almost wasn’t going to let him out! Imagine the horror of having to be stuck in a cocoon of duct tape and attached to a lamppost for who-knew-how-long! On the front lawn, no less.

Actually, it’s not really a lawn. It’s more like a scraggly piece of rocky shit with random pieces of weed growing out of it.

He rubbed absently at a bit of stringy glue that refused to part with his skin, After all, I _am_ the Almighty Pietro Maximoff...so I don’t really blame it.

Ignoring the fact that he had just thought that a piece of leftover duct tape was worshipping him, Pietro strayed over to the couch, where Fred Dukes was cheerfully rotting any brain matter he had left.

Vegetating is fun, the silver-haired mutant thought. Continuing along that course of thought, he wondered absently, If we were all vegetables, I wonder what we’d be? Fred’d be an eggplant and Todd would be broccoli. And, he added snidely, since Lance is a dick, he can just be a carrot...close enough. Hm. I’m way too cool to be a vegetable. I’d be a fruit,

“You _are_ a fruit, yo.” Pietro blinked and scowled at Todd,

“WhoToldYouThatYouHadPermissionToReadMyThoughts?!”

“Huh?” Todd stared at him blankly for a moment.

“I SAID, WhoToldYouThatYouHadPermissionToRead my thoughts?!”

“Jeez,” The younger boy glared at him, “You said that you’d be a fruit out loud, man. Don’t blame _me_ for the voices in your head.”

“I don’t have voices in my head! I have...muses.”

The amphibianish(2) mutant watched him with wide eyes, before mumbling, “’kay,” and turning away, muttering under his breath about how his housemates were getting weirder everyday.

In the living room, Fred continued watching the Animaniacs, thinking fervently about how Dot was hot. (3)

--

This sucks. Pietro was lying on his bed, bored out of his well-formed skull and counting water stains to pass the time.

Let’s see. I scared Todd, I painted Summers’s car pink with neon green polka dots (he’s going to be reallllllly pissed when he finds out), and I managed to completely destroy the garage door. Righhhht, this day is going quite well. The speedster blinked as his stomach growled and sighed laboriously, And now I’m hungry.

“Okayyyy, let’s see what we have in the kitchen!” He told his tummy.

--

In the refrigerator, there was, only the following food items:

A potato
A handful of oddly crispy peanuts
Some discolored squashes
A disturbingly moldy cup of yogurt
Fred’s toothbrush
The remote controller for the TV
and, a gallon of milk, freshly opened.

“Okay, this sucks,” Pietro complained to an uncaring peanut. In response, it cracked neatly down the middle and a few flakes of dry peanut flesh floated out. Stupid peanut.

“Right,” He said aloud, “Let’s see what I can make. Hmm...I think I have enough things to make a milkshake...”

He gingerly picked up the yogurt before dumping its contents in the blender and adding half the milk. Pietro wrinkled his nose, and nudged shut the fridge with his hip before digging through the pantry to look for anything resembling fruit. After a few moments of rummaging and more that a couple of disgusted exclamations, he settled on a bag of stale gummy bears. The cerulean-eyed mutant emptied the bag, shoved a few melting ice cubes in, then clamped down the lid. The blender cranked slowly then sliced into the assorted edibles viciously with a high-pitched whirr.

Pietro bounced on his heels a few times before hopping from one to the other. The blender was starting to make strange chugging noises, like it was trying to suck down the disturbingly thick concoction into the depths of its metallicy bowels...

Gah! He mentally smacked himself, Too much English class! I need to rot my brain.

With that thought firmly in mind, the slender youth picked what was visible of one blade and followed it around and around and around and around and--

"Done!" In the cartoon version of his life, Pietro was cackling gleefully with sparky mad scientist hair and included accessories, meaning that Lance was wearing a pair of gold spandex Speedos and was--

Ooh, the gutter... There was a significantly long silence, then the silver-haired speedster wiped the glazed look off his face, mumbling irritably as he realized he had just cut himself off twice in a row.

He cautiously removed the plastic cover, backing away slightly as it made a strange "schhhhhluck" sound as it was removed. The pink-ish concoction that was inside the blender blurped a few times before settling down and happily gurgling as it assumed the size and shape of its container.

"Crap," Pietro picked up the blender, backing away as he caught wind of its smell. His eyes watered. "It looks like I recreated that really shitty pink slime from Ghostbusters."

Why is that stuff pink anyway? The dude says it's "pure evil." Does that mean evil is pink? That if we go to Hell the whole friggin' place would be done up nicely in doilies, fripperies, and lace curtains--all in a startling neon shade of PINK? After a moment, Pietro decided that that _was_ evil, and if he were forced to spend the rest of his life locked up in a place that dripped of _pink_, reeked of horrific cuteness, and just oozed with polite cheery happiness, he'd lose his breakfast and every other meal before.

Uchk. The only things allowed to be cute are me and Lance. Uchk? I wonder how you'd spell 'uchk.' Would it be 'U-C-G-H?' Or 'U-H-K-K?'

