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Pietro comes home to find a strange man lounging on the couch.
“What the fuck!” He totally does not yell in shock as his schoolbag drops to the floor, because Pietro is cool and unflappably calm in the face of everything. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Who the fuck are you?” The man retorts.
Pietro stares at him. “It’s not cool to answer a guy with his own question, you know. Not cool at all.” Because okay, he’s got to admit, the guy has sass, but really, who does a dick move like that?
The man stares back. He looks amused, much to Pietro’s annoyance.
Pietro feels like he should be angrier that the guy broke in and is just sitting there, or scared for his life or something, but the guy hasn’t whipped out a gun yet, so he figures he’s fine, and anyway, Pietro doesn’t get scared for his life, ever. He’s also too tired to summon any emotion besides annoyance because his chemistry teacher is just brutal and his new Track coach is even more so, and to top it all off, Wanda has her student paper to work on, which means that he doesn’t even get to complain to her about the injustices of life and blow off steam.
The man is still staring at him. Clearly he has no interest in answering Pietro's question at any time in the near future.
Pietro decides to change his strategy. “Why’re you here? ‘Cause, you know, if you want money, I’ve only got five bucks on me. There’s a safe somewhere, but only Dad has the password to that, and it’s some super high-grade thing, so whatever nifty trick you used to break in probably won’t work on it.”
The man is outright grinning at him now. “I don’t want your money.”
Pietro feels a spike of irritation. “What the hell are you doing here, then?”
The man stares at him, before saying slowly, “I’m looking for someone. But I’m obviously at the wrong house, so I’ll see myself out in a few moments.”
“Why not now?” Pietro retorts.
The man grins even wider, and fuck, the guy looks so much like a shark, it’s downright creepy, and says, “I have time to kill. And you’re very amusing.”
Pietro splutters in response.
The man smirks at his aghast expression, and Pietro stares at him in disbelief for a few more moments before he gives up.
“I’m going to go pee.” He says, “You’d better be gone by the time I get back.”
When he gets back, the man is in the same spot on the couch, smiling up at him.
“What the fuck,” Pietro mutters. He doesn’t even know why he bothers.
* * *
He’s halfway through a game of League of Legends on his computer before the man speaks up again.
“Why didn’t you call the cops?” He asks.
“Huh?” Pietro replies distractedly, clicking furiously at his mouse.
“The cops,” The man enunciates slowly. “Why didn’t you call them when you first saw me?”
“Are you serious? Have you seen the cops in this area? You report a guy who shouldn’t be here, they come, and they leave with five things which should be.”
The man hums. He hasn’t moved from his spot on the couch.
“Why’re you just sitting there? Do you want to watch TV or something? Actually, scratch that, why’re you still here?” Pietro asks.
The man makes a show of pointedly looking at his watch. Pietro hadn’t noticed before, but damn, that watch looks pricey. Actually, turning to really look at the man, he seems relatively well-to-do. The black turtleneck he’s wearing doesn’t say much, but Pietro’s pretty sure from back when he had a shoe craze when he was eleven that those are Testoni shoes. This close, he also notices that the man is an alpha, which hardly surprises him, given his attitude and blatant lack of care for well, anything.
“Hmm,” The man says, “It is getting late. Well, I’ll be going, then.” He adds, standing up and stretching.
Just as he’s about to leave, the phone rings.
Pietro sighs and closes the game on his computer. He’s not playing well today, anyways, with the added distraction of the man.
“Xavier Residence,” he says irritatedly as he picks up the phone.
The man on the other end starts talking about some property or another.
“No, we’re not interested in buying anything, bye,” Pietro says, hanging up. “Fucking telemarketers,” he mutters. “It’s the twenty-first century, don’t even know why Dad still keeps a landline.”
He turns around, to find the man standing shock still by the door.
“Are you actually going to leave by the front door?” Pietro asks incredulously.
The man ignores him. “Did you say Xavier? As in, Charles Xavier?”
“That’s my dad, yeah, how do you know him?” Pietro asks. “Hey, is he the guy you were looking for?”
