Notes: I went a little nuts with switching POVs in this one...you’ll see ^.~ Oh yes, much Evan-bashing and Jean-bashing. Oh yes, I tried to fix the paragraphing, too >.O Pietro and Fred aren’t in this much, mainly because I wanted to bring the X-men into this. However, they will be in the next installment much more.

Also, if this starts deviating from Pietro/Lance to Scott/Lance, it’s SO not my fault. Look to Morwen XD I dedicate whatever pro-Scott forces in this fic there are to her.

C&C Please!!!!

-- 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.

--

He stalked through the halls, slinking quietly in the shadows. Carefully, slowly, deliberately, he lowered one foot, then another, tiptoeing across the shiny linoleum floor... *squeaky squeaky squeaky--......--squeakysqueak...squeak*

On a sudden spur of inspiration, he dashed across the corridor;

*squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueeeeeeak--slide!*

A slow smirk tugged at his lips as he found himself in the lavatory. Ever so carefully, he turned the knob, relishing the crisp cold water that filled the plastic container. Smooth plastic surfaces filled out like a rubber mimicry of clouds, full of rain and clean fresh liquid. There was a pause, and he flipped on the light, scribbling with a black sharpie on the rubber before snapping on a pair of latex gloves, and cloth ones over those.

He was ready now. He would always be ready, for whatever occasion...whether to save the globe from yet another crisis, or to stop some villain from committing a dastardly crime, or to--

“Lance?!??”
“DAHHH!!!”

Todd stared at what was their usual leader, decked out in a black tux, sporting a pair of shades, and holding a suitcase.

Had the world gone mad?

“Lance!! Ya gotta come quick! Pietro made this really weird crap-I _swear_ it’s some strange new happy drug (that’s what I told him, anyway)--and he force-fed it to Fred--”

TODD’S VERSION OF THINGS:

Pietro: *cackles* Ah...I see. So _you_ are to be my latest test subject, aren’t you? This should prove...interesting.
Fred: Shut up and feed me.
Pietro: *grins evilly* Don’t worry...I will, as long as that heroic bad-ass cool-type toad-person Todd Tolensky doesn’t come and rescue you, like he always does.
Fred: Shut up and feed me.
Pietro: In fact--I believe that I shall do this in front of him just to prove my brilliance! My genius! My--
Fred: Shut up and fee--
Pietro: *peeved* Stop it!! Can’t you see I’m giving an avid passionate speech?
Todd: *bursts in dressed like Rambo, just in time to see Pietro brace open Fred’s mouth and pour pink goo down his throat with a funnel* NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

“--And I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t and...and...a-and...um...Lance?”

During the amphibianish mutant’s frantic tirade, Lance had been circling him, eyeing him critically and making some approving noises every so often.

“Um...Lance???” Todd ignored the disturbing stare that Lance had fixed on him, opting to throw furtive glances about the hallway instead.

“Quick, we can’t talk here,” Lance murmured, looking about as well. Todd relaxed. Great. At least _someone_’s going to help me.

“To the Batcave, Q!” And with that, the mahogany-haired mutant latched onto Todd’s arm like some kind of drooling psychotic pseudo-leech and towed him off.

Oh, crap.

--

When Fred came to, he was lying in the walk in closet, a coat rack shoved up the back of his shirt, a KFC bucket over his head, and silly string all over him. This had obviously been the work of the HappyDust Fairy. In fact, that would explain his day...

FRED’S VERSION OF THINGS:

Fred: *thinks:* I like the Animaniacs.
Pietro: Blahblahblah fruit.
Todd: Blahblahblah fruit bloop.
Pietro: BLAHHHHHHHH! BLAHBLAH!?
Todd: Bleh?
Pietro: Blahh BLAHHHHH! BLAHBLAH?!
Todd: Blah! Blahblahblah fruit blahblah, bleh. Blahblahblah blahblaaaahboop.
Pietro: Blahblahblah! Blahblah...bleh.
Todd: Blip.
Fred: *thinks* Dot is hot.

