Yay! 200+ reviews! ::sniff:: I luv you guys! :D
Uhh... someone left me a really scary review. I don't wanna delete it, because I think it is
kinda funny (even if somewhat disturbing) buuut... damn. I guess I'm glad that person
didn't actually leave their contact info, cuz then I might feel bad about, um, not
responding. O.o Just so ya'll know. Yeah. I guess this would qualify as my first
stalker-type person/obsessed fan...? God, I was wondering if it would come to this.
Freaky, but strangely flattering, or something like that... O.o Psycho B has a stalker!
Um... yay? x_X
Can I even tell you how hard it was coming up with random names for the roll call? Eh --
you'll see. Some are pretty crazy. One is decidedly Scandinavian. And I made Principal
Kelly a jerk! I have decided he is a jerk because he has no woman, and because he's a
passive-aggressive punk. Maybe his secretary can help him with that! (Poor, poor
Dorothy -- pity the lady!)
And response to... (don't bother reading unless you've reviewed/read the reviews recently)
*DarkFire: As tempting as it is to have the B-Hood beat the X-Dweebs, I took the easy
way out... ^_^ Maaaybe they'll meet again, in some unexpected place... you never know!
~ I try to notice everything -- watching the episode repeatedly also helps. :D
*Imhotep Ardeth Bey: Yay! Computer being nice today and letting ya review me! ^_^ I
have a cling-on! (Klingon? Oh, I dunno, I don't watch Star Trek stuff! :P) Trekkies (like
my ex... ::shudders::) make me nervous. :D
*batE: Okay, I understand the mass-confusion now -- as long as we're cool, man. Much
slashing goin' on! I agree completely on the Summers bit. He's a mini-Xavier! And that
is precisely why my Sconce fic I'm toying with isn't working out, like, at all... :D I am SO
glad you noticed my spiffy little things tied into "Creepin'"! Like the Evan glaring angrily
and the marriage comment things. Yay! Good for you! I shoulda known you would spot
it... you are, after all, the master of the universe! Yeah, they're gonna clean up the house a
bit -- I have ideas. (Scared yet?) I don't think I want Mysti to come back and spoil the
boys' fun just yet -- I'll give it awhile. Like, prolly till, uhh... in the sequel! If there is one!
Eventually... O.o Cuz I would hate for the wench to castrate them when I'm here with all
this smut planned! That would kinda kill it, ya know? Yes. Anywho! Rantings! Lil Pie's
hoodie *was* the same color as his Quicksilver costume! How darling! The animation
*was* better than usual, wasn't it? Excellent use of facial expressions, random SW-related
explosions, etc. Guess lil Pie did know who his daddy was all along! But, if he dislikes
him so much, why was he being all obedient and stuff in "Shadowed Past", like chatting on
his cell phone and conferring with the old man? I'm not so sure Pietro's loyalties lie with
Mysti & Friends, if ya know what I mean... Aaand Pie *was* very gay with Kurt. (Oooh
-- that sounds bad.) I wanna see you put Pie-pie's newfound flexibility to good use,
dammit! Get working! ::cracks whip:: Move it, honey, I ain't gettin' any younger! :D
*SailorWade: S'okay, computer problems abound lately. O.o The X-Dorkuses do know,
yes. They may be trouble laaater. (Foreshadowing... yes!) Wrong on the name... and that
Phoebe girl annoys the hell outta me! Argh! ~ Someday, you will see the episode.
Never fear! But, until then, be satisfied with the many summaries you can find online. A
very good (and very entertaining) summary can be found at AngelRosiel's Brotherly Love
site (which is currently one of my personal faves -- Rosiel is the slashmaster
extraordinaire! My hero!) The link is on her author page. :D
*psycho b's kinky wannabe lover...: You have severe problems, dude. Please don't leave
craaazy shit like that again, `kay? Thaaaanks. :P
*Medusa171: Oh my God! You missed it?! Why??? Bad, naughty thing you are! I'm
sure they'll re-air it soon enough, then ya can see it in all its glory! :D Moving on... yay!
