One more thing: this chapter's name was thought up by a wonderfully nice person on the yahoo groups evolutionslash mailing list. Loved it at first sight! ^_~ Thank you!
Disclaimer: If you actually believe I own any of this (makes grand sweeping gesture) then
I have some prime swamp land down in Florida you may be interested in...
"Okay, Speedy, you wanna explain to me again why I had to drive all the fucking way out
here in the middle of the night to pick your sorry ass up when you could have gotten
yourself home in under five seconds?"
Hmmm. Lance sounds pissed. Should I play the innocent, lonely, scared-of-the-dark-and- cold-and-psycho-crazies-roaming-Downtown-Bayville-this-time-of-night card, or the defensive, whiny, you-should-pick-me-up-because-I'm-important-and-this-is-why-you-should-buy-me-my-own-car tirade. Choices, choices. Maybe... hmm... let's try the sweet, lovable smile and please-forgive-me-cuz-I-am-so-damn-cute-and-lovable routine.
Shit. He's impervious to my cuteness. New battle strategy recommended. But! But... that look always works! Why isn't it working? Pietro pouted. Why is Lance looking at me like that...
Pietro chose this opportunity to scoot closer to his mate, resting his head against the well-worn suede jacket Lance had received from the former as an early Christmas present the year before. Lance had wisely chosen not to inquire as to the younger boy's method of obtaining the item, even though Pietro had legitimately paid for it with actual money, as opposed to swiping it. Pietro had decided that spending real worked-for, hard-earned money on Lance's gift would make it more special, or some crap like that.
Dammit. Shoulda just swiped it. Lance probably thinks I did anyway. Hell, he probably expects it. He'd probably be pissed if he knew that I didn't steal it, that I went spending good money on something I could have gotten for free. Dammit. Mmm... so soft, I really know how to pick my leathers... I am the master of everything, after all... Wonder if I should get myself a leather jacket... No, maybe a nice suede one like Lance's... No, not just like Lance's, maybe a different color, maybe black, yeah black... Lance always says black makes my hair and complexion stand out like a diamond set against dark velvet... Where the hell does he come up with that fluffy crap? Mmm... Fluffy, like marshmallows... I wonder if we have marshmallows to make Rice Krispies treats?... Freddy might have some in his stash... Mmmmm... Food... Sweet and yummy... Like Lance...
And so on goes the mental ramblings of the snowy-haired teen.
All of which, naturally, took less than two seconds, during which, Lance repositioned his
arm around Pietro's narrow shoulders. Pietro sighed inaudibly, allowing his eyes to
slowly close, and snuggled closer to the warmth radiating from his seismically-inclined
lover.