Pietro paced around his room. He had been pacing for several minutes, tracing the same path on the carpet repeatedly. To him, the minutes seemed much longer, and he was growing both bored and a little dizzy. Sighing, he flopped down on his bed and stared up at the very blank ceiling.

"Hello," he said to the dull plaster. "I have a problem."

The ceiling wasn�t very responsive, and its lack of response made Pietro feel like an even bigger idiot. At first, the ceiling reminded him of his teammates. Whenever he tried to talk to them, he was usually met with either blank stares or nothing at all. After thinking for a little longer, it started to reminded him of his last home. Plain, white, a little boring, but otherwise all right.

Oh, damn symbolism. He hated relating his life to inanimate objects. Since he could remember, everything was a big blur of foster homes. His sister was taken away from him and adopted a long time ago, but who really wanted some hyperactive problem child like him? His last "parents" didn�t want him all that much, he could tell, and they were more than happy to hand him over to Mystique�s (or whatever identity she was posing as at the moment) custody.

They, his last parents, never really let him have anything to distinguish that his room was his. Sure, he had belongings and all that, but he wasn�t allowed to personalize the room with paint or posters or, well, anything. They said it would ruin the walls, and thus, the value of the house.

Not that it really mattered. He didn�t need posters or any of that stuff. The only reason he wanted them in the first place was to cover up the emptiness in the room.

Pietro blinked. Why the hell did he just regress to stupid pseudo-angst mode? Sometimes, he wondered how (or why) his thoughts jumped from one topic to another without ever resolving his initial problem. Oh well. Back to Lance.

Lance had kissed him. For a few seconds, it was the best thing he had ever waken up to; so much better than his shrill, demented alarm clock. He wasn�t sure at first what it was for, but he was enjoying it. That is, until Lance shoved him away and he realized it was nothing more than a cruel joke.

Pietro grabbed his pillow and covered his face with it. "Fuckin' bastard... He's such a jerk," he mumbled into the soft pillow. "He can go to hell, for all I care. I don�t care about him at all. Nope, not at all."

Yeah. Right.

He screamed angrily into his pillow as he realized that lying to himself was entirely futile. Venting his frustration vocally, at least, allowed him to feel some sort of satisfaction. Of course, it would probably give him a sore throat as well. Well, at least it would be a well deserved sore throat.

"Shut up, ya little crack monkey!" he heard Rogue roar from her room next door.

Okay, so he screamed a little louder than he thought.

"What the hell is goin' on? I�m trying to watch the TV and you guys are all yellin'!"

"Sorry, Rogue! Sorry Todd!" he apologized loudly, removing the pillow from his face.

Yeah, they love me here, he thought sarcastically. It was sad that Todd of all people, was his closest friend at home and Bayville High at the moment. They weren't even that close, either, Pietro just happened to be on friendlier terms with him than the rest of the Brotherhood.

He didn't really know why the Brotherhood didn't take too kindly to his arrival. Was it because he was an arrogant, fast-talking kid with a fresh criminal record? Or was it because they considered him to be a prep?

Okay, so he did dress a little preppy, and he was involved in sports at his last high school, but that didn't make him someone like Duncan Matthews. He supposed that they might just dislike him because he was the "new guy" in the group. Or maybe--

Oh, fuck it. They hate you and don�t want you in their group. The End.

He had a bad feeling that the household of the Brotherhood would wind up being exactly like all of his foster homes. Not really wanted, just there because he was the pity case, and then kicked out when he got too annoying.

Funny, he had really looked forward to moving into his new home.

Nobody wants you. Get used to it, he told himself, rolling onto his side and resting his head on one arm. For a split second, you thought that Lance wanted you, and look how that turned out.

Miserably. A hideous failure. After he kicked Lance out of his room, the only thoughts racing through his head were: IWannaDieIWannaDieIWannaDie!

It wasn�t in the suicidal sense, of course. It was more like the "I'm so fucking embarrassed I wanna die" sense. He had paced for minutes, raced downstairs to grab some breakfast, then came back upstairs to collect his thoughts. Once they were collected and he chatted with his "family", he decided that a nice visit to the park would help clear his mind.

Instead, Lance came and interrupted his "No Lance Thoughts" time, yelling and treating him like a child who had broken some sort of sacred rule.

Fraternizing with the enemy.

Pietro could almost hear the lecture waiting to erupt from Lance's lips. God, it was embarrassing. At that moment, he was more thankful than ever that he was Quicksilver. To think, what would happen had he stuck around to hear Lance's shit.

What hurt him more than the minute blow to his pride was the way that Lance was acting about the kiss. It never happened. Let's pretend that it didn't exist, shall we? Let's keep this between you and me.