::squeals:: Pointless fluffies! Everybody loves pointless fluffiness, riiiiight? ^_~
*R: I was SO thinking about the Hooters thing! ::shifty eyes:: Uhh... never mind. She
would make an excellent Rogue bitch-toy. ^_~ I've noticed there are a whole bunch of
scenes in my fic revolving around bedrooms/sleeping, and that is exactly why: Pietro is
sweet and innocent as hell when he's sleeping! :D Little doll... aww! He redeems his
bratty, spoiled behaviors by acting all cutesy and lovable when asleep. But! In "HeX
Factor" he was pretty whiny and stuff, so I didn't totally make that up... just mostly. The
voice actor makes him that way! `Tis not me, I swear! ~ I haven't read anything you've
mentioned, aside from a teensy bit of Shakespeare. I prefer cheap, easy entertainment,
which is why I tend to lean towards fanfiction... not that I'm saying fanfiction is cheap
and/or easy, but it's better than struggling with dead language and wording. I can never
keep my eyes focused long enough to absorb the "deep meaning" and whatnot... -_- And
ooh! I love Nightbloom too! That Kurt/Lance fic is too cool! :D But what site does
"your lady" write on...? Who is it, dammit! Argh! Annnd... you mentioned a girlfriend...
does that mean you are one of my only male readers...? ::squeals:: Crazy, baby! :D
(Please don't be pissed if you're not -- I made the same mistake last time with another
reviewer, and the person wasn't male after all... and I felt all bad. Oopsies! XD)
*Tainisha: ::sigh:: Mothers know so dreadfully little sometimes, no? ^_~ Wanda rocks!
X-Dweebs suck! ~ No, I'm not a hot, redheaded English witch/wizard. Sorry! :D Tai...
I knew that sounded familiar! I don't watch Digimon, but I saw a commercial for it once...
blah. Name games are nifty! ~ I hope that damned plot bunny was easier to catch than
my real ones, otherwise we're all in big trouble here. O.o Aww, I like that chappy, too!
Lance was being all protective and heroic and sweet and... and sweet! ::squeals:: Yay!
Lanciepoo! ::glomps:: (Note to self: remember you medication.) Must I say it again?
Long reviews are your friends! Very friendly, they are... yep! Friendly! :D
*Ruby Red: Okay, I wasn't quite sure what that review meant, but I sent ya an email,
sooo... just read it and email me back, I guess... O.o And yeah! :D
*Cherry Drop: I know exams suck, but you're cutting it pretty close to the line, little
missy! I was just about to submit the next chappy when I saw you'd just reviewed --
almost missed ya! ;_; That would be a real tragedy! I'm actually supposed to be doing
my freaking statistics report, but nooooo -- I sit and do this. Sigh. Bad me. x_X Hope I
don't fail this quarter. That would like, totally suck. I hafta take my SAT's on May 4th,
so I'm glad there aren't any new eps that day, or else I'd have no concentration
whatsoever. ~ Pietro's issues make things so much fun, though! And Toddykins' too, but
we already know that! :D English TV people suck, too -- not showing you HeX Factor,
or anything else! I mean, what the Hell -- is this a hostage situation or something? A
standoff? What? Just give the people Evo already! Damn! ::rolls eyes:: Morons running
the stations there, I swear. Meh. Well, have much fun doing creative things with, uhh,
dirt annnd stuff! :D
Disclaimer: As if! No, really, 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... No, seriously. I don't own anything. (Duh?) Wait -- that's not entirely
true. I own the attendance recording thingie! Ha HA! I'm gonna be rich! Okay, that's
also a lie. ;_; Meh. If my memory serves, that is, word for word, the exact recording I
used to get (and quickly erase) when I would, uhh... *not* ditch school all day freshman
year. ::gulps:: Um, yeah. Ditch school? Me?! Never! >:D
*~*~*~*~*~*
Chapter twenty-three: O' Brotherhood, Where Art Thou?