::sound from the kitchen--WHIRRRRRRRRRRR!::

Fred: *thinks* Ooh. Blender. Food.
Pietro: *comes back in* Fred.
Fred’s brain: DANGER! WARNING! RED ALERT! PIETRO ACTING NORMAL!
Fred: ...what?
Pietro: Blahblahblahblah milkshake blahbleh?
Fred’s brain: JUST SAY NO!!!
Fred: Okay.
Todd: Blahblehbleh?
Fred’s brain: AHH! THE PAIN! THE BURNING!!!!
Pietro: Bleh.
Fred’s brain: *being invaded by a strange new happy drug* AHHHH! Crapcrapcrapcrap!!! I’m...dying......dying...deaaaaad.
Todd: BLAH!! FREDDY! Blahblehblip, yo!
Fred’s brain: *the drug talking* Hey. Yo. Cool. Like...yeah.
Fred: *giggles* You said ‘yo.’

This was revolutionary. He had _actually_ had an encounter with the HappyDust Fairy! Oh joys of joys! If he could only find Her, then all his worries would be over! As Fred gleefully pondered (A/N: I’d like to comment that this term is used loosely) the existence of the Fairy, he decided to take a holy pilgrimage to pay homage to the refrigerator. Of course, how his brain processed it was, “Kitchen. Food. Good.” much like Saitoh of anime fandom’s “Aku. Soku. Zan.” except a lot stranger, a lot more basic, and a lot dumber.

The fridge was empty, but he didn’t worry. After all, with the Fairy within his grasp, he wouldn’t have to worry about food anymore. He wasn’t exactly sure why he felt this way, but he did. Fred looked around, and laid his eyes on a pitcher full of pinkish milkshake. Yum. He looked around, deciding that it would be best to leave some for the Fairy (he had to be considerate, of course) and so poured one mug and guzzled it up. Immediately, he began to feel woozy...this was to be expected; after all...the Fairy...

--

Pietro scowled angrily. He had zipped into Lance’s room, hoping to catch the geological-manipulator only to have the bedroom door snap shut like some kind of demented deathtrap. This day was turning out to be really evil, boring, and more than a little trippy.

PIETRO’S VERSION OF THINGS:

Pietro: *wakes up, opens the windows, and says politely to the chirping birds outside:* SHUT THE FUCK UP!
Lance: *outside the bedroom door* I wanna screw.
Pietro: Gimme a second!

::wacky beaver sex ensues::

Pietro: Ahh! I feel refreshed! *zips downstairs* Hi, everyone!
Todd: *mumbles*
Fred: Blah.

::FLASHFORWARD::

Pietro: Lance?
Lance: Yes, dear?
Pietro: I’m bored.
Lance: I’m so sorry; I’ll be with you in a moment.
Pietro: Lance!
Lance: Yes, dear?
Pietro: I’m bored!
Lance: I can’t be with you right now, I’m sorry.
Pietro: I’m _bored_!
Lance: I worship you and adore you, Pietro Maximoff! Make sweet, sweet, love to me and let us boink like bunnies! But Mystique is being a bitch and won’t let me do anything right now until I finish this mission report, so until I’m done, you’re allowed to enunciate and elongate my name as many times as you want.
Pietro: Okay.

::FLASHFORWARD::

Pietro: Hi Fred!
Fred: Nn.
Pietro: Do you want to try this milkshake I made?
Fred: Of course, I’d love to try anything that you used your excellent culinary skills to make! *glug*
Todd: *mumbles*
Pietro: Yep.
Todd: NOOOO! _I_ wanted some of your great milkshakes, yo!
Fred: *giggles* You said ‘yo.’

Pietro huffed and sat down on Lance’s bed. This sucked! He was being all nice and everything and now he was locked in his boyfriend’s room, whose computer was on and beeping insistently. The silver-haired speedster blinked. Lance’s computer? Lance guarded his computer possessively. Lance’s computer had personal files, which could be laughed at, or cause sniffly sniffles. Lance’s computer...was a challenge.

An evil smile tugged at Pietro’s lips. He couldn’t turn down a challenge, of course...

--

Grocery list? He gave me a GROCERY LIST?! I go to him to tell him I’ve found the accursed reincarnation of Lucifer and he solves it by sending me to Acme!?!??!! Maybe I should get down on my friggin’ knees and start worshipping the Goddess of BLTs, Potato Gravy, and Peppered Sausages next, yo!

Todd was unbelievably upset. He had gone to the oldest mutant for counsel and WHAT did he get? A pat on the head and high-and-mighty orders for him to hand over whatever “nifty gadgets” he had for Lance to “play” with, and a daft command for him to “skip along now, like a nice young bloody wanker” and buy some “supplies.”