During his nonsensical internal tirade, Pietro had poured out the gunk into a pitcher, gotten a cup of the stuff, and wandered haphazardly into the living room/family room/study/rec room (AKA,
"BANZAI!!!"
"Crap, Pietro--no!!! You killed my science project!"
"Oops."
"*sobs* Fluffy!")

"Hey, Fred," Pietro said casually, sounding strangely normal. The hulking teen glanced warily at him. Whenever Pietro sounded normal, he was probably trying to cover something up, like a hidden bazooka behind his back or something.

"What?"

"Do you want to try this milkshake I made?" Or he could be in a really good mood and willing to share lovely edible(4) food products with his fellow "evil" (quote, unquote. Only the X-losers said they were "evil") mutant friends.

"Sure."

Oh, how Pietro loved that Fred didn't ask him what was in the things he made. Otherwise he'd probably be thrown into the stratosphere by now for attempting to feed his teammate provisions that were probably toxic.(5)

Fred took the glass, not bothering to eye it suspiciously because of its pseudo-solidified state, and gulped it down. Pietro cringed. In mid-gulp, Todd swung in, a la Tarzan minus the vine. He blinked at the uh...gulping mutant who kept...gulping, and asked Pietro curiously, "Did you make that?"

"Yep."

An expression of utter horror crossed the amphibianish mutant's face and he screeched, much like an ostrich, "NOOOO!! Freddy! Don't drink it, yo!!"

And Freddy's response?

The larger teen giggled drunkenly, "You said 'yo.'"

Both Pietro and Todd eyed him strangely, the latter with his eyes bugging out, as they blurted out at the same time:

"Did you just giggle, Fred??!?"

"How'd you like the milkshake?"

"Pietro!" Todd glared at the snickering boy and groaned, "You should know what happens when you make things, yo!"

Another giggle. "You said 'yo.'"

Pietro guffawed and grinned easily, "I guess that means he did."

Todd shook his head and snatched the foamy glass from Fred's hands, peering into it warily, "Man, what the hell is in this? It looks like some kind of smoothie--"

He sniffed it experimentally and gagged, "--but it smells like shit." There was a pause as Todd watched Fred bat at some lint that was floating in the air before he set down the cup and glanced nervously from the snickering Pietro to the stairs.

"I'm gonna go tell Lance, yo."

"No!!"

Giggle. "You said 'yo.'"

"Pietro! Look at him! He's hopped up on some strange new happy drug that you just made!"

"I did NOT make a drug. It was going to be a snack!"

"Yeah, well, it's more like crack."

"I really, really want a Big-Mac."

"Hey, we're rhyming, yo."

"Yeah, but then you broke the rhyming spree, Toad."

"I'd like some tofu and turkey, cold."

"Well, we have some tofu, yo."

"But, it's more like play dough and it's growing mold!"

"I--hey, what the hell?! Yo, shut up!"

Pietro rolled his eyes, and drawled boredly, "What?"

Todd hopped up onto the arm of the couch and pointed an accusatory finger at the smirking mutant, "You were deliberately rhyming."

"So was Fred."

"NO, that was NON-deliberate, 'cause he's hopped up on that shit you made, yo."

Giggle. "You said 'yo.'"

"a)It was not shit. And b)how can he be hopped up? It's not like he snorts dairy products on a daily basi--...well..."

Todd slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand and muttered, "I'm gonna go get Lance."

"No! Nooooo way, you'reSoNotGoingToGetLance!!! I'llGetIntoSoMuchTroubleAndSoWillYouSoSitYourAssDownAndSHUTUP!!"

"...what?!"

The silver-haired teen sighed tragically, "I'm so misunderstood."

"That's 'cause you talk like a chipmunk on speed, yo!"

Yet another creepy giggle from Fred, "You said 'yo.'"

Todd groaned, "Hey, man, shut up!"

"I do NOT talk like a chipmunk on speed!"

Todd shrugged and hopped away from the indignant speedster, heading for the stairs, "Whatever, yo. Lance should know how to get Fred off that crap you shoved down his throat."

"I didn't shove it down his throat! He drank it of his own free will. Anyways, are you implying that Lance is a druggie? Huh? HUH??? Are you calling MY boyfriend a crackhead?! TODD! Get back here, I'm talking to you! ARGHHHH! Why does everyone always leave when I'm talking? Why am I even still here?? TODDDDDD!!"

With that, he zipped after his friend, determined to stop him from taking the only sane course of action. Behind him, Fred sat cross-legged on the carpet, staring at a floating dust bunny so hard his eyes crossed. After a moment, he mumbled, "'kay Mister Yoda-type-person-type-dude-fuzzy-man..." and promptly conked out.

tbc

(1) Bwahahaha...I can't wait to write the part about his "research" XD
(2) Because this is MY fic, "amphibianish" is now a word...'kay? Arika: *cough*POWER TRIP*cough*
(3) He rhymed!! *giggles* ...uh...you'll get the joke later on ^^;
(4) EDIBLE?? *guffaws*
(5) "probably" should be kicked out of there, don't you think? ^.~