Principal Edward Kelly thumbed through the day's absentee list with little interest. "Allen,
Almont, Alvers, Alysses..."
"Dudley, Dukes, Dunston..."
"Manson, Martel, Maximoff..."
"Tolabani, Tolensky, Tolopnekkerssen..."
"Why is it most of the same names appear every single day?" Kelly offhandedly asked his
assistant, Dorothy, as he scanned the compilation of names in unmasked disgust.
"I wouldn't know, sir," Dorothy replied meekly.
"It's always those Goddamned boarding house kids," Kelly complained further, slapping
the Xeroxed sheets down in anger. "They have no respect for the education system."
Dorothy peeked at the list. "Sir, aren't a few of those on the list of excused absences for
today?"
Kelly looked back at the papers. "So they are. Must be some kind of mistake. Those
ones *never* have an excuse."
Dorothy raised a pencil-thin eyebrow. "Sir, aren't you being a bit harsh? I mean, they're
only children. You should know by now how many like to be rebellious and whatnot."
"Dorothy, you try too hard! There's no point in looking for the reasoning behind bad
behavior. Those ones are just bad seeds," Kelly growled. Dorothy rolled her eyes and
went back to her typing.
"Bad seeds, I tell you! Every last one of `em!"
"Mr. Kelly, you are upsetting the office staff," Dorothy said authoritatively. Kelly knew
that look. That look meant he wasn't getting any tonight. Damn. It was those rotten
apples' fault! Bad seeds!
"Ahh, you," Kelly replied with a nonchalant wave of his hand. `May as well enjoy myself,
even if I can't enjoy the secretary.'
Dorothy got back up out of her leather desk chair and stalked into Kelly's office, closing
the door misleadingly quietly behind her. Once inside, she turned on the principal of
Bayville High School, jabbing him in the chest with a long, red fingernail.
"Look, you jackass, your bad attitude is losing you the respect of every person this school
employs, including me. Either learn to control yourself, or I will beat you within an inch
of your life."
Kelly smirked. "Is that a promise?" (See? See? Passive-aggressive prick!)
The firm slap resounded off the walls of the posh office, and was closely followed by the
soft click of the closing door.
***
Ding-Dong!
"Shit!" Lance cursed, breaking away from Pietro and rolling over, grabbing for that
morning's discarded jeans. The furnace dude was early! When did that *ever* happen?
Pietro laid back on the bed, watching Lance's insane struggle with the denim pants of
doom. Sighing softly, Pietro got up and sped out of the bed, the room, and down the hall,
returning almost immediately, fully dressed himself, and with a fresh shirt for Lance, which
he accepted gratefully. Pietro zoomed down the stairs to answer the door. A grungy,
homely man with a toolbox stood, waiting disinterestedly as Pietro ushered him inside and
into the cellar. Pietro found himself tsk-ing the man's all around lack of style -- he has the
standard plumber's crack, Pietro noticed with disgust when he bent down, and he was
balding, yet had a ponytail. His grimy "white" shirt was splattered with some kind of
multi-colored substance, and did not fully cover his bulging dunlap, which was hanging
sickeningly over the waist of his filthy, torn, too-tight jeans. `Real classy,' Pietro smirked
as Lance came bumbling down the basement stairs.
"So, what's wrong with it?" Lance asked the frumpy man, who was currently bent over his
toolbox, searching for something. Pietro's shoulders shook with silent laughter as he
pointed out to Lance the crack-awareness campaign going on in their basement.
"I'll figger it out for ya, son, don'tcha worry none," Mr. Skanky-Fix-It-Man said, reaching
behind him to yank up his pants. Pietro nearly lost it, and has to excuse himself. Lance
grinned, his face going blank and normal when the handyman turned around. "This might
take awhile, chile... maybe ya'd bettah take a breatha."
Lance was thoroughly confused by what the dude had just said, so he shrugged and
walked back upstairs. `Hey, if the guy really wants to try to steal any of the worthless
junk down there, go for it,' Lance thought. He found Pietro collapsed on the couch, a
pillow over his face to muffle the inane giggles erupting from his lips. Lance shoved
Pietro's legs out of the way and plopped down on the other end of the sofa, running his
fingers through his sleep-ruffled hair. The legs were immediately replaced atop his thighs.