Crap. Pietro probably forced some of that shit on Lance after they screwed like mongooses in heat.

He heaved a laborious sigh and stared at the grocery list in dismay;

LANCE’S GROCERY LIST:

15 pairs of swimming goggles
23 rolls of duct tape
4 packs of gummi bears
7 ounces of vanilla extract (the hell???)
9 pounds of black cherries
3 buckets of chocolate chip mint ice cream
18 packets of balloons
8 cans of whipped cream
Lots of popcorn
Toothbrushes [Lance’s Note(L/N): We can’t find Freddy’s toothbrush (1)]
Sunglasses
Potpourri [L/N: It’s in the back section]
Etc.

Todd took a few minutes to determine exactly how much was “lots of popcorn,” and another couple of moments to try to get over the shock that Lance not only wanted potpourri, but he knew where it was located. He then remembered exactly what the situation was like...

{{{wobbly, wobbly, squiggly, squiggly--this is a flashback}}}

Lance: *latches on to him like some drooling psychotic pseudo-leech* To the Batcave, Q!
Todd: *gets dragged into a nearby closet* GAH! What the hell...??
Lance: It’s been determined that Mr. Maximoff is getting ready to take over the world.
Todd: Um...yeah, I know. So what are we doing...?
Lance: As I am...Alvers; Lance Alvers...I must take the course of action that I always do, since I _am_ agent 000000000000000000000007.
Todd: And that’s...being my sidekick and helping me save the world yet again?
Lance: No, that’s sleeping with the bad guy and _then_ saving the world. After I make a nice baloney sandwich.
Todd: What?!
Lance: J K...J K...(2)
Todd: *blinks dazedly* WHAT?!
Lance: I kid. Actually...I was serious.
Todd: Um...

{{{wobbly, wobbly, squiggly, squiggly--end flashback}}}

It was strange, disturbing, baffling, odd, eccentric, vile, malicious, heinous, evil, and more than a little bad.

Okay, it’s official. My family should be committed to an insane asylum, Todd thought while absently planning on how to veer off the sidewalk and pop a wheelie in the intersection where three trucks were all heading at once. He pulled up beside the supermarket, locking his bike at the rack, wandering inside, muttering to himself, and staring at the shopping list in sheer disbelief.

Then everything went from bad to worse as he heard,
“I’m just a city kid...” (3) Oh crap.

--

Lance straightened the lapels on his tux, glancing coolly about the room before placing a rubber sunflower in his front pocket, happily squeezing it a few times to make sure it squirted water. His loyal sidekick Q-- who, for some reason, had an obsession with the codename “Toad” rather than “Q,”--had given him some new gadgets to play with. With a small smirk, he took in his inventory with pride;

One cherry red slinky cup
A MIB “whirly-flashy memory-wipey thing” (as Todd had called it)
A neon pink pen with a fuzzy pompom at the top
Three walnuts
A bit of tinfoil
and a pair of bunny slippers.

“I do so much with so little,” The geographic-manipulator(4) sighed dramatically, looking in the full length mirror. Lance cocked an eyebrow and murmured in a horribly bad Scottish accent, “Alvers. Lance Alvers--Ye’d best stay outta me wa--”

No, no...that sounds wrong.

After going through several horrendously imitated accent, he settled on an even worse mimicked English accent, proclaiming, “Alvers...Lance Alvers,” Before giggling insanely like some deranged school girl after one too many ‘special’ brownies.

Vaguely, he remembered Q saying something about Pietro...--

“Ah-ha!” Lance smirked slowly, murmuring in an accent that incidentally missed any suaveness that he was aiming for, “So zhat...is vhy he vas tryin--Dammit! English, not German! English, not German!!--Ah-ha! So that...is why he was trying to escape my notice earlier.”

He turned slightly and addressed the toilet, “He knows that nothing..._nothing_ escapes, me...Agent 000000000000000000000007, otherwise known as,” Lance paused dramatically, “Alvers. Lance Alve--”

“Laaaaaance...?”

Lance pouted, shifting his weight back on one foot and slouching, fidgeting irritably, “What is it, Freddy?”

“Are you done yet...?? I really, really, _really_ have to go!!”