“No,” The man says shortly, then leaves.
“Doesn’t even bother to say bye,” Pietro huffs, but he reopens his game and doesn’t think of the man again.
* * *
That is, until he shows up again three days later.
“What the fuck? You again?” Pietro asks when he opens the door. “At least you bothered to use the door this time.”
The man doesn’t smile. He looks tired, actually, haggled, but somehow also angry and impatient. “Is your father here?”
“I thought you said you weren’t looking for him,” Pietro points out, but he obliges anyway and yells for his father.
“Who is it?” Dad asks as he appears. He stills immediately when he spots the man, still standing outside.
“Erik.” He says, steel lacing his voice.
“Charles,” The man says, with the tiniest hint of a grin, “Can I come in?”
“No,” Dad snorts, as if the answer was obvious. “Pietro, go back to your room.”
Pietro slinks out of his dad’s sight, but hides behind the first corner. His dad may be a ‘strong omega’, but Pietro just doesn’t trust the man. Plus he’s also a nosy jerk, and whatever’s going on is going to be juicy.
His dad and the man are murmuring in rather low voices, so he’s concentrating on listening when suddenly there’s a tap on his shoulder.
“What’re you doing?” Wanda asks.
Pietro jumps so high he’s sure his head brushed the ceiling. “The fuck, Wanda! You scared the shit out of me!”
Wanda rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t be so terrified if you weren’t doing something illegal,” she points out. “Now spill. What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs.
“Liar,” Wanda says. “I’m your twin, don’t try to lie to me.”
Pietro sighs, and tells her about the man’s odd visit three days ago, and what had just transpired at the door.
“Can you even hear anything from here?” Wanda asks when he finishes talking. “I mean, they are talking quite softly.”
“That’s why you need to shush.”
Pietro leans out, taking a quick peek at the two men, still standing at the door. His father is back-facing him, so he can only see the man’s face. And he does not look happy. They’re both talking agitatedly, wild hand gestures and all, but they’re also somehow able to talk in low murmurs, which is a feat in itself. If he concentrates, though, he can hear small snatches of conversation.
“What do you see?” Wanda asks impatiently.
“Shhhh, Dad’s saying something – something about a thing that happened 15 years ago? I can’t hear properly – now the man’s saying something back – er, something about how things between them hadn’t changed? No, no, now he’s saying that things have changed, and he’s saying that Dad should have told him something – but I can’t hear Dad’s reply - ”
“Pietro,” Wanda stares at him. “You do know that I can also hear them, right? There’s no need to narrate.”
“Oh,” Pietro says, cheeks burning and feeling very much like a fool.
He quiets, but there is nothing to hear – the two men seem to have reached an impasse, and when Pietro peeks again, they appear to be in the midst of a staring match. Pietro decides to be the odd third wheel and joins in by staring at them.
Finally, Dad relents, shoulders slumping, as he moves aside to let the man in. Pietro ducks behind the corner again, whispering “They’re coming!” to Wanda before they both race up the stairs to their respective rooms.
Dad is up a few moments later. The man seems to have stayed downstairs.
“Pietro,” he says, “Go downstairs. Wait there for me.”
Pietro nods, trying to conceal his excitement at the fact that finally something interesting is going to happen. When his dad leaves to find Wanda, he jumps off the bed that he had been pretending to lounge casually on, and flies down the stairs.
“Hey,” he says as he sits down, and waves awkwardly at the man, who is sitting on the couch.
He doesn’t reply.
Pietro turns his head at the sound of footsteps, and sees his father walking towards them, looking solemn, with Wanda in tow.
“Children,” he begins after Wanda takes a seat beside Pietro, “This is Erik Lehnsherr.”
Here he pauses, hesitantly looking at them. The man – no, Erik Lehnsherr – looks at him expectantly.
“He’s your father.”
A small part of Pietro’s brain is guffawing at how Star Wars-esque this situation is, but a much larger part is busy ensuring that his jaw hits the ground while exclaiming, “THE FUCK??! You’re the one that knocked Dad up? You?!”
“Pietro!” his father chides. “Language!”