`Eh, arm rest,' Lance thought with a shrug, draping an arm over the pair of crossed ankles
situated in his lap. The laughter finally began to die down.
Lance's head had dropped back, and he was nearly asleep when Pietro broke into another
fit of snickers. Lance head snapped up and toward the other teen in aggravation. "Crack
awareness!" Pietro cackled with glee, curling into a quivering ball of hysteria and
pounding his fist against the seat cushion. Lance groaned and fell back against the faded
red loveseat.
`How long does it take a professional to fix a motherfucking furnace?'
Lance's silent question was answered in short order when a soft claaaaang-bang-bang!
sounded, and the vents could be heard once again forcing warm air throughout the house.
"Yessss!" Pietro and Lance high-fived like doofus middle school boys. Then kissed, not
so much like doofus middle school boys (usually, anyway... dun dun DUN!).
The further clanking sounds of tools being replaced in their greasy, red metal home ended
and were replaced by the heavily treading steps lumbering up the basement stairs. Pietro
hopped up to pay the man and get him out as quickly as possible. "Like, thank you sooo
much!" Pietro bubbled at the bewildered repair man, who accepted the handful of cash
welcomely, not even pausing to count it.
"All in a day's work, chile," the guy insisted, tipping his non-existent hat and meandering
out the front door to his service van.
`Tee hee hee, alone at last,' Pietro thought wickedly, wringing his hands like a
stereo-typical villain. Lance was already conked out on the couch again, but that wasn't
the worst part -- the wretch had the nerve to steal Pietro's spot! `Ahh, screw it. I guess I
have better things to do anyway,' he determined. Sneaking one last peek at the adorable
rock-tumbler fast asleep on their sofa, Pietro dashed down the cellar steps to inspect the
area and make sure the dude hadn't totally ripped them off somehow. Nothing appeared
to be missing -- in fact, the general area seemed almost cleaner, if that was even possible.
"Well, that's cool," Pietro said to himself, nodding approvingly at the cursory inspection.
Then he saw it, gleaming at him from the far corner of their uber-creepy basement: the
piano. "Ooooh!" Pietro squealed, darting over to the instrument. He hadn't touched the
thing in months! There never seemed to be a time when no one was home to hear it and
tease him. But now...
"Well, if Lance wants to make fun of me for it, he won't be getting any for a good, long
time," Pietro decided in a firm whisper, pulling out the slick black bench, cracking his
knuckles and poising his slim, white fingers above the smooth ivory keys.
***
Lance awoke to a decidedly "Phantom of the Opera"-ish moment -- he was alone, cold
and there was a hauntingly strange but sweet melody tinkling through the house.
"Whaa?"
Lance got up to investigate. He determined that the tune was coming from somewhere
below, so he chose to inspect the basement first. `What did that freaky furnace dude
*do*?' were the first rational thoughts that made their way into Lance's brain. `Program
some stupid song into the thing, like a doorbell?'
Now, Lance (being the manly man that he is) never ventured farther into the dank,
dungeon-like basement any more than was absolutely necessary. Which is why he had no
idea that they (well, Mystique and Magneto) owned any musical equipment (or a washer
and dryer set, but we'll get to that later). The furnace had been nicely set in a small alcove
just beside the bottom of the staircase, so Lance had never been more than ten feet into
the crowded, mildewy mess that was their basement. He'd never had a need to. And that
had suited him just fine.
Peering through the stacks of dusty boxes that littered the entire space, Lance came upon
the source of the melody -- it was none other than his multi-talented boyfriend. Lance
sighed with relief and hid himself behind a rather large pile of creatively placed cardboard
to watch.
`Damn! Is there anything that boy *can't* do?' he questioned to no one in particular as he
observed Pietro's skillful fingers rippling over the keyboard with the grace and style of a
practiced professional. His eyes were half-closed, a small smile playing on his beautifully
curving lips, and he looked as if he were in a pleasant fantasy daydream of sorts.