“No. I plan on staying in this bathroom for the rest of my life. Why don’t you go outside and find a nice bush?”

“But, we don’t have any bushes...”

“Dammit, go away!!!”

“I’ll break down the door!”

Lance sighed and holed up in the shower after unlocking the door, yanking the curtain closed as Fred lumbered in. I hate my life...

--

“Crapcrapcrapcrap,” Todd leaped over the counter of a local food court, much like a leaping gazelle, minus the grace, beauty, and wagging stub of a tail. He hid under the counter, clutching the shopping list and doing his best to ignore the sticky-looking eight-year-old who was sitting on the stool beside him. The evil child stared coldly at him--imperiously, even--for interrupting his slushie time.(5)

Todd peeked up over the counter, blanching as he saw the Valley Girl and the “Hip” Skateboarder wandering down the aisle, the bland redhead with no codename and ol’ One Eye walking after them at a more sedate pace.

From what he could make out, the girl known as Jean (better known as the cardboard cut-out that the Professor bought for a buck or less) was only saying randomly pieced together phrases of, “I’m pretty,” “I know you think I’m pretty,” “You _do_ think I’m pretty, right?,” and “I think I’m pretty.”

Other than that, the Not-So-Hip Skateboarder was occasionally saying something to the effect of “I’m just a city kid” [A/N: Look at Survival of the Fittest! I was only paying half attention to that one (lots of Brotherhood *-* Lance, Pietro, Todd...) and Evan kept coming along saying “I’m just a city kid.” It’s, like, all he says!!] before he got distracted by some random shiny thing(6), which prompted him to say, “Ooh...shiny” in the dullest, most demented voice Todd had ever heard. As per usual, the Pryde was giving him the mother of all headaches with her “like”s, “totally”s, and simpering giggles, so that left Summers. Good ol’ Summers with the funky rad shades. At this rate, he was the only normal one of the X-freaks currently flooding into Acme. This disturbed Todd.

Lance would hurl me out the window if he found out that I thought Summers was okay. After a moment of quiet contemplation, wherein he unintentionally stalked the four X-men, he concluded, But then again, Lance probably would either not notice ‘cause he’s too busy playing James Bond, or he wouldn’t blame me,

The result of his amending thoughts was that Evan was currently drooling over a box of tinfoil, chanting, “Shinnnnny” while Kitty giggled herself senseless. She was moving the tinfoil around to various places, getting herself into a royal snickering fit as Evan followed the box of happy glistening silver stuff. Summers managed to herd the two of them away from the addictive(? Yeah right...) reflective substance. Jean trailed behind them like some undead lost puppy, dazed look intact.

Todd ‘snirk’ed and decided that they were no harm at all. Of course, at that moment, the evil eight-year-old spawn of Satan began kicking him. Owowowowowow... Todd scowled and stood up, vaulting over the counter and glaring angrily at the devil spawn. It smirked at him.

Evil critter...

Everything was fine now, that is, until a certain shrill voice cried,

“Hey, like, look!”

Oh crap, He thought for the third time that day.

tbc

What does Lance want to do with all those crazy things?? Will Pietro get sucked into whatever dark secrets Lance is harboring in that computer of his??? Does Lance have some relation to Heero Yuy of Gundam Wing fame as per how he treats his computer? And if so, will he start wearing spandex??? Why is Todd being pro-Scott (Darn you Morwen! ^.~)?? Will we see more of Fred?? And what exactly _is_ the HappyDust Fairy?? Tune in next time for more insanity!!!

(1) According to Chapter 1, it’s in the refrigerator ^.~
(2) “J K” as in “j/k”; “just kidding.” My friend says that ALL the time in real life...it irks the heck out of me.
(3) Survival of the Fittest, as I explain in my author’s note later on.
(4) Does anyone mind if I start calling him “seismically-inclined?” ‘cause “geographic-manipulator” sounds kinda icky...
(5) Well, I would, too.
Duo: No, not Rosiel’s Slushie fic.
Ohh...
Duo: -_- Idiot.
Hey!
(6) Bwahahaha! In Spykecam, when “Mr.V” pulls out the digicam, it gleams for a moment. Afterwards, while the teacher is moving it around, Evan follows it with the blankest look on his face. It’s hilarious. I was like, “*giggles and is amused* Evan likes shiny things...”