Except that it never really went that way. It was more like: "Wakey, wakey, I'm kissing you! Crap! I'm kissing you? Get away from me!"

Because Pietro was Lance's the victim in this little mess, it was okay for him to pretend that the kiss never happened. But Lance started it, damn it! It was his job to finish it!

Pietro blinked. Why the hell did he just regress to stupid angst mode again? He really needed to learn how to make his thoughts stop jumping from one topic to another without ever resolving his initial problem. My mind is just one big segue

Suddenly, Marilyn Manson�s voice pierced through his thoughts.

"Great." He rolled his eyes. "Just what I needed."

He was about to pound on the wall and tell Rogue to turn her music down, but paused as he listened to the lyrics.

When I hate it I know I can feel but When you love it you know it�s not real No

Shoot myself to love you If I loved myself I�d be shooting you.

Wonderful. Now I find myself relating with Marilyn Manson's music. Stupid Lance. Now the song was reminding him of the boneheaded jerk. He closed his eyes and listened to the song die, only to be replaced by another depressing song.

He pounded on the wall and shouted, "Rogue! Turn your music down! I don�t wanna listen to that crap!"

"It's better than the shit you listen to!" she retorted from the other side of the wall.

"I don�t care if it's better or not, I don�t wanna listen to it!"

"Fine."

Pietro was slightly stunned. Rogue actually listened to him! Sure, she argued a little, but he finally prevailed in the end. One point for Pietro. Woohoo. His day was looking up.

Downstairs, a door slammed.

"Pietro? We need to talk!"

Lance. Did the guy ever give up? You�d think running away from him would�ve given him a hint.

"If you're not gonna come down here, then I'm just gonna have to go up there," he threatened.

Go ahead.

"And I don't care if your door's locked, I'll bust it down."

Yeah, right.

"Lance, what are you yelling about? Can't a guy watch TV in silence anymore?!"

"Shut up, Todd."

Heavy footsteps carried themselves upstairs and stopped in front of his door. Pietro eyed it calmly, waiting to see if Lance follow through with his threats.

Knock, knock. "Come on, I know you're in there."

"Yes, I am. You're quite observant, Lance."

"So, open the door."

"No."

*click* The door opened and Lance stood in the entrance to his room.

"I thought you said you were going to break the door down," Pietro pointed out flatly, sitting up.

"I, uh, thought using the key would have better results," Lance replied hesitantly. Pietro arched an eyebrow. God, was Lance... nervous?

Good, let him be nervous.

"What did you want to talk about?"

Lance stepped in and closed the door behind him. "I'm, uh... well... I'm sorry about this morning."

"Oh, that? Think nothing of it. I've already forgotten about it."

"Don't lie, Pietro,' Lance said, shaking his head barely. He frowned seriously and continued. "I shouldn't have just kissed you like that."

"And I shouldn't have enjoyed it like the big idiot that I am," Pietro snapped, then abruptly covered his mouth and widened his eyes. Shit! WhatDidIJustSay?!

It didn�t come as much of a shock to Lance, who remembered the slender arms wrapping around him and the lips kissing him back. "Don't freak out, Pietro, I already know you enjoyed it."

"No, you're just, uh... FullOfYourself! YeahThat�sIt!"

"Speak slowly."

"Sorry," he apologized, blushing. He really hated blushing, especially in front of Lance. "I just kinda talk like that when I�m nervous..."

They sat (well, one sat, the other stood) in silence for a few excrutiatingly long minutes. Pietro glanced at the clock by his bed. It was only 2 PM. What a long day...

"Why do you guys hate me?" he suddenly asked.

"Huh?" came Lance�s ever clueless response.

"I said: Why do you guys hate me?" he repeated.

"Oh. We don't hate you. I don�t think, anyway."

"No, you don't, do you? And don't make stuff up. You guys obviously have a problem with me."

"No, we're just not used to you yet, that's all. I mean, you've only been living here for a little over a week."

"It's funny," Pietro laughed softly. "I really was looking forward to moving in here. I thought, 'Hey, here's my chance to finally be with other people like me!' I thought I'd be wanted here, of all places."

"You are wanted!" Lance protested, much to his own surprise. Well, the slushie had some powerful effects on him, so he was determined to fix things and hopefully get Pietro to share his feelings for him. And then maybe he could get him in bed. No, wait. One step at a time, Lance. "I like having you--"

"Don�t patronize me!" Pietro spat, throwing his pillow at a speed that Lance was completely unprepared for. Needless to say, Lance was quite shocked when his face came into contact with the cushy projectile. "You can't stand me!"

"That's not true," Lance said quietly, grabbing the pillow and dropping it to the floor.