"I know you're over there, Lance," his soft voice carried over the transcending notes.
Lance gulped.
He was going to slink away and make a run for it, but Pietro snagged him yet again:
"Don't you even try to sneak off, I already know you've been watching for a while." The
slender mutant slid to one side of the black piano bench, never missing a single keystroke.
"Come sit with me."
Lance did. Then he directed his earlier mental question (slightly revised) at the boy in
question. "Jesus, Pie, what else can you do?"
Pietro looked thoughtful as he continued the tune. "Well, I can draw, paint, dance, but
you knew that already, play almost any instrument, play just about any game -- like
basketball, but I can also do a mean game of chess...! Hey, we should play a game! Oh
right, yeah. I can, um, sew, and garden, too. Annnd other stuff," Pietro finished, looking
in the direction of Lance's groin meaningfully.
Lance raised his eyebrows. `Duuuuuude.' "What *can't* you do?"
Pietro stopped playing. Blinked. Blinked again. An awfully long time for such a fast kid.
"I don't knit."
"What?" Lance hadn't quite been expecting an answer like that. "Well, why not?"
"Never had the patience for it. Always dropping loops and stitches," he said, resuming his
activity.
"But you sew..." Lance argued.
"Well, sewing is more useful than knitting. What should I do, force myself to sit and make
stupid little doilies and crap, or clothing for the four of us? Freddy isn't exactly the easiest
guy to fit, you know," Pietro snapped, his tune becoming more agitated as he did.
Lance looked away, as did Pietro. "Look, I'm sorry. I know how much you do around
here, and no one appreciates it. But we all do things -- that's what being a family is all
about. Helping out and not expecting praise. Sure, it's nice, but... I don't know. God, I
sound like Summers," Lance groaned, tugging on his hair. "We do more than Todd and
Fred do. Maybe we should start charging for our services," Lance quipped, shooting a
sidelong glance at the white-haired boy.
Pietro smiled. "Lance, you make us sound like some kind of prostitutes or something," he
joked with a chuckle.
Lance had to laugh. "Maybe we are. Maybe we're their bitches," he added, earning an
elbow in the ribs from his partner in crime, temporarily interrupting the flow of notes.
"Don't even joke like that," Pietro ordered, slowing his melody to a stop. "You're *my*
bitch. Hey... can you play anything?"
Lance thought for a minute, reaching deep into the well of childhood memories long
suppressed and forgotten. "Ooh! I can!" Lance exclaimed suddenly, and proceeded to
bang out an awful rendition of "Chopsticks". Pietro grimaced and grabbed Lance's wrists
to stop the cacophony.
"Please," Pietro pleaded, deliberately putting Lance's hands in his lap. "God, don't do that
again, or I will have to kill you."
Lance looked hurt. "Why? My second grade music teacher said I had real promise!"
Pietro resisted the urge to roll his sky blue eyes heavenward. "That may have been
considered "promising" in second grade, but now it's just annoying and bad. No offense,"
Pietro quickly followed up, winning a scowl from Lance. "Aww! Is Lanciepoo getting
angwy?" Pietro cooed playfully, dodging a potentially painful pinch. "I know! You pick
out a song, any song, and I bet I can play it! If I can't, I'll forgive you for your smoking
this morning," he promised, looking at the brunette expectantly. Lance considered this.
"So, if I win, all I get is forgiveness? What if I lose?" he inquired wisely. Pietro smirked a
secretive smile.
"If you lose... I haven't decided yet. But you won't like it! Well, maybe you will..." Pietro
trailed off, leaving Lance very intrigued as to what his punishment could be. Almost
curious enough to lose on purpose. "Well?" Pietro prodded. Lance couldn't think of a
single song!
"Uh, do you know any..." Lance stalled as best he could. "Um... Mozart?" Pietro finally
allowed his sapphire eyes to roll in exasperation.
"Do you have any idea how broad a category you just gave me? You might want to be a
bit more specific," Pietro advised, tinkering with the keys as Lance considered this.
"O...kay... um, Moonlight Sonata!" Lance blurted, very pleased with himself for being able
to remember a specific title. Classical music wasn't exactly his forte.
"Do you even know how that goes?" Pietro asked, still fiddling with the white keys.
"That's not even Mozart. It's Beethoven."
`D'oh!' "I knew that. I was just testing you," Lance claimed, trying to look convincing.
"Uh huh," Pietro said mockingly, watching him out of the corner of his eye. `He *so*
didn't know that!'
"I did!"
"If you say so, baby," Pietro punctuated his statement with an innocent kiss to Lance's
cheek, ceasing his current tune and starting the gentle, rolling melody of Beethoven's
famous piano sonata.
Lance listened to the pleasant tune for a few minutes, admittedly concentrating more on
finding creative ways to distract and molest Pietro than concentrating on the flowing
composition, but hey -- he *was* listening. "You know, that wasn't the song I meant, but
it still sounds kinda familiar... I like it," Lance said, bringing his arm around to circle the
smaller teen's waist.
"What song did you mean, then?" Pietro asked. His eyes were closed, and he looked
damn near asleep, Lance noticed.
"I don't know what it's called, but... I can sing it!" Lance offered. Pietro wrinkled his
nose. Considering Lance's taste in music, his standards of good singing were probably
fairly low.
"You can try..." Pietro agreed, stopping his hand movements again.
"Okay, it goes like this -- dunna nunna nunna nunna naaa, du-nu-nu-naa, du-nu-nu-naa..."
`Oh *my* God.' "Um, that's Fur Elise, Lance. Everyone knows that song. You really
didn't know what it was called?" Pietro questioned, looking doubtful. Lance looked
unsure.
"It *is* Beethoven, right?" he asked quickly, worried that he was wrong. Pietro nodded.
"It sure is! But, that song is for beginners. I'll play it if you want, but this means you're
gonna lose the bet. Are you sure you can't think up anything better...?" Pietro pushed,
giving Lance that look that basically meant `Dummy! Think of something or I'm gonna
whip your sorry ass!'
"Uhh, gimme a minute..." Lance held off his request, fearing losing to the ashen-tressed
boy.
Pietro was growing impatient with the older mutant. "For God's sake, Lance! Just pick
something!"
Lance pouted. "I don't know anything else!" Pietro almost felt bad for the other boy; his
punishment was going to be so much fun...!
"You should really take a music appreciation class. You could be in there with *Kit-ty*
and her trombo-one," Pietro revealed to the earth-shaker in a sing-song voice. Lance
scowled.
"I'd rather not."
"Whatever. I bet I could teach you bunches more than that dried up old geezer who heads
that class," Pietro disclosed assuredly.
"And I bet we'd have a lot more fun, too," Lance said, bringing his lips to Pietro's exposed
neck. Said boy fought back a whimper.
"No--not yet," he squeaked. Lance paid his warnings no heed. He continued his assault
of Pietro's neck, his straying hand sneaking under Pietro's gray sweater, running along the
fine contours of his torso.
Pietro realized that the only way to get the maniac off of him was to scare him off.
Peering at the keys briefly to get his place, he struck a dramatically loud and ominous
chord, startling Lance long enough for Pietro to shove the surprised mutant away. "I said
not yet."
Lance, regaining his composure, smirked. "I'll get you eventually. You can't stay away
forever!" Lance chortled as he pounced on the pale boy, tickling him mercilessly.
"Aaaah! Mercy! Mercyyyy--" The desperate, squealed pleas were cut short by a
passionate kiss, as Lance hoisted Pietro onto the piano itself, grabbing for his fly to relieve
him of his trousers. The piano made a discordant complaint at the body seated upon it,
but Lance didn't appear to notice or care about the dissonant noise this time. His mind
was focused on just one thing: the beautiful boy writhing against him.