Pietro shook his head insistently, his eyes shut and his fists clenched. He could feel himself tremble and immediately hated himself for it.

Why the hell am I acting so weak right now?

He wanted to be left alone. He wished that Lance wasn't in his room and wondered when the older teen would just take a hint and leave.

Strong arms suddenly wrapped themselves around his frame, and he opened his eyes to see Lance. He was being hugged by Lance Alvers, the asshole who had regarded him as nothing but a pest up until now. Lance Alvers, the asshole who kissed him then shoved him away.

"Get. Off," he said shakily, but firm enough to sound serious about it.

"No. I like you, Pietro. That kiss-- when I pushed you away, I was just confused."

"Then why did you do it?"

"I just couldn�t think of any other way to deal with my feelings. Hell, I didn�t even know what my feelings were at the time."

"So, what? You just woke up and said 'Hey, let's see if I'm gay!' Thanks for using me as your test subject. I�m flattered."

"That�s not how it was." Okay, maybe it was, sorta, Lance admited to himself.

"So how was it?" Pietro challenged. "Tell me."

"It was just..." He paused to think of what to say. Argh! I hate opening up to people! "I've been having problems ever since you came here," he finally said, a little reluctant to let the words escape his lips.

"That makes me feel welcome. Aren't you supposed to convince me that I'm wanted?"

"Damn it! That's not what I meant! Listen, I've never really been attracted to guys before, so it freaked me out when I started thinking about you in 'that' way." Wow. Opening up was a lot easier when thoroughly frustrated. "I did that stupid kiss thing to try to prove to myself that I didn�t like you. It didn�t work as well as I had planned."

"I... I..." Pietro was at a loss for words. He sputtered nervously, then exploded with: "Why are you being so... so open?!"

"I had a slushie," Lance said with a slight smile. "Went straight to my head. So, what do you think?"

"I don't know. What do I think about what?"

"About... us, I guess. Is there any chance in hell?"

"Lance, are you formally asking to date me?" Pietro teased. "I think... you need more time to think about what you're asking for. You don't even know if I share the same feelings for you."

"Oh, come on. This morning, you wrapped your arms around me and kissed me back."

Pietro laughed softly and pulled out of Lance's arms, finally grinning. "Yes, but I could've been pretending that you were Rogue. Your hair's about the same length..."

"Seriously, tell me what you feel."

Behold! The power of slushies! Pietro thought with amusement as Lance tried to coax him to open his heart and talk. It must've been laced with something...

"Well, Lance, you want to know what I feel? I..." Damn, this was hard. Pietro hesitantly swallowed his pride, and decided to do the unmanly thing known as "sharing one�s feelings". "I thought you were cute when I first saw you. Then I thought you were a jerk. Then I thought you were a sexy jerk." His eyes glinted with mischief as sexy Lance thoughts came exploding back into his mind.

"How long have you... uh... known--"

"That I like guys?"

"Yeah."

"I dunno," Pietro shrugged. "I was still in junior high when I fully realized it. Didn't come to terms with it until my freshman year and I'm still in the closet. Er... sorta."

"Sorta?"

"Well, I did kind of have a boyfriend before," he mumbled, looking down at the carpet. "He was on the basketball team with me. A real heartbreaker, that one. Told me one day that he didn't think he liked me anymore, that he was just confused about his sexuality. He got a girlfriend a few days later."

"Oh."

"You still like girls, don�t you?"

Lance thought for a moment. "I still think Rogue and Kitty are hot, not to mention about a million other chicks. I mean, I don't know whether I'm attracted to guys in general or just you. But, I know for a fact that I have some feelings for you, and I wouldn't just decide to like girls more than you one day or anything like that. It's gonna take me a while to get used to this stuff, though..."

"I know. You're doing an okay job at being 'used to it' so far. Better than I did." Pietro fell back onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. "I already know my answer to the 'us' question, but I'm not telling until you firmly make up your mind about what you want."

One second, he was staring up at the blank ceiling. The next, Lance was over him, close enough for his comfort. Forget posters and paint, he wanted to wake up every morning looking at Lance. Mmm...

"I know what I want," he breathed, bringing his face closer to Pietro�s. "You," he whispered into the other boy�s ear.

Meep! Happy meep! WantedMeLikiesLanceMeWithLanceWoohoo!

"That's good," he squeaked, flushing. I just sounded like a ferret on crack. Real attractive, Pietro. "B-because I want y-you, too." What's worse? Sounding like a ferret, or stuttering like a moron? Hmm, a challenge that Pietro couldn't bring himself to answer because his lips were very soon trapped in a careful kiss.

He wrapped his arms around Lance's shoulders and kissed him back. His day was definitely looking up.