Lance was about to commence stripping the boy and doing, well, terribly naughty things
to him when a bizarre sound cut into the relative silence (aside from the now-and-then
piano noises whenever Pietro's bottom shifted too much, and the heavy breathing) -- the
telephone?
"What the fuck?" Lance muttered, his mouth still pressed to Pietro's.
"It was the phone... but who would be calling? The phone never rings, unless... Lance, did
we pay all the bills?" The look of shocked horror on the smaller boy's face was
frightening.
"No... we never have paid the bills, Pietro. We found out Mystique has them paid directly
from her accounts, remember?" Lance reminded the white-haired youth, and Pietro almost
collapsed on Lance in relief.
"Good. Cuz I saw this infomercial about angry creditors after I watched Jerry Springer
the other day and--"
"Please don't finish that sentence," Lance requested as they both heard the message
machine pick up and the automated absence alert recording from the high school began.
"This is the Bayville High School attendance office calling to inform you that your child
has missed one or more classes today. Please stay on the line for further information..."
Lance and Pietro just looked at each other. Several seconds later...
"The student in question is a ninth grade male, who was absent periods: one. Two.
Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. For further information, please contact the attendance
staff at 555-..."
"That little prick!" Lance roared, shoving away from Pietro and pacing in front of the
piano like an angry parent, which, in a way, he was. Pietro looked down at the discolored
floor instead of at his irate boyfriend. "We dropped him off at school today! We fucking
*dropped him off*! Why wasn't he in his classes?!" Lance raged on, seemingly oblivious
that upstairs, the phone was again ringing. Pietro shushed him and cocked his head to the
side to listen.
"...an eleventh grade male, who was absent periods: one. Two. Three..."
"Goddammit!"
Pietro thought it best to stay away from Lance while he was venting, so he didn't
accidentally get hit or knocked over by his wild arm movements. Pietro hadn't really ever
seen him this angry outside of battle, and it was a little scary. Lance paused mid rant and
scrubbed his face with his palms, looking haggard and defeated. "They need to go to
school," he said as calmly as possible, given the circumstances. "They need an education,
damn them both." He walked back over to where Pietro was still sitting on the piano,
moving not at all lest he make the keys sound and startle Lance.
Pietro eagerly accepted the earth-shaker into his embrace, patting his back soothingly as
Lance heaved a great sigh. "I know they do. We all do, unless we wanna be trapped here
forever. It isn't your fault, Lance," Pietro consoled tenderly. Lance sniffed indignantly.
"I know. But, they're just so..." he waved his hand as he tried to think of an appropriate
word to describe the two.
"So "them"?" Pietro offered. Lance nodded.
"Yeah... I mean, I am *so* not the one to talk, the way I've cut up in school, but man... if
they blow it, they're seriously fucked. No one can get a good paying job nowadays
without a college degree, much less a high school diploma..." Lance sighed again,
plopping down on the piano bench before him. Pietro slid down into his lap, cupping his
face tenderly and planting a soft kiss on his lips.
"Just forget it, for now at least. You can have your "irate parent" talk when they are
actually here, okay?" Pietro joked, rubbing the dark-haired boy's upper arm briskly in a
reassuring manner. Lance nodded.
"Yeah, sorry, I shouldn't be yelling at you. Not your fault they're morons," Lance added,
his arms slipping around the youth's waist. Pietro agreed wholeheartedly. He wasn't quite
sure what to say after that -- a rare thing for Pietro Maximoff, the resident fast talker.
"Sooo..." Pietro started, looking to Lance for subject matter. Lance still looked pissed.
"Hey, Did'tIJustTellYouToQuitBeingAll--" his rapid speech was stopped by a finger
pressed to his lips. Pietro's sober gaze flitted to meet Lance's eyes.
"Sorry," he whispered. "What song did we decide on?"
Pietro brightened. "I think you wanted something that would make you lose
immediately," he teased, hopping off Lance's lap to avoid the playful swat aimed at his
bottom.
"Or I could ask you to attempt a more beautiful version of "Chopsticks" than what I did,
*Elton*," Lance said haughtily, crossing his arms in defiance. "Betcha can't," he dared.
"Oooh -- sounds like a *challenge*," Pietro reverted to his ancient catch-phrase, knocking
the brunette out of his way to make himself room on the seat. Over the simple, irritating
tune, Pietro announced to Lance that, unfortunately, he had lost the bet. "Now you're my
bitch for the night," Pietro declared, allowing one hand to stray from the instrument for
just a moment to give his backside a hard pinch. Lance jumped in surprise, while Pietro
feigned a look of complete and total innocence, his hands already back on the keys.
"We'll see," Lance partially relented, casting a sidelong glance at the speedster. Pietro
smirked.
"Annnd it's gonna be so much *fun*! I'll have to make a trip to the store first, though," he
said thoughtfully, looking into space as his magic fingers splayed over the keys.
"For what?" Lance asked, going in for another kiss when he pulled back abruptly, looking
past Pietro to the matched pieces of rectangular white metal against the far wall. "Since
when do we have a washer and dryer?!"
"Uhh..."
*~*~*~*~*~*
My God, that chapter was almost all dialogue. ::shudders:: Argh! I hate it when I do
that! And I was having trouble ending the thing -- I mean, it was just dragging on and on,
and I ended up just cutting out like, a bunch of irrelevant crap to get it in better shape.
Yet another chapter that would totally benefit from italics, but ya know... ff.net sucks me,
so that'll never happen. Anyone wanna explain to me how to make it work with HTML?
Anyone...? ::crickets chirping:: Wah. ;_; I'll do better next time, promise! :D Next
chappy when I get at least one freaking review from a new reader (not counting the freaks
who leave bizarre crap like my "kinky lover-person" or whatever did...) or a review from
someone I thought I'd lost along the way since they no longer review, so hey, ya'll -- make
your friends review! Referrals are nifty! Extra, EXTRA credit to anyone who refers a
friend! ^_^ ::bounces off::
Oh! I finally realized how the Evo retards effed up: the had the floorplan of the BoM's
house all different in "HeX Factor"! Cuz like, in "Walk on the Wild Side", the *kitchen*
was on the immediate right when you walk in the front door and the living room was on
the left (I think; I'm not so sure about the living room in WOTWS) but in "HeX Factor",
that room off to the right was the living room! Aha! Caught you, caught you! ::dances
around like an idiot:: Uhh... yeah. I have absolutely no life, if I notice crap like that. But,
I mean, I just watched "HeX Factor" like, a half-dozen times since it aired (I taped it,
obsessed little addict that I am) so I guess it's good I got some use out of it annnd... yes.
And now I wanna go watch it again! :D Did I have a point? Oh, right -- Evo animators
suck and I should engage in a hostile takeover of Kids WB's headquarters. Ahem. (I
could do sooo much better, anyways... you know it. Woo! AP art class! Bow before my
might!)
Oh yeah -- interactive crap. Um, last time was just Wanda/HeX Factor ranting, sooo I'm
not gonna post all that, so... yeah. Um, ya'll can come up with more Evo screw-ups, if
you'd like. Yes, that sounds like a plan! List everything Evo has screwed up,
animation-wise, anything! (This shall prove to be mildly amusing, provided someone
attempts to answer this time...) XD Um, I guess I can tell you another stupid Evo-related
thing I did at work, if ya want... if not, just stop reading now, I guess. Okaaay -- short
and sweet -- our bank's bible-ish
information/explanation/tells-stupid-people-like-me-how-to-do-stuff thing is called the
"Branch Operating Manual". Three guesses on the acronym. ::waits for the slower
readers to understand the blatant hilarity:: Right! Good job! It's the BOM! Like the
Brotherhood of Mutants! XD Annnd I saw it the other day, sitting out on the back
counter in all it's photocopied glory, and started laughing at "nothing", according to my
co-workers... and yeah. The BOM! Makes me happy! :D
REVIEW! Remember, all professionals leave a calling card! You *are* a professional,
aren't you...? ^_~